SUMMARY
After spending half his life trying to rid the world of Voldemort, Harry Potter finally succeeds. However, the price has been high. Too high. Unfortunately, when Harry risks his life to go back and 'do things right', something goes wrong.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank…
S'TarKan – It was his story that gave me the idea for this story's starting point. Also, if anyone wants to know what kind of Harry Potter my main character is (they've had similar experiences, losses etc), or just want to read a good Harry Potter fanfic, then read S'TarKan's "Harry Potter & the Nightmares of Futures Past".
The creators of QUANTUM LEAP and SLIDERS – Anyone who's seen either of these shows might recognise elements of both shows central ideas in this story. The situation my Harry gets himself into was indeed partially inspired by the central features of both of these shows.
This website – For providing a forum where people like me can write stuff that people will actually get to see.
J.K. Rowling – They are her characters after all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – The Locket.
Harry held out his hand in front of his own face and counted. "Eight seconds." he muttered once his vision had completely cleared. "It's getting better." He lowered his hand and looked around. Soon, he realised that he was in a vaguely familiar alleyway – the same one he had found himself in when he arrived in the second reality.
"Diagon Alley," Harry muttered as he started walking towards the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. What could I possibly be here for this time? he wondered. First time I was here, I was saving myself from a load of hero-worshippers and the second time I was helping McGonagall and my other self do his first year shopping. What could it possibly be now?
He pushed open the door and entered the pub, first making sure that his scar was obscured by his hair. The pub was empty with the exception of Tom the barman.
"Good day, sir," he greeted Harry cheerily, not recognising him. "Can I get you anything?"
"Um… no, sorry, I've no money on me," answered Harry truthfully.
"Then I'm guessing you're wanting Diagon Alley," concluded Tom. "You know the combination?"
Harry nodded and walked through the pub into an alleyway with a dead-end. Now, let's see, he thought as he took out his wand and looked at the brick wall. It was this one. He tapped one of the bricks with his wand. This one. He tapped another brick. This one and this one. He tapped another two bricks, then stood back. The bricks he had tapped then retreated into the wall slightly and the bricks began to move apart, revealing the entrance to Diagon Alley.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Harry started to walk around Diagon Alley, which seemed much quieter than he was used to. Then again, he had only really been there in the summer, when it was full of Hogwarts students buying their school supplies. This meant that, for once, Harry didn't have to force his way through any crowds. After a while, he passed a café and noticed a newspaper lying on top of one of the tables. Seeing that the table was empty and that the paper had probably been discarded, he picked it up and skimmed through the front page of the paper.
"November 2nd, 2002," he mumbled to himself. "Sixth year."
He double checked using the 'date' function on his watch and found that the paper was yesterday's. He put it back on the table and carried on walking. Oh well, at least there's not much chance of bumping into anyone I know while I'm here. he thought. Plus, if anyone does spot my scar, then at least this reality's me will have an alibi, what with him being at Hogwarts and not being able to Apparate yet.
Ten minutes later, he was starting to wonder if he had made a wrong turn somewhere on the proverbial inter-dimensional highway. What the hell could be so important here? Harry wondered impatiently. He had been wandering around Diagon Alley for nearly half an hour now and had looked everywhere he could think of for anything that warranted his presence in that reality. He had scouted out Flourish & Blotts, Ollivander's Wands, Gamble & Japes Joke Shop, Eeyelops Owl Emporium, Madam Malikin's and every other shop he could think of, but found nothing out of the ordinary.
What am I here to do? Harry asked himself, looking up, as if expecting some higher force to answer him. I've looked everywhere… He stopped in mid-thought as he noticed the entrance to another alleyway. No, he realised. I haven't.
Harry entered Diagon Alley's less reputable counterpart and sighed. God, I hate Knockturn Alley, especially all those street vendors selling god-knows-what. He glanced at one of the vendors, a particularly ugly looking witch. Are those HUMAN tongues? he asked himself incredulously as he realised the dried pink objects on her tray. Shuddering slightly, Harry continued deeper into Knockturn Alley, ignoring the strange looks his distinctly Muggle attire was receiving. Bloody wizards! Always have to be so bloody prejudiced, he thought as he was reminded of his own grandfather in the reality before last.
The first place he checked out was Borgin & Burkes, as he knew that Malfoy was in contact with the shop's owner at this point. Nothing, he thought as he entered the shop and saw that it was empty.
"Can I help you, young sir?" asked the shop's owner.
"No, thank you," replied Harry. "I was just looking for someone. Sorry for bothering you." Before Mr Borgin could say anything in response, Harry had turned and left the shop.
Five minutes later, something finally caught Harry's attention.
"And right 'ere, we have this luvvly silver cup, unused to the best of my knowledge…" cried a familiar voice. As Harry approached the source of the voice, he noticed a large case full of several very valuable looking items near the feet of Mundungus Fletcher.
Suppressing the urge to go up to Fletcher and thump him for trying to sell what was, by rights, Harry's property after Sirius's death, Harry stood and watched as the thieving then-member of the Order of the Phoenix continued to call out to passers-by, hoping that someone would buy something. Look at him, standing there, pretending he's a legitimate tradesman, seethed Harry. However, as he thought this, something occurred to him. Maybe he hasn't sold that Locket yet… Yes, that must be it. If he hasn't sold it yet, maybe I can get my hands on it and give it to Dumbledore so he doesn't go after that fake one. If I do that, then he doesn't have to die, at least, not the way he did.
"Excuse me," Harry suddenly heard a voice say. "I don't suppose there would be any jewellery among that lot, would there? A locket perhaps?"
"Well, good sir, I 'ave just the thing," said Fletcher as Harry's eyes shot towards Fletcher's makeshift stall.
"No way," Harry mumbled disbelievingly as he saw Fletcher conversing with a hooded figure with dark robes. "Could it be?" he wondered, remembering his near-miss with a similar figure three realities ago and how he had later been told of another such figure's part in the exposure of Peter Pettigrew. "Well," shrugged Harry. "Only one way to find out…" He walked up to the nearby stall as Fletcher rummaged around in his case. "Excuse me," he said. "I know this may sound like a stupid question, but does the phrase 'alternate reality' mean anything to you?"
The figure whirled around at the sound of Harry's voice, though his hood stayed up, obscuring the figure's face. "Shit!" the figure exclaimed, before turning and running off.
"Hey, wait!" Harry called out, but as Harry went to pursue the robed figure, he noticed the figure glow blue for a few seconds, before disappearing with a fairly bright flash.
"Damn!" Harry cursed. That's twice he's run away from me. But why? By now, everyone who had witnessed what had just happened was staring at him and where the cloaked figure had been in total shock. Everyone that is, except Mundungus Fletcher, who had just found a locket with an imprint of a serpent and was completely oblivious to what had just happened.
"Oi! What gives?" he exclaimed, staring at Harry. "What d'you think you're doin', scaring me customers away?" However, Fletcher's tone quickly changed when Harry turned and faced Fletcher. "What the… 'arry?" he spluttered as he recognised the figure in the leather jacket. "Um… listen 'arry… I, uh, know you're angry, but…"
"Shut the fuck up, you thieving piece of scum!" growled Harry, holding out his hand before him and sending Fletcher flying into the wall behind him.
"N-now, 'arry. B-be reasonable. I…" stammered Fletched, now slumped against the wall and very frightened.
"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" yelled Harry. Fletcher let out a terrified squeak, though what really scared him was the fury he could see in the young man's eyes. "Now," Harry snarled at the cowering thief. "You're going to return all the stuff you stole from Sirius's house right now, aren't you Mundungus?"
"Y-ye-yes… of… of course. A-anything y-you say, 'arry…" stuttered Fletcher.
"And you're going to give me that locket in your hand right now, aren't you?" added Harry, nodding the Horcrux in Fletcher's hand.
"Wh… this?" stammered Fletcher, glancing at the locket before holding his shaking hand out for Harry to take the locket. "H-here… T-take it."
Rather than reach over and grab it, Harry wandlessly summoned it, earning a few gasps from the still shocked onlookers, who had, in the last few minutes, witnessed a cloaked figure disappear in a flash of blue light after spotting the young man in the Muggle clothes and the annoying street-seller reduced to a gibbering wreck by the mere presence of that same young man. "Someone call an Auror," Harry heard someone mutter. Ignoring the onlookers, Harry looked briefly at the locket that had taken him so long to find in his reality, thanks to Fletcher selling it to someone, who then sold it to someone else and so on until Harry, Ron and Hermione finally found it. If only Regulus Black could have known the trouble his final act of defiance against Voldemort would cause. Doesn't matter now, thought Harry, closing his hand around the locket.
He looked down at the still quivering figure of Mundungus Fletcher and smirked. "Stay out of trouble, Mundungus," he said before Apparating away, leaving everyone in Knockturn Alley trying to figure out what had just happened as Mundungus Fletcher scrambled to his feet, closed the case-full of Black family heirlooms and left the Alley for Number 12 Grimmauld Place as fast as he could.
XxXxXxXxXxX
It was lunchtime at Hogwarts and the whole school was busy eating and chatting to their friends as a mysterious figure in a leather jacket and blue jeans entered the Great Hall.
As the figure in the Muggle clothes walked towards the Staff table, there were several gasps as several students caught a glimpse of the scar on the stranger's forehead.
"Is that…?"
"No, can't be…"
"But Harry Potter's already sitting over there…"
"Where's 'e going?"
"What's that in his hand?"
"Maybe he's Potter's long-lost twin…"
"Maybe he's an impostor sent by You-Know-Who…"
"Looks like Harry's just as confused as we are…"
"And look! So're the teachers…"
"Blimey! I never thought I'd ever see Dumbledore look shocked!"
Finally, the stranger that looked like a lot like Harry Potter reached the Staff table and stood before Dumbledore, who looked at the stranger with a look of extreme suspicion. Everyone had their hands on their wands as the stranger put the object in his hand on the table in front of Dumbledore.
"The one in the cave is a fake," said the stranger quietly to an immensely surprised Dumbledore. The stranger then walked towards Snape. "And Draco's task is to assassinate Dumbledore," he said in an equally quiet voice so that only Snape could hear.
The school watched in wonder as the mysterious stranger said a few words to both the Headmaster and the Potions Master before he turned and started walking back towards the entrance. It was only when the stranger reached the doors that the Headmaster finally found his voice.
"Who are you?" he called out.
The stranger paused and turned around. "I've been called many things in my lifetime," he said in a voice that everyone could hear. "The Lone Traveller is one of them."
The Great Hall exploded with shocked gasps and murmuring as the stranger turned and took another few steps before a pale blue light appeared around him. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the stranger as white sparks of light shot outwards, before a bright flash heralded the departure of The Lone Traveller from their world.
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AUTHOR'S NOTES
dead feather – The whole point of this is that Harry's plan to go back and change history went wrong and now he's trapped in the situation he's in. He has no control when and where he goes, which, alongside the fact that the aura is blue, is one of the central parts of Quantum Leap that influence this story.
Ugly Duckling – Yes, you are correct. I am a Red Dwarf fan and yes, I am planning at least one 'Harry isn't quite Harry' reality in the near future.
Concerning the Dates I use – I use the publishing date of The Philosipher's Stone (1997) as a reference point as far as dates are concerned. First year, with my system, is from Summer 1997 to Summer 1998, and so on. I know most people use a '1991First year/1980Harry born chronology', but I prefer to use the first book's publishing date, mainly to bring the stories a bit closer to the present.