The other Ron simply spewed out an entire chorus of swear words and confusion. Something in Harry's brain didn't quite register the two almost exact identical Ron's – the only difference between them were their clothes and the other Ron had his arm in a cast. The tent was furnished like a roomy little house, a table where a game of Wizard Chess had been left in mid-game, chairs, two bunkbeds with lots of blankets and a small primitive-looking radio standing at the bottom of one of the beds.

"Am I dreaming right now?" said Ron. He walked towards his identical twin. They started to circle around each other, like two predators about to fight over territory.

The other Ron pulled his wand, so did Ron attempt to do but quickly noticed his wand missing. Harry threw him it, he caught it and awkwardly pointed it at his other self.

The voices outside were closing in; Harry's heart jumped in his chest – he heard Hermione. He had an urge to run out and meet her, but the intense air between the two Ron's was too hard to ignore.

"Who are you?" said the other Ron.

"Ron Weasley. You?" Ron squinted, tightening his grip on his wand.

"Ron Weasley."

"That's impossible. Harry, what did you do?" He was looking Harry's way, face full of confusion and a hint of ire in his eyes.

"I didn't do anything!"

The other Ron quickly pointed his wand at Harry. "Polyjuice? How did you get past the defensive spells?"

He noticed Harry's and Ron's outfits – they still wore Runcorn's and Cattermole's clothes. Harry hastily threw Runcorn's jacket on the ground, as if that would make any suspicions towards him lessen.

Hermione's voice was right outside now. "Honestly Harry, you need to stop worrying so much about—"

Hermione walked into the tent – and Harry was sure of it – the other Harry he had met just a few days ago. Their faces froze and quickly went from smiles to their jaws dropping in shock.

Harry looked at his other self, then Hermione, then the other Ron and back to his other self.

If the air had been intense before, it was now stretched out and strained to a breaking point. Harry opened his mouth, though he had barely managed to move a muscle before Hermione drew her wand as well, pointing it at Harry.

"Hermione – it's me", Harry attempted to approach her – she hit him with a stunning spell that knocked him down on the ground, and a duel broke out. "No, no, no stop!"

The other Harry didn't draw his wand, neither did Harry himself, instead they had to dodge and avoid rogue spells coming their way. With a swift motion, both Harry and his other self, disarmed everyone in the tent. Harry caught them in mid-air with a thread of webbing.

"What kind of spell was that?" the other Ron yelled.

Harry sighed. "No spell, just my webbing."

"Your what?" the other Ron kept raising his voice. Clearly this was way out of the ordinary for them.

"Let them explain themselves!" yelled the other Harry, throwing an angry look at Hermione.

"And let them capture us? You seriously think I'm that thick?" said Hermione.

"They're not Death Eaters! They're… they're – well it's complicated, okay?" said the other Harry; he got a doubting stare from Hermione. "Just trust me."

"You're not our Hermione?" Harry asked. She did not answer him. Fair enough; he too would be alerted if clones of him and his friends suddenly dropped by to say hello.

The other Harry took Harry's hand and pulled him up from the ground. It was still bizarre seeing yourself outside of a reflection, moving around and doing something completely different than yourself.

Who might as well be his twin, moved over to the other Ron.

Ron's almost undistinguishable twin sat himself down on one of the bunkbeds, hanging his head low before looking right at Harry – well at least he believed he was. Hermione stepped forward to her Ron's side.

She crossed her arms and saw at Harry with a stare that he had seen before and feared; he used to receive it when they fought a lot, and she always looked like that at anything that Rita Skeeter wrote about her or Harry in the Daily Prophet. She might as well be staring into his soul, drowning and strangling it all at the same time.

"Okay, prove it", said the other Ron.

"Prove it? Prove it how?" Harry threw his arm into the air. "You want to read our memories or something?"

"Tell me something only Harry would know", Ron pointed at the Harry standing next to him.

Harry rushed through his memory, flicking through them like a book and trying to find something he'd only tell Ron – any Ron.

"Mate I got to tell you right now", mumbled Ron with heavy breaths. "I'm freaking out. This should not be possible. Fred and George used to play a prank on me, telling me if I just concentrated hard enough, I could travel to other worlds with just the thought alone. It didn't take so I told mum about it and she told me it's impossible since there is no such magic."

A hollow laugh escaped Harry's lips. "Clearly there is."

"Clearly there is", Ron repeated after him, doing a gesture towards the duplicate trio.

"Come on. Don't be shy", said the second Ron. "We all know each other, right?"

Hermione's eyes met Harry's, he smiled automatically. Hermione just gave him a very uncomfortable look.

Harry felt a strange urge to rush towards her and hug her… but he reminded himself that it was not the Hermione he knew.

"Okay", said Harry, fed up with all the mistrust and awkwardness.

He walked over to one of the chairs, pulled it out and sat down. "It's not like we know a way out of here – because we don't", he added when Ron's face brightened up. "And unless you guys are in the middle of something, we can tell you everything."

The second Ron stood up. He exchanged looks with Hermione, she nodded reluctantly and the rest of them gathered around the table.

It was almost morning when Harry and Ron had finished telling their part – all the way from when Voldemort's return years ago; Sirius' death; how Harry one day had woken up with a dead spider in his room and powers; the three Goblin's, Hermione's death and the way Harry had brought her back, and Tony Stark aiding him here and there on the way; the spell Harry somehow had ended up breaking the world with, the two other Spider-Men, the Avengers and the Order co-operating, the very improvised Ministry infiltration and their disastrous escape.

Finally, Harry told them about how he was stuck in a tunnel of light and ended up here.

"Well first of all, you're incredibly reckless", said Hermione as she was getting up. Harry scoffed; was this all an alternate version of her friend was to her? "Secondly, keep your distance from me. And third: how about you don't decide people's lives for them? Excuse me, but I'm going to bed."

She walked away irritably to one of the bunkbeds, climbed up and disappeared in a sea of blankets. That's the Hermione he knew, but at the same time she in reality was a different person.

"That's a bit harsh don't you think?" said Ron.

"No, that's just how she is", said the other Ron. "Let her be, she'll come around tomorrow."

"We'll continue later", Harry said. "It's late, I too would like to sleep."

"In that case, sleep outside!" yelled Hermione. She threw a pillow and hit Ron in the back of the head.

"I'm sorry, did we upset you somehow?" said Ron, noticeably getting irritated too.

Hermione didn't say a word.

"You two can take the beds in the other room", said the second Harry, pointing towards an adjacent room part of the tent.

"Thanks", said Harry.

The other Harry was about to go to his bed but instead looked anxiously at his duplicate – Harry – for a brief moment. He just looked, as if he desperately wanted to tell him something or maybe tell him that it would be alright.

"I'm really sorry about Hermione", and that's all he said before continuing off to his bed.

Ron shook his head. "I'm off to bed mate, I'm dead after today." He patted Harry's shoulder and went off into the other room.

Harry shared a last tense moment with this world's Ron before he walked out of the tent. He needed to clear his head.

Harry spent the morning sitting at the top of a tall and large pine tree, napping from time to time on a branch comfortable enough. He didn't want to sleep inside the tent – what was the point? He wouldn't be able to sleep comfortably inside anyway and would just be trapped with his thoughts even more than he was out here.

Chaotic and swirling thoughts about what Hermione thought felt or was located right now were going around in his head. Did she feel abandoned, alone? Did she hate him for whatever situation she found herself in at this moment? Was she in pain?

As Harry's thoughts kept coming up with worse and worse possible thing revolving Hermione, his scar hurt, or did it? He was so tired he didn't know for sure.

"My patience is running out. Where is the Stone?" Harry whispered. He found himself in a dream, face to face with the Mudblood that was pinned to the wall, pointing his wand at her.

Bellatrix stood right next to the Mudblood, looking at him for approval. "Master, let me kill her already!"

"No. Harry Potter cares too deeply about this one", Voldemort reached out his hand, placing it over Hermione's face. She screamed in uncontrollable terror although she was barely conscious.

He gritted his teeth. "Crucio!"

The drawn-out screams of agony and cries echoed through-out the mansion, her body twisting and turning in agony. Bellatrix screeched maniacally, imitating her cries.

"Now tell me… the Stone. Who has it?"

"I don't know!" the girl screamed between her sulking.

A strange feeling washed over him, although all he cared about in this moment was the Stone and nothing else, he felt a stab of burning rage piercing through his body, it wanted to escape, it wanted to hurt and kill – foreign feelings spilling into his mind. It shouldn't be possible. The foreign anger was quickly replaced by a tiny dash of fear. The boy certainly was more powerful than he gave him credit for. Harry couldn't see properly anymore as his vision clouded and voices were somewhat muffled.

"Oh boo-hoo, wittle baby is crying", mocked Bellatrix with an exaggerated frown. "You don't want to upset the Dark Lord, do you? Then stop crying! Where is the Stone?"

She hit the Mudblood so hard across the face with her wand that it caused a bleeding wound.

Bellatrix grinned and extended her tongue, dragging it across the wound on the girl's face.

Loud footsteps interrupted them, and following them was the sight of Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, and a few Death Eaters dragging a few people with them along with something big and scaly.

"My Lord, I wasn't aware you were here!", exclaimed Lucius.

Voldemort scoffed and turned his back against the girl. "I have more pressing matters to attend to, Bellatrix. I expect results. And when he comes here to save her…", he said and if he was able to show much emotion, he would be leering, "he is mine."

Harry woke up with a jolt. The orange sunrise blinded him as the light broke through the trees and branches. He was still sitting on the branch that he had fallen asleep on, tightly gripping the locket he had stolen from Umbridge. He didn't know what it was, just a golden locket with a fancy adornment in the shape of a slithering snake. It refused to open, instead it just kind of breathed in his hand. Was it alive? Was something inside it alive?

It probably didn't matter at all. He had to check how the others were getting along. Perhaps they had dueled to death while he was sleeping.

Slightly leaning himself to one side, he let his body fall down from the branch. The exhilarating feeling of just falling at an increasing speed made him feel so free, more than he had felt in days.

No web swinging kind of took its toll after a while. It was like some kind of odd withdrawal.

With a thud he landed on his feet, leaves exploding to all sides right as he touched the ground.

Swinging from treetops wasn't exactly ideal so he walked back to the tent. Hermione – or well the other Hermione – sat outside the tent by a small fire reading. She had her hair in a tie, and looked as if she had been crying: her face was red and eyes beyond exhausted. Harry noticed she had a hard time focusing on the book, as her eyes from time to time shifted away from the pages.

"You alright?" he asked. He sat down next to her. Not to close.

Hermione looked at him, flustered. "Why do you care? We might have shared similar experiences but I don't know you. The Harry I know is in there. And unlike you, he doesn't treat people's lives like toys!"

Harry knew just from looking at her that this was about what he had told her, the other Ron and his twin about basically his entire life up to this point.

"What are you talking about? She's not a toy to me. I saved her life! And I'm grateful I got that chance. Ron was locked up, her parents eventually blamed me for their daughter being dead, I pushed everyone away. You want to know how many hours I spent at her grave? Going through ways how I could've saved her, how I could've maybe just been there more for her even if she wanted me to stop risking my life every day? I was in a dark place, Hermione. It took me a long time to attempt to move on, but Dumbledore helped me travel back in time. And now he is dead."

Hermione didn't say a word for minutes. "A life for a life. He traded his life for hers, in other words."

Harry frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would Dumbledore sacrifice himself for a student he barely knows?"

Hermione closed her book and looked at him, sincerely but still with watery eyes. "I don't think he did it for her. He did it for you. After all these years, people still give their lives for you Harry. Even though I still don't quite grasp the logic behind your powers – as you call them – but he must have seen how miserable you were and maybe you were allowed by Dumbledore specifically to travel so far back in time because he knew it would have consequences. Harry, you can't be so naive – everything has consequences. Nothing is as easy as it seems."

Harry reached for the locket in his pocket, letting his fingers slide over it. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "You're a lot like her, you know that?"

She raised her eyebrows, questioning him with her look. He twisted and turned the ring on his finger.

"The only real difference is that we're going to get married. I don't think I'm ready for it, but all of reality is ending and I love her more than anything. Sounds tacky I know, don't laugh."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "It is a bit impulsive."

He gave away a short chuckle. "It is, isn't it?"

"Where do you see yourself getting married?"

Harry hadn't thought of that at all. His thoughts had been focused solely on Hermione, Ron, Voldemort and fixing all of reality – no pressure, right? But when she mentioned it, he imagined himself and Hermione marrying on a beach with white, silky-smooth sand, water sparkling in the sunset while the waves crashed in the background. It sounded like one of the many sappy romantic movies that aunt Petunia used to watch, but he thought Hermione might like marrying by the sea instead of in a dusty old church or on a big boring hill.

"I-I don't know. A beach maybe?"

Hermione's smile got wider. "That's beautiful."

Harry shook his head, feeling the heat in his face. "It's a stupid idea."

"No, no, not at all. I think it's sweet, she will love it. I used to spend many summers at the beach, I'm sure she did too."

Harry nodded. She actually had told him that she loved swimming, at least in warmer countries where she went to vacation with her parents. It was mindboggling getting advice from another version of his girlfriend and fiancée.

They kept each other silent company until Harry had enough of sitting down and got up. If he couldn't swing, maybe at least he could go for a run to clear his mind.

"I'll just go for a run", said Harry.

"Okay. You can join us for breakfast if you want."

"Sure."

Harry tossed the tie around his neck aside and bolted into the woods. Tree's, rocks and logs were rushing past him as he ran. Rocks and logs in his way, he simply used as springboards, spinning and flipping in mid-air. First it was freeing, but he quickly realized how this didn't measure up to web swinging.

He didn't know until now how much he needed his broom or web swinging. It was some sort of therapy, clearing his head and soothing his nerves, like stepping outside and breathing in fresh air during the morning.

"Oh this sucks!" he grunted just as he launched himself off a rock, grabbed the branch of a tree and used it to further launch himself higher up in the air. "How do normal people walk everywhere they go? It's insane, right?"

Of course he didn't expect anyone to respond. "Right. I'm talking to myself again."

He was so tired of having to stick to the ground, he had been sticking to the ground for far too long and he really needed to stretch his legs for a bit. In a foolish attempt he hurled himself into a ball and shot out a web, it caught onto a branch, he pulled himself up and it snapped making him fall into the ground with a thud. He hit his head on a rock and cursed loudly.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you…", whispered a cold voice in his head. His body was pinned against the floor of leaves and grass, unable to move from the burning pain in his scar.

Flashes of an old ragged man crawling around on the ground went past his eyes. Voldemort was angry, very angry.

He was looking down on the wandmaker, who laid there on the stone floor like a pile of rags.

"I don't know what more you want, I've told you everything!" said the wandmaker.

"You're responsible for this, Ollivander. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have lost the Stones!" screamed Voldemort.

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't know of the Stones!"

Voldemort was about to raise his wand when the wandmaker threw his hands up in fear, as if that was going to protect him.

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you!" said the wandmaker with a yelp, recoiling in fear. "The Potter boy came to me… but he looked different – older, much older – he wanted to know if it was possible to use the Reality Stone as a core. I told him I didn't know anything about no Reality Stone but as long as it's a suitable source of power, it ought to work! He asked me to make it, and well – so I did."

"Where is it now?" Voldemort lowered his voice back to a whisper.

The wandmaker's eyes wavered. He crawled further back into a corner.

Voldemort was running out of patience. He raised his wand. "Crucio!" The wandmaker rolled and trashed around on the ground, screaming. "Where is it now?"

The wandmaker stared up at him with watery eyes. "He's mad – mad. H-he kept talking about a sanctuary for people like him, people lost in the timeline. I don't understand what he meant."

"And you're sure it was Potter?"

"Yes!"

Voldemort had heard enough and left the room.

Harry was shaking as he got up and brushed off the leaves from his clothes. He heard rustling behind him.

"That was impressive. But you shouldn't let him in. Are you hurt?", said Hermione's voice. She sounded out of breath.

Harry turned around. Hermione – this world's Hermione, he quickly reminded himself – stood there, not quite sure what to do with her arms so she just crossed them in a peculiar manner, making it look like she was freezing.

Now that she mentioned it, something wet lightly tickled his neck. He touched the back of his head and looked at his hand: blood.

"It's not that bad. I've been hurt worse", he mumbled, hastily wiping his hand off on Runcorn's shirt that he still was wearing. "You followed me?"

"I was curious of where you were going at such a speed", Hermione said.

"Nowhere. I'm just sitting on a lot of heavy stuff, you know?" Harry caught her worrying look.

"Do you want to take a walk? Maybe a bit slower this time?" she asked. He nodded.

They began walking the opposite way Harry had started running off to, back to the camp.

"I don't know understand how you're even doing what you're doing. Physically, it should be impossible", said Hermione while they were walking.

"Heard that one before", said Harry with a faint smile.

She looked at him, studying his every move.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Fine", he lied.

"No, you're not. Honestly Harry, even if I don't know you specifically, you still seem to be a lot like the Harry I do know. Most of the time he acts like he's fearless but he's really not. I admire his bravery – don't get me wrong – but he's horrible at hiding his feelings and it gets him into trouble more than it ought to. So do tell me what's on your mind, it could be nice talking to someone other than Ron or… Ron."

Harry felt a muscle in his face jump as he looked at her. It was scary how alike she was the Hermione in his universe and analyzed him and his mind the same way.

She was right though, he acted more on his emotions than thinking a lot of it through, and almost always his or someone else's life was in danger because of it.

"I had a vision", said Harry. "Two actually."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. So did Harry.

She looked at him as a parent would look at their frightened child. "Harry…"

"No", he told her, waving her away like an annoying fly. "Don't pity me. I've had enough of people feeling sorry for me."

"I'm not! You just can't keep using the connection like it's some toy, it will ruin you."

He turned his head from her and they kept walking.

"I know! But it doesn't matter as long as he's torturing her", said Harry, clenching his jaw. Hermione looked startled. "For information. They know she helped stealing the Stone from the Ministry. She looked horrible."

"Oh Harry, I don't – I'm sorry. I –"

"Yeah, thanks for the thought, but how is that going to help me?" he gritted his teeth. The familiar monster looming in the shadows, hovered over his shoulder, crept into his heart and wanted nothing more than to put its hands around Voldemort's neck and hit him until there was nothing left to hit. "Going after me is one thing. But going after the people I care about and love – ", he had a hard time continuing as his voice betrayed him. He felt a sharp sting around his nose, trying to hold his tears back.

He looked her way for a few seconds, desperately trying to make her understand as the words he wanted to say refused to leave his mouth. Her eyes attempted to keep eye contact with him, but he wouldn't let her.

She observed him with empathy and what Harry perceived as something resembling pain. "I understand. You want him dead and I don't blame you, I would feel the same way. For her sake, don't do anything rash."

"Like what? Kill the man that murdered my parents? No, never crossed my mind", Harry said sarcastically, picking up a rock small enough it fit in his palm and threw it as hard he could, towards the sky. "In the second vision he tortured Ollivander too. Now he's after me because someone that looks like me wanted to know if the Stone could be used to make a wand. Why would you ever want to do that?"

Hermione sighed.

"Harry you might not realize that Voldemort fears what you can do and why you keep overpowering him every time he attempts to attack you. Yet you never use that to your advantage."

Hermione completely ignored everything he said. A small part of him loathed the words that came out of her mouth. Another agreed, told him he was stupid.

"Well last time we met, reality broke", small flickers of the event on the bridge went by him like a slideshow in his head. It felt like years ago now.

"I can't believe you did something so irresponsible. Who knows what kind of repercussions an unknown spell will have, even if you do fix the major damages?"

"You're telling me there are spells that can alter the universe, now?" Harry said as he jumped over a rock.

Hermione scoffed loudly. "Did you ever pay attention during professor Binn's classes?" she said and groaned at Harry shaking his head. "If I, were you, I would go back to Hogwarts and study after this is all over – seriously."

Harry just stared at her. "Well, you aren't me", he wanted to say but didn't because how childish it sounded in his own head. Was she seriously thinking about studying, with all of existence falling in on itself like a building made out of dominoes?

Exiting the woods, Harry saw the Ron with his arm in cast standing there, stirring in some sort of pot. The other Harry and Ron stood close by and talked about something or other. Harry was actually starving, and the smell of food made him ravenous.

But maybe he would take Hermione's advice and go back to Hogwarts once this was over. "Maybe."

"Maybe is good", she smiled.

Ron – one-armed Ron, not 'his' Ron in other words – looked up at them as they approached with a suspicious look in. "What were you doing in the forest?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. He looked from the one-armed Ron to Hermione, back to the Ron clone. Hermione opened her mouth to answer but Harry interrupted her. "Dunno what you're talking about – oh you meant that! Oh yeah, no we were just… doing stuff."

"What stuff?" other Ron stopped stirring the pot, mouth agape and an angry look on his face.

"Stuff and… things", Harry put his hands nonchalantly in his pocket. "We all might die anyway so why away waste our lives? I'm joking!" Harry yelled and backed up as the other Ron drew his wand.

"Are you always such a git?" Ron spat.

"Pretty much, yeah. What about you?"

One-armed Ron scoffed, gave him a not-so-friendly look and walked over to the others.

Hermione took over the pot. "Was that necessary?"

"He started it!" Harry said, realizing how much of a little child he sounded like.

"He just gets jealous easily. It's nothing personal", she handed him the stick they stirred the pot with. "Here, occupy your mind with something for once. I'll get new clothes for you and the… well – your Ron."

Harry reluctantly grabbed the stick and starting stirring in what looked like a mix of water, mushrooms, berries, seeds and some kind of leaves. Better than nothing, he thought.

But if eating Hermione's terrible cooking back home, anything could be improved by drowning it in excessive amounts of ketchup or chili sauce, though there was none of the sort here in the woods.

Author's end of chapter notes: During this chapter there was so much Ron that at one point I wrote that the other Ron pulled his Ron at Ron. Put that Ron away please. I would appreciate feedback, good or bad or anything in between! If "the one-armed Ron" is too confusing, I have failed but I did my best making it clear who was who. Maybe in the future I should come up with nicknames? What about Ron and Ronny? Yeah, no.

Oh and the Spider-Verse and Insomniac's Spider-Man soundtracks are now part of my inspiration, go figure!