Disclaimer— I don't own Harry Potter or the songs I use. I make no money.

Okay, yeah, I've changed things. Werewolves' transformations don't hurt after a year (as I've explained, their bodies get used to it). Yeah, this isn't canon. Did I ever say it was? It wouldn't be any fun if it was. xD Oh, and about Harry's fake name. I wanted it to be a weird name because, seriously, this series is full of weird names. There is a story behind this name (besides the fact that I wanted to say I put more effort into Harry's fake name than other people) that will be told later. I think you guys will love it. I didn't edit so there might be mistakes.

Note—Yeah, I skip forward a bit in this chapter. I realize I had written six chapters and I was only on day two . . . Enough said.

Note 2—I plan on explaining more about how Snape was able to read Remus' mind while Remus had been Moony. I skimmed on that for a reason.

Note 3—Please leave canon at the door. If taken inside, canon may burst into flames.

Note 4—Babies are supposed to breastfeed for first six months of their lives. It's important. Go look it up. (Just remember that when you further into this chapter. It'll help make some things make sense.) Oh and remember when the night Harry's parents died, he was fifteen months old. Just a reminder.

If I say who I know, it just goes to show you need me less than I need you.
Take it from me.
We don't give sympathy.
You can trust me, trust nobody.

—Trust Me by The Fray

Chapter Seven

August 2, 1993

Harry had enough with the Dursleys. He wanted out of this cookie-cutter house and phony neighborhood. He wanted out.

Scratch that.

He needed out.

How was he supposed to deal with the looks and the eyes that clearly asked him why the crap he was alive? How was he supposed to deal living with people who would jump at the chance of being rid of him? How was he to deal with the events of his second year of school when he wasn't able to talk to anyone about it? Ron was in Egypt and Hermione was in France, both enjoying their family vacations. Well, it wasn't as if they could understand anyway. They hadn't been there with him, hadn't ran for their lives from a giant snake.

. . . No one could really understand his experience.

That day was the day that Harry realized he could die. I mean, he knew that he would die eventually, but that had been the day he had realized he could die young. He realized that he could die without knowing what it was like to live in a house that he didn't have to keep spotless, what it was like to live. He wanted all that and more. He wanted to learn more about his family and search for someone that actually knew his parents. Heck, he'd settle with learning just about one of his parents. Harry wanted to be able to spend his money to buy more nice clothes that he could wear all the time, not just at Hogwarts. He didn't want to live in fear that the Dursleys would find out that he had money, lots of it. He didn't want to die without getting out of this house, this prison.

Yes, Harry had faced a shadow of Lord Voldemort when he was eleven, but he hadn't been close to dying. He hadn't had poison being pumped through his veins, racing against the clock to strike him dead and silent. No, he had merely touched Voldemort and he had had a weapon that was his skin, his touch. Yes, he had been scared, but he hadn't been knocking on Death's door. He hadn't been . . . dying.

Of course, Fawkes healed him, but there had been a moment that Harry wasn't going to live, that he was going to die. Though days have passed and he was clearly alive, Harry still had nightmares about that moment. Sometimes he would dream that he had died and hadn't realized it until he tried to eat breakfast at Hogwarts. Sometimes he would again be a ghost, but doomed to roam only the Chamber of Secrets, unable to tell anyone that Ginny was actually alive. These dreams eventually extended into nightmares about Ginny starving to death and asking him why the great Boy Who Lived hadn't been able to save her. He would also dream that he would momentarily attend his funeral and discover that no one had attended, that no one had missed him.

Logically, Harry knew these dreams were ridiculous and manifestations of his fears, but that did not stop them from coming to him in the dead of night. That didn't stop him from waking up, his screams stuffed inside of his lungs as he buried his face into his pillow. That didn't stop Harry from wondering if there was a way he could turn his weak, fragile boy into a body that wouldn't die so easily.

After the Chamber of Secrets incident, Harry had gone to the library and researched basilisks and the effects of their poison. He hadn't wanted to be surprised about anything. What if the poison affected his magic? He had to be sure that nothing would happen. This search led Harry to books about magical creatures and the effects of their bites. He learned that werewolves and vampires weren't fiction and were in fact real. He learned a great deal about house elves as well, finding out that Dobby would need some kind of master (bonded or not) or he would die. That was when Harry extended the offer to be his master, but not his bonded master. He would pay him and such.

You can imagine how well that went.

Dobby had gone the whole nine yards and had bonded with Harry, leaving Harry with no choice in the matter. Not that Harry had minded. While the house elf's actions had been questionable, Harry had been touched by his concern.

Harry had left Dobby at Hogwarts, though, because he knew that it would only cause problems at the Dursleys. They already despised him and he was human. How would they react to Dobby? No, it had been better to have Dobby enjoy himself at Hogwarts. They did have a deal about Dobby bringing food and supplies to do his summer homework every night at midnight. That was when Harry was sure that the Dursleys were asleep and wouldn't catch him sneaking out.

Actually, it was time to go meet Dobby.

As Harry glanced at the clock, he heard an audible crack outside the house. That would be Dobby at the end of the street, hovering at the edge of the woods. Dobby knew that it would get Harry into a bunch of trouble if the Dursleys so much as saw Dobby. That was why Dobby met him there, away from their eyes and any neighbors that wondered out of bed at this hour.

Easing himself off his thin bed, Harry silently crept across his room and gently placed his hand on the door handle. This was where it was tricky. Though his uncle had threaten to put countless locks on the door, he hadn't because what if a quest noticed? Then their illusion of normalcy would be erased and it would get around, the rumor spreading like wildfire. That wouldn't do so his uncle merely locked the door handle from the outside.

Harry smirked.

Like that would stop him.

After last summer, Harry had learned that even if he performed wandless magic like a house elf, the ministry would still catch wind of it because of some wards. (Yeah, he hadn't known that the ministry did that to muggleborn and muggle-raised households.) But if he ever so slowly let his magic trickle into the door handle, the ministry's wards couldn't catch it. Apparently, they only detect a burst of magic like normal spells, accidental magic and wandless magic that took a split second to perform. The way Harry did it, the wards didn't even register what he was doing. Of course, this took a good ten minutes to do and another ten minutes to lock back, but it was worth it.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was chatting with Dobby and giving the elf some money.

"Here, Dobby. Go get yourself a hat to go with those socks," Harry said with a smile, his eyes momentarily flicking to glance downward at the neon pink and muddy brown socks. "Maybe a yellow one."

Dobby jumped up and down, clearly excited. "Master Harry Potter too kind. Master Harry Potter much better than . . . than . . ."

The house elf was suddenly solemn and staring at his hands, his eyes glassy and filling with tears.

Harry, used to Dobby's flashback moments, quickly picked up the house elf and held him against his side, one arm wrapped around Dobby's waist. "Has Hedwig been good? I wasn't sure if she'd be okay away from me. She likes to stay by me."

Dobby's mood sharply turned. "Yes, Master Harry Potter. Master Harry Potter's bird very happy. Master Harry Potter's bird fly and sleep much."

"That's good," Harry replied, carefully putting Dobby down and adjusting the small bag that Dobby had brought him. "I have to go now, Dobby. Got to finish that Potions essay—"

"Bad Master Harry Potter! Master Harry Potter know Dobby walk him home! Dobby protect Master Harry Potter!"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, Dobby, I know, but it's fine. Nothing is going to happen to me."

Dobby furiously shook his head, grabbing Harry's left hand and leading him away from the woods. "Master Harry Potter never know. Master Harry Potter not have Sight."

Harry let Dobby escort him back to the Dursleys' house and bade the house elf good bye.

"Remember, Dobby, go back to the woods so that the—"

"Wards not know Dobby use magic. Yes, Dobby know."

Rolling his eyes, Harry kept a close eye on his house elf as Dobby skipped back to the woods. He kept watching until he heard Dobby's audible crack, Dobby's signal that he was now gone (and when he would come back, it would signal that he was there). Now that he was sure Dobby was gone, Harry would now go back into the house and eat some of the food Dobby brought. Thanks to Dobby, he was finally putting on weight that he desperately needed—

Snap.

Whipping out his wand, Harry's eyes took in the front yard as he searched for the noise's source. It had sounded so close . . . so very close. Wouldn't it just be his luck if it was some crazy, giant basilisk? No, surely that wouldn't happen twice in one year, right?

Whimper.

Harry spun on his left heel to see a black, shaggy dog crawling on his belly out of the bushes. Heaving a relieved sigh, he shook his head at the door.

"You idiot. Do you realize what I could have done to you?"

The dog whimpered again as he kept crawling towards him, his tail slowly wagging.

"I'm not a dog person."

The dog tilted his head, his body finally at rest.

"Really. Dogs have never liked me."

Harry remembered too vividly how Aunt Marge would let her dogs bite him and chase him up trees. No, he definitely was not a dog person.

The dog's ears folded a bit as the tail ceased to wag, his whimpering turning into soft whining.

"Don't look at me like that," Harry whined, the dog's sad eyes getting to him. "Even if I wanted to, I can't have a dog."

The dog then perked up a bit as if sensing that Harry was starting to cave.

"No, no, no."

Harry watched as the dog crept up to him and sat down in front of him, his tail wagging. He could literally hear the dog telling him that he would be a good dog, the best dog ever.

Shaking his head, Harry extended his hand out for the dog to smell. "I'm so going to regret this."

The dog's eyes lit up and his ears perked right up, his tongue licking Harry's hand.

"Just so you know, you're not going to be able to leave my room during the day. If my uncle catches you, he'll skin you and me alive."

The dog didn't seem to mind as he followed Harry into the house and into his room. When Harry closed his door, he turned around to see the dog sniffing around his room. He shook his head as he focused on locking his door. When that was done, Harry found the dog burrowed in his bed and sniffing his pillow. That was when it hit him that the dog would need a name. You know, for his gravestone for when his uncle found him and killed him.

"I guess you need a name," Harry whispered as he slipped off his shoes and climbed into his bed. "Maybe I should call you Blackie."

This caught the dog's attention. The dog growled at him, clearly not liking the name.

"Okay. What about Sniff or Sniffles?"

The dog growled again.

"Well, you've been sniffing around so much . . . How about Snuffles? Snuffle is a synonym for sniff."

The dog didn't growl at him, but he nipped at Harry's arm.

Harry grinned. "Too late. It's fitting and that's what I'm going to call you. Snuffles."

Snuffles huffed and buried his head between Harry's neck and Harry's pillow, settling down for some sleep.

". . . I guess I can't say I'm not a dog person anymore."

Crack.

Harry strained to open his eyes, blindly reaching for glasses that were already on his face.

"What the crap?" he murmured as he stumbled out of bed. "What was that?"

Crack.

"Dobby? What's he doing back?" he said aloud to himself as he sleepily slipped on his shoes.

Crack.

Harry, careful even whilst half asleep, took ten minutes to unlock his door and quietly shut it behind him. He silently made his way through the house and out the front door to their meeting spot.

Crack.

"I'm coming. Hold your horses," Harry said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

Crack.

Harry, delirious, didn't realize that the cracking noise should have happened only once and no more. He didn't realize that this couldn't be Dobby.

That would one of the greatest and best mistake of his life.

Harry lurched forward, the Elder Wand griped tightly in his right hand as he wildly looked around. He found only the room that Dumbledore had given to him to be his room for as long as he stayed at Hogwarts. There was no forest, no Dobby and no black dog. That had only been a memory of his thirteen-year-old self, not a dream nor a nightmare. If anything, it had been nice to be that Harry again. That Harry, while with problems, hadn't gone through the Triwizard Tournament and everything that followed.

That Harry had Dobby and would have Sirius . . . And Remus. That Harry had so many people.

Have I truly lost so many people?

It wasn't like Harry wasn't aware that he had lost everything during the Battle of Hogwarts because he was. No, it was the fact that he had grown used to having so few people in his life. He didn't sense their absences as much as he had in the first couple months that followed the death of Lord Voldemort. Those two months had been nothing but a string of endless hours that he had spent hunting down Death Eaters. He had been consumed with the need to avenge his friends and family, to make sure that no one else died. Harry was sure that he would have continued if Teddy's grandmother had told him what she intended to do with Teddy.

She had told him that she would raise him and wouldn't allow Harry to be anything more than a distant uncle.

That was the exact slap-in-the-face that Harry had needed. It got him crashing back into reality and Teddy's life. After getting custody of Teddy, Harry dedicated his life to making sure Teddy didn't have need for anything. He focused on helping rebuild Hogwarts (something that was greatly sped up when he read Slytherin's notes in the Chamber of Secrets) and redecorating Grimmauld Place. During all of that, he quietly grieved, but not in the violent way he had during those two months. As weeks passed and Teddy started to talk, Harry felt the absence of his loved ones less and less. Yes, he still remembered them and was sad often, but his attention was always on Teddy.

Because of Teddy, he was able to deal with his grief in a healthier way and wasn't self-destructive. He had made a promise to Remus that he would raise Teddy to be good, happy young man. He wasn't going to allow himself to fail.

Maybe that's why this trip freaked him out so much. While he knew this would happen, he hadn't been aware he would be surrounded by people he had grieved and be bombarded by golden memories. He hadn't realized that seeing them would be so hard yet so easy. He had had to restrain himself from attacking Sirius and Remus and hugging the life out of them. He had had to stop himself from staring at Severus as the man smiled at and teased the Marauders throughout the day. That had really thrown him through a loop.

Apparently, Severus was their friend . . . as in friend.

Yeah, way too weird.

Then there was Peter, the not traitor. The man had never been their Secret Keeper because they hadn't ever gone into hiding.

Yeah, another interesting story.

When Dumbledore figured out whom the candidates were for the Prophecy, he warned the Longbottoms and his par—the Potters what would come to be. That's when the wives were pregnant and would soon give birth. Terrified for their children, both families decided that when their children were born that they would spread rumors that the babies had been died. This obviously would not be the case and when they defeated Voldemort, they would reveal that their children were actually alive and well. To make sure no one would discover their children, the Longbottoms and Potters entrusted their children to Augusta Longbottom who would live under the Fidelius Charm with the children. Though they and Dumbledore offered to be the Secret Keeper, Augusta politely refused and chose someone else. They never did learn who had been entrusted with the secret.

While they don't know if the Secret Keeper betrayed Augusta or not, Lord Voldemort found her, Neville and Harry on Halloween night in 1981. Their children had been safe for only nine months, the first six months spent with their parents for medical and magical reasons. That night, Harry and Neville survived with only a scar on their foreheads while Augusta died, seemingly giving her life for the boys.

After that, the boys became the Boys Who Lived and they had lived their lives as normal as possible before coming to Hogwarts.

This is where their story differed even more from Harry's. Their first year was normal as Harry and Neville settled into Gryffindor. Dumbledore hadn't hidden the stone within the walls of Hogwarts. No, he had set a trap in the vault at Gringotts and managed to destroy Voldemort's host body, Professor Quirrell, on July 31st, 1991. The school went smoothly and calmly, so unlike Harry's. Second year, though, was similar to his. The only difference was that Neville had noticed Ginny's strange behavior and he and Harry followed her sometime after Hermione had been petrified. Long story short, Neville distracted Tom Riddle and when Tom unleashed the basilisk, Neville was the bait. That was when Fawkes brought the Sorting Hat and Harry took down the overgrown snake. Of course, Harry had been bitten, but the phoenix took care of that real fast. Third year was like the first year and nothing happened except Professor Trelawney ominously foretelling that a traitor was rejoining his master, Lord Voldemort.

Currently, Harry and Neville were about start their fourth year. Wasn't that lovely? Harry managed to drop into this dimension during the school year that had stressed him out immensely. You know, between the fact that his Defense teacher had entered him into the tournament that could kill him and the weird dreams he hadn't understood, it wasn't a very pleasant year. Not to mention the drama with Ron that year.

I really am cursed, aren't I?

It could be worse, he supposed. At least he came during this school year and not the next one. Worse, he could be here in 1997. That was the year Dumbledore died and everything was becoming worse. That was also when he figured out he had to die.

Wait.

Harry's eyes snapped open, his body now tense again. Were the boys horcruxes? Did it happen to only one of them? If it happened to only one of them, which one was it? Which one would have to die at Voldemort's hand?

No, it has to be both of them. Dumbledore mentioned that they're both Parselmouths so that means . . . It can't be. That doesn't mean anything, remember? I managed to find out ancestors of mine that were Parselmouths. Maybe this Harry inherited it too. What about Neville, though? The Neville in my world isn't a Parselmouth. Maybe Voldemort's attack triggered it to surface? I don't know. The only way I'll know for sure is if I—

"—meet them in person," Harry finished aloud, sighing deeply as he folded his arms behind his head. "Great. One of the things I don't want to do. Why the heck is my life full of them?"

"You have failed me again," Voldemort hissed from his chair, the fire's flames reflecting dangerously in his eyes. "Crucio."

The older man's body convulsed and twisted as he struggled to remain kneeling in front of Voldemort.

"Nagini, enjoy the filthy s—" he began to hiss until he was interrupted by the man's mutterings.

"Took . . . snake," the man gasped. "Knows . . . about . . ."

Nagini, used to her prey begging for mercy and such, slithered on and unhinged her jaw. "What noisy prey."

Voldemort waved a hand, his eyes never leaving the cowering form of the man. "Cease, Nagini."

Nagini stopped and backed away to once again wrap herself around her master. Voldemort had never intended on letting her eat the man. That man was one of his best spies, so easily ignored and overlooked by the great Albus Dumbledore. Yes, he had two others, but Snape and Pettigrew were unable to leave as easily and quietly as this spy. No, he couldn't afford to lose him . . . yet.

The man's hands shook as he reached into his coat and pulled out a small garden snake, letting it slither to Voldemort.

"Speak."

"He is a speaker, speaker, speaker," the snake repeated as most common, stupid snakes did. "Smells of same blood, blood, blood."

Dropping the snake, Voldemort once again waved his hand. "Leave me. Do not come again until Halloween. Dumbledore will not fail to notice her absence once the school year starts." He gestured to the man's traveling companion.

"Yes, my Lord," the man struggled to say as he quickly backed away and exited the room, dragging the silent woman behind him. Voldemort's merciful mood would not last long.

Once they left, Voldemort once again found himself gazing at the fire and stroking Nagini.

"This makes things easier, much easier, Nagini," he hissed as he thought of ways to proceed.

"Easier to convince, easier to deceive, easier to manipulate," murmured Nagini as she dozed. "After all . . ."

"Slytherins stick together."

A/N— Okay, I know I ended last chapter with Voldemort's POV last time too, but I had to follow up with it. This time tells you more and gives you more clues. I hope you enjoyed! This was published on 9-28-14 with the length of 4,084 words.