A/N: Yay! I got reviews! I was told repeatedly that it was rather
confusing, but I think it will all become clearer in time.
Gilthas: What is confusing?
Me: Everything.
Gil: Oh. *sulks*
Me: Right. On with the story then.
Chapter 3: Back to Hogwarts
And if this night won't let me rest,
Don't let me second guess what I know to be real
Put away all I know tonight and maybe I just might
Learn to let it go
-Life House
"Someone else has come to join in our little game. Someone who can change all the rules."
Harry sat in an armchair facing the fire.
"Indeed?" asked the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. She stood somewhere behind him.
"Indeed yes," Harry said. "Though finding him should be quite a challenge."
"Who is this person of whom you speak?" Lestrange asked. "I could send a search party now-"
"Nonsense, Bellatrix," Harry said. "He will come to us."
"Who is this person?" Bellatrix asked.
"You know him quite well I believe, or you did," Harry said, amusement in his voice. "Now he's come back to turn the tide of the war. How very noble of him."
"Then he is on their side?" Bellatrix asked. "Forgive me for my ignorance, master, but wouldn't we want to destroy him if he is as important as you say?"
"He is important," Harry said. "But I have yet to learn what I need to of him. You must have patience, Bellatrix."
"Please, master, who is it of whom you speak? You say I should know him, but I do not."
"Ah, but you do," Harry said. "He is Harry Potter himself."
"Harry Potter, my Lord?" Lestrange asked, obviously confused. "I do not understand-"
"Crucio!"
Lestrange fell to the ground, writhing in pain. She lay there only a minute before Voldemort removed his wand. "I do not tolerate ignorance," Harry said. "But I will answer your question. This is a very different person. He knows all that can be. I can use him."
"But you do not wish for me to send a team-"
"No," Harry said harshly. "I do not like to repeat myself, Bellatrix. It would be a waste of energy to send a team. With enough...persuasion he will come to us."
The dream changed.
Harry fell to the ground thoroughly exhausted. He could lie there forever. He didn't want to get up. His muscles ached. Dozens of Cruciatus Curses lost there effect as Harry threatened to loose consciousness.
He struggled to his feet. He couldn't quit now. Too much lay on the line.
Voldemort too looked a mess. He no longer smiled. His red eyes had lost their red glow and seemed now a dim shadow of their old selves. He looked bad. Harry looked the worse.
Voldemort raised his wand again. Harry took a step back. His leg would no longer support his weight. His knees crumpled beneath him. It was all too much.
From a long way off, Harry heard Voldemort shout the words to a spell. Sweet oblivion engulfed him.
The pain vanished. Nothing hurt. The world seemed perfect.
Kill the girl. said a voice in his head.
Harry picked up his wand and prepared to obey.
No! Screamed the voice in his head. Stop! But it sounded weak, too weak to make much of an effort. No.
Harry obediently pointed his wand at the girl.
"No, Harry! I know this isn't you! You have to fight it! No!"
That voice. It sounded strangely familiar. Harry hesitated a second. You know her, the voice said, making a last, valiant effort. You know her! You can't kill her!
Kill the girl.
Harry raised his wand. The voice quieted. Nothing remained. Nothing.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A scream pierced the night.
Harry woke with a yell. "Hermione."
He cursed, angry with himself for his constant weakness. He stood up from the bed that he rented the previous day in some Muggle hotel. He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face.
He wiped off his face with a towel and caught his reflection in the mirror. He had bags under his eyes and he forcibly reminded himself of Remus Lupin. Maybe the reason had to do with his being back in time, but he seemed to be having worse dreams than usual. Just seeing Hermione alive again had brought back a wave of memories. He took a deep breath and went back and sat on the bed.
He had long ago given up feeling sorry for himself. He no longer asked, 'why me?' or 'why couldn't have Voldemort just have gone away?' This was life. The longer he remembered the past, the longer he got himself left behind in it. Unfortunately, it seemed that the more Harry tried to forget the past, the more the past tried to remind him. Of course, this seemed very ironic now that he had literally entered the past. He smiled a little to himself-the same and only smile he had ever smiled since that fateful night-the ironic, sarcastic smile. He no longer remembered what being happy felt like.
Harry turned on his heel and swept out of the bathroom. He changed quickly and threw a cloak about his shoulders. He had something that needed done.
* * *
"You mean he Apparated?" Harry asked blankly. "But you said no one could Apparate or Disapparate in the Hogwarts grounds!"
"I know I did!" Hermione snapped. "That's because you can't!"
"Then where did he go?" Ron asked. They seemed past exhaustion. They had pulled another all-nighter and hadn't had a drop of sleep.
"Just tell us what happened again," Harry said, exceptionally glad he hadn't seen it and been forced to tell the story this time.
"I already told you," Hermione said impatiently. "I had just walked in and a man stood there, talking to Dumbledore. He turned around when I walked in and when he saw me, he disappeared."
"But you didn't hear him in there," Ron persisted.
"No," Hermione said.
"It must have been a spell," Harry said. "He and Dumbledore must have been talking. I doubt they just stood there, staring at each other."
"There are silencing charms," Hermione said slowly. "But I've been through some Auror training and I didn't feel anything."
"I hate to say this, Hermione," Ron said grinning. "But you're not quite that good yet."
"Ron's right," Harry agreed. "If you didn't concentrate, you could have missed something."
Hermione sighed. "I suppose you're right." She stood up. "I'm going to bed. See you in." She stopped. A third year girl had just come down the steps.
"Oh, hello," she said awkwardly. "I didn't know anyone else got up this early."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.
"And we didn't know we stayed up this late," Ron said. "I'm out of here."
Harry and Ron went up the boys' staircase and Hermione went up hers. Harry lay awake a little while longer before drifting off to sleep.
The dream resembled others before it. Harry was Voldemort. He talked to Lestrange, Sirius's murderer.
.With enough...persuasion he will come to us."
Then the dream changed.
Voldemort had disappeared. He saw Hogsmeade. Everyone seemed to be celebrating on the streets. Spirits rose and the children laughed. But in a small corner he saw a dark figure. A cloak wrapped around him as if to shield the light from himself, as if to keep away the happiness. Harry saw his own face exactly as it looked now. Except that it looked completely different. Then he noticed the lines, lines that could only be from constant suffering. But the eyes drew the attention. They had lost their startling green, only to be replaced with a dull and haunted appearance.
He stood in a house. Harry didn't recognize it. A man sat in it, writing on a piece of parchment. The door suddenly burst open in a blast of green light. The man looked terrified. He looked as if Voldemort himself had come knocking. A figure walked in. The dust cleared. Harry mouth opened in astonishment. It looked like himself.
The man tried to make a run for it. The older version of Harry waved his hand and the man stopped. His legs wouldn't move. He frantically tried to move his legs with his arms but they seemed to be both immobilized and glued to the floor.
"No!" He cried out in desperation. "Someone help me! Please!"
"But no one came," said the older version of Harry in a voice of deathly calm. "Because they were all dead."
For a horrifying moment, Harry thought it had been he, Harry, who had killed them, but then he spoke again.
"And you laughed along with the rest of them because you fought on the winning side. You thought yourself unbeatable-too cowardly to fight back!"
"No," the man whispered.
"What's wrong? Do you suddenly regret your decision? Do you wish now that you hadn't killed all those people? WELL IT'S TOO LATE!" The future Harry advanced upon the man. He struggled more violently against his frozen legs. It looked as if hell itself followed close on his heals.
"Because it's always too late to change the past," the older Harry said in a deathly quiet whisper. "You're finished."
He had appeared in a place completely unfamiliar to him. Everything seemed like bliss-perfect.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The scream cut short as the curse hit. The bliss vanished. Harry stared in horror at the dead body of Hermione. The horrible realization of what he had done hit him. He had killed her! He had murdered his best friend!
The next second lasted forever. Hermione's face looked petrified, her eyes blank and staring.
A curse hit him. White hot knives deadened at the sight of his friend. He could no longer feel the pain.
One thought penetrated his brain. Voldemort would die. He, Harry, would kill him.
"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted. The curse hit Harry again. But Harry felt nothing, his body beyond pain. His body meant nothing to him. It could hurt if it wanted to, as long as it completed its task. Then he would rest. Then he would sleep.
Harry took several leaden steps toward Voldemort. He raised his wand and brought it swishing down over his head, shouting a curse.
He stood on a hill over looking a Muggle town. If anything remained, it didn't seem worth having. Everything lay in ruin. Bodies littered the streets. Harry looked on without flinching.
"I'm too late," he muttered, never blinking at the horrific sight before him. He sighed, "Again."
Harry sat up straight, his breathing heavy. Everything he had seen burned in his memory. He closed his eyes, trying to push the image of Hermione out of his head. It was just a dream.just a dream.
"Harry?" asked the groggy voice from a different bed. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Harry whispered back. "Go back to sleep, Ron."
Not being needed to be told twice, Ron slept within seconds, but Harry showed no signs of sleeping. He sat there for a moment, trying to force the images out of his head, not daring to close his eyes again. On top of everything else, this seemed too much.
After a little longer, Harry closed his eyes and saw nothing but the comforting blackness that promised nothing but rest. Forcing himself to relax, Harry cleared his mind in hopes sleep would quickly claim him. 10 long minutes later, exhaustion overcame the fear of nightmares and he slept soundly again.
Watching from his place in the shadows, his only true home, the owner of the haunting nightmares disappeared with a violent twist of his cloak.
A/N: Wow, confusing much? Basically what it's saying is that both Harry's are having each others dreams. Ug.that's important later. Despite the fact I promised myself I would go slow in the updating, I got reviews! And that makes me happy. So I'll go ahead and put out the next chapter after this one. Though I've frequently been told that begging doesn't become me, please review!
Gilthas: What is confusing?
Me: Everything.
Gil: Oh. *sulks*
Me: Right. On with the story then.
Chapter 3: Back to Hogwarts
And if this night won't let me rest,
Don't let me second guess what I know to be real
Put away all I know tonight and maybe I just might
Learn to let it go
-Life House
"Someone else has come to join in our little game. Someone who can change all the rules."
Harry sat in an armchair facing the fire.
"Indeed?" asked the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. She stood somewhere behind him.
"Indeed yes," Harry said. "Though finding him should be quite a challenge."
"Who is this person of whom you speak?" Lestrange asked. "I could send a search party now-"
"Nonsense, Bellatrix," Harry said. "He will come to us."
"Who is this person?" Bellatrix asked.
"You know him quite well I believe, or you did," Harry said, amusement in his voice. "Now he's come back to turn the tide of the war. How very noble of him."
"Then he is on their side?" Bellatrix asked. "Forgive me for my ignorance, master, but wouldn't we want to destroy him if he is as important as you say?"
"He is important," Harry said. "But I have yet to learn what I need to of him. You must have patience, Bellatrix."
"Please, master, who is it of whom you speak? You say I should know him, but I do not."
"Ah, but you do," Harry said. "He is Harry Potter himself."
"Harry Potter, my Lord?" Lestrange asked, obviously confused. "I do not understand-"
"Crucio!"
Lestrange fell to the ground, writhing in pain. She lay there only a minute before Voldemort removed his wand. "I do not tolerate ignorance," Harry said. "But I will answer your question. This is a very different person. He knows all that can be. I can use him."
"But you do not wish for me to send a team-"
"No," Harry said harshly. "I do not like to repeat myself, Bellatrix. It would be a waste of energy to send a team. With enough...persuasion he will come to us."
The dream changed.
Harry fell to the ground thoroughly exhausted. He could lie there forever. He didn't want to get up. His muscles ached. Dozens of Cruciatus Curses lost there effect as Harry threatened to loose consciousness.
He struggled to his feet. He couldn't quit now. Too much lay on the line.
Voldemort too looked a mess. He no longer smiled. His red eyes had lost their red glow and seemed now a dim shadow of their old selves. He looked bad. Harry looked the worse.
Voldemort raised his wand again. Harry took a step back. His leg would no longer support his weight. His knees crumpled beneath him. It was all too much.
From a long way off, Harry heard Voldemort shout the words to a spell. Sweet oblivion engulfed him.
The pain vanished. Nothing hurt. The world seemed perfect.
Kill the girl. said a voice in his head.
Harry picked up his wand and prepared to obey.
No! Screamed the voice in his head. Stop! But it sounded weak, too weak to make much of an effort. No.
Harry obediently pointed his wand at the girl.
"No, Harry! I know this isn't you! You have to fight it! No!"
That voice. It sounded strangely familiar. Harry hesitated a second. You know her, the voice said, making a last, valiant effort. You know her! You can't kill her!
Kill the girl.
Harry raised his wand. The voice quieted. Nothing remained. Nothing.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A scream pierced the night.
Harry woke with a yell. "Hermione."
He cursed, angry with himself for his constant weakness. He stood up from the bed that he rented the previous day in some Muggle hotel. He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face.
He wiped off his face with a towel and caught his reflection in the mirror. He had bags under his eyes and he forcibly reminded himself of Remus Lupin. Maybe the reason had to do with his being back in time, but he seemed to be having worse dreams than usual. Just seeing Hermione alive again had brought back a wave of memories. He took a deep breath and went back and sat on the bed.
He had long ago given up feeling sorry for himself. He no longer asked, 'why me?' or 'why couldn't have Voldemort just have gone away?' This was life. The longer he remembered the past, the longer he got himself left behind in it. Unfortunately, it seemed that the more Harry tried to forget the past, the more the past tried to remind him. Of course, this seemed very ironic now that he had literally entered the past. He smiled a little to himself-the same and only smile he had ever smiled since that fateful night-the ironic, sarcastic smile. He no longer remembered what being happy felt like.
Harry turned on his heel and swept out of the bathroom. He changed quickly and threw a cloak about his shoulders. He had something that needed done.
* * *
"You mean he Apparated?" Harry asked blankly. "But you said no one could Apparate or Disapparate in the Hogwarts grounds!"
"I know I did!" Hermione snapped. "That's because you can't!"
"Then where did he go?" Ron asked. They seemed past exhaustion. They had pulled another all-nighter and hadn't had a drop of sleep.
"Just tell us what happened again," Harry said, exceptionally glad he hadn't seen it and been forced to tell the story this time.
"I already told you," Hermione said impatiently. "I had just walked in and a man stood there, talking to Dumbledore. He turned around when I walked in and when he saw me, he disappeared."
"But you didn't hear him in there," Ron persisted.
"No," Hermione said.
"It must have been a spell," Harry said. "He and Dumbledore must have been talking. I doubt they just stood there, staring at each other."
"There are silencing charms," Hermione said slowly. "But I've been through some Auror training and I didn't feel anything."
"I hate to say this, Hermione," Ron said grinning. "But you're not quite that good yet."
"Ron's right," Harry agreed. "If you didn't concentrate, you could have missed something."
Hermione sighed. "I suppose you're right." She stood up. "I'm going to bed. See you in." She stopped. A third year girl had just come down the steps.
"Oh, hello," she said awkwardly. "I didn't know anyone else got up this early."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.
"And we didn't know we stayed up this late," Ron said. "I'm out of here."
Harry and Ron went up the boys' staircase and Hermione went up hers. Harry lay awake a little while longer before drifting off to sleep.
The dream resembled others before it. Harry was Voldemort. He talked to Lestrange, Sirius's murderer.
.With enough...persuasion he will come to us."
Then the dream changed.
Voldemort had disappeared. He saw Hogsmeade. Everyone seemed to be celebrating on the streets. Spirits rose and the children laughed. But in a small corner he saw a dark figure. A cloak wrapped around him as if to shield the light from himself, as if to keep away the happiness. Harry saw his own face exactly as it looked now. Except that it looked completely different. Then he noticed the lines, lines that could only be from constant suffering. But the eyes drew the attention. They had lost their startling green, only to be replaced with a dull and haunted appearance.
He stood in a house. Harry didn't recognize it. A man sat in it, writing on a piece of parchment. The door suddenly burst open in a blast of green light. The man looked terrified. He looked as if Voldemort himself had come knocking. A figure walked in. The dust cleared. Harry mouth opened in astonishment. It looked like himself.
The man tried to make a run for it. The older version of Harry waved his hand and the man stopped. His legs wouldn't move. He frantically tried to move his legs with his arms but they seemed to be both immobilized and glued to the floor.
"No!" He cried out in desperation. "Someone help me! Please!"
"But no one came," said the older version of Harry in a voice of deathly calm. "Because they were all dead."
For a horrifying moment, Harry thought it had been he, Harry, who had killed them, but then he spoke again.
"And you laughed along with the rest of them because you fought on the winning side. You thought yourself unbeatable-too cowardly to fight back!"
"No," the man whispered.
"What's wrong? Do you suddenly regret your decision? Do you wish now that you hadn't killed all those people? WELL IT'S TOO LATE!" The future Harry advanced upon the man. He struggled more violently against his frozen legs. It looked as if hell itself followed close on his heals.
"Because it's always too late to change the past," the older Harry said in a deathly quiet whisper. "You're finished."
He had appeared in a place completely unfamiliar to him. Everything seemed like bliss-perfect.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The scream cut short as the curse hit. The bliss vanished. Harry stared in horror at the dead body of Hermione. The horrible realization of what he had done hit him. He had killed her! He had murdered his best friend!
The next second lasted forever. Hermione's face looked petrified, her eyes blank and staring.
A curse hit him. White hot knives deadened at the sight of his friend. He could no longer feel the pain.
One thought penetrated his brain. Voldemort would die. He, Harry, would kill him.
"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted. The curse hit Harry again. But Harry felt nothing, his body beyond pain. His body meant nothing to him. It could hurt if it wanted to, as long as it completed its task. Then he would rest. Then he would sleep.
Harry took several leaden steps toward Voldemort. He raised his wand and brought it swishing down over his head, shouting a curse.
He stood on a hill over looking a Muggle town. If anything remained, it didn't seem worth having. Everything lay in ruin. Bodies littered the streets. Harry looked on without flinching.
"I'm too late," he muttered, never blinking at the horrific sight before him. He sighed, "Again."
Harry sat up straight, his breathing heavy. Everything he had seen burned in his memory. He closed his eyes, trying to push the image of Hermione out of his head. It was just a dream.just a dream.
"Harry?" asked the groggy voice from a different bed. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Harry whispered back. "Go back to sleep, Ron."
Not being needed to be told twice, Ron slept within seconds, but Harry showed no signs of sleeping. He sat there for a moment, trying to force the images out of his head, not daring to close his eyes again. On top of everything else, this seemed too much.
After a little longer, Harry closed his eyes and saw nothing but the comforting blackness that promised nothing but rest. Forcing himself to relax, Harry cleared his mind in hopes sleep would quickly claim him. 10 long minutes later, exhaustion overcame the fear of nightmares and he slept soundly again.
Watching from his place in the shadows, his only true home, the owner of the haunting nightmares disappeared with a violent twist of his cloak.
A/N: Wow, confusing much? Basically what it's saying is that both Harry's are having each others dreams. Ug.that's important later. Despite the fact I promised myself I would go slow in the updating, I got reviews! And that makes me happy. So I'll go ahead and put out the next chapter after this one. Though I've frequently been told that begging doesn't become me, please review!