AN: Now it's AU Harry's time to shine, or if you rather, Scarless Harry's. Here's the second half of the previous chapter.
Chapter 12 – The Next Riddle (Part Two)
On a small stoop in front of an oddly shaped house, Harry stood with his father. Harry examined a peculiar orange fruit littering a bush next to him as his father knocked on the heavy blue front door.
They waited a minute, then two, and as each moment passed the more clear the obvious became to Harry.
His dad knocked again, incessantly this time.
"Dad," Harry began wearily, "maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
His dad gave him a look. "You said Selene Lovegood was acting oddly." He knocked on the door again.
"She's always odd."
"She knows, Harry. She has to know and I'll stand out here all bloody day if I have to until someone answers this door."
Harry pursed his lips as his father knocked again because while he could see the obvious, his dad was too stubborn and too hopeful to see it.
They were too late.
It had been almost a day since Harry's mum had let Malfoy and Lovegood go free. Harry hadn't honestly believed they would return with the other Harry in tow, but that still hadn't stifled the disappointment when it didn't happen. Now it was Saturday afternoon, the weekend was steadily ticking by, and the reality of the situation was difficult to ignore.
The other Harry had no intentions of meeting them.
And really, these intentions had been obvious for awhile now. Harry had suspected them at the Order meeting yesterday evening and they had been resolutely confirmed only hours later when his mother had received a short response to the heartfelt letter she had sent to his counterpart.
Apparently, his counterpart didn't want to burden them.
It had been the most rubbish excuse Harry had ever heard of, but that hadn't even been the worse of it. The post owl which had delivered the letter had flown off the moment she dropped it and when Harry's mum crafted a new letter anyway and summoned the family owl, Nydia, to deliver it, Nydia hadn't flown off. Instead, she had cocked her head in confusion and had hopped over to Harry himself.
They had no way to contact the other Harry because owls could not detect him…
And while his mum cried and Sirius half-joked about tracking spells; Harry had reread his counterpart's response, irritated, because it had been clear to him then that his counterpart had known this would happen—that he had purposely closed the door on them.
If that hadn't been enough to spell out his counterpart's intentions, then the second letter certainly had. It had arrived later on, long after his parents had gone to bed. The owl had come straight to Harry's bedroom window and hadn't even bothered to deliver it properly. It had shoved the letter into the holly tree right outside Harry's bedroom window and took off before Harry could even get out of bed.
Harry had been so annoyed by it all he had been half tempted to cast an Incendio on the letter and be done with it, but curiosity had gotten the better of him.
And so had hope, because he still had it then—a small inkling of it that his counterpart had changed his mind and had reached out to him…
The letter, however, had only been a warning:
Narcissa Malfoy saw what happened at Fortescue's today and she told her sister, Bellatrix—I don't know what sort of rumors you've heard about her, but I haven't heard anything good. Keep your eyes open.
And stay away from Tom.
A very strange warning that Harry had replayed in his head over and over again because it left him with more questions than answers—he didn't know any blokes named Tom, none in particular anyway and while Bellatrix Lestrange's husband, Rodolphus, was a known Death Eater, she was not. In fact, she was relatively tame in comparison to everyone else the Order kept dibs on. She was well known for hosting charity functions with her sister, Narcissa.
The letter's vagueness had been maddening. Who exactly was this Tom person? What did he look like? And why was Bellatrix such a concern?—was it because she was well-connected or was it something else? Harry didn't know and while he had appreciated the heads up about the Malfoy's, the letter had angered him more than anything else—not because it had been vague, but because he knew it had been his counterpart's way of severing ties with him guilt free.
The message—his counterpart's intentions—had been made perfectly clear.
He had gone to sleep frustrated with him self for being so disappointed and angry with his counterpart for being so bloody stubborn. And when he had woken up late that morning feeling more or less the same way, he had come to a firm decision. He was going to forget all about his counterpart lest he go insane.
Unfortunately, Harry couldn't control his parents.
He had found them in the kitchen that morning, worrying and fretting: Did his counterpart have money for food? Would their charm be enough to keep Malfoy's mouth shut? Would Dorcas really tell Dumbledore everything come Monday? Where was his counterpart staying? Was there any chance the Malfoy's knew what had happened at Fortescue's and would come after Harry?…
Needless to say, Harry didn't tell his parents about the second letter. They would have never let him leave the house again if they had known the truth…
But his parents worrying and fretting had taken an interesting turn then. They had begun to wonder if the Malfoy's or Lovegood's had any inclination of what was going on and that's when Harry had remembered Selene Lovegood's stranger than normal behavior the day before.
It had all made a little more sense and another spark of hope had shot through him—a spark of hope that had led him and his dad to the Lovegood's front stoop because if Selene Lovegood knew what was going on, and Harry had a feeling that she did, then she might have a way to get in touch with the other Harry.
It hadn't mattered that his counterpart's intentions were clear because Potter's just didn't give up—not on family—something his counterpart quite obviously understood because the bloke was apparently one step ahead of them—again.
"Oi! This is James Potter—Harry Potter's father. I need to speak with someone!"
Harry sighed as his father continued to knock. "Look dad, I'll just speak with Selene on Monday." He was convinced that his counterpart had somehow persuaded the Lovegoods to ignore them, but it wasn't like Selene could avoid Harry at work.
"That's two days away, Harry."
"Well at least it's something. We're not doing any good here."
His dad looked at him, long and hard, and Harry could still see it in his eyes—the hope that this was going to work and Harry didn't want to be the one to crush it.
"Maybe he just needs a couple of days," Harry suggested, "you know, to sort him self out and then he'll change his mind."
"Right," his father said, eyeing him dryly, "and you can be the one to explain that to your mother when we get home."
Harry groaned.
"That's what I thought." His dad turned back to the house and began to pound on the door again. "We can't just give up. What if it were you? We just need to find him so we can speak to him and…figure this out." There was a desperate edge to his voice that made Harry cringe.
"I know, dad."
"This is going to work," his dad continued between knocks. "It just has to because I don't know what we're going to do if it—"
The door swung open then—it opened so suddenly that Harry swore he would have missed it if he would've blinked—and just beyond the threshold stood a harried looking Selene Lovegood.
"Oh thank Godric," his dad said, dropping his hand. "Finally."
Selene's pale brows rose at that. Her long blonde hair was collected in a loose bun on top of her head and she was wearing nothing more than a thin house robe. Harry automatically averted his eyes, it wasn't clear what Selene had being doing, but it was clear she had been disturbed. He then caught the tang of herbs—rosemary, chamomile, and something else he couldn't quite identify—wafting from the house and he wondered if he had been wrong after all. Maybe Selene hadn't been purposely ignoring them. Maybe they still had a chance…
And once again, hope tugged at Harry's gut.
"Harry?" Selene said, studying both him and his father. "My word, what are doing here?"
"You must be Selene," his dad said without giving Harry a chance to explain. "I'm James Potter, Harry's father, and there is something important I need to ask you."
Selene's brows rose even further.
"Wait," Harry said quickly because now that he had another sliver of hope he didn't want his dad to ruin it. Harry had hardly been looking forward to this conversation with Selene—there was a decent possibility of him looking completely insane, after all—but he also knew his dad wasn't the right person for the job. "Dad, I got this." Then without waiting for a reply, he turned to his coworker. "Selene, I'm really sorry to bother you at your home like this, but my dad is right, we have something important to ask you."
"You must," Selene said. "You scared my poor Luna half to death."
Harry exchanged a look with his father. "Right, well here's the thing. The last few days have been really strange." He fixed Selene with a steady look, determined. "I was Obliviated on Thursday evening, and then yesterday I received a letter from the ministry claiming I had cast a Patronus in front of Muggles in this very area. There was a witness and everything."
"That was yours?" Selene said curiously. "I would have never pinned you for a stag."
"A stag?" Harry's father blurted out in disbelief.
Selene gave him a puzzled look. "Yes, I saw it. It was as clear as day, right over there." She pointed to a hill over Harry's right shoulder. "It was quite magnificent actually." She smiled at Harry.
Harry couldn't help but glance over at his dad then—he looked speechless and Harry was honestly close to it because Selene's instincts had been right. A stag was his dad's animal—his patronus and animagus—not Harry's. Harry's was a hawk, something that had come as no surprise to him since he loved to fly so much. But this was apparently not the case with his counterpart. Harry hadn't even considered the possibility of his counterpart having a different patronus from him. Nor did he know what to make of the fact that not only did he not share one with Harry, but that he shared one with their dad.
"No, that's just it," Harry said, deciding to push away his thoughts so he could move on. "It wasn't mine. My patronus isn't even a stag. It was just cast by someone who looked like me and I've been trying to figure out who it was ever since I got that letter yesterday."
It was only half the story, of course, but it was the best Harry could do since Selene was not in the Order's tight circle. But regardless of whether it was the full story or not, Selene's expression had turned thoughtful and it gave Harry the courage—and hope—he needed to say what he needed to say.
"And last night I finally figured out who it was, it was me…from another dimension."
Harry watched Selene carefully then. Her expression was blank, completely unreadable, but then she blinked.
"Pardon?" she said.
Harry's heart sank a little. "I know it sounds crazy," he tried, "but—"
"Sounds crazy? It is crazy, but more importantly what does this have to do with me?"
Selene wrapped her robe more tightly against her and Harry smiled uncomfortably because he knew then that this wasn't going to work. And really, he had known all along. She had taken forever to answer the door. And maybe his counterpart hadn't had anything to do with that, maybe she had actually been busy, but if Selene Lovegood truly knew about his counterpart and was going to cooperate, Harry wouldn't have had to explain anything at all.
Selene Lovegood was officially a dead end.
"Because," Harry's dad said, causing Harry to wince, "Harry isn't the only one who has come to us from another world, your daughter, Luna, has as well."
"Luna?" Selene repeated doubtfully. "My Luna?"
"Yes, and we're thinking that they came to you, sometime on Thursday evening, just after they arrived here. It would explain why this other Harry was in this area when he cast the Patronus. And I also know you spoke with Harry on Friday—I know you wanted to discuss something with him."
"I wanted to discuss an experiment." Selene said in bewilderment. "Not dimensional travel."
Harry winced again.
"Please," Harry's dad begged. "We have to know. We talked to Luna last night, that's how we figured out what was going on, but…do you know anything about this? Anything at all? We are just trying to get in touch with Harry. Do you know how? Please, it is of the greatest importance."
Selene held up her hand then. Her eyes were closed, almost as if she were bracing herself. "I know that I'm open-minded," she said, reopening her eyes. "And I know what they say about me at work," she said to Harry. "But never in my years would I have thought that I'd be standing here having this conversation. What you must think of me."
"No, Selene," Harry said quickly. "It's not like that."
"Please," Harry's dad begged. "We just want to talk to him."
"And I've heard enough," Selene said, sounding flustered. "Good day."
She then slammed the front door in their faces, ignoring their loud protests.
"Bloody hell," Harry said a moment later. He rubbed his face underneath his glasses, cursing his counterpart for making life so difficult and himself for wanting to come to the Lovegood's in the first place.
"She's lying," his father said vehemently. "She is lying."
Harry laughed once against his hands. "Merlin, I hope so." Because otherwise he had just effectively given one of his coworkers a good reason to never take him seriously again.
"But why? Why lie?"
"Because dad, he asked her to." And as soon as he said it, Harry knew it was true.
His dad opened his mouth, to argue perhaps, but all that came out in the end was a long sigh. His shoulders then slumped in defeat and Harry knew that his father had finally accepted his counterpart's intentions. The hope that had been present in his dad's eyes only seconds before was now completely gone.
"Come on, son. Let's go home."
Harry's mum didn't take the news well and dinner that night was awful. His dad was distracted and unreachable—something Harry had never seen before. His mum stared absently out the kitchen window which had been conveniently left open since the night before. His brother, Jude, who had been brought up to speed on recent events, huffed irritably. And Harry ate his food half-heartedly, wondering if his counterpart knew what he was doing to his family.
Sleep then evaded him for the third night in a row and when Harry woke the next morning, he was desperate—desperate to forget about his counterpart and desperate for his life to just go back to normal. He grabbed his broom and went straight out to the family's Quidditch pitch. Flying had always helped ease his nerves, it was his cure-all, but even his standard failsafe wasn't working that morning because he found himself instead wondering if his counterpart did this very same thing…
He was hovering on his broom, staring into the morning horizon, asking himself a hundred things about his counterpart when his brother found him.
"Not you too," Jude groaned. "When is everyone going to stop moping about?"
Still staring into the horizon, Harry scowled. "I'm not moping," he said. "I'm thinking."
"Same difference. Mum told me you came out here. I should have known better than to assume you'd want to play Quidditch."
Harry swiveled around. Jude was approaching him on a broom of his own with a quaffle tucked underneath one arm and Harry felt guilt slowly creep up his spine. He had promised to help his brother practice that summer, but hadn't exactly kept his promise with all of the work he had been doing.
"Just forget about him, alright?" Jude continued, tossing him the ball. "The whole lot of them. This is ridiculous."
Harry caught the ball and looked at it thoughtfully. "I know…" he said. "It's just…I want to know why?"
Because Harry knew not knowing the answer to that question was holding him back from moving on. He may have known his counterpart's intentions, they were as clear as the morning horizon, but he couldn't for the life of him understand them. It was the reason he couldn't sleep at night. It was the reason he could think of little else. And it was the likely reason his parents were moping around the house because now that they had no way forward, they could do little else than dwell on the reason why.
Why was a question Harry desperately needed answered.
Jude though didn't look impressed. "Why?" he repeated. "Because he's tosser, that's why."
"But there has to be some sort of reason, it just—"
"Harry," his brother said, cutting him off. "He made mum cry—Twice." Harry winced. "I don't give two tosses what his reasons are."
Harry sighed, he couldn't really argue. Watching his mum cry had been awful.
"Now come on. I need to practice. School starts back up in a matter of weeks and at this rate my own team is going to kick me off for being complete rubbish."
"Fine," Harry relented, tossing his brother the ball. It was apparent that he was going to get little sympathy from his brother and he reckoned a bit of Quidditch would help distract him anyway. "Where do you want me?"
"What was that?" His brother said, cupping his hand around his ear. "Am I hearing someone from this house finally seeing reason?"
Harry laughed despite himself. His brother had always been a bit dramatic—something his mother said he had learnt from Sirius. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm bollocks for a brother. Now stop being a prat and tell me where you want me."
But his brother didn't answer him—not right away. His expression had sobered, catching Harry by surprise. "He's the prat, Harry. I know he's you…but he's not. You would never do this to mum and dad."
"I…I know."
"Then forget about him, okay? He's not worth knowing."
Harry nodded, swallowing thickly, but then the moment was over. His brother zoomed passed him and flung the Quaffle through the middle goal post.
"Oi!" Harry called out after him. "That doesn't count!"
Then he was off, flying through the sky with purpose, easily blocking his brother's next shot. He dove through the air, swerved around his brother, and laughed when his brother almost fell off his broom trying to block Harry's own goal attempt. He didn't know how long they played for—he didn't know what the score ended up being—all he knew was when he touched down sometime later and hopped off his broom that he hadn't felt better in days.
And it wasn't because he had forgotten about his counterpart—no, because no matter how much he wanted to do so, he knew it was going to be a long while before that happened. Instead, playing Quidditch had given him a sense of peace. If his counterpart didn't want to meet, then that was his loss, not Harry's.
The reason why didn't matter anymore.
So with a renewed sense of energy, he began to plan the rest of his day as he came off the pitch. He could finally focus on some research and he could spend some extra time with Susan after they had lunch with Neville and Hannah, but these plans were all but forgotten as Jude and he neared the back of the house.
The kitchen window over the sink was still open and from it, Harry could hear his mother yelling.
"And you think that's an acceptable excuse!? You've had that job for twenty years! You've been keeping this from me this entire time?"
Harry exchanged a look with his brother, intrigued. Not only was their mother talking, something she had barely done since the day before, but it sounded as if their dad had just revealed something important. His brother and he had spent many years eavesdropping on their parents, but rarely was it ever this easy. Harry dropped to his knees, motioned for his brother to follow, and they began crawling towards the kitchen window in unison.
"No, please, Lily," his dad was saying in the meantime. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen—you have to believe that. I had every intention, but before I knew it, years had passed and nothing had ever come of it and I didn't see any point of worrying you unnecessarily, not with everything else going on."
"But now it's come up again."
"No," he said, although it hadn't been a question. "I took care of it…it's just now with Harry—him not coming to us. I keep questioning my decision and wondering if I got it all wrong…"
"James," Harry's mum said, now sounding terrified. "What are you talking about? Harry—our Harry is home safe with us while our son from another world is…" she paused, struggling for a word.
"I know, Lily—I know."
"Then what's the problem? What decision are you questioning because clearly we are doing something right? I much prefer a son who chooses not to avoid me."
His father sighed as Harry plastered himself against the house, underneath the window, with his knees tucked to his chest and his curiosity intensifying. He should have known this was somehow about his counterpart—everything was these past couple days, and while Harry didn't know exactly what his parents were talking about, his new sense of peace left him because he had a feeling he was about to get some answers.
"I…Where are the boys?" His father said.
Harry was definitely about to get some answers.
"Playing Quidditch," his mother responded, "and if Jude has his way, they'll be out there all afternoon."
"But isn't Harry supposed to meet up with Neville and the girls today? Speaking of which, do you know where they're going because I don't know if I really like the idea of—"
"James," Harry's mother said empathetically as Harry rolled his eyes. "You're stalling, but if you're so worried about the boys then there. That should at least tell us when they're approaching."
'Too bad we've already approached,' Harry thought, unimpressed.
"Now tell me. What is this decision you've been questioning?"
"Right," Harry's father said, sounding suddenly anxious. The echo of his quick paced steps just piqued Harry's interest even more. His dad was rarely ever nervous. "I'm not sure where to begin really, but…well, do you remember when the Hall of Prophecies was destroyed?"
Harry furrowed his brows in confusion as his mother answered. "Of course," she said, equally taken aback. "It was right after Jude was born, but—"
"And do you remember how I had to work all of that overtime because of it?"
"I do," she said, her words now slow. "You were at work more often than not—something made worse by the fact that you lot never figured out how it happened."
Her tone was increasingly suspicious and when Harry's dad laughed awkwardly, she hummed.
"It was you."
Harry's father didn't deny it and Harry shared another look with Jude, stunned. If his dad was ever found out he would lose his job for sure and a stint in Azkaban was probably not out of the question either. And yet, Harry was still confused because he couldn't understand how any of this had anything to do with his counterpart…
"Don't worry," his dad said, "no will ever know. I did a good job covering my tracks. All of that overtime was good for something." He laughed awkwardly again.
"Is this it then?" his mum asked, not amused. "Is this the decision you've been questioning? Was this the other reason you became an Unspeakable—to destroy prophecies?" She sounded incredulous now. "Did Albus ask you to do this?"
"No…not exactly. He wasn't too happy with my approach to be honest. It was a nightmare to keep out of the press, but fortunately Bagnold took care of that herself. Things were still precarious back then and she didn't want the public to know how easily the ministry could be breached. But no, Albus didn't ask me to destroy them, he asked me to protect one prophecy in particular and when that became too difficult, I took matters into my own hands."
"So you took this job to protect a prophecy?"
"Don't get me wrong, I was still spying on Rookwood, but yes."
"And this prophecy, you know what it says?"
"I—yes…Albus told me."
"And now with Harry not coming to us, you are regretting your decision to destroy it?"
"I…no, I wouldn't say regret…"
"What does it say, James?"
Her tone was brisk and his dad sighed in defeat—it was a broken sound that scared Harry more than he cared to admit. It scared him so much that he didn't know if he wanted to hear his father's next words, but he sat rooted to the spot, his curiosity overruling his fear because he still couldn't understand how a prophecy made so long ago had anything to do with his counterpart…
"It predicted the potential demise of Lord Voldemort, Lily."
Harry blinked. Inside the house, his mother audibly inhaled.
"More specifically," his father added with difficulty. "It predicted the person who would have the power to finally make it happen—a newborn child Lord Voldemort would one day see as his equal…"
The words were heavy and blunt, and finally Harry understood. He stared fixedly at his mum's vegetable garden and tried to control his breathing because the prophecy hadn't been about his counterpart, the prophecy had been about him.
"Harry?" His mum breathed out, frightened.
Harry could feel Jude's wide eyes on him, but he couldn't bring himself to look back.
"Or Neville," his dad said quietly and Harry closed his eyes because Neville wasn't any better. Neville was his best mate. "The prophecy speaks of a boy born at the end of July to parents that had defied Voldemort three times—Harry or Neville."
Him or Neville...
"Alice and Frank—do they…?"
"No. Albus wanted to keep the number of people who knew to a minimum. He felt that as long as the prophecy was protected, that we had no need to worry them."
His mum took a deep composing breath then. Harry could practically feel the frustration and fear rolling right off of her. "Okay then," she said eventually, "so you protected it. You protected it then destroyed it so Voldemort would never get wind of it and come after the boys. Am I right?"
"Yes."
"But what I can't understand," his mother said, "is why you would ever regret making such a decision."
Harry's dad didn't say anything.
"I mean, I can't say I've ever put much faith in the things, but obviously this prophecy didn't come true here. Are you trying to say you think that's somehow because of you?—and that this is not the case in this other world? Because James, that just doesn't make any sense!"
She sounded a bit hysterical and Harry couldn't blame her for it because he was fairly certain that was exactly what his dad was trying to say. Harry felt like he was going to be sick.
"Lily," his father responded carefully. "I know you've never been one for Divination. Nor have I, for that matter, but prophecies are funny things. They're not meant to be understood as absolute truths, the Department is certain about that."
His mother scoffed and his dad laughed a little.
"And that's a good thing. In fact, I have never been more thrilled about the infuriating ambiguity of damn things because do you know what that means? It means that we still have our choices. It means that our paths aren't laid out for us and we aren't mindlessly listening to a room full of orbs."
Harry swallowed then. His father had once told him something very similar when he had considered taking Divination before his third year. His father had told him not to bother with the subject.
"Instead, what we know," his dad continued, "is that prophecies foretell a possibility—a very real and potential future."
"You could say that of anything," Harry's mum said stubbornly.
"No, that's just it. You really can't. There are some paths this world is never meant to take. Figuring out what is and isn't possible is half the battle sometimes. And that brings me to the most important bit. Prophecies are meant to be heard. They are specifically told to someone and not just to anyone. They are told to someone who can somehow benefit from the information—from knowing this particular possibility. It is as if this person has triggered the Seer to make the prophecy in the first place."
"So they're self-fulfilling," his mother said.
"No, not necessarily," his father responded, flustered. "They're rarely ever so straight forward actually. There is a reason the Department studies them after all. But with that being said, would it really matter either way? If this prophecy between Voldemort and Harry had come true would you really have cared how?"
It was his mum's turn not to say anything.
His father sighed. "Albus heard this prophecy, Lily. The leader of the resistance movement triggered this Seer and do you know what it did for him? It gave him hope. It gave him hope because he knew that defeating Lord Voldemort was actually possible. You remember what it was like back then. We were losing and it was only getting worse and defeating that bastard felt like anything but possible."
Harry let out a shaky breath because that was exactly what it felt like right now—hopeless.
"And when Albus told me—about the prophecy, I didn't even believe him. I was watching you talk to Alice at the time, it was right after that wretched Order meeting, you know the one, and I thought it was just some sort of… joke, but then I saw his face. There was so much damn hope in his eyes and the fact that it was my son—my unborn son who had put it there, terrified me. And that was before I really understood what Albus was willing to do in order to win."
"Oh god," Harry's mum breathed out.
"Don't you see now? Don't you see why Albus thinks Harry has been brought here to save us? It's because he already has it in his head, Lily."
"No…"
"Yes. But that's not even the worse of it. There was a reason Albus was so adamant that I take the position. It was because he hadn't been the only one who had heard the prophecy. A Death Eater had been spying on him when it had been made. I don't know who—he never told me, but they heard a part of it before Aberforth found them and cast a Stunner. They didn't hear much—only that someone with the power to destroy the Dark Lord was approaching, but it was enough. Albus believes just hearing this caused Voldemort to disappear and change tactics."
"Of course," his mother said in realization. "And he couldn't tell the Order—"
"—because if any of us were captured, he didn't want to risk losing his newfound hope." His dad laughed bitterly then. "He only told me out of necessity and because he knew I wouldn't say no."
"Oh James…"
"And so I took the position. I took it because I had no choice. I perfected my Occlumency and I protected that prophecy with everything I had. And when that wasn't enough—when Rookwood was making all of those snide hints, I destroyed it—I destroyed it and every blasted thing around it without hesitation—without any doubt of what I was doing was right because I had to protect Harry."
The fierceness in his dad's voice made Harry shiver. He had always known his parents loved him. He had always known they would go at lengths to protect him, but this put a whole new perspective on things.
And yet, he shivered for an entirely different reason as well…
"And it was, James," Harry's mother said. "You made the right choice."
"I know," his father said, but he was quiet now and unsure, and his words came after such a painfully long pause. "I know I did. I just…I just wish I knew what this other world was like. All we know is that Harry won't come to us and his world's Voldemort is dead, and I can't help but think that it's somehow all related back to this prophecy…I always had this gut feeling it referred more to Harry than Neville and—"
"James, don't do this to your self."
Harry cinched his eyes shut. 'Please, dad, don't…'
But his dad didn't listen. "What if I failed to protect it? What if I failed and Harry somehow got tied up in some sort of destiny?"
"You don't believe in destinies."
"What if Harry knows I failed him? What if he resents me for it and that's why he's not coming to us?"
"James, please."
"Or worse yet, what if that prophecy had given me hope as well? What if I had turned him over to Albus and he was trained in order to—"
"Stop it! We would never do that. How can you say such a thing?"
"Because I don't know!" His dad cried out. "Because we just don't know. Harry is more powerful than our Harry. His magic is different. You saw Sirius's memory, and then there's that bloody Patronus. A stag of all things that wandered all over the English countryside like it was nothing! Something happened to make that possible."
"Yes, something, not necessarily us, so please for the love of Merlin, stop doing this to your self."
Harry's dad let out a choked sort of laugh. "But that's just it," he said brokenly. "I can't. No matter how hard I try I just keep coming back to the same thoughts over and over again. And Lily, I'm terrified. I am so terrified because what if we had it all wrong? What if Albus hadn't actually been the one to trigger that Seer?"
"James," Harry's mum pleaded then. "I am begging you."
"No, that's not fair. You asked. You asked me what was wrong. You asked me why I could barely look at Harry and this is it, Lily. And I can see it in your eyes—you're just as terrified because you're thinking it as well."
"No…"
"But you are. You're thinking that maybe, just maybe Voldemort was meant to hear that prophecy. Why else would that Seer prophesize something so important when Albus was being spied on? And if that's the case, how am I not to think, now knowing what I do, that my actions haven't ruined this world's only known chance of defeating him?—Because that's how I feel right now, Lily. That I have doomed the rest of this world by protecting my son."
Harry's breathing hitched and suddenly he couldn't take it anymore. The enormity of the world seemed to slip around his shoulders with his father's last words because he finally understood—really and truly understood.
"But that just can't be true," Harry's mum said tearfully.
But it was true.
Harry didn't know what had happened in this other world, but it didn't matter because Harry could feel with every ounce of his being that his father's fears were correct.
He had been meant to destroy Lord Voldemort.
And because he hadn't, this other Harry had been called from this other world to do it for him…
It was no wonder that his counterpart wanted nothing to do with him. Harry couldn't blame him for a second and he couldn't take finally knowing the truth—he couldn't handle finally knowing the reason why. He had to get out of there.
He stood, right in front of the kitchen window, and immediately his mother screamed.
"Whoa, Harry, wait," Jude said. He tried to grab Harry's arm but Harry batted him away.
Then he took off, running as fast as he could, ignoring his mother's cries of alarm and his father's pleas for him to wait. He ran until his lungs burned, but even that wasn't enough to numb the pain coursing through him, so he closed his eyes, thought of the vast grey skies, and he flew.
Transforming had its desired effects. The panic nipping at his skin ebbed away as he expanded his black feathered wings. The chill of dread was instantly replaced by the coolness of the wind…
And so he flew. He flew right over the Quidditch pitch and past the Manor's borders. He flew over the nearby town of Godric's Hollow and he flew because he didn't know what else to do…
And yet, despite his new form, he could still hear his father's voice tormenting him over and over again…
'You weren't meant to be protected…'
Transforming had dulled the physical pain he'd been feeling, but it did nothing for his mind…
'You were meant to save us…'
And it wasn't long before being alone in the sky with his thoughts was unbearable.
He swooped down beneath the clouds and touched down in a small forest clearing, desperate to find company—anyone to distract him away from his thoughts. He checked his pocket watch once in human form again and mercifully, found it was twenty minutes till one—the time he'd agreed to meet Neville and the girls for lunch. He apparated to Tinsworth, not caring he was early and numbly walked down the main road towards The Tickled Toad, the pub Hannah had chosen for them to meet.
Once inside, Harry ordered a much needed Firewhiskey and slid into an empty booth. He nursed the amber liquid and traced the oak grain of the table with his finger, attempting to distract himself as he waited…
'You were meant to save us…'
It didn't really work. He gulped the rest of his Firewhiskey down and was seriously contemplating ordering another when Neville showed up. He was a few minutes early as well—typical for him—and Harry knew in an instant that coming there may have been the stupidest thing he could have done.
Him or Neville…
"You look like shite, mate."
Neville greeted him with a frown and Harry forced a smile. What had he been thinking…?
"I'm fine," Harry lied.
Neville eyed Harry's empty glass as he slid into the opposite side of the booth. "What happened? This isn't about what we talked about at the meeting, is it?"
Harry shook his head. Him or Neville…
"Then what is it?" Neville asked, growing more concerned. "What's wrong?"
Harry stared at his best mate. He wanted to unleash everything—from Malfoy and Lovegood to Fawkes to his counterpart's vague letter and to the prophecy…one of their supposed destinies—but he just couldn't. He didn't know how, but mostly he didn't want Neville to experience the same sickening dread he was currently feeling.
Not when it didn't matter anyway…
"I'm fine, really. I just need the loo."
Neville obviously didn't like Harry's answer, but he didn't argue.
Grateful, Harry excused himself and quickly made his way towards the back hall, purposely ignoring Neville's worried gaze as he went. He didn't know what to do. Being alone had been torture, being with Neville hadn't been much better, and being home with his parents was out of the question…
'You were meant to save us…'
Harry pushed the loo door open, more desperate than ever. He had to get him self together. He just needed to collect his thoughts and…then he laughed because no, what he needed was to rip every thought from his head. His thoughts—all of the questions and uncertainty—everything about his bloody counterpart and the recent knowledge of how Harry hadn't lived up to him…He had to escape it and he didn't know how…
He then caught his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He looked awful—pale and trembling—and every part of himself—his eyes, his glasses, his hair—seemed to taunt him.
He could have been Voldemort's equal.
He could have been so much more…
'You were meant to save us…'
Harry swiped off his glasses, unwilling to look at himself any longer, and approached the sink. He then lowered his head, fumbled with the tap, and splashed his face with water. He splashed his face again and again and again, trying to wash his thoughts away. He splashed his face until he heard the door swing open behind him…
Embarrassed, he immediately turned off the tap, but he couldn't bring himself to look up. He did not want to know who had intruded on his moment of vulnerability. He ran a hand through his short wet fringe and hoped to Merlin this bloke would just enter a stall with no questions asked. He realized he wasn't going to be so lucky when he heard the main door lock. He knew then what was going on.
"Neville," he began warily, sliding his glasses back on his still wet face. "I swear, I'm—"
Then he stopped because the person he was looking at in the reflection of the mirror was not Neville. It was a complete stranger.
A complete stranger who had just locked himself in the loo with Harry…
Keep your eyes open.
Harry spun around, all thoughts of self-pity forgotten. The bloke was young, probably around Harry's age, but there was something about him. His dark eyes bore into him, sending a chill up Harry's spine. He slid his hand into his pocket, reaching for his wand, but he found it inexplicably—frighteningly—empty. The man smirked and held up his right hand. He had Harry's wand and a wand of his own.
"You know, Harry," the man started conversationally, twirling the two wands between his fingers tips, "I didn't think you'd make it this easy for me."
"Who are you?" Harry demanded. "What do you want from me?"
The man studied Harry's wand, stroking its length between two fingers. "Lord Voldemort keeps a close eye on his enemies and you, Harry, have gained his interest."
Harry swallowed, trying to control his fear. "So who are you then? One of his little followers? Too scared to take me on in public then?"
The man smiled up at him. "I'm much more than a follower, Harry."
Harry stared, initially confused, but then it clicked into place. It was as clear as the knocking on the door.
"Harry? Harry, are you in there?"
It was Susan. She had arrived and had come looking for him, and Harry had never been so unhappy to hear her voice over Neville's…
"Harry?" she called out again. Then the door handle began to jiggle goading Harry into speech.
"Yes!" He desperately wanted to cry out for help. He was trapped and wandless with Voldemort's son—all of those ridiculous rumors had been true—but he couldn't drag Susan into this. "Yes, I'm in here. I just need another minute."
The man eyed him amusedly as Harry waited for Susan's response. It finally came moments later. Her voice was soft and muffled by the door. "Harry, what's going on? I've never seen Neville so worried."
"I know," Harry said, averting his eyes to the floor, desperate to avoid the man's gaze. "I'll explain everything—I just need another minute."
"You promise?"
"Yes."
Harry closed his eyes, willing her retreat and when he finally heard it, relief and dread filled him at once.
"How touching," the man said moments later.
Harry glared up at him.
"She was so excited to see you, by the way," he continued casually. "You should have heard her tell me all about her wonderful boyfriend and how she just couldn't wait to have lunch with him at The Tickled Toad."
Harry was seething now. "So you're Voldemort's son then?" He snapped. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?"
The man eyed him before returning to his study of Harry's wand. It was then that Harry distantly noted that both wands were made from holly.
"Yes," the man answered, sounding both bored and bitter now. "I'm the long lost rumored son." He pocketed Harry's wand and pointed his own directly at Harry's chest. "Most people," he added with a sneer, "know me as Tom."
Tom…
And something besides fear flickered through Harry as he stared down the end of Tom's wand—it was annoyance. His counterpart had known this would happen and he had sent Harry the most worthless warning ever.
And stay away from Tom…
And that knowledge—that this could have all been prevented by his bloody counterpart—was Harry's last thought before there was a flash of crimson light and his mind succumbed to darkness.
AnotherAN: I am overwhelmed and humbled by the response this story has received since I last posted. Thank you for all of your comments, input, and encouragement. =)
Also, an FYI: I've already begun on the next chapter, but it might be awhile before it's out. I've been working loads of OT because work is so short annnnnnnnd I'm getting married next month, so there's that. I promise, however, that I'll get it out as soon as I can…especially since I left you guys on this note.