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Story: [Having a Friend]
Summary: Harry touched a glowing stone, and meets himself. Rose needs all the help she can get. Not a romance, and no bashing.
Genre: Humor, Friendship, Adventure
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Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
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So Ginny and Harry hadn't worked out. He'd been okay with that, and so had she.
It wasn't like they ended their relationship with a big row or anything, they'd simply moved on with their lives when they'd realized that they weren't compatible enough to be in a romantic relationship.
Merlin, that sounded like something that Hermione – with all of her logical thinking and endless lists – would've done. But no, the bookworm was still happily married, with a loving husband.
Perhaps a bit more insight into how Ginny and he were 'incompatible' might explain things.
Voldemort died. Woohoo, everyone partied. Harry was the man of the hour, and the Death Eaters were quickly and efficiently rounded up and given solid trials – which a few got out of through the simple fact that they'd managed to keep themselves from committing any actually incriminating acts, Draco the somewhat-racist-but-certainly-not-at-the-level-where-he-willingly-tortured-others being on top of that particular list.
Malfoy might've been a dick, but he didn't deserve Azkaban for trying to stay alive on the wrong side of a civil war, when his entire family and many friends remained solidly on that side. It was a matter of a kid enjoying the pretty fire, and trying to touch it, only to forever swear to himself – over his own recently burned hands – to never do something like that again. He was still an asshole, but he kept his racism under careful lock and key, not even bothering with teaching his kid – and oh boy, wasn't that weird, they were all old enough to have kids now – about the whole 'mudblood'-thing.
All in all, the fight against Voldemort had ended in the best case scenario. Even with the many deaths of family and friends on their side of the Battle of Hogwarts.
So, why had the great hero and the amazing young witch decided to go separate ways? It'd been a question most of the Wizarding World had undoubtedly asked themselves many times.
Of course, that generally meant that they hadn't been sensible enough to actually read through the Quibbler article where he'd given an interview to Luna on the subject.
Harry had grown up in a cupboard, and whilst he'd put his Dursley-upbringing behind him, it'd left him with some rather unusual instincts. Then he'd crashed into the Wizarding World and been shaken awake to the realization that he was famous, found friends, found family, and been quite happy with his lot in life, except for the pesky Voldemort-thing.
Obviously, this meant that he should be happy that Voldemort was gone – and he was, oh Merlin that couldn't be said loud enough – but it didn't mean that he was comfortable.
He was famous. And he wanted to be anonymous. His existence and his desire were quite frankly incompatible with each other.
Which leads to the point where Harry realized that he couldn't stand living in Britain and the fact that everyone there knew him. And when he realized that, he'd also figured out that it wasn't going to change – even Ron had reluctantly agreed to that.
But Harry wanted his anonymity, he wanted to be free of being known, so he explained it all calmly to his friends, and told them that he was leaving Britain permanently.
Ginny wasn't surprised, and though sympathetic both to his cause and his solution, she just couldn't imagine herself leaving the land of her ancestors. Ron had been clearly torn between jumping in all Gryffindor-like and following Harry to wherever he was going, and the fact that Hermione would be staying – she was far too sensible a girl to suddenly up and traipse across the world with a bun already in the oven.
In the end, Harry promised to drop by Hermione and Ron's place a few times a year, told Ginny to find someone decent to spend her life with – or several someones to wildly spend her nights with, which had made her punch him – told Hogwarts and the faculty 'bye', and wished Luna good fortune with her recent attempts to ensnare a certain young man whose possibly-great-something-grandpa had written a very interesting book about magical creatures.
Luna had promptly replied that she didn't need luck, because she was just that good. And everyone around her had carefully avoided to point out that she'd been spotted several times over the last few weeks pep-talking her breasts about how they shouldn't feel insulted that the young man hadn't taken a single look at them and ravished her on the spot, because they were still fantastic.
After that, Harry had taken off towards new and interesting things to discover.
Which is how he'd – after many years of semi-happy adventures – stumbled upon an interesting stone. Being mostly interesting for the fact that it'd been glowing very prettily, and been intriguingly gem-like, it'd been quite possibly the largest jewel he'd ever seen.
He might've become better at not rushing head-first into things over the years, but he was still an idiot.
So, it shouldn't have come to anyone's surprise that he'd reached out and touched it.
And promptly disappeared into thin air.
It might've had something to do with that overly aggressive Chinese little bugger whose house he'd accidentally burned down a few years back – because his life had always been a bit too violently chaotic for buildings to remain entirely intact in his presence – who'd kept on yelling curses at him until long after he'd fled the scene.
"May you live an interesting life." Is, despite not being an exact quote of a certain series of proverbs, still not a curse to be taken lightly.
XXX
When Harry woke up, it was to the sounds of nature – which wasn't really all that unusual considering his choice in lifestyle.
No, more peculiar was the fact that he didn't seem to be sleeping in a tent – neither muggle nor magical – and that he wasn't tied up in any manner – something which he'd long since grown used to due to the various attempts to keep him hostage for one reason or the other.
He was just lying in the grass, almost as if he'd simply decided to take a nap there. Something which he was entirely convinced wasn't the case as he'd grown paranoid enough that he couldn't sleep without at least some manner of ward up to protect him from attack.
Sitting up and glancing around suspiciously at his surroundings, Harry tried to figure out where he'd ended up this time. He hadn't woken up like this since that time he'd tried to Apparate across an ocean just for the hell of it, and he didn't feel nearly as exhausted or tender as that attempt had left him.
This was about the time that he remembered touching the giant glowing jewel, and promptly smacked himself for being stupid.
At which point he was left blinking in shock, because he'd just smacked himself with his right hand. This being a cause for alarm due to the simple fact that he hadn't had most of a right arm, since that bothersome scuffle in Australia. It'd simply been a nearly-useless stump that could be used as a sort of counterbalance once you got the hang of it.
Needless to say, having suddenly a fully functional hand where there'd once been a stump – that every healer he'd ever met told him was irreversible – was both pleasing but also horrifyingly jarring.
He had a working right hand, yes. That was cause for celebration. But he didn't know how or why he had a working right hand, and it was entirely possible that the consequences of receiving such a thing would be far more than he'd be comfortable with paying.
Still, no horrible monster from the abyss suddenly jumped out and tried to eat him, so he decided that whatever the consequences was, it probably wouldn't hurt to take a look around and see where he'd ended up.
Said and done, Harry rose smoothly to his feet, pleasantly surprised to find that having a whole and working arm wasn't throwing off his balance any.
Looking around from his new perspective, Harry came to the conclusion that this was most peculiar. Because that tree looked an awful lot like a tree indigenous to Magical Britain, and he was fairly sure that he'd been in South America just a few scarce moments ago.
In the end, giving up his confusion as a bad job, Harry shrugged and continued in the direction that he felt made the most sense.
It didn't take him long to hit upon a small path, meandering along between the massive trees of the forest, and that was about the time that he realized exactly where he was.
He was in the Forbidden Forest, right next to Hogwarts.
Pausing to consider the implications of this, Harry decided that he might as well say 'hi' to Neville whilst he was in the neighborhood, and promptly turned to follow the path in that direction.
Never let it be said that gallivanting around the Forbidden Forest for little to no reason wasn't a good idea. It at least taught you which direction to go whenever you desperately needed to run back to Hogwarts and away from Aragog and his brood.
XXX
Nearly at the edge of the forest, Harry heard a most peculiar sound – especially considering his surroundings. It was a sound that he'd come to both fear and loath over the years.
It was the sound of a girl crying.
Muttering quietly under his breath about 'bloody students and their bloody teenage-drama', Harry made his way in that direction. He might hate it, but he couldn't just let a girl cry all on her lonesome, especially when there was the possibility of danger from the Forest.
Meandering his way towards the sound, and making sure to be reasonably quiet about it – most people who were crying all on their lonesome wanted to get away from people, and it'd be such a bother if the girl turned tail and ran deeper into the forest to escape his approach – Harry went over possible reasons for her tears and possible comforts that he could provide to make that most-hated-sound stop.
He'd never been all that good with crying girls.
In fact, the only time he'd been able to well and truly help a crying girl had been when he and Ron had rescued Hermione from the troll back in their First Year. That had been so simple, all he'd needed to do was remove the troll, and then everything would work out fantastically. A girl who was just crying though? That was an accident waiting to happen as far as Harry was concerned.
Finally reaching a small clearing, Harry began to slowly move towards the girl, not bothering so much with being silent as much as with looking non-threatening – he was a complete stranger out in the middle of the woods after all.
"Who's there?!" The girl spun, a wand finding itself suddenly aimed at Harry's chest.
Harry felt his eyebrows climb, mostly at the way the girl moved – quickly, efficiently, and with a great deal of potentially lethal purpose – because that kind of thing was rare to see in a child. Well, it was rare to see in a child nowadays, back during the war things had been a bit different.
Then he actually registered her as something other than 'crying girl, skilled, potential threat' and found himself struck by something completely different.
"Mom?" / "Dad?" Two voices echoed in the clearing, eerily in sync.
Harry paused at that, because he most certainly wasn't anyone's parent, and whilst he could imagine accidentally getting himself launched back in time somehow – ruddy glowing gem – he found it highly unlikely that his mother's father looked just like him – considering how he'd always been told that he took after his father in looks.
"My name is Harry Potter." He told the girl warily, not entirely sure what he expected as his hand began itching for his wand. "Who are you?"
The girl's face scrunched up in obvious suspicion. "I'm Rose Potter."
Harry allowed himself a few moments to process that – it would've been remarkably rude of him to blurt out 'no you're not', no matter how true such a sentiment might be. "I might be a bit out-of-touch with things, but I'm pretty sure Neville would've told me if there was a Potter at Hogwarts. If only to crack a joke about my age."
And most importantly, at the fact that he must've started really early to end up with a bastard already at Hogwarts.
"You know Neville?" The girl asked, still suspicious.
Harry felt his eyebrows climb at the lack of 'Professor Longbottom', because easy-going though he might be, Neville was still very much a teacher. "Is it normal to address one's Herbology teacher in such a familiar manner?"
He was also the Head of House for Gryffindor, since McGonagall was now the Headmistress, but it wasn't like he knew which House she'd been Sorted into... Okay, so a quick glance allowed him to place her colors in Gryffindor, but it was technically possible that she was wearing another person's clothes.
The girl's suspicion slipped away into confusion. "Neville is my classmate."
Harry blinked as he tried to fit her words into the image he had of the world. "I know that he got a few kids named after him, but kids at your age? Weird." He finally settled on.
"Named after whom?" The girl asked, looking if possible even more confused than earlier.
"Neville Longbottom, the Great Hero of the Battle of Hogwarts?" He tried, avoiding tacking on 'ringing any bells' through sheer force of will.
The girl frowned for a moment. "You mean he was named after a relative or something?"
Harry could actually feel a headache forming behind his eyes as he tried to figure out how her brain had come up with that answer, and how that had any relevance to what they were talking about.
"I don't know who Neville was named after, just that a bunch of kids were named after him. Heck, I don't even know who I'm named after, and I've gotten kids named after me since I was two." He pointed out.
"Who the hell would name someone after a two-year-old?" She asked, momentarily distracted from their argument about Neville's name.
"Wizards, or witches." Harry shrugged. "It's amazing the things that starts to make sense once physics stops to do so."
The girl made an uncomfortable noise that sounded a bit like she really didn't want to think about that because it gave her a headache. "Why are you here?"
"I woke up some way over there." Harry motioned deeper into the Forest. "Recognized it as Hogwarts's grounds, decided to drop by and say hello to Neville, before getting in touch with Hermione so that she can yell at me for touching the weird, glowing stone that I should've probably not touched."
The girl stared at him for a very long moment.
"What's the name of your parents?" She finally asked, sounding both wary and curious.
"James and Lily Potter." He answered bluntly, feeling a bit annoyed at the girl for asking him that. Everyone knew who his parents were, it kind of comes with the territory when you're a famous orphan.
"Lily nee Evans Potter?" The girl hesitantly asked for clarification.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. Are you bloody well done?"
The girl reached up and pushed aside the bangs covering her forehead, revealing a rather familiar scar. "My parents were killed on Halloween, in 1981. I grew up with the Dursleys."
Harry's eyes snapped onto hers with a sudden clarity as inconsistencies began to fall into place in a way that reminded him of a very bizarre puzzle. "You-... You're me?"
Instead of answering him directly – possibly because that was kind of a weird question to answer – the girl asked him a question in return. "You said something about a glowing stone?"
And of course it had to something to do with the glowing stone that had suddenly moved him half-way across the world and dumped him, by pure happenstance, in an area that he knew quite well. And the girl in front of him did look just like his mom, and from what she'd said, he looked just like her dad.
Harry actually had to sit down, dropping himself gently into the grass of the clearing as he tried to sort out the many questions racing through his head.
"I was in South America, kind of stumbled across it. Crazy luck is of the norm." He rambled softly. "But then I touched it, even if I probably shouldn't have... and I woke up here and-..." He looked down at his right arm. His whole and functional right arm, with a whole and functional right hand. "And I can open jars without magic again." He giggled, slightly hysterically.
XXX
"So..." Rose started out as they sat together in the clearing. "There's no way you could've traveled that much looking the age you are."
"Twenty-five, and no, I aged normally. I think I was even getting gray hairs, but that might've been stress." Harry admitted to the girl that was this world's alternative to himself.
"I'd thought that the stress would go away after Voldemort croaked." Rose muttered, sounding slightly bitter about the prospect that it wouldn't be.
Harry shrugged. "It did, probably would've continued to live calmly if I'd stuck around in Britain, but you know how that goes."
Rose nodded, looking a bit miserable at the realization that she would've done the same in his situation, and that she was very likely to end up in that situation one day. "So why didn't you just move to France or something, start a family and all that?"
Humming thoughtfully to himself, Harry spent a few moments thinking about how to best answer that. "Britain is home. It has always been home, will always be home. It is the home of my friends and family, and the home of my childhood. I have fought and bled for its people, and its people have fought and bled for me. Running away from my fame so that I don't go bonkers will never change any of that."
"And if your friends and family decided to camp out in Africa for the rest of their lives?" Rose asked curiously.
"Then I'd visit them a lot more often than I am-... was." He shook his head at the reminder that he might never see them again, before continuing. "And maybe one day I'd forget to leave, and I'd get a new home. But they're happy in England, and I'm happy on the road."
Rose made a soft noise of understanding.
It was autumn – which was weird because last time Harry checked, it was still January – and the reason Rose had been crying had been because she'd had a bit of a falling out with Ron after the Goblet of Fire had spat out a fourth name for the Triwizard Tournament.
She'd taken it a bit harder than Harry had, probably because she was still kind of crushing a bit on the boy who'd so often helped her get out of the trouble that her own recklessness had caused. A situation that Harry suspected had made her relationship with Hermione somewhat awkward – his two friends had been having spots of confused sexual tension since ever.
Brightest witch of her age she might be, but she hadn't been the most confident about her own girly-ness until well into what should've been their Seventh Year at Hogwarts. The war had burned out a bit too much of their innocence to get her fidgety about if she was attractive or not. The fact that Ron hadn't had eyes for anyone but her – once they'd finally stopped being stupidly stubborn about it – had probably helped her a lot with that.
So, the thought of Hermione feeling threatened because Rose was crushing on the boy that she herself was refusing to admit being in love with? That sounded like a teenage soap opera of a train-wreck waiting to happen.
Harry was very pleased that he'd somehow managed to solidly sister-zone the bushy-haired girl in his own world. The Golden Trio had taken enough hits with two of its members becoming a couple even without the added tensions of guilt and betrayal that might emerge from the only girl picking one of them over the other.
So Ron had been a prat – even in later years, Harry still found it amazing how Ron had managed to keep convincing Hermione to kiss him when he only rarely removed his feet from his mouth – Rose had had a falling out with her crush, Hermione probably had no idea what to do – if she had even noticed the falling out and wasn't buried in a book in the library – and most of Hogwarts hated her for stealing Cedric's well-earned spotlight.
No wonder the girl had been crying. Harry probably would've cried too had he been in her situation, and not been so firmly set in his ways of brooding silently in some dark corner of the castle.
"How did you lose your hand anyway?" Rose asked curiously.
Harry made a noise of annoyance at the memory. "Well, I was in Australia. There were some brats out there playing around with Dark magic, the local version of the aurors asked me to check it out, since they didn't have a lot of experience dealing with things like that. But... I had a reputation and one of the kids saw my face and panicked, and then 'boom'." He lifted his right hand in a vague demonstration of it being caught in the blast.
There was a moment of silence as Rose stared at him incredulously. "You survived Voldemort with virtually no scars at all, but some kid took off most of your right arm by accident?"
Shrugging, Harry commented dryly. "Constant vigilance."
"I'm not sure if that's ironic or sad." She admitted as she shook her head at the pointlessness of him losing his arm.
"Mostly painful, actually." Harry remembered. "Didn't bleed a lot though, which was fortunate, I guess. Might've been a bit rough on the kid because of the pain though. Not that anyone complained over how he'll walk funny for the rest of his life. Seemed to believe he got off lucky."
"Did he?" Rose asked.
Harry hummed absently. "He might've. My memory gets a bit fuzzy through the adrenaline. All I do remember is something roaring, and then a whole lot of blood." He shrugged. "All of 'em lived though, and none of them seemed to want to tell me what the creature in the cage had been."
"They had a cage?"
"Yeah, apparently they were also doing a bit of smuggling on the side. A few magical creatures and the like, nothing all that big according to whatever records they had. But none of them were talking about what the animal was that time."
"Couldn't someone else tell you?"
"Nah, there wasn't a lot left of it." Harry paused. "Well, left of it that was identifiable anyway. Its blood got all over the place."
Rose stared at him for a moment. "So, you lost an arm, beat up a bunch of Dark magic-using 'brats', and then turned a big magical creature into a bloody puddle on the ground?"
Harry briefly considered mentioning that it wasn't so much a puddle as it was a thin sheen covering everything, whether it was vertical or horizontal, but decided against it. "That pretty much sums it up. But Ron always makes it sound a lot cooler than that. And Hermione makes it sound dumber."
Rose grinned. "I can imagine."
"'We could've been expelled.'" The two of them echoed at each other, before breaking out in laughter.
XXX
"So... first crush?" Rose smirked at the boy that was kind-of-herself-but-not.
Harry groaned, silently admitting that it'd only been a matter of time until this particular subject came up. "Cho Chang." He admitted with a grimace, remembering exactly how well that had turned out.
Rose raised an eyebrow at him. "What happened, did she wave her butt in your face to distract you or something?"
Harry choked down a cough at that. "H-How did you-...?" He blushed.
Rose buried her face in her hands, groaning. "It's standard female-tactics. And I didn't think my male self would be dumb enough to fall for it."
"I was fourteen." Harry protested. "And it wasn't like it worked in-game."
"It better not have, I have a reputation to uphold!" Rose threatened him.
Harry stuck his tongue out at her, feeling like that deserved an equally childish response from his side. "So, right back at you. First crush?"
The girl made a pained noise, her amusement slipping away a bit. "Ronald Weasley."
Harry considered this for a moment, before shrugging. "Maybe we just have a thing for quidditch-fanatic redheads?"
"How does that fit with Cho Chang?" Rose asked, a little bit curious.
"First of all? That relationship crashed and burned spectacularly. Secondly, I was dating Ginny until I started going nuts from being cooped up in Britain." Harry admitted.
Rose made a face. "Ginny? Well... she's not a bad choice I guess, but wouldn't that get kind of weird?"
Harry shrugged. "Excluding the fact that she had a celebrity-crush on 'the Boy-Who-Lived' from an early age? Yeah, there were a few moments when Ron looked torn between being a dutiful wing-man and being a protective brother. Thankfully, Ginny was trigger-happy enough to make that something of a moot point."
Rose snorted a laugh. "Alright, so, you think it's a redheads thing? So if Oliver wore a wig-..." She trailed off meaningfully.
"And had a rack?" Harry continued from where she left off. "I would totally hit on him."
Harry smirked triumphantly as Rose forgot about her own love-issues for the moment and simply dissolved into helpless giggles.
XXX
The darkening sky made it obvious that they wouldn't be able to continue their lighthearted conversation. At least not without causing a big fuss over Rose not being in her dorm.
"So... what are you going to do?" Rose asked.
Harry shrugged. "I was thinking of coming with you to talk it over with Dumbledore, but then I remembered that he's still kind of obsessive, in his own way, and I'd probably get dragged into all of his scheming. Really not looking forward to that."
Rose nodded, admitting the point. She might not like people insulting her mentor-figure, but the man was sneaky, and sometimes she didn't feel all that generous towards him interfering with things.
"I'm probably going to need an alias, so that I won't get hounded by the Daily Prophet about things..." He considered this for a moment. "I think it'd be a bit too obvious if I went with 'Evans', but maybe..." He turned to Rose. "Can you contact Snuffles? I think I'm technically allowed to use his name, even in this world."
"Harry Black?" She guessed, before frowning as she tried to recall how to contact her godfather. "And no, I don't have any way of contacting him... at least not without Hedwig, and she's kind of conspicuous."
"I was thinking 'Harold Black', sounds a bit more old-ish than 'Harry', but still allows me to have it as a nickname." Harry admitted, before shaking his head. "Alright, if we use 'that' I think we should be able to reach him."
"'That'?" Rose raised an eyebrow at him.
"I was traveling the world for several years, and Hermione has always been a hopeless worrywart, so she made me send some sign that I was alive every month. Kind of hard on owl-post when you're on a different continent, so we came up with a spell."
"And you can use it to reach Sirius?" She sounded quite intrigued by the thought.
"I might. Or I might end up sending it into a nothingness or something... it sort of bends time-space, so being in a different dimension might make it react oddly."
Rose made an understanding noise, remembering how magic could be a little bit unpredictable at times.
However, they didn't exactly have a better option available, so Harry fished out a bit of parchment and scribbled something on it, wrapped that parchment around a mirror, and said a spell that made both the items vanish.
Rose stared curiously at him as he picked out another mirror.
"Calling Padfoot, come in Padfoot, you lousy flea-bitten sod." He started speaking into the mirror.
Caught between giggling and gaping incredulously, Rose felt her jaw drop when another face suddenly appeared on the mirror's surface.
"... James?" He godfather's voice breathed, sounding awed and pained and longing all at once.
"Harry James, actually." Harry forced a smile, looking a bit pained as well. "But I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good, and I need a new name, so I wondered if you'd mind overly much if I called myself 'Harold Black', what with you being the Head of the family and all?"
Sirius stared at the young man for a good long while. "Have I gone around the bend?" He finally asked.
Harry snorted a laugh. "Padfoot, if you're ever in South America, don't touch any magical glowing stones." He paused. "Or touch them, I dunno, it gave me back my arm, which was kind of neat. But it also dumped me in an alternate dimension where there's a Girl-Who-Lived, which is kind of weird, because Rose here looks just like mum." He gestured to Rose, holding up the mirror so that Sirius could see her gaping stupidly at the older boy.
Hermione might've settled for Harry calling her through a mirror every month, but with different time-zones, and bizarre schedules, they quickly grew too frustrated with being interrupted in the middle of something and settled for Harry finding some way of sending her notes that she could read when she had time for it.
The spell that they'd finally settled for using was a spell designed to 'find a loved one', which was part of the reason why Harry wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to reach this world's Sirius with it.
That he sent along a mirror... well, that was mostly so that the man wouldn't write off the oddly appearing note as a trick by Death Eaters or something.
The fact that he was as a consequence allowed to talk to his godfather – even if the man wasn't exactly his – for the first time in nearly a decade... well, that was just a bonus, really.
XXX
Rose took a deep breath, before opening the doors to the Great Hall to face the Hogwarts rumor-mill once more.
It was nice to have gotten a bit of a... distance, was probably the best way to put it, from her current problems.
Harry had accidentally been de-aged and transported into an alternate universe without any clue of how to get back to his home world, in the face of that, her crush giving her the cold shoulder was... still painful.
But she hadn't lived her life for as long as she had without growing used to a bit of pain, emotional such or not. Her childhood sucked.
Of course, considering the time of day, she aimed her feet towards the Gryffindor Tower and her dorm, hoping that she wouldn't run into Snape – the man might try and give her detention for loitering or something – but not particularly worried about the possibility of the man suddenly jumping out of a corner.
Recalling the Gryffindor the password through over three years worth of practice in memorizing pointless phrases for the sake of security, Rose stepped through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room.
And straight into Hermione.
"Oh god! Rose, where have you been?!" The bushy-haired girl hissed at her as she checked to see if she was injured – it'd become a common procedure for her at some point in the midst of quidditch practice and Hogwarts adventures.
"Getting distance." Rose admitted with a grimace, before she snorted a laugh. "My life is weird."
Because honestly, looking at Harry's life, it became rather obvious that there was something seriously wrong with something about their – most likely shared – life-luck.
Hermione frowned at her, not quite sure what to make of her statement, but willing to let it slide because it was both true and didn't contain any naughty language. "Yes, but where were you?" She insisted.
Rose shrugged. "Hiding."
Hermione looked torn between allowing the subject to drop, and exploding at her for not providing her with a factual answer.
Not wanting to give her the chance to pick the more unpleasant of the two choices, Rose decided to distract her. "Glowing rocks of South America, know anything about them?"
Hermione's frown turned from annoyed to thoughtful as she scanned through her mental library in order to find if she'd read anything about it previously, before she finally shook her head in resignation. "No. Why?"
Rose shrugged. "Weird stuff. Probably not important, but possibly interesting."
It said a lot about their lives at Hogwarts that Hermione silently filed that information away for future research, so that she could help solve whatever great mystery this year would be throwing at her friend.
XXX
Harry stared at the goblin in front of him.
"Let me see if I understand what you're saying..." He started. "Because Sirius Black is the Head of the Black family, I need his signature to be adopted into it, but since he's a wanted felon, his signature means nothing at all?"
"Correct."
"And what about the fact that we share blood and that he's my godfather?" Because why wouldn't Harry be carrying around every identification paper in his possession, when he spent his life traveling all across the globe?
"Irrelevant." The goblin sniffed, looking smug.
Harry nodded his understanding. "So, all I need to do, is make sure that Sirius Black is dead, so that a new Head of Family can be declared, and adopt me into it?" He hummed. "You wouldn't happen to have an inkling as to who might be the Heir?"
"That would be Miss Rose Potter." The goblin drawled.
"Right, so – purely hypothetically – if I had the documents declaring Sirius legally dead, and Miss Potter's signature on these papers, I would be able to get adopted by the Black family?"
The goblin frowned slightly. "Yes."
Harry grinned. "Well, aren't I lucky? I just so happens to have just that, right here." He plucked out the papers that were the Ministry declaring Sirius Black – in Harry's world – legally dead, the papers that just so happened to not have an actual date-of-death registered because the Wizarding World was funny that way.
And of course he'd asked Rose to sign those adoption papers. Reckless though he may be, he always tried to prepare for his upcoming struggles to the fullest extent possible.
XXX
Sirius stared blankly at the aurors surrounding him.
"Did it occur to you people that I might not be Sirius Black?" He asked them.
"Of course you are!" One of the aurors yelled.
"Then why was it published that Sirius Black has been declared legally dead by the Ministry in the Daily Prophet? You can hardly arrest a dead person, now can you? That's just silly, and my name isn't Sirius Black, so you're trying to arrest me for looking like a dead person, and that's just kind of rude." Sirius explained patiently, silently applauding the boy who was apparently just as much of a Marauder as his father had been.
If he hadn't been so against people marrying their own cousins – a side-effect of being raised in that kind of pureblood environment – he might've seriously tried to get Rose and Harry together, just to see what kind of ultra-crazy schemes and adventures would emerge from their offspring – who'd most likely get stuck with a combination of their parents' luck.
He was willing to bet that – unless they ended the world by accident before they started Hogwarts – it would be the greatest spectacle ever to have been conceived even in the eyes of madmen.
The aurors exchanged confused frowns, before calling their superior.
Which meant that it was time for Sirius to get ready to start explaining the legal loophole his honorary godson had found for him.
XXX
Rose stared at the front-page of the Prophet for a long time, before finally breaking down in hysterics.
This was strange to most present because the front-page of the Prophet declared that a new Head of the Black family had been chosen upon the former's death, that the new Head of Black had retired, and that a newly adopted member of the family of Black had taken up the position of Head of Black and adopted another clan-less wizard as an Heir.
Interestingly enough, the Heir was older than the Head, but that wasn't entirely unheard of – mostly due to a lack of people capable of taking the Seat upon the Head's death – and the Heir was named Sirius. Which was what most assumed had caused the laughter.
The Heir of Black was indeed named Sirius, but supposedly it was because he'd been entirely nameless previously, and the current Head thought that the man reminded him of a former pet dog of his. In other words, there was a new Sirius Black roaming the streets mere weeks after the first one was finally declared dead by the Ministry – who'd apparently managed to fumble the case-files somehow in its endless bureaucracy, because they hadn't known that they'd declared him dead until Gringotts informed them that they had – but that this one was named not after some pureblood wizard in the past, but after a favored pet.
It should've been humiliating, but the Sirius in question seemed to take it rather well, often laughing when he retold the tale of how he became the Heir of the Blacks to the interviewers.
The actual reason was in fact more related to the awe she felt in the realization that her godfather's name had been halfway-cleared of any wrongdoings, and he would be allowed to live his own life free from any prosecution. And that it'd been done because the Wizarding World's bureaucracy was even more deranged than the muggle-world's.
How's that for irony?
XXX
Rose took a deep breath as she waited for her turn to arrive, the small animated model of a dragon in her palm.
Of course Harry had looked for some way of getting her out of the tournament, but he'd come up short, and Sirius's only advice had been to 'aim for its eyes'. So, she wasn't much better off than she would've imagined herself being had Harry never found her in the Forest.
Except for one rather important detail.
Harry had survived it.
He'd been in the same situation as herself, a fourteen-year-old that wasn't particularly advanced in his classes, but brilliant on a broom. And he'd lived to tell about it.
That was a lot more comforting than she would've imagined. Because it meant that there was actually a chance that she'd live through it.
Sirius apparently hadn't been nearly as comforted by it though, because from the looks he'd been giving her, it seemed as if his hair was going to be turning white the moment that she stepped out to face the dragon.
Then again, she couldn't exactly be upset at him for worrying about her.
It felt nice.
XXX
Rose fought valiantly to hide a blush as Ron finally finished his slightly frantic examination to make sure all of her limbs were attached, and swept her up in a hug, all the while chanting that he was sorry, that he should never have doubted her, and that he was an absolute idiot.
Because Ron had always been a knight in shining armor to her. He always helped, and after so many years of the boy worrying about her so frantically whenever she got herself involved in something dangerous, she couldn't bring herself to being angry at him for being an idiot every now and again.
Which was kind of unfair, because she'd been planning on making him beg rather thoroughly in order to return to her good graces.
He smelled nice, and his arms felt wonderfully safe after the adrenaline-pumping terror of dodging dragon-fire.
She was halfway through deciding to pull back in order to kiss the boy, when she remembered that this was the boy Hermione liked too, and trying to steal him now, after she'd helped Rose research what she needed to know in order to survive the day, felt utterly wrong.
Recovering from the sudden urge and the stab of guilt following it, Rose spotted Hermione standing not far away, looking happy and torn and afraid and sad. So she slipped one arm free from Ron's hug, and stretched it out towards her best friend.
Hermione joined the hug.
And if it finally stopped Ron from chanting apologies, then that was just a bonus really.
Because her best friend and her dearest crush were both happy, and mixed in amongst their tight arms, Rose felt like all was right in the world again.
XXX
XXX [Omake] Random Talk XXX
"Oh please, I could out-fly Krum with my dominant hand tied behind my back." Harry finally told them.
"No way, he's a professional Seeker!"
"And the only reason I never went professional is because I hate fame. I hate it with a passion." Harry pointed out.
"But even if you're that good." She started, ignoring Ron's protests that he couldn't be. "I don't think you'd be able to do it with a hand – let alone your dominant one – tied behind your back."
"I learned to fly with only one arm years ago. It was sort of a bet-thing." Harry shrugged.
Rose suspiciously narrowed her eyes at him. "Really? And it wasn't in any way related to a deliberating injury?"
Harry pouted at someone seeing through his half-truth. "Well, there was a bet about which limb I'd lose first, and my ex-girlfriend had a side-bet that it would keep me from playing quidditch." Harry grinned. "She lost that one. Big time."
Ron made a choked noise. "She sounds like she held a grudge." He said, looking like he was trying to imagine how badly he must dislike someone to bet on them being unable to play quidditch because of a deliberating injury.
Harry waved the boy's horror off. "Nah, she only bet on it because some of them argued about what a 'deliberating' injury would classify as, and then she remembered how I kept dodging the requests of people trying to make me go professional. So she basically bet that I'd find some way to injure myself that would get them off my back." He paused, a smirk sneaking onto his face at the memories. "Not that she was actually wrong about that part of it."
"Wait wait wait. You said a bet about which limb you'd lose. But you have both of your arms?" Hermione frowned at him.
"Glowing-stone accident." Harry shrugged. "I'm technically twenty-five you know, but it seems like my body got reversed in time somehow."
XXX
XXX [Later] Voldemort's Resurrection XXX
He'd been waiting, knowing that the Portkey would be there to trap Rose, just like it'd once trapped himself.
He'd also known that this would be his best chance for sparing Rose a whole slew of Voldemort-related issues. Which was why he hadn't told her about the trap in the first place. Even if it made him feel like a manipulative bastard.
Then the bundle in Peter's arms spoke three words. Words that had echoed in Harry's nightmares for years. The three words that had started his life's descent into the horrors of war.
"Kill the spare."
And as he realized that Rose's life would be his own, that his nightmares would haunt her just as badly as they did him, Harry's world drowned in red.
XXX
Rose had been shocked that the Cup was a portkey, and just as apprehensive as Cedric who'd arrived with her in what – Rose was starting to suspect – was possibly a very stupid show of sportsmanship.
Then her scar started to hurt, like an icepick was driven into her skull, nearly driving her to her knees.
Three words echoed in the graveyard, and Rose's eyes grew wide.
And then another form appeared, and her eyes grew wider still.
XXX
Dumbledore rushed to the two students who'd arrived with the Cup.
It was obvious that this was some great scheme of Voldemort's, and he was feeling awfully worried about how it might've decided to play out. But at least the two students appeared to be alive. If openly horrified.
"What happened?" He demanded of them as gently as possible during these circumstances.
"B-Blood-... e-everywhere...!" Cedric choked out, his face turning green.
"He was angry..." Rose contributed, looking pale.
Dumbledore frowned. An angry Voldemort, combined with enough blood to make the rather brave Hufflepuff to go green? That didn't sound like it could've been pleasant. "Are you two alright?"
Rose blinked back into the present. "We're fine. He couldn't touch us."
Anything that Dumbledore could've said about that was interrupted when another portkey dropped another object in front of him.
It was a severed arm, with a Dark Mark, along with a note.
Obviously not comfortable with the thought of touching something that had forced its way past the Hogwarts wards, Dumbledore nonetheless bent down to read.
"'Little Hangleton, cemetery. Bring a mop. -Harry'" He frowned, turning to the Hufflepuff that now seemed to be suppressing the urge to retch. "Can either of you explain this?"
Rose nodded, eyes tearing themselves away from the severed arm. "The Cup was a portkey to an ambush, Harry was ambushing the ambushers, and-..." She trailed off, looking disturbed. "Headmaster, am I-..." She fumbled for words. "Do I have a temper?" She finally settled on.
Dumbledore briefly considered telling her that she had quite the temper indeed, as he recalled numerous points where her retaliation towards those who'd tried to hurt her had touched upon being downright vicious. But then he realized that this wasn't a time for blunt truths, as it was for comforting reassurances.
"Not at all, my dear." He told her with twinkling eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"Blood everywhere..." Cedric mumbled in horror.
Rose spared her classmate a look, before turning back to the Headmaster. "I kind of understand why the smugglers refused to talk about it, now."
"About what?" Dumbledore frowned in confusion as he tried to recall any interactions that Rose might've had with smugglers.
"About what happened after he lost his arm." Rose answered.
Not that her explanation helped in the least. Dumbledore was both puzzled and also feeling an odd tingle of pride at the realization that her straight-up answer didn't actually answer anything at all.
That took quite a bit of skill, after all.
XXX
A/n: Originally inspired because of Agnostic Puppet's "Harry Potter and the Girl Who Lived", and me being annoyed at it. This then took on a bit of life of its own, with the underlying belief that Ron and Hermione of this world will be following Rose away on her trip away from Britain (whether as a threesome love story, or as close friends, I don't know), rather than have Harry and her be alone on the road.
In fact, if anything, I'm guessing that Harry might very well end up sticking around Britain as the Golden Trio runs off to see the world (and maybe settle down in Africa or something), in order to deal with the Wizarding World's backasswardness.