Harry paced around Cho's apartment slowly, scanning it all with detached curiosity.

It was large, well furnished. Expensive. The surfaces were shiny, the walls bright. A television screen, long, wide, impossibly thin, floated in the air in her sitting room with no wires attached. The screen was displaying what looked like a copy of a document - lots of words pertaining to a department budget.

"Cool, right?" she said, watching him.

Looking at Cho Chang brought so many memories back to Harry. He felt fifteen again. Young, naïve. It was nice.

"I work in the Department of Magical Expansion," she continued, coming to stand next to him and looking at the screen. "The department was created after the war, in order to assist the transition of Muggle society into a magical one. Muggles had some nifty little gadgets, you know? Electricity doesn't function properly around magic of course, but our department has been researching a way to make it work. This right here is a prototype. Perk of the job, you could say."

Harry nodded slowly. "Transition into magical society," he repeated.

She nodded, watching his face carefully.

"Was this transition global?" he pressed. "Does the entire world know about magic now?"

"Of course. How do you not know this already?" she added softly. "Harry, where have you been? How are you here? You died, we saw your body. You were dead!"

"You answer my questions and I'll answer yours," Harry said firmly. "Where are Ron and Hermione? And Ginny? Are they alive? What happened that night in Hogwarts?"

She narrowed her eyes. "The Battle of Hogwarts was a crushing defeat. Or, erm, a brilliant victory depending on your point of view."

Harry lowered his head. His fault. This was his fault. The image of Kingsley's body floating in that tank stayed fixed in his mind, and for a moment it was hard for Harry to even stand.

Cho scrutinized his reaction, and a look of realization slowly came over her face. "It really is you."

"Cho, I need answers."

"I'm helping you," she whispered, looking away now with wide eyes. Gears seemed to be turning in her head. "They'll kill me!"

"I'll protect you."

She laughed. "You? Like you were supposed to protect the world, chosen one? Like you were supposed to protect Cedric?"

He gritted his teeth. After taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "Cho," he said more calmly, "I need your help."

"I should turn you in." It sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "Helping you will ruin my life. There are Legilimens around every corner in the Ministry these days, they'll find out about this."

"I can wipe your memory."

She stared at him, shaking her head. "Get out," she said eventually. "Get out right now."

"Okay, okay. I'll go," he said, raising his hands and backing away. He paused. "But if you won't tell me anything, is there anyone who can? Please, Cho."

She looked at him in silence for a good few moments, her expression unreadable. Harry was reminded of his fifth year more than ever as he waited for her to respond, particularly of their many fights in the short time they were dating.

"You need to talk to Neville," she said eventually.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "He's alive? Brilliant. Where can I find him?"

She shook her head. "It's not that simple, unfortunately. Neville Longbottom is the most wanted man in the world. He finds you."

"I've got to go back, haven't I?"

"That is up to you."

"I've got a choice?"

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to … let's say … board a train."

"And where would it take me?"

"On," said Dumbledore simply.

Harry was silent for a long time. Dumbledore seemed in no rush to break the silence, continuing to gaze around King's Cross Station with delighted curiosity.

"Okay," said Harry. The Headmaster looked back at him. "I'll get on a train. I'll pass on."

"You have earned your rest," said Dumbledore, nodding. "You have every right to throw in the proverbial towel. You have been through so much, too much to ever ask a sane person to go through. You have simply had enough."

"No, that's not it, Professor," said Harry uncomfortably. "There's more to it than that. The living only get hurt when I'm around. I can't let it keep happening. They'll all be better off without me."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "If you say so, my dear boy. Only you would know."

Harry sat on a bench, waiting. Every time he closed his eyes, memories floated to the surface. They taunted him. Jeered at him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Dying? Not at all," said Sirius. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep."

But how could death be likened to sleep? The nightmare had only started once Harry had woken up. This world, this new definition of reality was ludicrous, awful. Worst of all, it was real.

He clenched his fists upon his lap, screwing his eyes shut tighter.

Sure, Harry had come back to life, but what was he supposed to do now? Go back to being the Chosen One? Try to save this forsaken world that had already given up on itself? Perhaps that is what a Chosen One would do, but he wasn't that person anymore. That person wouldn't have abandoned the world like he did. That person had died at Hogwarts that night, along with what seemed like any hope for this nightmarish world. No, he was done.

Harry opened his eyes, let them flicker around the street. He was on the other side of London now, a quiet part. The few people walking about moved a little faster, their expressions a little tighter.

He saw a man wearing a brown sack get cornered by a group of jeering wizards. They loomed over the Muggle, forcing him back into an alley. The passersby averted their eyes, pretending they didn't see. Harry wanted nothing more than to do the same. To look away, pretend he didn't see it. Pretend he didn't care.

He closed his eyes again, grinding his teeth. Then, he stood, pulled out his wand, and approached the alley.

"Stupid," he muttered as he walked. "So bloody stupid."

He reached the alley and didn't break stride as he entered, his jaw clenched in anger. He didn't even know who to direct the anger towards.

Then he saw the terrified Muggle backed against a wall, one of the wizards jabbing a wand against the base of the man's throat, snarling, the others laughing.

Harry immediately found an outlet for all his anger. "Stupefy!"

The wizard was sent flying back, cracking his head against the wall and lying still. The others whirled around in alarm. The Muggle wasted no time in hurrying away, head down, shoulders shaking.

The other wizards shouted and reached for their wands. Harry waved his own wand in a large arc over his head and they were flung away like rag dolls, hitting the ground and rolling. Voices sounded behind Harry, and he glanced back to see other witches and wizards approaching the alley with raised wands and frowns on their faces.

"Stupid," he muttered again. He pocketed his wand and sprinted further into the alley before his opponents got up. He didn't look back, but heard the voices turn into angry shouts, multiplying and following him down the alley. The path ahead split off into two directions, and he took the second, huffing as he ran. His body hadn't been used for vigorous exercise in a long time.

When he saw an alcove cut out into the side of a building he pivoted sharply, ducking into the alcove and coming to a stop. Harry rested his hands on his knees, bent over and sucking in deep lungfuls of air. His chest was burning, and he could feel his heart pounding through his temples.

He heard footsteps approaching and crouched down, making himself as small as possible. A handful of voices accompanied the footsteps, growing steadily louder.

"He can't have gone far," said one voice. "We'll find him."

"You had better. We received a report an hour ago that somebody is running around London posing as Harry Potter. It is likely that person and this man are one and the same. We must show no mercy and kill this imposter before they attempt to stir any more trouble."

Three wizards and a figure in a black mask, a Death Eater, walked past Harry's hiding spot without slowing. They didn't notice the alcove, didn't look down, and they proceeded along the alley and away from Harry. He let out a long breath and stood back up.

He frowned, letting their words settle in his mind. They knew he was back, or at least believed that somebody was pretending to be him. Cho had betrayed him, she must have. The realization stung, but Harry shrugged it off. He didn't have time to be hurt.

He peeked around the corner, saw the alley clear on both sides, before setting off the way he had come.

He needed to lie low. If he was being searched for, he couldn't risk being out and about anymore, asking the questions that he needed to ask. He would find a place to hide and wait for a few days. He needed to figure out what to do now. He needed to figure out what he even wanted to do now. Either way, what he required most was time.

Harry turned a corner and froze.

Five Death Eaters stood before him, their masks seeming to almost leer at him with smugness and self-satisfaction. The one closest to Harry already had their wand trained on his chest. "Do not move," came their voice, muffled slightly behind the mask. "Or I will kill you."

Harry was careful not to move a muscle.

"We should kill him regardless," said one of the Death Eaters behind the first.

"Not yet," said the first one. His voice was cold. He walked forward slowly, came to a stop before Harry. Then he reached up and removed his mask. Harry's eyes widened.

Draco Malfoy gazed at him, scrutinizing his face closely, grey eyes scanning Harry's profile. His white-blond hair, which might once have been slicked tightly back, was ruffled and unruly. His sharp features were the same, only a little older. He had a patch of blond hair on his chin and more stretching up to his bottom lip, and there was light stubble upon his cheeks.

"At the start of our sixth year," Draco said, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "you tried eavesdropping on me on the Hogwarts Express. What was the outcome?"

"You caught me," Harry muttered.

"And?"

Harry glared. "And you broke my nose."

"Yes," said Draco, looking into the distance and smiling fondly. "Yes, I did."

The Death Eaters looked at one another, then back at Draco.

"You don't mean that this is really him, do you, Malfoy?" one of them asked.

Draco grinned. "Oh," he said. "It's him." Then he whirled around. "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green and the Death Eater who had spoken fell to the ground. Harry's hand flashed to his pocket for his wand, and by the time he had it raised Draco had killed two more.

The last Death Eater pointed their wand at Draco, about to cast a spell, and Harry flicked his own wand. "Expelliarmus!"

The Death Eater's wand spun through the air and clattered to the ground. There was another flash of green from Draco, and the last Death Eater hit the ground, dead.

"You didn't have to kill them," said Harry, wand now trained on Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes, pocketing his own wand and walking back down the alley. "I'd forgotten how obnoxious you are. You're welcome, Potter."

After a moment's hesitation, Harry followed him. "Killing damages your soul."

"My soul's seen worse."

"They didn't have to die."

"They saw your face."

"We could have wiped their memories."

"And memory charms can be broken, Potter."

Harry took in a breath, then sighed. "Why did you help me, Malfoy?"

"Believe me, I take no pleasure from it. And you still haven't said thank you, by the way."

"What do you have to gain from helping me?" Harry pressed.

"What do I have to gain?" Draco repeated. He shrugged. "A chance for the world to be saved. When I got the message from Cho that you're back and you need my help, I couldn't believe what I was hearing."

"Wait," said Harry, "Cho told you to help me?"

"Potter, I remember you being remarkably slow, but this is ridiculous. Yes, Cho Chang asked me to help you. She could only do so, of course, by tipping off the Death Eaters, but all I had to do was be the first one to find you. And I was."

"Actually you were far from-"

"Now, we need to get you out of here," Draco continued. "It's not safe. Do you still have the wand you stole from me?"

"Yeah," said Harry, brandishing the stick in his hand. "I'm not giving it back, though."

Draco looked at the wand with something akin to nostalgia. "No need," he said after a moment. "I was a different person when I had that wand. You can keep it."

"How generous."

They reached the entrance of the alley, and stopped. Draco pulled something from his pocket and held it out to Harry. It was a little blue button, torn from a coat or a jacket. "This will take you to Longbottom."

Harry took the button gingerly. "You're in touch with Neville?"

"Of course," he said. "How do you think he's avoided the Death Eaters for so long?"

Harry didn't know what to say. This was already the most pleasant conversation he'd ever had with Draco Malfoy, and it was full of insults. Regardless, Harry was slowly grasping the idea that they were on the same team. "So you're…" Harry didn't know how else to say it, "one of the good guys."

Draco rolled his eyes up to the sky and let out a breath. "Yes," he said. "And you are the slowest, most nauseating and talentless person I've ever had the misfortune of coming across." He tapped his wand to the button in Harry's hand, and Harry felt a gradual pull at his navel, the feeling that accompanied travel by portkey. Harry looked down, and the button began to spin around in his hand.

The pull at his naval grew stronger as it spun, and Harry could feel himself about to be taken away.

"Potter."

He looked up again.

Draco wrinkled his nose, and nodded. "It's good to have you back."

The pull turned into a yank, and Harry felt his body squeezed and stretched, his feet lifting off the ground.

A moment later, he landed on hard ground. He was indoors. He squinted around at his surroundings-

There was suddenly a blindfold over his eyes.

"Put him to sleep and tie him up," came a familiar voice, sounding hurried.

"Where should we take him, Neville?"

"To the basement. We'll question him when he wakes up."

A wand tapped Harry's forehead promptly, and he felt himself slip out of consciousness.

"You s-summoned me, my lord?"

"Olivander," hissed a voice from the darkness. Light leaked into the room through the open door, where Olivander stood with increasing trepidation. His back ached, his throat was dry. He could feel sweat beginning to collect on his forehead.

The thick darkness permeating the room withdrew only slightly under the pressure of the light, and Olivander was unable to spot the source of the voice. The Dark Lord was there somewhere, bathing in the darkness. "I have a problem. A problem you assured me I would never encounter again."

Olivander's voice caught in his throat. "A-A problem?"

"I have wielded the elder wand for five years," came that cold, high voice. "For a time, it resisted me. I was unable to coax out its full power. However, ever since I killed Harry Potter, it has obeyed me completely. You were unable to provide me a reason, then, for why this could be, but the why was not important as long as the wand was working. You guaranteed that I would have no more issues. You told me that perhaps the wand had only needed an brief adjustment period."

Olivander nodded hesitantly. "It was the only logical conclusion."

"Yet this morning," the Dark Lord continued, voice turning deadly, "I found a recurrence of the problem. The wand is resisting me again. It feels just as it used to, before that night in Hogwarts."

Olivander swallowed thickly. "I-I-"

"The why is once again very important to me, Olivander. So I will ask you again, and I expect it to be for the last time: why?"