I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR

Reality of a Hero

Chapter 3: Reforming Old friendships

Standing outside the office of the man who would become his confidant, friend and sometime lover, Harry felt a momentary flash of panic. What if he screwed something up? Gerrant's support was what had given him the strength to move on after first the twins, and then Luna's deaths. He was the person Harry had gone to, to cry and to mourn. His friendship was one of the few things the teenager had valued in his former life. Raising his hand, he knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The voice was the same as Harry remembered, with the tail end of a welsh accent that Gerrant had never quite managed to get rid off. A small and sad smile tugged his lips. The knowledge that he would have to lie to this man was a bitter pain in his heart, but he couldn't help the smile at his old friend. Gerrant's opinion would only work if their relationship couldn't be criticised. For that to happen, Gerrant would have to remain ignorant until after he had worked out the important pieces for himself. Silently vowing to tell the man as soon as it was safe, Harry pushed the door open.

"Healer Llewellyn" Harry said as he was motioned into a chair.

"Mr Potter." He replied with a nod, "Call me Gerrant. Healer Llewellyn makes me feel like I'm in trouble."

Harry grinned, "Call me Harry."

Gerrant nodded. He was a little younger then Harry remembered him being with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to shine with mischief and force of will.

"What can I help you with?"

Harry took a deep breath, "I know my scar connects me to Voldemort."

Gerrant nodded, but didn't flinch, "That makes sense."

"I think it's doing more then that. I think it might be letting him possess me."

Gerrant blinked, "That does explain what you're doing in my office. Why do you think this?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, trying to appear young and confused, "Sometimes I just… know stuff. The information is there, in my head, like it's always been there and I just forgot."

"Can you give me an example?"

"This one time, in primary school, some bullies were chasing me and when they cornered me, I suddenly just knew how to apparate, so I did."

"You just knew how to apparate? And you got it right, first time?"

"It wasn't like I just had the theory." Harry explained, "It… it was like walking, you know how to do it, but you don't need to concentrate that much. You just want to do it and you do."

"Right. That's not a usual sign of possession."

Harry shrugged, "Okay. You're the expert."

Gerrant grinned at the comment, "Yes, I am."

Harry snorted and Gerrant laughed at him. Yep, he was bored, Harry thought. A bored Gerrant Llewellyn was never a good thing, a fun thing maybe, but never a good thing.

"Anything else?" the older man asked.

"Other pieces of information mostly. Not all of it makes sense."

"What do you mean?"

"I seem to know a lot of Dark Magic that I've never studied, or even heard of. And I think Voldemort's a fan of the Rocky Horror Show."

Gerrant snorted and then shook his head, "Alright, any other abilities?"

"Pareltongue?"

He nodded, "I heard about that. That is a sign of possession. Anything else?"

"I know the Arithmancy equation to make a horcrux?"

Gerrant stilled. His eyes wide as he looked at the young man across from him.

"I don't know what a horcrux is, but I'm pretty sure I can make one."

"I wouldn't recommend it." Gerrant said softly.

Harry waited, knowing Gerrant wasn't the type to decide he was suddenly 'too young' to know something.

"You'd probably end up in Azkaban."

"What?"

"A horcrux is an object used to store a part of your soul in. A way of cheating death. It's considered to be the darkest of dark magic. Tell me Harry, if you know the equation, you must know the rune it forms. What is it?"

Harry hesitated, trying to give the impression he'd never really thought about it, "Toten. Death"

Gerrant nodded, "To make a horcrux, you must take a life."

Harry let out a breath, "Right. I won't be making any of them then."

"Did Voldemort…"

Harry nodded, "I think so. More then one. He seems a bit obsessed by them."

They talked about what was common knowledge about Voldemort for a few minutes, before Harry brought up the other thing he wanted to talk to Gerrant about, "I get weird dreams sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Gerrant asked from where he was making tea.

"I dream I'm Voldemort. Or his snake. I do not recommend snake milk."

"You dream you're a Dark Lord?"

"No. I dream I'm Voldemort. It's like I'm inside his head, seeing through his eyes, talking through his mouth. I'm part of his thoughts, but… separate at the same time. Like I know I'm not in control, I'm not really him…" Harry trailed off.

"Reverse Possession? It's been theorized before."

"What do you mean?"

"Possession is when someone comes into you and takes you over. Reverse Possession is where you would be pulled into them and kept there, unable to influence their movements or actions, but conscious of them as if doing them yourself. It's been theorized, as I said, but never proved… or successfully attempted either."

Harry frowned, "It used to happen really rarely, only once every year or so. But it's getting more frequent."

"What do you mean?" Gerrant asked as he handed him his tea.

"Thank you. It's happened four times since so far this year. Twice since I came home from Hogwarts."

"Find out anything interesting?"

"Maybe, but I don't understand much of it."

"Go ahead."

"Voldemort is having someone he keeps calling 'The Boy' or his 'Most Loyal' use polyjuice potion to pretend to be someone called Moody to get into Hogwarts. He's to enter me into 'the tournament' and then rig it so that I win. The trophy is a portkey and will send me somewhere. They haven't said where though, or why."

"And you got all that from one trip into his head?"

"No, the bit about getting the Boy into Hogwarts I got from when they made the plan to rescue the Boy, just after school ended. The Tournament bit was from the night before last."

"I can see why you think you might be possessed."

The afternoon passed quickly. Gerrant ran some tests to check if Harry was possessed and they came negative. They did find something though, which Harry knew to be the Horcrux, not that he told Gerrant. The older man, with a true challenge to occupy his mind, was in his element and Harry suspected he'd have it worked out by the end of the week. Harry couldn't help but compare him to a house elf left alone in a filthy house, he was that excited. Gerrant had looked vaguely surprised at the comparison before being distracted by a new thought on the problem. Harry had left him in peace.

He left St Mungos at three o clock and managed a quick shopping trip on is way to the Ministry. Three pairs of jeans, a pair of pyjamas and six T-shirt, some work out gear along with a week's worth of underwear went into his pocket under a shrinking charm and he darted into a shoe shop to grab a pair to trainers and a pair of Doc Martins as well. He just hoped he got the size right.

Name Tag, with 'Harry Potter, Meeting with Hypatia Grayson' in place he waited as the telephone booth sank into the ground and deposited him in the Atrium where an auburn haired woman in dark green robes was waiting for him.

Hypatia Grayson was just as Harry remembered her being in the future, tall, slim and regal. She had the bearing of her name sake, the last librarian of Alexandria. Harry grinned, unable to stop the memory of her drunk and passed out in a nightclub after a party from popping up. It went against the image of Hypatia Grayson to the point where he doubted anyone would believed the memory was real, "Mr Potter." She held out her hand.

He shook the delicate hand gently in his own and shook it only once before letting go, "Mrs Grayson."

"Old Jonnie Records showed me a very interesting letter yesterday, Mr Potter. I assumed you would go to Albus Dumbledore with any queries you had about that night."

"The Headmaster has been most unwilling to tell me anything. I figured that not everyone would want to coddle me as much as he does."

Hypatia blinked and smirked, "No, I wouldn't imagine every one else would want to Mr Potter. In fact, I'd imagine that quite a few people would like to hurt you rather the mollycoddle you."

Harry winced, but nodded. Molly Weasley had been one of the worst manipulations that Harry could lay at Dumbledore's feet.

Hypatia nodded in response, internally impressed that the young boy had realised what had happened and then said, "Follow me."

"Where are we going?" he asked, as he followed her.

"There is a prophecy believed to be regarding you and He-Who-Everyone-Insists-on-Hyphenating-The-Name-Of. I am taking you down to the Hall of Prophecies to hear it. Then we will retire to my office and discuss your questions… and your past."

Harry sniggered at the title she gave Voldemort and then blinked; there was a definite undertone of danger in Hypatia's tone. Although he had heard it before, this was the first time he had ever had it directed at himself. Harry decided he didn't like it one bit.

They took the lift in silence. For some reason every time anyone who was waiting saw Hypatia, they immediately decided to wait for the next one. Hiding halfway behind the woman, Harry managed to remain unidentified. The last thing he needed was for some well meaning sheep to tell Dumbledore Harry was wondering around the ministry with none other then Hypatia Grayson.

A few minutes later, facing the corridor that led to the door leading in the Hall of Prophesy, Harry suddenly felt incredibly unwilling to go any further. Memories of the first time he had heard the prophecy flittered around his head. Sirius… With a jolt, he remembered that Sirius was alive and well. He had nothing to fear this time. Straightening his shoulders, he followed the taller woman into the hall.

It was the exact same as the last time he had been there, at the end of the fifth year in another world. Stacks of shelves ran in every direction, filled with row upon row of silvery orbs. Hypatia didn't hesitate and turned to follow one row in particular. It was strangely easy to follow her, Harry realised, when he wasn't following the exact route of his original journey. That was until she stopped on front of a very familiar shelf. It was the shelf he had seen for a million nights in his nightmares and dreams.

S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D

Dark Lord and Harry Potter?

The words stood there, once again sealing he fate. He had thought that this was over. The war, the expectation… The wizarding world… He had left it all behind him, but now, his own stupidity had brought him back to it. Not this time. He wasn't going to be the wizarding world's scapegoat. He wasn't going to be their hero. He's fight Voldemort for his freedom, not for anyone else. A look of determination crossed his face as he reached up and took the prophecy down.

"Tap it with your wand." Hypatia said her face unreadable.

They watched in silence as the words were spoken, words that Harry had first heard an age ago, yet not for another two years. He sighed as the recording stopped; the entire time thing was giving him a headache.

"Let's go to my office."

HP

Sitting in Hypatia's office, staring unseeing at the wall, he sipped the tea she had given him. She sat on the other side of the desk watching him stare into space. Eventually, he turned to look at her, "Do you know how I survived the Killing Curse?"

Hypatia leaned back, "No. I have theory or two and the prophecy does suggest another method, but I don't know for definite, nor do I want to discuss it until I have had time to put the new information to test. Why are you wearing a glamour on your neck?"

Harry blinked slowly at her, surprised she had noticed, then cursing himself for not realising she would. Still, he desperately wanted to tell someone what had happened to him… and Hypatia was one of the few he trusted in the future. "It's to cover a tattoo."

Now it was Hypatia's turn to blink, "When did you get a tattoo, Mr Potter?"

"About three years from now." He said with a smirk. He waited for her eyebrow to rise before he launched into the story of the last forty eight hours of his life.

Two hours and four cups of tea later, he smiled slightly as he watched Hypatia rapidly scratching equations onto a piece of paper.

"It does kind of make sense." She said slowly, reading over what she had written.

"Could you explain it?"

"Two people can't exist in the same place. The same person can't exist twice at the same time either. A Time-Turner sends the future version of a person into the past, but the original person still has to leave, creating a small loop which the Time-Turner keeps separate until the original person leaves. A Time Splitter moves a person half a second out of time, so they exist outside of time. I would imagine that the Time Splitter took you into that place between moments, where time does not exist and the portkey and Time Splitter combined to take you out of it into another time and place. That put you in the same time twice, so you literally merged into your existing person."

"Oh."

"While your young body was able to take on the… ornamentation of your future body, it was the one linked to this time, thus you are now fourteen, rather then somewhere in your late teens or early twenties. Fascinating really. At a later date, if you are willing, I would like to do an indebt study?"

Harry willingly agreed, knowing that Hypatia, unlike Hermione would be willing to listen to him and work around him rather then just decreeing and demanding.

"Were we friends in the future… Harry?"

"Yes, Tia, we were."

Hypatia nodded once and then smiled, "I would like to be friends again then."

Harry smiled, "Do would I."

"Can I see your tattoos?" she sounded almost giddy.

Harry laughed and standing up began to undo his shirt.

HP

It was late evening when Harry returned to Privet Drive, whistling casually as he walked up the road. The afternoon with Tia had gone well, after she had looked over the tattoos, she had asked a few more personal questions which Harry had answered truthfully. Yes, they had been lovers in future, although of the 'friends with benefits' variety and yes, he hoped they would have the chance in this time too. They had flirted a bit after that, neither of them taking it very far. As curious as Tia was and as much as Harry wanted, he was still a year away from it being legal. They both had too many enemies to risk doing anything in the middle of the ministry buildings. On the other hand, as Tia had pointed out, if they ran into each other were there weren't so many witnesses, who knew what would happen? Tia seemed willing to deal with him as he mentally was, twenty-eight and ignore the physical side for now.

He almost found himself looking around for Order members hiding in the bushes as he reached Privet Drive before remembering that they wouldn't be there until next year. Shaking his head at his own paranoia, he almost jumped at the sudden growl from the other side of the garden gate. Looking down in surprise at the bulldog, he paled, "Ripper…"

For a moment, he couldn't move as the dog growled at him, then with a shake of his head, he put his hand on the gate, "How could I have forgotten Marge would be here."

A quick bit of magic and a steak later, Ripper was his new best friend. Walking up the pathway with the dog at his heels, he remembered with some amusement what had happened last year. Blowing Marge up had been fun, but it had put him even further in Dumbledore's debt, although at the time he hadn't realised it. This time round, he would originally have kept out of her way by staying in his room or the park all day and then not eating with his family. It had worked to keep him out of trouble, but it had left a bitter-tasting bile in his mouth until he had left the house. Speaking of which, he was due to get a letter sometime this week about the Quidditch World Cup.

It was time to start changing things. He had no intention of continuing on the way he had originally, or was he a good enough actor to contemplate trying to pretend to be that young, innocent, naive and trusting boy. If the wizarding world was going to label him insane, he'd damn well give them a reason to. He'd already laid the ground work with Gerrant who could testify that he was not possessed. Hypatia was already looking for the horcuxi as she had once told Harry the correct plural of the word should be.

All that was left was for Voldemort to get his body back and the Dark Lord was already handling that one himself. Gerrant knew about the plan and knowing him, had already put two and two together. Tia would contact him later that week to explain what was going on, once no one would associate her wanting to talk to him about his celebrity patient.

Opening the door he made his way towards the stairs, hoping to avoid the confrontation with his aunt. Unlike previous times though, this had more to do with his impending departure, then anything else. He had no intention of ever returning here, despite what Dumbledore said. Luck however, was not on his side. He had just taken the first step when Marge barged through the door, "So, you finally came home, then?"

Harry's shoulders tensed, it was now or never, "I'm sure you would probably prefer not to see me, Miss Dursley, so I went out.

Her piggy little eyes hardened at his tone and even more at the title, "I see you haven't learned any manners, boy."

"Oh, I have plenty of manners, there just isn't much point wasting them on a pig in human clothing. I don't think you'd understand them."

Marge seemed too shocked to reply to that for a moment, so Harry continued,

"Even your dogs, mutts that they are, have better manner then you and a better understanding of what they mean. Ripper at least appreciates kindness. All you and your family seem to understand is abuse."

"Why you…" she raised a hand

"Now auntie dearest, you wouldn't be about to hit a child, would you? That could get you locked up and then who would mind your precious dogs?"

"You wouldn't dare…" she began to stutter.

Harry took a step down to her, an evil smile forming on his face, "Oh, but aunt dearest, I have nothing to lose anymore. I have no intention of coming back here next year. After thirteen years of abuse, you deserve everything I can do to you."

For some reason, Marge Dursley was suddenly terrified of her despised nephew. It was almost like magic.

Harry leaned in close, so he could whisper in her ear, "You had better be glad that I'm not as big a bitch as you are, auntie dearest. Stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours." His voice held an arctic chill to it. In that moment, Marge was absolutely convinced that Harry would kill her in a heartbeat and she paled immediately. Smirking at her, he turned and began climbing the stairs. Suddenly he turned to look at his pale aunt, "Oh, and call off your dogs."

The next day, Marge left, telling Vernon that she wasn't feeling well. Harry was just returning from his jog when he seen Vernon's car pull away from the curb with Marge in the back. Checking his old wrist watch, he couldn't help smirking; Vernon was leaving for work over an hour early to drop Marge back. Last time round, she had stayed for dinner, which meant Harry had never got any. She was also, he suspected the person who gave Dudley the money for the doughnuts he was going to smuggle in.

Harry spent most of the rest of the day finishing up his summer homework and then went downstairs to make dinner, realising as he did so that he never had got around to having that conversation with the Dursleys. On the other hand, he wasn't sure there was a point to it. He would have to tell them he wasn't coming back, but surely a letter would suffice? Dinner passed in silence, although Vernon's glares suggested that he suspected his nephew had something to do with Marge leaving earlier then planned. Harry ignored him and quickly finished the low fat meal he had made from the diet sheet.

He was just about to head back upstairs after tidying up the kitchen when something out the sitting room window caught his attention; sitting across the street from number 4 was a big black dog.

Harry glanced quickly around the rest of the room. Petunia and Vernon were watching Eastenders. Dudley, Harry knew was upstairs stuffing his face with doughnuts. Ignoring his relatives, he went out the door and began to walk down the street towards the shops. Picking up a couple of packets of sandwiches and two cans of coke, he changed direction and headed for the park, walking well into the nature reserve at the south end. Once he was deep enough in, he turned to face the dog, and then burst into tears.

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Author's Notes: As can be seen from this chapter there will be implied chan in this story. Please keep in mind that Harry is not really fourteen, mentally he is twenty-eight. If you are unsure that to expect from this story, please read the summery which lists the applicable warnings.