The Price of Victory, chapter 3

"Would you mind leaving us alone, Poppy?" asked Dumbledore, as he sat down beside Harry's bed. Madam Pomfrey retreated behind the privacy screen, her footsteps fading in the direction of her office.

Harry stared at the old headmaster for a moment, not quite sure what to say. He wondered if he himself could be dead. But that would mean there was a good chance Madam Pomfrey, Hermione and Malfoy were also dead. Something didn't quite add up there. Finally, Harry opened his mouth and dared voice his doubts. "You… you're… you're supposed to be dead," he stammered. "I saw your body. But now you look so alive."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Yes, Harry, I'm afraid the rumours about my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Might I ask you how you came to see my dead body?"

"Well, you went out with some other professors to try to push back the Dark Lord's forces, and you were killed. I…"

But Dumbledore raised a hand and cut Harry off. "Dark Lord's forces? Here at Hogwarts? I think you'd better begin further back than that. When did the enemy come to Hogwarts?"

"It was in early April," Harry began. And he went on to describe how the Dark Lord's army had besieged the castle and how Dumbledore had prepared a sortie in mid-June which had ultimately led to his death. "I had wanted to join the fight," Harry concluded, "but you wouldn't allow it. I sneaked out under the Invisibility Cloak after you'd gone out with the others. I'd made it as far as the Entrance Hall when your body was brought in."

Dumbledore had been watching Harry intently throughout his story. If any of this information had been unknown to him, his manner belied that fact. "And then what happened?" he asked.

"The siege continued. It looked as if it might go on all summer. I figured Voldemort wanted me, and so I challenged him to a duel. I knew I couldn't use my own wand against him and still fight properly, so in the hours before the duel, I retrieved your wand from your office." He felt his face begin to heat at this admission. "I'd heard where it was going to be kept the day they brought your body in. I overheard Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall discussing it. And so I faced Voldemort using your wand and lulled him into a false sense of security, before taking my own wand which I'd hidden in my sleeve and using it to occupy him while I cast the final spell with your wand."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, looking at Harry speculatively. "What spell did you use?"

"Eicio in tenebras," Harry mumbled. "Hermione found it in some really old book in the Restricted Section."

"I see. And then?"

"There was this light. And I woke up here. I don't know what happened to Voldemort."

Dumbledore sat back and pondered. At last he said, "I cannot say for certain, but it seems to me a great deal of magical energy was released. Enough to propel you, and perhaps Lord Voldemort as well, into another dimension."

Harry was confused. "What do you mean by that? Have I defeated Voldemort?"

"No, you haven't. Not in this reality, at least. Everything you have just told me hasn't happened."

"What?" Harry was angry now. "How is that possible? It all happened the way I said, I know it has!"

"Calm down, my boy, or you'll have Poppy back here, and we'll never get this resolved." It seemed to Harry that Dumbledore winked at this. "I believe what you say. What you've just told me happened to you. But none of that has happened to me. As you can see, I'm quite alive and well. Neither has the castle been under siege by Death Eaters these past months."

"So you're saying I never duelled Lord Voldemort in this reality?" asked Harry trying to get his brain to accept what Dumbledore was saying to him.

"No. Not recently in any case." Harry figured Dumbledore was referring to the events which had immediately followed the Triwizard Tournament.

"Then how did I come to be in the hospital wing?"

"Now that is a curious matter. You disappeared, you see. You were believed captured by the enemy. But three days ago, you were found lying unconscious near the base of Gryffindor Tower. We've been waiting for you to wake up so you could tell us where you'd been. Miss Granger has been most worried."

Harry wondered why he found this last bit of information so upsetting. The toast he'd eaten churned unpleasantly in his stomach. He did his best to ignore the feeling as his mind tried frantically to make sense of the situation.

"So where I came from, Hogwarts was besieged, you're dead, and Voldemort may have been defeated. But here, none of that's happened."

Dumbledore smiled benevolently. "As near as I can make it, yes."

Something else niggled at the back of Harry's mind. "But then what happened to me? I mean the other me. I must have replaced him. Where did he go?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Harry. He may still exist in this reality, and he may still be in the hands of those who captured him. If that is the case, I hope he stays where he is for now. It would be very dangerous for the two of you to meet. Do you understand why, Harry?" Harry nodded. He remembered the Time Turner incident in his third year. "Or he may be dead by now, and you've replaced him. The spell you used on Voldemort is very ancient, and all its consequences may never be known."

Harry mulled all this over for a while until another matter came to his mind. "What about the others? I mean Ron and Ginny. Where are they? So far I've only seen Hermione and Malfoy."

Dumbledore eyed him with a curious expression. "Why are you asking after the Weasleys in particular?"

"Well, Ron's my best friend, and Ginny, she's my… my girlfriend," he finished, reddening.

Dumbledore's facial expression did not change. "I see," he replied. "I think you'll find that circumstances are not quite the same here." Harry definitely did not like the sound of that, but the headmaster was already rising to leave. "I expect you'll be allowed to return to your dormitory today."

That reminded Harry of yet another problem. He'd had to ask for help to go to the loo; how was he expected to walk all the way back to Gryffindor Tower? He voiced these doubts aloud.

Dumbledore paused. "I imagine your weakness is a result of that last spell you cast. It took a lot out of you. Plus you've been in no condition to eat or drink for three days. Your strength should come back in time, but Poppy should be able to give you a potion which will help you feel better until then. I'll have a word with her about it. Goodbye, Harry."

~*~

Late that afternoon, Harry was indeed released from the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had given him a fortifying draught, and he was feeling much steadier on his feet, if not completely up to snuff. He noticed something strange, however, as he changed out of the pyjamas he'd been wearing to don school robes. There was no Gryffindor crest on the robes; there was no house crest at all. He tried to recall to his mind what Hermione and Malfoy had been wearing when they'd come to visit him, but he could not remember anything strange about their attire. Perhaps he'd simply not noticed in his bewilderment over other matters. He considered asking Madam Pomfrey about it for a moment, but she seemed busy with other things. He'd find out soon enough once he was back in the Gryffindor common room. He hoped to see Ginny there.

With that thought in mind, he set off down the familiar corridors towards the seventh floor. The journey took a bit more time than it might have, owing to Harry's weakened condition, but soon enough he found himself in the passage that led to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused for a moment, wondering what he would do about the password. If this was, as Dumbledore said, another reality, chances were good that Harry would not know the password. He resigned himself to trying all the ones he could remember from the past and hoping for the best. If this didn't get him anywhere, he could always take a page from Neville Longbottom's book and wait for someone who did know the password to come along.

But when he reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, he saw to his astonishment that the Fat Lady was not in her place. In fact, there was no portrait guarding the entrance. There was simply a round hole in the wall left open for anyone to climb freely in and out. He entered the common room more puzzled than ever over the new reality in which he found himself.

At first glance the common room was deserted, and Harry could understand why. It was the end of summer term, exams were over with, and the weather was fair. He'd have been outside with his friends in a minute if he hadn't just spent the last three days in the hospital wing. He'd expended a good deal of energy just to get up here, though, and he didn't think he could face the trek back down to the grounds. No, he'd go up to his dormitory and think about what Dumbledore had said.

As he crossed the common room, he suddenly found his path blocked. Hermione was standing in front of him looking determined. He recognised that expression. It was the look she often got in class when she'd just figured out the solution to a difficult problem. And now she was casting that look in his direction, and he didn't like it. "Hermione, do you mind getting out of my way?" he said a bit peevishly.

She didn't reply, at least not verbally. Instead, she launched herself at him. Harry turned his face away just in time to avoid being snogged by one of his best friends.

"Hermione! Gerroff!"

He shuddered involuntarily, as he somehow found the energy to push her away. It must have been adrenaline, for his heart was now pounding. Hermione staggered backwards and landed in an armchair, her look of determination replaced by one of hurt. It struck him suddenly that she somehow looked younger.

"What the hell are you on about?" Harry demanded, unmoved by her expression.

"I was just trying to remind you," she replied, her lower lip quivering.

"Remind me of what?" Harry was outraged now. He swiped at the spot on his cheek where her lips had landed.

"I… I thought if you remembered, you'd be cured of your amnesia."

"What's to remind me of? We've always been platonic friends! God, snogging you would be like snogging my mother! And besides, I haven't got amnesia."

"You must have," she replied through the tears that were starting to run down her cheeks. "How could you have forgotten last summer?"

"What about last summer? We were both at the Burrow. Last I noticed, you and Ron…"

She stood and slapped him across the face at that. "Don't you ever, ever…" But she couldn't finish her sentence. She turned and ran up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Harry stood there, stunned for the moment. He absently ran his hand over his cheek where she'd slapped him. It was stinging, and he was sure the imprint of her hand could be easily seen. Why was everyone behaving so strangely? Were he and Hermione… together in this place? He shuddered again, feeling quite queasy at the idea. He decided the best thing now would be for him to lie down for a while, and with that in mind, he headed once more for the boys' staircase.

Harry trudged up the stairs to his dormitory, still rattled by Hermione's actions. It had never occurred to him to think of her as a potential girlfriend, not even when she'd kissed his cheek at the end of fourth year. He'd always viewed that as a sisterly sort of action and nothing more. He couldn't imagine himself and Hermione as anything more to each other than friends.

When he arrived at the top of the stairs and entered his dormitory, he had another nasty shock. Draco Malfoy was sitting on his bed rather occupied with a girl whose face Harry couldn't see at the moment. But he recognised the distinctive red hair.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing with my girlfriend, Malfoy?" Harry shouted, drawing his wand.

The couple broke apart, and Harry thought he saw Ginny redden out of the corner of his eye: he was watching Malfoy carefully. "Your girlfriend?" Malfoy replied, standing and drawing his own wand. "Since when is she your girlfriend? Look, I know you've gone funny in the head and all, but I think you ought to recognise a snog session when you see one. I think you may even recall participating in one or two yourself if you think about it."

Harry was ready to curse Malfoy then and there. He raised his wand and opened his mouth, but Ginny stepped between the two boys. Harry met her gaze and was badly shaken by what he saw there. He knew immediately that this wasn't his Ginny. Her eyes lacked their customary warmth. In fact, she was looking at him now with a great deal of distaste. Harry suddenly felt a wave if weakness spill over him like a bucket of ice water, as the rush of adrenaline he'd experienced earlier wore off. He lowered his wand and murmured, "sorry."

Ginny turned to Draco, and Harry thought he saw a look of understanding pass between them. His stomach churned once more at the idea. "I think I'll leave the two of you alone to work this out, shall I?" said Ginny before she left the room, throwing a final glare in Harry's direction as she passed.

Draco sat down on Harry's bed again. "Listen, mate, I know you've been through a lot, but you've got to find a way to break out of this amnesia thing."

Mate? Why was he acting as if they were old friends? And what was he even doing up here? "Get off my bed," Harry said petulantly.

"This is my bed. Yours is over there." He indicated the bed where Ron was supposed to sleep.

"No, that's Ron's bed. You're not even supposed to be here. Go back to your dungeon."

Something at the back of Harry's brain told him he was likely fighting a losing battle in arguing with Malfoy—he remembered what Dumbledore had said about different circumstances—but at the moment he wasn't ready to accept these particular circumstances.

Malfoy's jaw was set, and his cheeks seemed to be going pink, but when he spoke he attempted to keep his tone reasonable. "Okay, I realise you've lost your memory, so I'm going to explain this to you. Dumbledore abolished the house system two years ago.

Harry noticed now that Malfoy had no Slytherin crest on his robes. Now that he thought about it, Harry realised that neither Hermione nor Ginny had had a house crest on their robes, either.

"Dumbledore thought the house system led to prejudice and inter-house rivalry," Malfoy continued. "He reckoned we'd all learn to get along better and present a united front against the Dark Lord's forces if he got rid of it. And part of that included re-shuffling the sleeping arrangements."

Harry didn't like to admit it, but what Malfoy was saying made sense. "So you sleep up here now?" he asked. Malfoy nodded. "Who else is up here with us?"

"You and Longbottom stayed put. Ernie MacMillan and Terry Boot are in with us."

Harry was tempted to ask what had become of Malfoy's old cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, but he thought better of it. "And Ron? What happened to him?"

Malfoy was staring at him, astonished. "You really don't remember, do you? Weasley's in the old Hufflepuff dormitory now." He seemed to find this bit of information funny. "But why you should be concerned for him is beyond me."

"What do you mean by that? Ron's my best friend."

"Ex-best friend," Malfoy corrected.

"What are you on about?"

"End of last year, Weasley was responsible for you getting captured by the Dark Lord."

"You're lying! Ron would never betray me."

"He did. Seems to me he was jealous of your girlfriend and wanted to get rid of you."

Harry had a sinking feeling he knew who the girl involved was, but that was another fact of this new life he was unwilling to accept yet. "And I suppose you and I are regular old mates now," he said sarcastically.

"We get on a lot better than we used to. Just stay away from my girlfriend. That's what I don't understand in all this. You and Ginny were never together. Why would you think that you were?"

Harry was at a loss now. Malfoy was under the impression that he, Harry, was suffering from amnesia. Would he be believed if he told Malfoy the truth? Or would this be taken as a sign of madness? He decided not to say anything for the time being and let Malfoy believe what he would. "I dunno. I suppose I remembered having a girlfriend but not who it was."

"Your girlfriend's Hermione. Didn't you see her downstairs? She was waiting for you."

Harry's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, and he had to sit down. He went over to sit on his (Ron's, his brain screamed) bed. "Yeah, I saw her. It's just that I can't recall ever… ever, well, doing anything like that with her."

Malfoy was shaking his head incredulously. "You've got it bad then, mate, if you don't remember my mother's wedding. Of course, you were pretty drunk at the time."

Harry was confused again. "Your mother's wedding? What happened to your father?"

Malfoy sighed. "Long story." Harry gave him a pleading look. It might be best to know the worst, after all. "Oh, all right." Malfoy sounded exasperated. "Father finally got caught. Weasley's dad found something on him. Dunno how, but he somehow learned of the secret room under the drawing room. So Father got hauled in by the Ministry of Magic, and they gave him Veritaserum. Implicated himself in a lot of lovely Death Eater schemes. Named names, too, but the Aurors'll have to catch those he named. Said enough to earn himself a nice kiss from the Dementors." Malfoy didn't sound at all sorry about any of this.

"All this left Mother in a spot of trouble," Malfoy continued. "A lot of Father's money was given out to his victims and their families in compensation, and Mother always did have refined taste. She went into debt. She had to marry someone with money to pay it off, and that's what she did."

Harry steeled himself. "So at the wedding…" he prompted.

"At the dinner afterwards, you and Hermione got quite drunk and disappeared for a good long time."

"Are you insinuating…"

"I'm not insinuating anything. You as good as told me that you and Hermione…"

Harry cut him off. He felt decidedly ill now and didn't want to risk bringing up the nourishment he'd managed to take in. He needed his strength. "All right, I get the picture."

Malfoy was smirking. "At any rate, I'd think a man would remember his first time."

Harry swallowed hard. He had no way of knowing one way or the other. He desperately wanted to change the subject. "So who did your mother marry?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

Harry never knew if the information overload had caught up with him or if it was the result of three days without food or water, but this last was too much. He fainted.