Chapter 1

A New World

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

Harry Potter transferred his gaze from his surroundings - a perfect copy of King's Cross - and met the eye of the man sitting beside him. The implications of their discussion had seeped its way to his subconscious like a rising tide. He continued: "If I'm not dead, then…"

"Alas, Harry," said the man. He was tall and thin, with a long silver beard tucked under his midnight blue robes. "I am afraid it is not that simple."

Albus Dumbledore stood up, and Harry followed his example. The seat they arose from faded into the mist, as if it had never been there at all. The old man started walking slowly, and Harry followed behind him.

"First, we must accept one simple truth," said Dumbledore. "What is dead can never be resurrected. Not truly. You may return as a ghost, your spirit may be called by the Resurrection Stone, or your body may be reanimated as an Inferi, but the result is nothing more than a faint glimmer of who you were. Alas, it is for these reasons that you can not go back."

A look of utter bewilderment crossed his face. What was the point of their previous conversation, then? Dumbledore had spent the past hour explaining why Harry was not exactly dead. The reasons were a mix of various circumstances, like ingredients in a concoction of pure happenstance. It was even starting to make some sort of twisted sense.

"Confused, I take it?" asked Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eye. "Let me rephrase: you can not go back to your world."

There was silence as Harry stopped in his steps, taking in Dumbledore's words. It hit him at once what Dumbledore was trying to say.

"My world?" he croaked out. "You mean there's more?"

"Indeed!" said Dumbledore, beaming. "Remember, Harry, Voldemort resurrected himself with your blood - Lily's blood - tethering you to the world of the living. And yet, the permanence of death dictates that you cannot simply return."

"But if there are multiple worlds, then..."

"Then it matters not that you can not return to your old world," continued Dumbledore. "For there are still worlds - infinitely many of them - that you have yet to die on. Your mother's protection anchors you to the world of the living, but which specific world… that is a different matter entirely.."

The revelation that multiple worlds exist did not come as much of a surprise to him. After learning about the existence of magic, you tend to get used to the fantastical. Certainly, it was no more magical than the Deathly Hallows or Voldemort's Horcruxes.

"These other worlds," he said, after a moment. "What are they like, exactly?"

"But that is for you to find out, is it not, my dear boy?" asked Dumbledore. "I certainly would not want to ruin the surprise. Think of it as your next great adventure."

Privately, Harry thought he had had enough adventures to last a lifetime. He considered Dumbledore's words nonetheless, as he looked at Harry with a patient expression. A sudden realisation eclipsed his mind.

"But what about my friends?" he asked. "Voldemort's still alive - his snake, too - I need to help-"

Dumbledore raised a single hand, and he stopped. He was breathing quite rapidly, his fists clenched. He glared at Dumbledore, as if his inability to return was the old man's fault. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to return and fight along with his friends.

"I understand your concerns," said Dumbledore. "But, my dear boy, have you not done all you can to stop Voldemort? Think of what you have done, in your last moments, after Severus showed you his memories."

"I made a choice," he said, understanding striking him as the words left his mouth. "I could've run, could've saved myself… but I chose to die. I gave them my protection, didn't I? Like my mother did to me?"

Dumbledore smiled at him. There was something like pride in his expression.

"As long as he lives, Voldemort can not harm those you love," he said. He must have noticed the lingering unease in Harry's face, for he continued: "When you made your choice, did you not trust your friends to, ah, finish the job? Did you not tell Mr. Longbottom to kill the snake if you did not have your full confidence that he would have done so?"

"But how can I be sure…?"

"You can never be certain, no," said Dumbledore. "But then, there is no certainty other than death. It does not do to dwell on that which you can not control, Harry. You have bestowed your friends with a very special gift. Have faith that they will use your protection to their fullest advantage."

There was nothing more he could say; he knew Dumbledore was right. They continued walking with no destination in sight, as Harry pondered the truth of what he faced. "I could never see them again," he said softly.

Dumbledore glanced at him with a sombre expression. "Perhaps not," he said. "But were you not ready to face that reality when you came to the forest?"

Harry nodded. Everything Dumbledore said made sense, but it did not stop the lump in his throat or the stinging in his eyes. He looked away at once, not wanting his old mentor to see him like this. He realised with a start that King's Cross was gone. All that surrounded him was a vague mist, unmoving as if paused. Harry had a feeling it was waiting for him, though he did not know what, exactly, it was waiting for.

"So," he started, steadying his voice. "What now?"

"Where did you say we were, Harry?" said Dumbledore, his gaze bouncing around the room like a curious child. "King's Cross?"

"It's gone," he said. He wasn't sure how Dumbledore hadn't noticed. "I can't see the station anymore."

"Ah, then you have made your choice, have you not?" said Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stopped, Harry halting beside him. In front of them, the formless mist was sloshing like water in a pool. It settled, a dark shape materialising in its wake. Harry recognized it at once. How could he not? It was a stone archway, looking ancient and broken. A dark curtain hung inside the archway, fluttering despite the stillness of his surroundings.

He looked at Dumbledore, but he wasn't paying attention to Harry at all. It was as if he had forgotten Harry was there. The old man held a hand out towards the cracked stone, caressing its surface.

"In my youth, The Veil was my obsession," said Dumbledore softly. It was not the first new thing Harry learned about Dumbledore that day, but it occurred to him once again how much he did not know about his old headmaster. "Almost more so than The Hallows. You could imagine the draw of a structure supposed to be a bridge between the world of the living and the world of the dead."

Dumbledore recoiled, and looked at Harry as if just remembering he was there.

"You have seen its counterpart," he said.

Harry nodded. "Sirius," he said. "He went here, didn't he?"

"As everyone does," said Dumbledore. "And I am afraid, my dear boy, this is where we part."

He approached the Veil warily. No longer were there voices on the other side, just the rhythmic ripplings of the curtain. He wondered whether the people on the other side - whoever they may be - could hear him and Dumbledore talk. Was that what he had heard, all those years ago, at the Department of Mysteries? People talking on the other side?

"I would not worry too much, Harry," said Dumbledore with a smile. "The Veil is, I suspect, more clever than you and I could ever imagine. Wherever you go, trust that The Veil has your best interests at heart."

Harry took a step closer, before stopping to meet Dumbledore's eyes for the final time.

"But what about you?" asked Harry. He motioned at his surroundings. "Where are you going, after all this?"

"Me?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling once more. "I expect I will be boarding a train soon."

For some reason, Harry's mind wandered to a conversation he had with Dumbledore all those years ago in front of the Mirror of Erised. As if reading his mind, Dumbledore smiled. He stared at his mentor's eye for the last time, before nodding and striding into the veil as calmly and confidently as he had walked to his death.


Harry stepped out, as effortlessly as walking out of a room. Taking a moment to adjust to his new surroundings, he stumbled forwards as if in a daze, blinking rapidly. Shapes and colours of all sorts barraged his sight, far more vibrant than the whiteness of… wherever he had been. He began to make sense of the solid forms surrounding him, and he realised where he was at once - the Forbidden Forest, at the same clearing he had died in.

He patted his body and sighed with relief that he was fully clothed. Taking out his wand, he fired: "Lumos."

The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the clearing, but not nearly bright enough to guide him out of the forest. His only way back was through an ocean of lush, densely packed trees. He paused. His ears were beginning to adapt, slowly picking up a variety of sounds: the chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves, and, above all, the collective sounds of hundreds of creatures clicking. All at once, he remembered what this place had been, before the Death Eaters made their home in it.

He had appeared right at the heart of an Acromantula's nest.

As if on cue, he felt something latch into his collar, launching him towards the sky. He swiped his wand, crying out a cutting curse, and splattered face-first onto the ground. He pushed himself up. Hundreds of eyes glinted at him from the trees, their bodies barely visible in the dark.

"Arania Exumai!" he fired, turning in a circle at once.

The spiders nearest to him were flung back by an invisible force, but they didn't go as far as he'd hoped. There was no time, though, so he dearly wished it was enough of a distraction. He vaguely recalled his way back, and sprinted.

He didn't stop running, until he planted face-first into a tree. A branch fell on his face, and he could feel dozens of thin, light bodies crawling on him. Opening his eyes, he sighed with relief. Just some Bowtruckles. He shooed the little critters away, but they wouldn't budge, angrily picking on his skin.

"Get off!" he cried. "I don't mean any harm to your tree, all right, it was an accident!"

Finally, they climbed off him and went back up. The largest of the lot stayed behind. The creature looked at Harry with an expression that strongly reminded him of Professor McGonagall. It pointed a finger at its eyes, then at Harry. Seemingly satisfied that Harry was sufficiently threatened, it joined the rest of its group, rushing up the trunk to hide among the leaves.

Harry sat up, warily stepping away from the tree, before looking back. He adjusted his glasses and squinted. No spiders in sight. He must be off their trail. Acromantulas and angry Bowtruckles were the least of his problems now, though, as he had no clue where to go. An idea came to him.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A great stag leaped out of his wand, as bright as his lighting charm from earlier. The stag went in circles, hopping lightly as if it was on the moon. Finally, it stopped in front of him and looked up obediently.

"Bring me to Hogwarts, Prongs," he said softly. The stag nuzzled his hand, before turning towards a direction and dashing. "Wait, slow down!"

He trudged between trees, leaped across puddles, and avoided thorny bushes, focusing singularly on his Patronus as it - hopefully - led him closer towards the castle. He stopped when he heard noises. Human noises. Prongs faded into the dewy air.

After putting on his invisibility cloak, he snuck closer to the sources of noise. The trees were getting smaller and less compact. They must be close to the edge of the forest. Sure enough, when he was sufficiently close to hear the inklings of a conversation, he could already see the fields beyond the forest, and the outlines of a large building which must be Hagrid's Hut.

"-no need to wake Hagrid, Minerva," a feminine voice was saying. It sounded oddly familiar. "I suspect a quick patrol would do the trick."

"And if we draw the ire of the Centaurs?" asked the unmistakable voice of Professor McGonagall. The two figures were visible only by their silhouettes.

"Then we can explain why Albus sent us," said the other voice. "They will surely understand. Besides, this could all be a false alarm."

"Albus was quite confident it was not," said McGonagall. They were walking closer to him. "I have never seen him like this in years. For good reason, mind you… To breach Hogwarts' charms like that, someone powerful indeed must be involved… Hopefully we can get word from Albus soon, if it is a false alarm. It's a good job you're still here, Lily, I loathe coming here alone. But why in the heavens were you not home yet, at this hour?"

"Just some last minute exam marking, I'm afraid," she said with a sigh. "I'm still in Year 4, so I suspect I have a long night ahead of me, intruder or not."

"Am I right in assuming it is still your least favourite part of teaching?" asked McGonagall. "Lumos!"

The light from Minerva McGonagall's wand was enough to illuminate the faces of the two women. McGonagall looked very much the same as he had last seen her, but the woman beside her did not. She was older than he remembered, though no less beautiful. There was a slight hint of grey in her dark red hair. Even so, there was no mistaking his own startling green eyes. He sucked in a deep breath at the sight of Lily Potter.

The two women paused, before pointing their wands in his direction. "Who's there?" asked Lily. "Reveal yourself at once!"

Harry stopped, considering his options. He almost laughed at the absurdity. Of all the people he could've first met in this new world, his first encounter was with Lily Potter. Was she Lily Potter in this world? Perhaps she was still Lily Evans. Or, disturbingly, Lily Snape… He shivered, swiping that line of thought away. For his own sanity, he decided to think of her as Lily Potter nonetheless.

"Homenum Revelio!" said McGonagall. "We know you are there! Drop your disillusionment spell and your wand, now."

He supposed he had no other choice. He slowly took off his cloak, his wand still in hand. Lily's eyes widened, and he saw a flash of red from McGonagall's wand. He dodged, the spell brushing his sides.

What the hell?

He summoned a Shield Charm, which immediately crippled under two mighty stunners. Doding to the side, he took cover behind a tree as he aimlessly fired two Disarming Charms in quick succession. A blazing yellow spell struck the ground next to his foot, scorching the earth. He rapidly shot hexes at the direction the spell came from.

"Stop!" he yelled, before this could get out of control. A spell struck the tree he was hiding behind. "I mean no ha-"

The tree shook, and two beefy arms popped out from the tree's sides, immediately wrapping around him as if in an embrace. The arms coiled tightly like a snake squeezing its prey. Suddenly struggling to breath, he fumbled his wand, pointing it upwards. Hoping dearly he was not aiming at himself, he fired the strongest cutting curse he knew. There was a crack, and the tree's right arm catapulted towards the sky just as a spell struck his foot, sending him tumbling towards the cold earth.

No more spells came after him, and he lay there unmoving, steadying his breath.

Hasty steps approached him. "Is he-"

Turning rapidly towards the noise, he fired: "Expelliarmus!"

The spell struck the red haired witch straight at her chest, jolting her towards the ground like a force field. He pushed himself up. Lily's wand flew straight at him, but he paid it no mind, letting it fall.

He instantly summoned another Shield Charm, feeling McGonagall's wand set on him. It was fruitless, however, as McGonagall didn't fire another stunner or any ordinary hex. He saw a massive, muscular buffalo ram straight into his shield, shattering it like glass. At the last second, he fired a "Confundus!", and the beast turned sharply towards the side, the tip of its horns brushing his cheek.

This small distraction was all McGonagall needed. His Shield Charm was a split second too late.

Red swarmed his vision, and he slipped into blissful nothingness.


Harry opened his eyes groggily, only to be blinded by the brightness around him.

He groaned, trying to wipe his eyes, but he found that he could not move his arms. A set of thick, invisible ropes held his arms and legs together. Panic surging inside him, he wriggled his arms and legs, but the shackles held him firmly in place. "What - where - get me out!"

There was no response. Finally adjusting to the light, he registered that he was currently at the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Three people surrounded his bedside. Professor McGonagall, Lily Potter, and Albus Dumbledore.

"Why is there - why are you - get this thing off of me!"

"I am afraid not," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Are you aware of where you are, Mr…?"

"Am I aware - of course I'm aware!" he roared. "Now - how do I - get me out-"

"If you are aware that we are, currently, at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "Then you must know that trespassing on school grounds is considered an offence by the Ministry of Magic. Law enforcement, and Aurors, will be contacted in due time, of course, but for now - and you must forgive an old man for his curiosities - I believe some answers are in order."

Harry faltered. Law enforcement? Aurors?

But of course they would come. For all Dumbledore knew, Harry was trying to sneak into the school. What's worse, he had just attacked two teachers. Of course, they struck him first, but he doubted the Ministry would care. A different sort of fear swelled inside him. He had no one here, there was no Boy-Who-Lived status to save him - and, surely, no one would believe him and his mad tales, just as nobody had believed Sirius.

"Quite," said Dumbledore, sensing his fear. "Now, could we get a name, perhaps?"

He didn't answer.

"No matter," said Dumbledore. "It is my next question that I would very much like you to answer, however. How and why have you entered Hogwarts?"

"I-" he started, but the words died in his throat.

What was he supposed to do? He was wandless, surrounded by three extremely powerful wizards. There was certainly no way he could outwit Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of his age, and keeping himself silent was a surefire way to land himself in Azkaban. He stared at Dumbledore wordlessly.

"No?" asked Dumbledore. "Very well. I suspect, then, that you do not understand the true gravity of the situation. I shall tell my side of the story, and you tell yours. Thirty minutes ago, I was alerted to apparition on Hogwarts Grounds, something I thought impossible. I sent my two remaining staff on the building to search for the source of the disturbance, while I inspected the protective charms placed on the castle grounds

"My investigations confirmed that the Anti-Apparition charms, and various others besides, were still in place - and have not been modified for years now. Furthermore, there is no sign of malfunction on the device that alerted me to the apparition. Minerva and Lily then returned with you, both rattled after what seemed to be a fierce duel. The conclusion I am forced to make is that you have somehow tricked the protective charms enclosing Hogwarts. What is required to achieve such a feat… it could only be dark magic. Something that, I am sure, will catch the interests of the Aurors. With all of this in mind, I shall ask you again: how and why have you entered Hogwarts?"

Choices drifted in his mind. Should he reveal the truth, that he had come from another world? He could also try to escape… The only flaw in that plan was that there was virtually no chance he could escape. Even if he somehow outmanoeuvred the three Professors, where would he go after? What would he spend the rest of his life doing? He had no identity here, after all. He certainly could not bluff his way out of this, either - surely Dumbledore was too clever for that.

He was left with one choice: he must tell Dumbledore the truth - or parts of it, at least - and Dumbledore had to believe him. He wasn't sure what would come after, but hopefully, Azkaban would be off the books. From what little he'd seen from this Dumbledore, he didn't seem all too different from the Dumbledore he knew. He was certain that his old Headmaster would not hesitate in lending him a helping hand, if he knew the situation.

Hoping he wasn't making a grand mistake, he took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said. He avoided Lily's gaze, and focused solely on his former Headmaster. "Maybe… I should start with my name. I'm Harry Potter. I'm… not from around here, obviously. I come from another world."

There was a sharp intake of breath, no doubt coming from Lily.

"Impossible!" she exclaimed, whipping her wand at his face. McGonagall seemed stuck between holding Lily back and threatening Harry with her own wand. "How dare you?"

"Lily," warned Dumbledore. She wavered. "The Veritaserum, if you please."

Harry's eyes widened. He quickly zipped his mouth shut, shaking his head rapidly as Lily approached him, a vial of clear liquid on her hand.

"I won't hesitate to use my wand," said Lily coldly.

He understood the need; he was on the other side of the situation, he would demand Veritaserum be used as well. It didn't mean he had to like it. To have no control over what he could say, to be under the whims of the questioner - it wasn't something that struck his fancy. But what else was there?

"Memories!" he blurted out. "Veritaserum isn't infallible - memories are, too, but they're harder to fake - you have a pensieve, don't you? At the Headmaster's office?"

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at him. "As far as I am aware, that is not public knowledge."

"Oh, I'm very familiar with your office, sir," he said wryly.

He looked poised and composed, but Harry knew his old Headmaster better now. There was a hint of tension on his shoulders, and the usual twinkle in his eyes was absent. He seemed truly baffled - rattled, even - that Harry had somehow conquered the protective charms around Hogwarts. With exception to the Headmaster, apparating in and out of Hogwarts was impossible. It seemed like something that only the greatest of wizards could circumvent… wizards like Voldemort, for instance. Understanding struck him at once. No wonder Dumbledore seemed so afraid.

He could see that Dumbledore was still hesitant. "I can show you stuff in my memories… something to get you to believe me - something only you would know."

The old man motioned towards Lily, who stepped back hesitantly, wand still raised.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "You understand, then, that should you attempt to modify or fabricate a memory in some way, I will know."

Harry nodded fervently.

Dumbledore held out his hand, and without even using his wand, a silver pensieve flew into his hand. The curtain surrounding the room billowed, swaying in a wide arc. He brought the large silver goblet closer to Harry.

"How am I supposed to take out memories without my wand?" he asked pointedly.

"My wand will do, I think," said Dumbleore. "Do you have your memories?"

He glared at the man. "Give me time to think."

What in the world should he show? Certainly, for one, he needed Dumbledore to see memories of things only he would know - The Deathly Hallows, his relationship with Grindelwald, Ariana, The Veil... It suddenly occurred to him that Dumbledore may not know these things, that this world could be very much different than his own. But Dumbledore still had the Elder Wand, so surely some things were the same here. It was worth a try, at least.

His conversation with Dumbledore at King's Cross would do - parts of it, at least. It revealed everything only Dumbledore would know, with no personal information he would be uncomfortable in divulging. Incidentally, it would also reveal the mechanics of how he had travelled through worlds, so he wouldn't have to explain that entire debacle…

It was perfect.

Bringing his mind towards the thought, he nodded. "I'm ready."

Dumbledore flicked his wand, and he found himself at a perfect copy of King's Cross… He saw what had been left of Voldemort's Horcrux, something barely human wailing in despair… He listened, baffled, as Dumbledore told him why he was not dead… Dumbledore was asking him for forgiveness, for not trusting him enough to tell him of the Deathly Hallows… He divulged his relationship with Grindelwald, and what happened to Ariana… Finally, they stood in front of The Veil, parting ways…

He was revived from his stupor. A swirling white mist permeated out of his head, suddenly floating in front of him. The mist swirled into the pensieve like a whirlpool. Dumbledore gave McGonagall and Lily a warning look, before diving his head into the pensieve. Suddenly left in awkward silence, he turned to look at the two witches. Lily was shaking, he realised. Her face was red, her eyes glassy. McGonagall's face was pale, her mouth set on a grim, thin line.

There must be a reason for their hostile reaction.

"So," he said conversationally. "What does my alternate self get up to, these days? Quidditch, perhaps?"

"Silence," said McGonagall.

Lily closed her eyes, looking pained.

"My son is dead," said Lily. "He was killed when he was fifteen months old. I… don't know why you are doing this, what your aim is, or what I have done to deserve it - but -"

She clenched her jaws and looked away.

"I'm sorry," said Harry quietly. He remembered Molly Weasley's wail at seeing Fred's body. "But… I'm really not lying. I'm from another world."

McGonagall sent him a warning look, so he stayed silent.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop Molly's grief-stricken cries from echoing through his mind.

Finally, after what seemed like aeons, Dumbledore lifted his head and stumbled back. Lily and McGonagall helped him up. They were firing questions at Dumbledore, but his gaze was set only on Harry. Even with snippets of the conversation, Dumbledore must have been clever enough to deduce what Harry had done. All the tension had been lifted from his shoulders, and all that was left in his expression was awe.

"Harry Potter," said Dumbledore. "You brave, brave man."

"Albus?" asked Lily. "What is it? What did you see?"

Harry jumped as the curtain rolled open, revealing a harassed looking Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey. "But there are two Unspeakables here who want to speak to our… patient - and, Lily, your daughter is here."

A barrel-chested man and a tall witch loitered behind Pomfrey, looking hungrily at Harry. A girl who looked to be around his age appeared out of nowhere and slipped through Pomfrey, stumbling into the room. She had messy black hair, and she still wore her pyjamas under her Gryffindor robes. She was holding an invisibility cloak.

"Mum, I've got the cloak - what's wrong?" she asked, breaking the silence. She seemed to be struggling to decide between looking at Lily and Harry. "Are you - are you crying?"

"Let us take this outside," said Dumbledore, giving the Unspeakables a sharp look. "Minerva, Lily, Elizabeth, if you please… For now, I can confirm that this young man is, indeed, who he says he is. What he has shown me, no one else could have known… I give him my full trust and confidence."

Harry almost sighed with relief; his plan worked! For Dumbledore to trust him completely off of a single memory… Things with Grindelwald, Ariana - and perhaps, even, Voldemort - must have gone very similarly here.

McGonagall gripped Lily's shoulders firmly, leading her outside. Lily's daughter - Elizabeth - hesitated, rooting firmly on the spot. She faltered under Dumbledore's stare, before huffing and following McGonagall and Lily outside. Dumbledore then whispered something to Pomfrey, who's eyes widened as she looked at Harry. She nodded, striding outside in a half-sprint.

"Mr. Shafiq, Ms. Halley," said Dumbledore, directly addressing the Unspeakables. "We shall have a talk before you inevitably sink your teeth into our guest."

The Unspeakables shared a nervous glance at each other before nodding glumly.

"Mr Potter," said Dumbledore. He snapped his fingers, and Harry was freed from his shackles. He stretched, appreciating his newfound freedom. "I am sorry to further extend what must be a long day for you, but I am afraid this is unavoidable. All sorts of strange magical curiosities are handled by the Department of Mysteries, your particular case must be equivalent to seeing a two-horned unicorn… We shall talk again tomorrow."

"So you won't hand me over to the Aurors?" he asked wryly.

Dumbledore smiled apologetically, handing him his wand back. "Rest assured, I believe you are safe for now," he said. "But still, I apologise for that. You must understand why it was necessary."

"Just… don't tie me up again," he said, shivering as the adrenaline began to leave his body.

"I can promise, Mr Potter," he said. "Nothing of that sort will take place. I shall see you tomorrow."

Harry nodded and Dumbledore left, taking the Unspeakables with him. A moment later, Pomfrey entered again.

"So, Mr. Potter," she said as she set a handful of vials on the desk beside his bed. "It seems you've been through a rough day."

"More or less, yeah," said Harry.

She then proceeded to thoroughly examine him in more ways than he ever imagined possible. Thankfully, he had not sustained any major injuries from the battle, nor his duel with McGonagall and Lily. There were just some scraps and bruises, which Pomfrey healed easily with a wave of her wand.

At one point, he was asked to take off his robe and open his shirt. It was then that he saw the new scar on his chest for the first time. Like the one on his forehead, it was shaped like a lightning bolt, though it was still very fresh in comparison. Pomfrey stared at the scar, her mouth gaping, before vanishing the blood and cleaning the wound. Try as she might, the scar did not disappear.

As he put his shirt back on, he noticed his right hand was trembling. He held it out, looking at it curiously. This was not the first time it happened, but he had yet to identify a cause. Pomfrey seemed to have noticed what he was looking at.

"I believe it is spell shock, Mr Potter," she said grimly. "Tremors are just one of the few symptoms, these tend to happen after combat or traumatic situations… there's nothing you can do than to wait it out, I'm afraid, it'll pass."

For a moment, he thought she was about to ask why he had spell shock, but she seemed to think better of it. She left briefly and returned with a handful of potions. He downed all of them except for one.

"This one is for dreamless sleep," she said, placing a vial on the cabinet next to him. "You should take it directly after you're finished talking with the Unspeakables - of course, if I had my way, you would already be sleeping by now, you are in no condition to talk…"

He thanked her as she left. He was alone, and for a brief moment, he considered making a run for it. He already had his wand with him, after all. Again, though, he had nowhere to go. At least he had Dumbledore's trust now.

The two Unspeakables entered.

"Potter, is it?" asked the witch, by way of greeting. "Well, we'll see about that, shall we? I'm Unspeakable Halley, from the Department of Mysteries."

With a lazy swish of her wand, two chairs appeared at his bedside.

"And I, Unspeakable Shafiq," said the man as he took a seat. He had a smooth, deep voice which reminded him of Kingsley. "Head of the Multiple Worlds Division."

"Oh, stop tooting your own horn, Shafiq," said Halley, as she pulled out a round object from her pocket. She looked at Harry pointedly. "He's the only member in that division, you know - has barely any work to do, too, half the time he's helping out the folks at the Time Division."

The object Halley now held looked far too large to have fit in her pocket. It was a circular, wooden board. There were carvings of runes etched along the circumference of the circle. An arrow was attached in the middle, but on closer inspection, he realised it was a syringe, which was spinning rapidly round the middle. Put together, the object looked like some sort of strange, makeshift clock.

"Yes, well - some divisions are busier than others," said Shafiq. "So you could imagine my surprise and elation when, this evening, we detected the arrival of a dimension traveller. Believe it or not, you are not the first we have encountered, though it has rather been a long time since our last-"

Halley cleared her throat. Shafiq looked sheepish.

"As certain people need to remember," said Halley. She was carefully taking the syringe off of the board. "A lot of what happens in our department is highly confidential, but yes, you are not our first traveller - and hopefully not our last. As such, we have a procedure in place for people like you, to ensure that everything is, ah, in order."

"So meeting someone from another world is just a Tuesday for you lot, is it?" he asked.

"You wouldn't believe half of it, kid," said Shafiq, smirking, as he took the syringe from Halley. "Your arm, please."

Harry recoiled. "What do you need my blood for!?"

"Come on, kid," said Halley, sighing, as if she had expected this. "The longer we play this out, the longer we stay here. Give us your arm."

"Absolutely not," he said firmly, putting his arms below his body.

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "Dumbledore talked to us, didn't he? You think we'd pull something he wouldn't approve of?"

"What d'you even need it for?" asked Harry.

"We need to see if you are telling the truth-"

"With blood magic!?" he exclaimed.

"I don't quite see what the issue is."

Harry looked at her pointedly, and she sighed.

"Well, strictly speaking, most blood magic is banned by the Ministry of Magic," said Halley. "But as Unspeakables, we are given certain privileges. We need to be certain you're telling the truth, after all… Oh, trust me, kid, out of all the ways we could interrogate you, this is the least illegal of them all. You're just lucky Dumbledore is good friends with our Head Unspeakable."

His spark of defiance faded as his activities throughout the day finally took its toll. He just wanted to get this over with and sleep. If anything went wrong, at least he still had his trusty wand with him… Dumbledore should still be outside, too.

"Can't you just use Veritaserum?" he asked warily.

"I can list a thousand and one ways to deceive the potion," said Shafiq, snorting. "And that's just off the top of my head. Now, your arm, please."

Scowling, he held out his arm. Shafiq leaned in and injected the syringe at his wrist. Just a moment later, he pulled the needle out. It was already brimming with blood.

"Now that wasn't too bad, was it?" asked Halley, shaking her head at his apparent foolishness. She took the syringe from Shafiq and placed it carefully on the board. Unlike before, the syringe stayed in place. It pointed towards the topmost part of the board. "What's your name, again?"

"Harry Potter," he said. The syringe did not budge.

"What's your favourite Quidditch team? Wrong answers only."

"Chudley Cannons," he said. The syringe started spinning rapidly. When it settled, it pointed downwards with a slight right tilt. Harry realised what the object was at once. "You've made a lie detector, using my blood..."

"Brilliant deduction - we'll make an Unspeakable out of you," said Halley sarcastically. "Now, here's the fun part. Shafiq, quill."

He pulled out a Self-Writing Quill and a floating parchment out of nowhere, and so began the most boring interrogation scene in history. For what seemed like hours, he was questioned on a variety of questions regarding magical theory. At one point, he got the first and third Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Laws mixed up, causing a heated argument between the two Unspeakables on whether Gamp's Laws were different in the two worlds. It went on for fifteen minutes, before Harry realised his mistake. In the end, the Unspeakables seemed disappointed upon learning that magic worked the same way in his old world as it did here.

Finally, they moved on to discussion about history. Having slept through a considerable portion of his History of Magic classes, he struggled to answer all the different questions on Goblin Rebellions, the Witch Hunts, and the like. He did, however, have a lot to say about the First and Second Wizarding War. When the inevitable matter of the Boy-Who-Lived came up, he tried to stay as vague as possible.

Harry had been happy to learn that Voldemort was, apparently, truly dead in this world. How exactly it occured, the Unspeakables did not care enough to answer. Privately, he worried about Voldemort's existing Horcruxes, and resolved to ask Dumbledore later. They moved on to asking how exactly he had travelled through worlds. If possible, they became more entranced as he recalled carefully curated parts of his conversation with Dumbledore at King's Cross.

Judging from their reactions, Harry supposed that he was the first to travel through worlds this way, which implied there were other ways to cross worlds. Of course, this is all contingent on whether the Unspeakables were telling the truth, that there were others like him.

The final section of the interrogation was, to him, the most ridiculous. He was forced to answer questions like: "Do you swear, on your soul, that you do not intend any harm in entering this world?"

At last, they seemed to be satisfied. The parchment, which seemed to expand and fold every time it was full, was now about as thick as his Transfiguration textbook.

"You have been very cooperative, Mr Potter," said Shafiq. "But before we leave, there are several matters we must inform you of. As is procedure, The Department of Mysteries will craft an identity for you. We can't stray too far from the truth, of course - that will require blood magic even more illegal, which I doubt Dumbledore will approve… So you will still be a Potter, a distant cousin of James Potter. Birth certificates and other documents will be forged in due time. Are you fine with Harry for your first name?"

"Er, won't that be too suspicious?" he asked. "This world's version of me died fifteen years ago, didn't he?"

"Hundreds of people died during You-Know-Who's regime, Mr Potter," said Halley. "Including dozens of children and babies. You are not so special here, I'm afraid. I doubt people, other than your parents' close friends, would care enough to pay attention. You can come up with any backstory you like for your sudden appearance, we don't really care; as long as you exist in the Ministry of Magic's eyes, we have done our job."

"Finally," continued Shafiq. "You told us, when you left your old world, that it was the 2nd of May, 1998. Here, it is the 22nd of June, 1997."

Out of everything he had learned, it was this that bewildered him the most. At least everything else had a reason behind it. This… this just seemed random.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why did The Veil send you to this particular world, rather than any other?' asked Shafiq. He spoke quickly, passion in his voice. "We may never know. It could have just been a coincidence, or, more excitingly, Hodger's Qualiatic Omnipotence Theory is-"

Halley cleared her throat.

"Right," said Shafiq, grinning sheepishly. "Well, let's just say, for now, it's a coincidence. I'd love to talk more about the theory behind The Veil, but it's all highly confidential. Of course, if you are interested, you could join us, but you will have to get your NEWTs first."

"Speaking of your NEWTs," said Halley. "You did say you have not completed your education, for, ah, extenuating circumstances. Examination season is over for this year, I'm afraid, though there is always next year. While you don't need to attend Hogwarts to sit for the NEWTs, it is highly recommended. In any case, we are going to need your OWL marks as it is relevant to which NEWTs you can take."

Harry considered. He had not really thought this far. However, there was really no other choice. The only job which seemed even remotely appealing to him - being an Auror - required NEWT scores. He had nothing here, and he needed money as soon as possible. He said yes, and told Halley his OWL scores when requested.

"Decent scores, kid… of course, you'll need more if you ever want to be an Unspeakable," she said, tucking the parchment into her robes. With a flick of her wand, the syringe popped open, and the blood surged back into his body. "But I suppose that is all for now. We will owl your documents in several business days, give or take. Oh, and we can't promise that we won't come to you for further inquiries in the future… Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Potter."

His eyes drooped as the two Unspeakables left. He reached for the Dreamless Sleep potions, not even bothering to take off his glasses, or his robes. The instant a drop reached his tongue, his head bounced towards the pillow, unthinking.