Summary: A suicide mission manages to win the war for a twenty-year-old Harry Potter, even if he does die in the attempt. For some reason though, he doesn't seem as dead as he should be – and the world he's woken up in has more than enough of its own problems to deal with.

Warnings: Violence, excessive amounts of bad language, abuse of the Latin language and overuse of OCs.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise isn't mine. Anything you don't is mine. On that note – I'm willing to let you use any of my characters if you ask and have back stories for quite a few, if anyone's bored and looking to write anything about an OC. -charming smile-

Author's Note: Still looking for a beta. Reviews and/or constructive criticism is much appreciated. Thanks to SlythsRule, Mara202, Akuma-river and Lily for reviewing.

Chapter Two: He Took a Road Not Taken

Dedicated to SlythsRule as the first reviewer. : )

Harry eyed Alex with some wariness, wishing the man would give him his wand back – but there wasn't really much of a chance of that, having attacked him and all. They were sitting down in a room that Harry found he vaguely recognised, from memories that weren't his. Sighing, he curled up into a foetal position on the sofa – because damnit, he was cold. The man seemed to have some kind of fondness for freezing his arse off, because his quarters were no warmer than it was outside. Normally, Harry wouldn't take such a defenceless position – c'mon, it was like asking to be made a victim – but at the moment, he wasn't sure if it was possible for him to care less. He was too tired at the moment.

Alex looked up to meet his eyes, and smiled faintly, before returning to prodding what looked like a small muggle radio with his wand. There was a burst of static, and a man's voice came over irritably.

"Evan Rosier, Vidar Squadron, if this isn't important then go shove it up your arse-"

"Dad, it's me," Alex interrupted. "I found Jon."

There was a pause, and then Evan Rosier spoke again, obviously startled. "He was at Hogwarts then?"

"Yeah, turned out the tracking charm wasn't malfunctioning," Alex sighed. "No idea how he got there, and he isn't telling."

"Any idea about the burst of magic?" Evan asked, his voice business-like.

"None," Alex said, shaking his head as if Evan could see him. "The residue had faded by the time I got there, and Jon was standing there freezing-"

"He's safe?" Concern in his voice. Harry scowled slightly, not liking that.

"Yeah, we're back in my quarters. You coming back, or you got other duties?"

"We've got a suspect here. It shouldn't take long to find out what he knows though," Harry could almost hear the shrug in Evan's voice. "I'll be back before midnight. You know the password for my quarters to put Jon to bed."

Harry grimaced. 'Put Jon to bed'. Sounded like he- no, Jonathon- oh bugger this, whoever he currently was, was a fucking two-year-old. Alex grimaced, obviously coming to the same conclusion, but when he spoke, it was a cheerful, "Will do."

The radio crackled off, and they both turned to look at each other, something guarded in Alex's stare. Harry met it, trying to look inquisitive – he had a feeling it didn't really work, but whatever Alex was looking for, he didn't find. Instead, he scowled faintly, dropped his head to look at the ground, and Harry just barely kept from smirking triumphantly.

Silence for a few moments, broken only by a yawn from Harry that felt like it was distorting his whole face. Alex laughed softly, and got up to move closer, looked slightly upset when Harry shied from his touch. I am not a bloody pet dog he thought furiously, when Alex sat down beside him, and started brushing his hair back from his face.

"You are such a mess, Jon," he sighed, taking time to pull a twig out of the blond hair. "Honestly, how do you always do this?"

Sheer talent, Harry thought moodily, resisting another yawn.

"And Hogwarts? How in all the worlds did you get to Hogwarts of all places?"

Magic.

"Seriously, Jon, you'll give me a heart attack before I reach twenty one. Dad's been frantic over the past few days."

He sounds like Hermione, Harry thought, and felt his eyes drift half-shut, reassured by this reminder of his friend. Beside him, Alex shifted slightly, cushioning Harry's head with his shoulder, and letting his murmuring slowly-

Just fade-

Away.

"I'm telling you sir, she didn't know a bloody thing about the rebel's precious 'Order'. We told that fucking demon that, and he wouldn't believe us. Seriously, we'd put her through everything. We'd kept her sleepless for a few days, underfed, confused, and then used veritiserum. We phrased the questions so they were yes or no. There wasn't any room for fucking untruths-"

"Calm down, Blaise," a voice said, and Harry stirred slightly, making sure he kept his eyes closed as he ran through possible situations. He was in an unfamiliar area, persons unknown in the vicinity, and-

Oh shit. The events of the previous day came rushing in, and Harry resisted the temptation to hit himself. Falling asleep in front of an unknown subject? Moody would have killed him for that. Sure, he'd been tired and wandless – another thing Moody would have killed him for – but that was no excuse. He should have-

Should have-

Ah, fuckit. He couldn't have done anything really. The only course he could really think of was to gain information if he could, and then evaluate the situation from there.

"Sorry, sir," someone – Zabini's voice, strange – said, not sounding in the least bit apologetic. Sounded sort of younger, without the husky quality it had gained after he'd been tortured. Fair enough. Maybe he hadn't been tortured here. It'd sort of make sense.

"You told the demon that you needed to interrogate the subject on different matters?" Evan said. Yes, Harry decided, it was Evan Rosier. He recognized the voice from last night, over the radio.

"Yes, sir," Blaise said, exasperated. "Is your memory going or something? I told you that-"

"Needed it for the report, Blaise," Evan said cheerfully, and Harry heard the scratch of a quill on parchment. "And are you sure that you mentioned the subject needed to be able to speak when you interrogated her?"

Harry could almost hear Blaise scowl. "It's slightly hard to interrogate someone when they can't speak, sir."

"And the subject was most definitely unable to answer your questions once the demon had finished with-"

"Sir!" Blaise snapped. "Can you take this fucking seriously for once in your life? We thought she was one of the research and development specialists – do you know how much information-?"

Evan sighed, put his quill down. "Blaise, I have to ask these questions. You know that. The Dark Lord doesn't like his precious demons being criticised, and if I haven't covered all aspects of the report, then I am completely and utterly screwed. Alright?"

A mumbled affirmative.

"Now, was she able to answer questions once the demon had…" Pause. "Talked to her."

"No, sir," Blaise was sullen, and Harry bit back a grin at that. "Being flayed alive and then crucified does have a tendency to limit a person's speaking ability. Sir."

Harry cracked his eyes open, just enough to see Evan nodding faintly, and picking up his quill to write something down. Slightly stocky build, same blond hair as- as his body had, Harry couldn't make out his eye colour from here, but he suspected it would be the same. A sort of grey, wasn't it?

"Nott was there, sir," Blaise said suddenly, and Harry moved his head slightly to fit Blaise in his line of vision, biting back a wince as his neck seemed to creak impossibly loudly. Ah, there. Same Blaise as he knew, just lacking a few scars. Maybe two years younger, which was strange. Don't take things for granted, he told himself sternly, and then quirked a faint grin as his Moody-voice screamed 'Constant Vigilance!' inside his head, with a sense of smugness.

"Alethea was there?" Evan asked, sounding surprised. "I thought she was being sent to Scotland to negotiate with Greyback again."

"She was sent back. Mini-Malfoy made some huge faux-pas, and offended the whole werewolf community. They decided a tactical retreat was in order." His shoulders went up in a shrug. "She tried to wave rank in the demon's face, but you know they only listen to the Inner Circle, and even then only half the time."

"Damn," Evan said, making a face, before adding on in a would-be casual voice, "She say when she'd be back?"

"Few days," Blaise said smugly. "And Bellatrix is outside. Should I send her in?"

Evan growled slightly but nodded, but Harry didn't really notice, instead feeling the blood in his veins freeze. Bellatrix Lestrange. He'd killed her, he'd fucking killed her, opened up her bloody skull and liquefied her brain. She couldn't be alive, nonono, this wasn't fucking possible.

"You wanted a report, Evan?" Bellatrix's voice all but fucking purred, and Harry shuddered.

"Can it, Black," Evan said, dislike clear in his voice. "And before you ask, Jon is not awake, and no, there is no need for you to baby-sit."

"But sir, it's no problem," Bellatrix said, her voice dripping with innocence. "He's such a sweet boy."

"Which is why, when Alex took him for a check-up, he still had traces of the blood boiling curse on him?" Evan said, his voice turning icy. "That's your speciality Black, and like it or not, Jonathon is still my son. Touch him again and you will regret it. Now give me your Thor-damned report and get out."

"I wouldn't have hurt him, sir," Bellatrix said, her voice turning sulky. "He didn't mind. It's not like he actually felt it or anything."

"And that's why his voice was hoarse from screaming. I see."

Harry shivered back into the couch, wishing he had his wand, his hand twitching almost desperately. She'd- When he'd been caught by- It had fucking hurt, but- He'd killed her, he'd fucking killed her and now she was alive. Calm down. He took a shaking breath, gritted his teeth and tried to keep still. Calm down. Kill her later. Yeah, he thought. Kill her later. He'd destroyed her before, and it wouldn't be too hard to do it again – make it more painful this time. He had to keep his mouth from turning up in a disturbingly sadistic smile, but the idea stopped his body's involuntary shuddering, and distracted him with more pleasant matters.

"- The London resistance is planning an attack on Modi Squadron barracks, but we've got Lestrange keeping an eye on them, sir."

Harry forced his attention back to the two adults, grimacing faintly at the sight of Bellatrix all-but draping herself across Evan, the latter of whom had a tense look of distaste plastered on his face.

"You've done well," Evan said, sounding as if the words were being dragged out of him by hooks. "Make sure you rotate with Rodolphus, but the four of you are off-duty for the next week. Dismissed."

Bellatrix heaved a sigh, artfully pushing her chest forward, and pouting as Evan very deliberately looked nowhere near her. Still pouting, she left, and Harry found himself letting out a soft sigh of relief – and Evan looked around and down at him, his expression softening slightly. He didn't, Harry noted with some unease, look at all surprised.

"You woke up when she came in, didn't you?" he asked, and Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, clumsy in overestimating his reach and weight. He'd have to get adjusted to this body quickly – it was too much of a danger otherwise. After a brief consideration of whether he should let Evan know how long he'd really been awake, he nodded.

"Fuck," Evan murmured softly, and dropped down beside him. "I would have moved you into your room, but Alethea's potions are set up there," he said apologetically. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again." He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder, and Harry tensed reflexively.

Evan felt the tensing, Harry was sure of it, but he ignored it, pulling him in closer and running a hand through his hair. What the hell was it with people and his hair?

"You need to have a wash," Evan said, frowning. "I could call Blaise back here to help you."

Harry nearly choked. Help him? Fucking hell, no. This was going way too far. He was not having someone help him wash; he'd had enough embarrassment when Ginny had had to do that after he'd manage to half-paralyse himself.

"Or…" Evan pushed back, and Harry looked up to see a grin widening on his face. I could just-"

He brought his wand out, and Harry shoved himself backwards, flailing off the sofa and onto the floor. React, where was the nearest weapon, aim for the table for cover-

"Effundo aquam."

-Water splashed down on him, soaking him through, and Harry choked and spluttered, drenched, with a small puddle forming around him. Oh. Well, at least he hadn't been attacked.

Lifting an arm, he prodded at the sleeve morosely, grimacing at the small squelching sound it made as it separated from his skin. Joy. He was too busy inspecting himself with some incredulous annoyance to notice Evan raise his wand again, and mutter a soft, 'Scourgify', letting the dirt slide off with the water, and the grease track itself out, leaving him clean again.

Then, 'sicco' which left him feeling as if the water had been sucked off him in by a vacuum, and Harry stared at Evan, his nose wrinkled in distaste. Next time, he thought, he'd go for a bloody bath. At least he was clean though; the dirt had been feeling as though it were ingrained on his skin.

A flick of Evan's wand – Harry wondered if there'd be a way to deprive the man of that, because he was not happy in the slightest about being manhandled by magic – and his clothes changed, into a warm jumper and slacks, a robe over the top of them. Evan chuckled at Harry's glare, ruffling his hair again, and then pushed himself slightly.

"Go on with you. You can find your way to the Duelling Arena, right?" His eyes were fixed on Harry's, and Harry found himself reminded of the way Neville had had to deal with Luna after It had happened. "Alex is in the Duelling Arena. Okay? The Duelling Arena."

Yeah, yeah, the Duelling Arena. Harry scowled, turning to leave, and behind him Evan chuckled. "Oh, and here's your wand. Don't attack anyone, alright?"

Harry turned quickly and half-snatched the blackwood wand out of Evan's hand, relief obvious in his posture. Wand. Armed. Now he felt twice as secure as before – although he hadn't exactly felt secure before, but that was besides the point – as he shoved it up his sleeve, keeping wary eyes on Evan, who seemed more amused by the display than anything, grinning as he moved away.

There. Now, where the hell was this so-called 'Duelling Arena'?

"You're going the wrong way, you know."

Harry half-turned, his wand sliding into his hand as he tried to assess the new threat. Blonde hair, wide eyes, female, around eighteen – he started as he saw Luna stare at him, her head half-cocked.

"I suppose you don't know at that," she said, and her voice was as light and as airy as ever, but with a hint of sanity that it had been- lacking recently. "Harry, from Henry, from Heimrich. Home Ruler. But you've never wanted to rule, have you?"

Okay, scratch the sanity part.

Harry began to shrug and move away, before it clicked. He froze. "Harry?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light and mildly bewildered, wincing slightly at the hoarse quality. Clearing his throat, he kept his eyes on Luna. She wouldn't betray him, would she? And if she did, it was hardly as if anyone would believe her, really. She still looked mental.

"Of course," Luna said, blinking blue eyes. "You aren't Jonathon. Who else would you be?"

"I-" Harry began, and frowned. "You've always confused me," he muttered to himself with a grumble, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"I know," Luna smiled, carefree. "But it's not all bad, Harry. Jonathon wasn't happy here, and you weren't happy there. It's not like it's the end for either of you."

What the-?

Never mind, he decided frankly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, and there were more important issues to deal with.

"What has Voldemort done to himself?" he asked, his voice changing to brisk command, and Luna looked vague.

"He took a road not taken." She shrugged softly. "It is not my place to say more."

"And-" Harry began, but Luna interrupted him, holding up a hand.

"Munin arrives for you," she said, pointing behind him. Harry swivelled, saw nothing. Narrowing his eyes slightly, his hand crept to his wand, trying to assess any potential threat, but-

No. Still nothing.

He turned back to Luna, catching a flash of black in the corner of his eye as he did so, and whipped backwards so fast he almost lost his balance. "What's going on, Luna?" he growled, and she looked at him.

"He watches you for now, but he will reveal himself in time. You are the one he comes for, after all." She took a few steps away, and then called back over her shoulder-

"And the Duelling Arena's left and then the second right. It would be best if you kept from getting lost."

Goddamn it, she was as loony as fucking ever. He glanced backwards in paranoia, and squared his shoulders. Don't do a Moody.

"Stupefy!" Alex roared, sending a flash of red light towards Blaise, the spell splashing over a hurried shield. He didn't give Blaise much time to react though, following up with, "Destruo!"

Harry groaned softly to himself, slumped down in one of the seats in the arena as he watched the two duel. He had lost to that? Okay, so maybe Alex was alright – half-decent even, but Harry was still a hell of a lot better. He winced as Blaise threw himself clumsily to the ground – it seemed he wasn't up to his counterpart's standard.

The temptation to mutter an earthquake charm and see how they reacted was almost overwhelming, and Harry clenched his wand hand to keep himself from trying it out. So maybe he wanted to pay Alex back for beating him – for beating him and then not even being an amazing dueller. It was fucking embarrassing.

It wasn't exactly his fault he'd lost though. He had just died, woken up in someone else's body, without his own wand, had expended a lot of power on charms and shit and wasn't used to fighting on his own. He'd become to dependant on having a Shielder – and with a shake of his head, Harry decided that was going to have to change.

He blinked slightly as an 'incendo' was sent flying out over the Arena seats, and sighed faintly. This could take a while.

Looking around, Harry did have to give whoever made this place credit though – it was a good deal better than anything the Room of Requirement had come up with, or any of the rooms in Azkaban. A space-altering charm had been cast, and then a Roman-style arena built in, sort of like the Colosseum; a circular area in the middle with sand covering the ground and seats installed on varying levels around it. It would, however, been a good deal more intelligent to cast an absorption shield over the fighting grounds so the spectators – Harry looked up to see a severing charm fly away over the seats – didn't get hurt. Spice of life though, he supposed. Added a bit more entertainment for watchers.

There was a resounding explosion, and Harry scrambled to his feet to peer over at the duellers. Ah, Alex had won then – Blaise was sprawled on the ground unconsciously, and the blond man had, even from twenty metres away, a decidedly smug look on his face.

Jumping over the small drop dividing the seats and the arena, Harry dropped onto the sand and moved over to where Alex stood, looking down at Blaise.

"He's going to be pissed that he lost again," Alex said cheerfully. Waving his wand, he said an almost grandiose 'ennervate', and Blaise let out a moan of pain as he sat up.

"Not again," Blaise muttered. "Same spell?"

"Same spell," Alex said, his grin widening. Harry watched the interaction with a raised eyebrow. So, Blaise and Alex were reasonably good friends – that would be something to remember. Alex was Evan's son, Evan seemed to be the leader of this 'Vidar Squadron', but still answered to Lord Voldemort and the so-called 'Inner Circle'. Demons – well, he had no fucking idea where they fitted into the equation. Still.

"Damnit, Alex-" Blaise began, but both cut off their conversation as there was a crackle from one of Alex's pockets. Grumbling slightly, the man dug in and pulled out a walkie-talkie, flicking a switch with casual ease.

"Alex Rosier reporting," he said in a curiously blank voice, and Harry tried to look casual as he listened to the muffled voice coming out of the speaker.

"Alex, you're needed in the conference room," someone said, excitement clear in their tone, and Harry couldn't recognise the voice. Alex relaxed slightly, quirked an eyebrow at Blaise.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"James Potter's been captured!"

Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from swearing in shock.