The Choice of Silence

Chapter III: Hogwarts

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter… and my disclaimers are soooooo boring… _

Avlyn: I'm glad you liked the name! ^^ I liked it to… Can you believe it took me a whole week to find a name? =P

Toria: Here is the mission (the beginning, I mean ^.^!)

DawnRising: Thanks! Here it is!

AN: Looks up, only two reviews? Two reviews? *sighs* I must be losing my touch… Oh well…

AN2: I wanted to repeat that Sirius will be alive here… So… be prepared for a very AU fanfic…

AN3: Please, try to bear if this is not uploaded properly… I swear FF.Net hates me…

~*~

So, that was it. The next day, Harry left for the mission.

It consisted on helping some people from an alternate dimension from his own. The Order had given him a brief description of the place but gave him a report of the history and other important things he needed to know. He was reading it now and was quite surprise at the similarities between his dimension and this one. They were parallel universes – the same things happened on each dimension, only that the people from one made different choices from the people from the other. And, Harry knew, our choices can make the whole difference.

He was only curious to know which choice change this world so much… This world was still in war – Voldemort had never been defeated. Didn't he attack me? His eyes narrowed as he read a paragraph:

The Dark Lord didn't chose to attack on Halloween of 1981, as he had planed before. He wanted (Silcála Order Notes: as you know, Shinhi) to kill the future Mage but he thought it would be better if he waited. For five years, he chose to stay dormant – not attacking anyone. He had discovered that the Killing Curse didn't affect the Mages so he started researching for another way of killing him.

When the Mage turned five, he sent a Death Eater to the Mages' home. The Death Eater killed the Mage. The method was quite simple – a dagger.

With the world without its saviour, Voldemort began his massacres again.

He closed his eyes. This is what happened, then. If Harry from this universe had died – there was no one capable of defeating the Dark Lord. The Order knew this and sent the one most familiar with this situation – him.

He would have to be under cover. No one was supposed to know who he was. Not even his parents – for he knew they were alive on this place. Not even Dumbledore – no one. He would become the next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor (he silently thanked Merlin for having this position jinxed), he would have a different name – Luke Knight and hopefully he would convince Dumbledore to let him join an Order the old wizard had created – the Order of the Phoenix.

He didn't think Dumbledore would let an unknown person enter it. But he could hope, he reasoned. Wasn't that what Sirius always said? He still remembered as if it was only yesterday, they both in Dumbledore's office. Harry was depressed--all was happening to him so fast and Sirius was comforting him.

Harry blinked for a few times. Comfort… This word sounded so strange. Was it normal for an almost-eighteen-year-old man to seek for it? He didn't like to admit it, but he missed Sirius… Even more than he missed James. It hurt to think of him, he wondered if he had forgotten him – he would probably have. They only knew each other for three years… And it had never been a constant thing – Sirius was always on a run from the Ministry.

He felt as he was selfish to think like that. Why did he want Sirius to miss him if this would only bring his Godfather sadness? This wasn't right, was it? He suddenly envied Ciara… He envied Ron and Hemione… They had something he didn't. Unconditional love. He loved Sirius as a father. He even felt bad about it while his own father had returned. But the matter was that, he had known Sirius for a longer time. But had Sirius loved him as a son?

He shook his head, trying to make these thoughts leave. It was folly, he knew. They would never leave. No… they would remain, making his mind doubt until he could take no more. Only, this time, there would be no way out. While he was alive, death these times was a tempting choice. A place of solace. He smiled cynically at the irony of the situation, he was dead now – but that didn't make his pain any better. Only worse, for now he didn't have the choice of death.

Now there was no way out. Only… he stayed still, barely breathing. There was one choice but… Did he dare to make it?

 ~*~

Sirius looked through the window at his home. It was twilight now. He hated the twilight hour… it always felt so lonely. While in Azkaban, this time was the worst. It was the time where he would always look at the window, see the orange sky and think about his life. Not that he could think well, not with all the Dementors near him, but he kept thinking on how James and Lily would never see the sunset again. He blinked at this thought, when had he become so… cliché? He shook his head, he knew that the Dementors had this affect on people – he was not an exception.

He missed his Godson – shouldn't he say son? He felt a pang of guilt as he thought Harry would never know his feelings. And another one for – could he say it? – stealing James' son from him.

James.

He shut his eyes in pain. They weren't talking to each other. It was partially his fault, he admitted. A weeks after Harry's death, James was already feeling better, he had already stopped mourning. Sirius, of course, hadn't approved this and made his opinion known. The result was, obviously, an argument. While Sirius told James he shouldn't have forgotten Harry, James said Sirius stole Harry from him. Now, if any of them wanted to say something to each other, Remus had to deliver the message. Poor Remus…

He stood up and headed to the kitchen. All this thinking made him hungry. Although, he thought with a smile, what doesn't make me hungry?

 ~*~

He looked around his room. Harry had already talked to Dumbledore; he was now officially the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. His name now was Luke Knight and his mission had already begun.

He wondered what he would do from now. To destroy a Dark Lord wasn't an easy task, even for him. He groaned, how was he supposed to teach classes? Shaking his head, he sat down on a chair on his quarters and took this moment to look around it. It wasn't much, really. His own quarters back on his dimension were bigger. The room was all scarlet, but not in a Gryffindor way, it was more like… a comforting red, made from velvet. There was a fireplace on the corner, and some stuffed chairs. There was also a staircase that led to a room, his bedroom. Nothing big but with enough space for him.

He sighed; maybe he should take a walk. It was morning and his first class was only after lunch – a group of third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws (he thanked Merlin for that, thinking, imagine if my first class was fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors?).

He was glad the corridors were empty, it was somewhat like he was back home… he missed walking through these same (but it wasn't exactly the same, was it?) hallways. He remembered many things… feelings… how much time had passed on his own dimension? He wondered idly. He felt somewhat guilty to wonder how much time there was until Sirius' death… Would they ever meet on the Afterlife? He didn't know; he hoped they would though he doubted. He was a member of the Silcála Order (Harry couldn't help grin proudly at the thought) and obviously he would rarely stay in the Afterlife. The Order had few members, only the necessary number to complete their missions successfully. Was there some kind of vacation for the members?    

It'd be strange… Harry tried to picture the High Master in a bathing suit on a beach in a tropical country on Earth. At his side, beautiful woman in bikinis drinking caipirinha or something else. Harry shook his head; the sight was so… hilarious… and bizarre he thought with a grin. He couldn't imagine the High Master getting drunk… For a brief moment, he wondered what the High Master would do if he knew what Harry had been thinking… He felt a bit ungrateful, the High Master had always been so kind to him… he reminded him of…

He shut his eyes in pain. This was one thing he didn't like thinking much. Dumbledore had given him faith, had taught him all he knew and how had Harry paid it? By killing himself on the next opportunity.

He sighed. He really didn't know where these thoughts were coming from… He knew it hadn't been like that; he hadn't gone and killed himself as soon as he could. He died destroying Lord Voldemort – died saving the whole world. It was odd… He always had thought that after all he died he would feel at least proud. But he wasn't. All right, he was proud of his powers… for someone who could barely pass his Transfiguration class he had to say there had been an improvement. But, was he proud of dieing like that? He had been fifteen, for Merlin's sake! Did he really want to die so young?

But then again, what is death? The living people usually thought it was the end – the opposite of life. But, when he came to the Afterlife, he found it wasn't so. There wasn't a great different between living and dieing. He couldn't understand why people were so afraid of death. It's because they don't know it, he thought after a time. He blinked suddenly and asked himself silently why was he thinking like that… It wasn't like him… He idly wondered (not for the first time, he knew) if it had something to do with his moods. He always got like this when he was depressed…  

He groaned when he suddenly realized that the hallways, once empty, were now full of students. Glancing at his watch (Ciara had given him a new one when she'd discover his own had stopped working after the second task of the Triwizard Tournament) he noticed it was already noon. He stared at his own class across the corridors fearfully; soon he'd have to face a class full of students! He was sure he would make a fool of himself… He laughed ironically as he thought he could battle Dark Lords, join strange Orders but could not teach some students.

He stayed still for a moment… when had he grown sarcastic? It wasn't like him… He sighed (I seem to sigh a lot these day…), it seemed that nothing was like him anymore… he could barely recognize himself through the changes he had in less than four years.

He shook his head, trying to make all these strange thoughts go away. He figured he should call Ciara, now he that got there. She should be worried. Maybe I'll call her now… Soon I'll have to go to the Great Hall for lunch… He picked his bina from the pocket of his robe, the bina was like the Muggle cell phone, no wonder; this was made by the Muggles in the Order. He dialled her number. Few seconds passes and Harry heard her say, hello.

"Ciara?" He said through the bina. "It's me, Harry."

There was a paused and Harry was sure her eyes grew wider. "Harry?" He heard her smirk. "Or should I say, Shinhi?" While she spoke, there was an emphasis on his name, Shinhi.

Harry blushed a little. "Yeah… I found a name… What do you think?"

"Creative."

"Creative?"

She nodded. "Creative."

"Only that? I spent hours looking for a name and you tell me it's creative?"

She shrugged. "What am I supposed to say? It is creative… Anyway… what about your sword? It needs a name too, you know."

Harry new she was trying to change the subject. Obviously she didn't want to spend all day talking about creativity. It reminded him of when he passed to the Afterlife; they would spend all the time (Ciara and him) arguing over something pointless. It was some kind of a game now. "I'm not sure… would Fire be too… simple?"

"Probably."

Harry sighed. "Then, I'm hopeless."

She shook her head. "Come on, Harry! Is this from the same person that named himself… what's the translation again?"

Even though Harry knew she wouldn't see him, he glared at her.

 "Okay…"

"Look," Harry interrupted her. "It's lunch time. I got to go now. I'll try to find a name, okay? Bye!"

"But I-"

He shut the bina before she could finish. I hope she won't be too mad… He didn't think much about this, though. As soon as he shut it, his stomach stated growling. Some things never change… And, even if he wouldn't admit it, he was glad some things didn't.

He started to head to the Great Hall. The teachers here weren't much different than from his own time. Snape was still teaching (he wondered briefly if he was the Order of the Phoenix's spy), Mcgonagall too but Harry noted there was no Flitwick or Hagrid there. There were other teachers in their place – Richard Brooks and Lance Winston, Harry knew from the Slicála Order's archives. He had to act like he didn't know their name, though. Dumbledore had only introduced him to McGonagall and Snape.

I wonder where my parents (could he call them parents?) are… This thought had bothered Harry since he had discovered they were alive here. Where were them now? Did they live in England? He would think automatically that they were Order of the Phoenix members, but were they really? They had to be involved with Voldemort, surely. After all, the Dark Lord had attacked them once. Even if it was later than in Harry's dimension.

Harry knew he would find out, sooner or later. And if he didn't, Harry reminded himself, his first priority was to the mission. Maybe, when he had gotten Dumbledore's trust, he would ask him. The old Headmaster had looked at him with a suspicious look – it was probably a consequence of living in dangerous times like these. Harry wondered with a grin what troubles had this Dumbledore have with the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.

He reached the Great Hall's doors. With a deep breath, he entered.

 ~*~

TBC…

I hope you liked this chapter! As always, click on that cute little lavender box… and review! Also, this chapter was beta'ed by: Feather Head.