I speak American English, I think that alone disqualifies me from being J.K. Rowling, thus, I do not own Harry Potter. Also, did you ever realize that Rowling never gave Luna's birthday? And Xenophilius doesn't seem like the sort to even realize he's defied someone until the consequences come back to bite him. Thus, I'm now hoping that someone goes out and writes a story with Luna who lived.

=/\=

Are you sure?

Harry Potter tried not to stare at the young woman who sat across the table from him. It was difficult, he wanted to stare at her, but if he was honest with himself, she was one of the more unsettling things than he'd ever seen.

She was only one of several people who sat around the table with him and almost all of those sitting at the table unsettled him in one way or another. This was primarily because the last he'd seen, every person at that table except for the four with him and that strange girl, were dead. Severus Snape, Alastor Moody, Remus, even Sirius sat at that table. And none of them were being very subtle about their gaping either.

The unsettling young woman was pretty, but that was not what made him want to both stare at her and look away. Her hair was a shade red so vivid that normally one would only see it on comic book characters and her dark eyes sparkled behind round glasses identical to his own and she had his smile. Apparently her name was Rose Joan Potter and she was what he would have been if he'd been born a girl, and if he had not been the vanquisher of Voldemort. Her parents apparently both still died and she'd been taken in by the Longbottom family rather than the Dursleys. She was supposedly the image of her mother, with her father's eyes. But what Harry James Potter had seen in her was not Lily Potter but rather striking resemblance to the girl he'd once dated, Ginny Weasley. To see her like that made his stomach twist uncomfortably and he wasn't entirely sure that his face wasn't green.

"So, explain to us again, how exactly did this ritual," began the lovely brunette witch that sat by his side, drawing him away from his nausea, "a ritual which was designed to summon just one person, manage to grab five of us? A ritual, which in fact, was specifically designed to grab a singular person? And, most importantly, a person who does not have a living counterpart in this world?"

"My apologies, Miss?" replied the white haired man who sat at the head of the table. His blue eyes were twinkling in a way that had Harry torn between nostalgia and wanting to wrap his hands around the meddling bastard's skinny neck. He could ignore Snape, whether the man was alive or dead made little difference to him so long as the greasy haired potions master stayed out of his head. And he'd been happy to see that there was a dimension where Sirius and Remus both still lived, he'd never really accepted their deaths. But seeing him, one who's death he'd come to accept, even celebrate, had been a nasty shock.

"Mrs. Potter," she half lied. Harry smiled slightly as grabbed her hand underneath the table. She squeezed it in return but her grim expression remained as though it had been carved in stone.

"My apologies Mrs. Potter," the interfering bastard said, "You see, we face a great danger."

"Voldemort," the clever muggle born said bluntly and Harry was hard pressed not to roll his eyes as everyone at the table, except for himself, Hermione and two of their fellow dimensional travelers, all flinched. It was a little disconcerting to see Dumbledore of all people flinch but at the same time, anything that caused that potion happy manipulator discomfort was a good thing in his books.

"Erm, yes," Dumbledore said and he seemed to squirm in his seat for a moment, "Well, there is a prophecy."

"Let's go," Harry said, standing immediately. When the Dumbledore of his dimension had gotten his hands on a prophecy, he'd twisted and destroyed everything good in Harry's life to make things fit his interpretation of Trelawney's words. It had only been through sheer chance and good fortune that the self righteous idiot had not managed to permanently destroy his chance with Hermione or permanently twist and stunt his friendship with Luna and Neville as he'd all but destroyed his chance of true friendship with nearly anyone else at Hogwarts.

As it was, he and Ron were still trying to regain their equilibrium and at least something resembling friendship they'd shared before Dumbledore had gotten it into his head to use the youngest Weasley boy as a way to distance Harry from Hermione and keep tabs on the chosen one. Granted, everything else, such as the frequent jealous outbursts and general poorly thought out behavior, had been of Ron's own doing, but the attempt to steal the love of Harry's life had not really been his fault. Harry mentally thanked whatever benevolent force that was listening that Ginny had not come with them. The poor girl was still going through intensive therapy to overcome the conditioning Dumbledore had set into her as well as the mental trauma that had been a result of her interaction with the diary. The trauma had festered and actually grown worse since it had not been treated immediately, and Dumbledore's compulsion charms and various potions certainly hadn't helped. Being here and being confronted with this definitely wouldn't have been good for his pseudo sister's still delicate psyche.

This Dumbledore already had a strike against him for dragging him, his fiancée and his friends across the dimensional barriers and into this world. He didn't care that Remus and Sirius and possibly others he cared about were still alive. He wasn't about to find out what this Dumbledore had planned for an encore when a prophecy was involved.

Neville and Luna rose from their chairs and Luna moved to stand beside Hermione while Neville took Harry's other side as they prepared to leave. Only Ron remained seated at the table.

"Guys," Ron called to them, "Come on, they're still dealing with their you-know-who. You guys remember all the stuff we did trying to defeat him. We can at least listen."

Harry didn't even realize that he had been clenching his fists until he felt his nails bite into his flesh, drawing blood.

"Very aptly put Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "And by that can I assume that you have already defeated your own version of you-know-who?"

"By our calendar, five years ago next month," Hermione said coldly, "would have been our anniversary of Voldemort's defeat."

"Then you know how to beat him!" the eerie female version of Harry cheered, "I knew the boy-who-lived would be able to do something."

Harry flinched at the nickname. Bad enough she looked like Ginny, but to have someone that was technically him refer to him by that awful moniker was almost too much.

"You didn't tell us how all of us were summoned," Luna said casually, having caught Harry's flinch.

"Well, you see," Dumbledore seemed torn and now the four were all quite curious.

"Our Ron Weasley is dead," Remus said bluntly.

Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Neville all exchanged confused glances. Even Ron looked rather confused.

"So?" Neville asked.

"Yeah," Ron added, "I mean, I helped Harry a lot with defeating you-know-who but you have a Harry. Why would you need me?"

Everyone at the table blinked at the five.

"You mean, you're not the one who defeated the snake bastard in your world?" Sirius demanded.

The youngest Weasley boy blinked and looked at Sirius with a confused expression.

"No," Ron said shortly and Harry almost smiled. Ron of just a few months ago, still suffering from the potions and compulsions, would have played up his role in the war. Perhaps his first friend was finally growing up.

"Ron Weasley was your boy-who-lived?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

"Of course," Rose Potter chirped, "Who else would it be?"

=/\=

Well, what do you think? Who else would be the one who lived?

I don't know where my brain is these days, if you find it, please let me know