Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any claim of ownership. All rights belong to the copyright holders and J.K. Rowling.

A/N

And boom, a wild chapter eleven appears!

A note on some feedback I've gotten:

Harry giving Sirius chocolate: I know that you're not supposed to give dogs chocolate, though I suppose it's good that some of you were worried I'd made that mistake. In canon, it's said that one of the best things to help with the effects of Dementors is to eat some chocolate - Sirius, who up until this point has been making do with appalling living conditions, hunger and long-term Dementor exposure, could do with a helping hand. Harry gives him chocolate because he knows it will help clear his godfather's head. As for how Sirius can eat it in his Animagus form and not get sick, I believe that an Animagus form has different characteristics compared to an actual animal of the same type. Turning into Padfoot simply won't change his physiology to the point that he'd become seriously ill after having chocolate.

On the flashbacks and stuff: A few of you have said that you prefer not to have either overly-long flashbacks in each chapter, or flashbacks at all. I will say now, flashbacks will continue to feature every two or three chapters for the foreseeable future. To try and find a middle ground, however, I'll try and use them less frequently, and cut down on a lot of the exposition and unnecessary description in the flashbacks.

That's all, folks!

Enjoy!

- JudgeKnox

As the Knight Bus sped onwards, Harry did his best to ignore Shunpike's interrogation ("Whassit like, defeatin' You-Know-'Oo?") and considered his plans for the next few weeks – he'd be staying at the Leaky Cauldron, like last time – but without alerting the Ministry to his whereabouts with underage magic, he realised he'd likely have to send letters to Ron and Hermione, telling them what happened. No doubt Molly would relay the message to Dumbledore, and the old man could prevent a panic in the Minister's Office from Harry's little disappearing act.

Harry sighed quietly as the Knight Bus let out another BANG, suddenly appearing on a busy city street, lurching uncomfortably. Grimacing at the motion sickness, Harry held on to the small bed as tightly as he could, the furniture sliding back and forth along the length of the bus as it weaved through traffic and careered around corners.

The journey didn't take long, although by the time the Knight Bus came to an abrupt halt outside the Leaky Cauldron, Harry's stomach was thoroughly upset. Staggering off of the bus ("Take 'er away 'Ern!"), Harry hauled his belongings into the pub and rented a room from Tom the Innkeeper, putting a small handful of gold and silver coins on the bar. Taking his things upstairs, Harry unpacked, relieved to see Hedwig arrive at his window a few minutes later.

At that, he climbed into bed and fell fast asleep.

The sun was already streaming through the window when Harry awoke, quickly darting his wand about the room before throwing back the covers and standing up, stretching. After a quick shower, he wandered downstairs to a hearty breakfast, intending to work on his fitness once he got back to Hogwarts.

After finishing his meal, he went through the back of the pub to the small courtyard wall that hid the entrance to Diagon Alley. Drawing his wand and tapping the right sequence of bricks, the wall began to fold away, revealing the winding, cobbled high street. Already, the Alley was bustling with activity, and colourful-robed wizards walked this way and that, some browsing displays or reading the Daily Prophet, others rushing in between stores, their arms laden down by their purchases. Darting in between the adults, laughing and chasing each other, were a small group of children, no older than seven or eight.

Harry's mouth set into a thin line when he remembered how the Alley looked the last time he saw it.

I won't let that happen again.

Walking quickly forward, Harry made his way through the shoppers in the direction of Gringotts Bank. A few people had already noticed him, and Harry could see them whispering to each other and pointing as he sped up, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. He gripped the silky mass of the Invisibility Cloak more tightly in his pocket, reassured by its presence.

Stepping through the imposing oak doors to the bank's main hall, Harry strode across the marble floors towards the main teller's desk, his footsteps echoing in the measured silence of the hall. The smartly-dressed goblin manning the teller's desk narrowed his eyes at the approaching teenager, but stayed silent.

"Excuse me," Harry began, lowering his hood once he reached the desk, "I'd like to make a withdrawal from my vault – number 687." He reached into his jacket and withdrew his vault key, holding it out before the teller took it in a clawed hand.

The goblin examined his key for a moment before casting a suspicious eye over Harry, as if the creature was doubtful of Harry's intentions. Several seconds passed in silence punctuated only by the continued clinking of coins at the counting desks, before the goblin looked over his shoulder and barked out something in Gobbledegook, another goblin immediately hurrying over from somewhere out of sight.

Once the teller handed Harry back his key, he followed the new – yet just as quiet – goblin down the stairs at the back of the hall before climbing onto one of the bank's many carts. After a moment, the contraption was sent hurtling along the rails as it sped deep underground, the massive caverns beneath the bank spreading out around them, the cart tracks running like arteries into the darkness.

Before long, Harry had retrieved a small bagful of coins, as well as a few hundred pounds after a short visit to the exchange desk, and was back on Diagon Alley. As it was nearly midday, the Alley was now heaving with people, the crowds of witches and wizards seeming to undulate like the surface of a sea.

Harry grimaced, and set about making his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, his progress heavily impeded thanks to the crowds. He'd just finished weaving past an irate elderly wizard who was carrying a cauldron full of what looked like partially-dissected amphibians, when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Looking up, he saw someone in the crowd ahead look him right in the eyes. Before he could discern who it was, the person had moved, locks of red hair visible as they turned away, disappearing from sight behind a pair of middle-aged witches with tall, pointed hats.

…What the hell?

His return to the Leaky Cauldron forgotten, Harry started pushing through the crowd more roughly, trying to reach the spot where he'd seen the figure. Jostling his way past a small family, he looked around. He couldn't see the person ahead of him at all. Assuming he'd just seen some trick of the light, Harry was about to keep moving towards the pub when he spotted a momentary flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Whirling about, he saw a passageway that turned off of the main street, its entrance looking like any other doorway at first glance.

There.

Walking out of the crowd, Harry began down the narrow passage, the noise of Diagon Alley falling away quickly, as if it were somehow being smothered in a blanket of silence. He drew his wand from his pocket, keeping his eyes peeled as he went around a corner, the bricks of the passage walls looking dirtier with every quiet step he made.

Ahead of him, he saw the figure more clearly for just a moment – a woman, darting up a side passage, her shoes echoing on the stone steps. Moving swiftly after her, Harry kept his wand pressed against his palm. Looking up the steep stairs, he could see the rolling overcast clouds through the archway at the top of the steep passage. Suddenly, he paused, his heart thumping a little louder in his chest as he realised – it was sunny on Diagon Alley, clear blue skies in every direction. Questions flooded into Harry's mind.

Where had this come from?

Where was he?

His palms sweating slightly, Harry decided to turn back, emerging back into the passage to see-

A brick wall, featureless yet weathered as if it had always been there, sitting in the place of the passage he'd just stepped out of.

What the fuck?

Harry pressed his back to the wall opposite the stairway, pointing his wand up at the archway, now the only way out of… whatever this is.

Stepping forward slowly, Harry kept his body in a slight crouch, trying to keep the noise of his sneakers on the cobblestones to a minimum as he climbed the stairs. A few tense seconds later, where all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing echoing off of the walls, Harry reached the top. Looking out around the corner of the archway, he saw Diagon Alley – only, it wasn't the same one as the one he'd left. In fact, this Diagon Alley looked identical to the one from the future. Instead of crowds of witches and wizards, laughing children and bustling commerce, the Alley was mostly deserted, the shops closed up and vandalised. Familiar posters demanding information on Undesirable Number One were plastered on every window and wall.

Harry gasped, the realisation crashing down on him even as his heart began to race, his breath coming shallow and fast.

This can't be real, said a quiet voice in the back of his mind.

Looking once more up and down the Alley, Harry saw with a start that the few people he'd seen scurrying around the street were gone. Instead, standing right in the middle of the Alley, was one person.

A young woman with flaming red hair, her bright blue skirt flowing in the breeze.

"You can't be here, Gin." Harry called out, his voice carrying in the empty street.

The woman turned, confirming Harry's assumption when he found the face of Ginny Weasley looking back at him.

"Why can't I?" She asked, her face impassive.

"Because this isn't real." Harry responded, his voice growing stronger with each word, as if he needed to hear the statement himself. "Because you're dead."

Ginny smiled at him, tilting her head slightly, as if in amusement.

"And you're not?"

The question struck Harry, memories of their conversation whilst he was unconscious from Voldemort's curse coming back in force. Shaking his head slightly, trying to refocus his attention, Harry replied.

"No, I'm not," he stated authoritatively, trying to end that line of questioning before continuing. "If you're here, then you know what I've done." He took a step forward now, his hand clenched white-knuckled around his wand.

"The time-travel spell, yes," Ginny answered, "so you can prevent all this?" She gestured to the abandoned street around her, taking a step toward Harry, who nodded.

"I'm going to stop it all before it happens. Everything." Harry shot back as he advanced. "Why are you here?" He asked pointedly, irritated at her evasiveness.

"I'm here to ask you something." Ginny replied neutrally, now within a few paces of Harry. "How can you fix the future, if you can't even fix yourself?" Her voice falling to a whisper as she stepped into Harry's reach, the teenager responding by raising his wand, pointing it at her chest.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine," Harry responded, holding his wand steady as he locked eyes with Ginny. She laughed uncharacteristically harshly as she glanced down at the wand pointed at her chest, and back up at Harry, her eyes cold.

"You've run from death whenever he's come for you, Harry. You've gone so far now that you're even going to manipulate everyone around you, your friends," she spat out the last words, "in the hope of undoing your own demise. The only person who doesn't know that you're not fine is you." Harry paused, his wand tip jabbing into the flesh above Ginny's heart.

What? That's ridiculous. I didn't go back because I… it was my ONLY option.

I've got to get out of here, Harry decided.

"Step back, Ginny." He ordered, his hand shaking slightly.

Ginny only grinned, and stayed put.

"Why? You can't kill me, Harry. As you said, I'm already dead."

Harry stepped back slightly as Ginny let out a small giggle. "Exactly, Ginny. You're dead. You can't be here, because this isn't real!" He shouted, Ginny just continuing to look amused.

Suddenly, Ginny stepped forward, gently clasping Harry's wand hand in her own and forcing the point away from her chest and over her shoulder. "If it isn't real, then why don't you just leave? Why don't you destroy me with a thought? Why don't you let loose all of the rage I can see that you're carrying, and turn this place to dust and ash, until only you remain?" She hissed, her expression furious.

"Answer? Inside, you're as dead as I am." She responded, her biting tone making Harry flinch, shaking his head in denial.

"Sure, you're walking and talking and laughing and crying," she continued, "but since when does that make you alive?

"You think that your return to the past won't have any consequences except the ones you design? You're a dead man, playing at being alive one last time. You've already started to make ripples – ripples that will turn into waves, waves that will come crashing down on you and expose you for what you really are.

"And when it does, there'll be no secrets, Harry. There'll be no spell you can cast to undo your actions here. Second chances don't become thirds." Her expression softened to one of sadness, a small smile tugging at her lips as she looked at him.

"Are you sure, love, that coming back was the right choice?" She whispered almost tenderly.

Harry was about to respond when a loud crack went off behind him. Acting on impulse, he wrenched his hand out of Ginny's to confront whoever had Apparated nearby, wand drawn and a stunning spell on his lips, and was shocked when he found himself locking eyes with a small blonde-haired girl, the child staring at him, open mouthed, a bundle of miniature fireworks in her hands.

Harry stood, stunned, before quickly darting his eyes around – the Future-Alley was gone, and he was standing back in the dark of the narrow passageway he'd first headed down, staring out at the bustling, sun-lit streets of the real Diagon Alley.

And he had his wand trained on a child.

Looking back down at the girl and lowering his wand, Harry raised his other hand to his lips, making a 'shushing' motion, trying his best not to look scary.

The child stared up at him, clearly wary, before nodding her head slowly, and skipping out into the sunshine, disappearing into the crowds. Harry sagged against the brick wall, glancing around the corner and up the passageway to see a strong metal gate blocking the way further in, locked and bolted shut.

…What was all that?

Hurrying back to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry pulled his hood down hard over his face, stuffed his hands in his pockets and stalked back through the crowds, weaving in between the groups of witches and wizards until he was safely back in his room at the pub. Once he was sat on the bed, the door locked and braced with a chair, he stared at himself in the mirror, looking older and wearier than any thirteen-year-old should.

Did I really run? Are all of these… visions… based on myself? Are parts of them true?

A stronger, more authoritative voice spoke up in response. You know that you didn't do this for yourself. You had the opportunity to undo everything, to set it all right, and you took it. It wasn't about you.

Lying back on the bed, he stared upward at nothing in particular.

Are you sure?

The question echoed in his mind as he simply lay there, silent.

Hours had passed before Harry moved again, lifting himself up off of the bed and staring out at the lights of muggle London through the window. He couldn't help but think about what he'd seen, and what Ginny had said to him.

Consequences…

Thinking back to the letters Ron and Hermione had sent to him on his birthday that were currently sitting unopened in his trunk, he realised that he should probably read them and reply, giving them the cover story he'd decided on: Uncle Vernon and himself had had a serious argument, and as a result Harry had been thrown out of Privet Drive. Going to the bathroom and splashing some water on his face to wake himself up, he pulled out the letters and began to read.

He grinned, chuckling to himself when Hermione mentioned using her holiday in France to do research for her History of Magic essay. He smiled as he pictured his bushy-haired friend, nose deep in a large tome whilst she and her family climbed the Eiffel Tower, not looking up once for the view. Reading the letter from Ron, he enjoyed the anecdotes about the Weasleys' trip to Egypt, and all the tombs they'd managed to visit whilst there, imagining the mayhem Fred and George must've gotten up to.

After he'd finished, he pulled out a quill and ink from his trunk, and set about writing his replies.

Dear Ron,

Thanks for the letter and the Sneakoscope, I'm sure it'll come in handy!

Pass on my congratulations to your dad for winning the prize draw, from what his job sounds like, it seems like he could definitely do with a day off or two!

I hope you're all having a wicked time in Egypt, although no doubt Hermione will ask you all about what wizards are like there when you get back – so I'd make sure to have a few anecdotes for her.

As for London, well I've got some (bad?) news there. Before you panic, don't worry, I'll be in London for when you're back – the thing is, I'm already here. You see, when my horrible Aunt Marge came and stayed at Privet Drive (on my birthday, no less!) I got into a really bad argument with Uncle Vernon. Long story short, I've been thrown out of home, possibly for good.

I made it to the Leaky Cauldron okay, and I'll be staying here until school starts. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. Dursley-free life, here I come!

Harry paused, his quill hovering over the letter as he considered his next sentence – it should be meaningless, he thought, but at the same time he remembered what Ginny had told him.

Consequences.

After debating with himself for a while, he nodded, putting quill to parchment once more.

Say hi to your brothers (and sister) for me!

Harry

With that done, he sealed the letter and pulled out a fresh roll of parchment for his response to Hermione.

Dear Hermione,

Thanks for the letter, and that Broomstick Servicing Kit! I'll be sure to put it to good use with the Nimbus.

Ron sounds like he's having a great time from the letter he's sent me – but I wouldn't be too sure that he's been learning as much about the Egyptians as you have about the French! You know Ron, he's probably been trying out his treasure-hunting skills with Fred and George.

I hope all of those French wizard libraries are up to scratch – but please try to remember to have some fun, okay?

Ha, just kidding!

I'm telling Ron this in the letter I've written to him as well – I'm actually already in London. Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, came to stay for a week on my birthday (just my luck!) and on the last day, me and Uncle Vernon had a huge argument. There were a lot of threats thrown around (mostly by him) and, put simply, I've been thrown out of Privet Drive. I've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and I'll be there until school starts.

I'm both glad and worried, to be honest, to be out of the Dursleys' house. On the one hand, they've been pretty awful guardians for as long as I can remember. On the other, I've now got to try and find somewhere to live for next year.

I suppose I can deal with it all as it comes, at least for the moment.

See you soon!

Love,

Harry

Sealing up the last letter, he took them both over to Hedwig, tying them to her legs before letting her soar out of the window, and off into the night. His stomach rumbling, Harry unbarred his door and headed down to the bar, where he got a late dinner from Tom, eating quietly at one of the tables that ran along the back wall of the pub, absorbed in his thoughts.