A/N: Hello, I'm back again, with chapter two of Every Heart. Before you read though, I have a few thing I should tell you:

PLEASE READ - IMPORTANT -- In this chapter, you may hear Harry mention things that you don't have any ideas about: the Founders, his training, etc. This is because there is supposed to be a prologue to this whole story, but I haven't had time to write it yet. For now, you'll just have to read and guess along.

Also, greatest thanks to which ever reader who nominated my other story, "Comforts from the Unexpected", for the "Best WiP" award on Golden Feather Award msn group.

Enjoy, I now present you with:

Every Heart

Chapter Two - The Awakening

by Firestar

He woke up in the Hospital Wing, to the sound of voices.

"...I found him outside by the Forest, Professor Dumbledore...."

Harry froze. Something about that voice seemed very familiar... Where had he heard it before?

"Thank you, Mr. Black. You ----"

Mr. Black? Sirius? He suddenly jumped up, pulling away the curtain that had been pulled around his bed to give him privacy... to find himself looking into the familiar face of his godfather.

"Sirius?" He whispered disbelievingly, his emerald green eyes flashing as they pierced Sirius' bright blue ones. It was then that he realized: This wasn't his Sirius; This was the way Sirius had looked when he was younger, the way Harry had only seen in pictures.

He suddenly backed away, about to pull out his wand, but discovered that someone had removed it from him. That problem, however, was quickly solved with a single wave of his hand. The two in front of himself instantly found themselves bound with ropes.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked fiercely, as his expression blazed with hatred as he looked at the imposers ---after all, who else could they be?--- in front of him. "And what have you done with Dumbledore?"

The imposer Headmaster looked at him with surprise. "I'm afraid, young man, that I do not understand what you're talking about. If----"

"Don't you play games with me!" Harry roared. "Who are you this time? Malfoy? Lestrange? Pettigrew?" He didn't notice Sirius' sharp intake of breath at the last name. "Go back to that hellhole of yours and tell your damn Lord to come and fight like a man! I'm tired of your bloody games!"

Dumbledore turned to Harry. His eyes were hard and cold.

"I'm must demand to know who you are, young man, before anything else. I can not just allow anyone into Hogwarts."

"I'M NOT TELLING YOU ANYTHING UNTIL YOU PROVE WHO YOU REALLY ARE!"

Dumbledore looked stunned for a moment before realization dawned in his eyes. "I assure you, child, that I am Albus Dumbledore."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Prove it," he said quietly. "Call Fawkes to you."

Dumbledore complied, and a few minutes later, a brilliant phoenix flew into the room, his wings a blaze of red and gold.

Harry's eyes softened at the sight of the bird in front of him. "Fawkes," he called quietly, and the fiery phoenix flew off of the Headmaster's shoulders and landed on his arm.

Dumbledore couldn't help but be surprised: Fawkes rarely trusted anyone but the ones who had been with him for many years. And here he was, interacting with a stranger he had must met. There was something special about this boy in front of him, indeed.

"Albus," Harry said finally. "I apologize for my behavior earlier." Waving his hand, both Sirius and Dumbledore found themselves free of the ropes that had earlier, bound them.

"Forgiven, my boy, but I still must ask who you are."

Alarm shot through him as Harry looked up into the face of his mentor. "You--- You don't know who I am?"

"I'm afraid not, child." Seeing that Harry was about to speak again, he turned to Sirius. "Mr. Black, I'm afraid that I must ask you to leave."

Sirius looked about to protest, but something in the Headmaster's eyes made him obey. He quickly left the room.

"I----" Harry began, not sure what to say. Suddenly, something hit him. "Albus.... What year is this?"

"Today is the fifth of September, 1978."

His legs felt weak, and he fell back onto the bed as realization hit him. Voldemort's spell, Dumbledore's words, the younger Sirius.... It all made sense now.

"Sir?" He said urgently. "Could we take this to your office? I have some... information I must tell you, and it would best be told in a private place."

Dumbledore nodded as he wondered what was going on. Albus Dumbledore wasn't easily confused, but this was one of those moments. Here was a boy in front of him, no older than nineteen at the most, and he had displayed the most amazing ability of wandless magic he had ever seen. One moment, the child seemed weak and vulnerable, but at the next, he was as fierce as any grown wizard. And he still didn't know exactly who the boy was.

Normally, the old wizard would have been suspicious about the boy's allies; Voldemort was growing ever stronger, and it was a dangerous world. This time, however, Dumbledore was not worried: The child, whoever he really was, had managed to call Fawkes to him, and Fawkes, being a phoenix, would only obey the purest of hearts.

As they arrived in front of the gargoyle, Harry, not thinking about what he was doing, just raised his arms and placed them on the stone figure. The gargoyle immediately sprang open, revealing Dumbledore's private office. Not noticing the older man's look of shock and surprise, he walked into the office and seated himself in a wooden chair.

He looked around the room, the familiarity of the office calming him more than he would have thought possible. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the Headmaster who was sitting in front of him, his eyes twinkling in silent question.

"I am," he began hesitantly, "what you may call a time traveler. I am not from this time."

Pausing slightly, he continued again. "My name is Harold James Potter, and I'm from the future." He stopped, unsure of how to go on.

Feeling foolish at the silence that followed, he looked up into slightly disbelieving blue orbs.

"And, Mr. Potter, how is it that you came to be in this time?"

Harry inwardly flinched at the formal tone behind the Headmaster's words. In his time, Albus had been like a surrogate grandfather to him: a twinkling blue-eyed mentor that would always be there, offering lemon drops and tea, no matter what happened in reality. The Headmaster had been a person he had come to know with familiarity, and to hear himself addressed with such formality from the person he had come to trust hurt more than he cared to admit.

"I'm afraid that's a very long and tiring tale, although I can not tell you the exact details, as that would change the laws of time," he said in response to the man's question. "However, I will tell you as much as I can." Stopping momentarily to gather his wits, he began.

"My father is James Potter, and my mother, Lily Potter, formerly Evans. When I was one years old, you placed our family under.... protection to keep Voldemort away from us. Unfortunately, we were betrayed, and on a certain Halloween night, my family was killed. Voldemort came, and first, killed my father. My mother could have lived, but she sacrificed her life for me, so she too, died. Then, he turned and cast the killing curse on me. However, for some unfathomable reason, I survived with only the scar on my forehead while Voldemort perished. Since that day, I was named 'the Boy-Who-Lived'."

"However, over a decade later, Voldemort managed to regain his body with the help of a loyal servant. He has been after me for revenge ever since. A few days ago was the final battle in which I finally managed to destroy him. However, before he died, he managed to cast a spell on me. It is my guess that the spell was to transport me through time. Which leads up to how I got here."

He looked up, expecting a violent reaction, but to his surprise, the Headmaster just sat there smiling. His twinkle was back with re-enforcements, shining mischievously at him. "You have a very strange... dilemma here, Harry, but we can worry about sending you back later. As you realize, you must stay here for a while."

Harry nodded in understanding. "What do you plan to do, sir?"

"How old are you, Harry?"

"I'm seventeen, Alb-- Professor. Soon to be eighteen. Although I have already earned my masters in DADA and Potions."

The Headmaster looked up in shock. "Masters? How is this possible?" To be a master meant that they had to pass the many educational standards set by the magical standards themselves, and that took a great many years of hard work and practice.

Harry smiled fondly at the memory the question brought. During his stay with the founders, Godric and Salazar had taught him many things, those including the art of dueling, and potions-making. He had come to love these two subjects, and to his surprise, had been recommended to take his masters in both courses.

"I was tutored in both subjects only by the best, sir," he replied, his lips tugging into a small smile.

As Dumbledore got over this astounding piece of information, the light returned to his eyes. "Excellent timing, my dear boy," he said delightedly. "You can join our seventh years, as school as only been session for five days. I assume you need new supplies?"

Harry nodded.

"Today is, by chance, a Hogsmeade weekend. You may leave anytime you wish to shop for the necessities. You will be sorted tonight at dinner after I introduce you. Oh, speaking of which, do you have any name you wish to go by?"

Harry bit down on his lips, thinking. Finally, after a few minutes, he answered.

"Alexander Septimus Goldleaf," he decided, satisfied.

"Excellent choice, my dear boy," Dumbledore said brightly. "Do you have any other questions?"

Harry shook his head. "May I be excused, Headmaster? I'm afraid I must head to Hogsmeade now."

"Of course, Harry. You may leave."

With those words, Harry swept out of the room, heading for the long day in front of him.

End of Chapter Two

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