Disclaimer: I don't think this showed up before the prologue, so I'm putting it here now. I own nothing. This world and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling (unfortunately).
Chapter One: Harry
September, 2017It was September first. Today was the day that Harry Potter's middle child, Albus Severus Potter, would start Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Ginny, Harry's wife, led the family through the crowded train station, followed by Harry's two sons. James Sirius, the eldest, was teasing his younger brother about the sorting ceremony. Albus glanced father with a worried expression as James gave a speech about how likely it was for Albus to be placed in Slytherin house.
"Mum and Uncle Ron will probably disown you, Al," taunted James. "They won't be able to tolerate a Slytherin nephew."
"Dad!" Albus cried, looking to his father.
Harry sighed and let go of his daughter's hand. As Lily Luna ran to catch up with her mother, Harry stepped forward to diffuse the argument between his two sons. Years of being around Ron and Hermione's squabbles had prepared him for exactly this.
"James, didn't I tell you to quit teasing your brother?"
"I'm only saying there's a possibility of Al being in Slytherin," said James, trying to look innocent.
"Yes, but then you threatened to disown him if he was sorted into that house."
"I didn't threaten to disown him, I said that Mum-"
"We all heard what you said," Harry interrupted, "Now go walk with your mother and sister."
"But I haven't done anything!" James protested, walking away.
The Potter family was quiet as, one by one, they ran quickly through the barrier separating platforms nine and ten, walking through a cloud of steam onto platform nine-and-three-quarters, where the Hogwarts Express was getting ready to leave.
While Ginny, Lily, and James went off in search of Ron and Hermione, Harry pulled Albus aside.
"Don't listen to James," he said reassuringly, sitting his son down on a bench. "Most of what your brother says is full of sh- er, dung."
"But what if he's right?" Albus asked worriedly. "What if I do end up in Slytherin?"
"Then I'lol be proud of you, and so will your mother." Harry continued on with a speech about how one of the people Albus was named for had been in Slytherin, and how, if Albus really wanted to be in a particular house, the Sorting Hat would listen and take his feelings into account. "The point is, no one is going to disown you," Harry finished.
Albus laughed. "Let's go find the others."
As Harry stood up to follow his son and find the rest of their family, he felt a prickle on the back of his neck, like someone was staring at him. Turning around, Harry saw Draco Malfoy, standing a few yards away with his wife and son. Draco was staring right at Harry, with an expression Harry couldn't place. He looked away, touching the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, which was a nervous habit of his. This particular scar, which had burned off and on for seven years of Harry's life, had felt like nothing more than a scar for over a decade. Nothing more could possibly go wrong in Harry's life. All was well.
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Fall, 1994
Harry opened his eyes, surprised at the searing pain the small movement caused his head. There was a bright light above him, which made Harry want to close his eyes again, but that light was quickly blocked by someone coming to stand over him, so he kept his eyes open.
"I think he's finally woken up," said a familiar voice. Harry wondered if he was dreaming, for he felt sure that he was back in second year. The voice was identical to the one he had heard when he had regained consciousness on the Quidditch pitch, after having his arm broken by a Bludger gone rouge. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Harry's fear was confirmed. The face and voice above him belonged to Gilderoy Lockhart.
Harry groaned. "Why are you here?"
Lockhart laughed, which was a very Gilderoy Lockhart thing to do in this situation. "Do you remember what happened, Harry?"
What do you mean, do I remember what happened? Harry thought, but he answered the question anyway. "A Bludger knocked me off my broom."
Lockhart looked confused. "What on earth is a Bludger?"
Harry was confused too. Wasn't he on the Quidditch pitch. He tried to turn his head slightly, but couldn't, finding that there was a pillow beneath his head. And he realized he wasn't laying on grass, but cotton sheets. Maybe he was in the hospital wing? But if someone had actually gotten him to the hospital wing, what was Lockhart doing there? And why didn't he know what a Bludger was? This was turning out to be an incredibly weird dream.
"Harry, do you remember the accident?" Lockhart asked, rephrasing his previous question.
What accident? "I fell off my broom," Harry tried to explain again.
Lockhart shook his head and wrote something down on a clipboard. Then he walked away. Harry closed his eyes, hoping that would help him wake up. He wasn't enjoying this dream. His head hurt terribly, and he wanted to be awake and back in his normal life.
"He's very disoriented," Harry heard Lockhart say. The blonde man had come back into the room, and somebody else was with him, unless Lockhart had grown an extra set of legs. This was a dream, after all.
"That's to be expected, of course. I'm going to ask him a few questions, and then you can have some time alone with him." Whoever Lockhart was speaking to must have nodded, because he and his clipboard were back, this time sitting in a chair next to Harry's bed.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" Lockhart asked.
Harry wondered how long this dream was going to go on for. "I'm alright. But my head hurts."
Lockhart nodded. "Can you rate the pain for me, on a scale of one to ten?"
Harry thought about this. Sure, it hurt, but it wasn't as if he had a Basilisk fang stuck in his arm, or he was being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. "Five."
Lockhart made a note of this. "You say you fell off a broom. Could you explain that, please."
Harry sighed. "I was playing Quidditch, and-"
Lockhart interrupted. "What is Quidditch?"
Harry rolled his eyes, which made his head hurt. "The only magical sport."
"Magical?"
"You know, for students at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?"
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"And what do people study at this 'school'."
"Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Harry, becoming increasingly annoyed with this conversation. "Magic."
"Hmm," said Lockhart. "Are you magical, Harry?"
"Yes, of course I am!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm Harry Potter!"
"Calm down please, Harry. What does being Harry Potter have to do with being magical?"
"I'm the most famous wizard who ever lived." Harry tried to keep his voice calm. "I defeated Voldemort."
Lockhart didn't not gasp. He only wrote some more notes, before asking, "Who is Voldemort?"
"You-Know-Who!"
"I'm afraid I don't know who."
"He's the worst dark wizard there ever was! You must know him!" Harry was shouting again. This was getting ridiculous. He just wanted to wake up and eat breakfast with Ginny and Lily Luna.
"Harry," said Lockhart calmly. "Wizards don't exist."
"Don't be silly," Harry said. "Of course they do."
Lockhart turned again to the person Harry couldn't see. "I think it would be best if you visited another day, Mrs. Potter."
Harry gasped at the sound of the name "Mrs. Potter". Using strength he hadn't known he had, he pushed himself up into a seated position on his hospital bed and called out to his mother, who was walking out of the room.
Lily Potter turned around so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. "Harry?"
"Mum!" Harry exclaimed as she ran over to hug him. "I'm glad you're in this dream," he whispered as they embraced.
Lily pulled away, looking concerned. "You think this is a dream?"
Harry nodded. "I wish it wasn't, but it has to be if magic doesn't exist."
Lily's eyes filled with tears, and she backed away from her son. To Lockhart, she asked, "Are you sure he's going to be alright?"
Lockhart put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. It's common for people to have dreams while comatose. Harry's just woken up, so it makes sense that he doesn't think any of this is real. We'll run some tests, and you can check back in a few days."
"Tests?" Harry asked, figuring he might as well get to be part of the conversation, as he was sitting right next to Lockhart and his mother. "But I'm fine."
"No Harry," Lily said. "You aren't fine. But you will be. Just listen to Dr. Lockhart, won't you?"
"Doctor Lockhart? He isn't a doctor."
"Yes he is. He's been in charge of monitoring you for months now."
"You should go," Lockhart told Lily. She nodded.
"I'll be back soon." Lily kissed the top of Harry's head. "Focus on getting well again, okay?"
"But I'm not sick," Harry insisted as his mother left the room.
He lay back down, frowning. He spent the next hour getting poked and prodded by various nurses testing his physical and mental state. All of the nurses resembled various people he had seen at St. Mungo's when he and the Weasleys had visited during his fifth year. Thinking of the Weasleys made Harry think about Ginny and his family again, and he wondered when he would wake up.
That night, as Harry tried to drift off to sleep, a doubtful thought edged its way into his brain. What if this truly wasn't a dream? What if magic really didn't exist?
Who was Harry Potter, if he wasn't a wizard?