Chapter Nine: Being Harry
Two Dimensions to the Left: September 1st, 1995
"Remember, you're to act as if you hate being the Boy-Who-Lived," Sirius reminded sternly.
"I know, I know," Harry snapped petulantly.
"Good. You'd better not forget." The ex-convict sighed and turned to his old friend. "Do you really think we can pull this off, Remus?"
"We don't have a choice, Padfoot."
"I know. Are you three packed?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded with various degrees of enthusiasm, ranging from sulky (Harry) to slightly depressed (Ron) to eager and excited (Hermione).
Tonks grinned brightly. "That's good! Hey, where's Ginny?"
"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "She's been acting real funny ever since…well, since Harry came."
"I'll bet she's still in her room. Ginny!" Tonks yelled, peering up the staircase.
"I'm here," the younger girl called back. After a moment, she appeared dragging her trunk behind her. Ron was right to a point. To say that Ginny was acting funny was an understatement. Ginny was acting down right miserable since the new Harry had arrived. It was evident in the dark circles under her eyes, and the lack of usual shine in her red hair. Ginny, like the rest of them missed the old Harry terribly.
"Right, let's go then. Professor Dumbledore sent us a portkey, so grab on," Tonks directed, holding out a piece of rope. She, Remus, and the teens touched it, and once she was sure they had their trunks firmly in hand, Tonks said, "3, 2, 1." A rush of wind and a dizzying swirl of magic accompanied them as they landed heavily on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. After listening to a few more lectures and last-minute warnings, the quartet was finally allowed to board the train.
"Come on; let's find a compartment," Ron urged. "This trunk is bloody heavy."
"Just charm it," Harry suggested lazily.
"We can't do magic yet!" Hermione exclaimed. "Not until we get back to Hogwarts! We'll get in trouble with the Ministry!"
"That's a stupid rule," Harry complained. "We should get to do magic whenever we want."
"You mean like the way you threw stunners around at your aunt's house?" Hermione retorted. "You're lucky they didn't expel you! If Professor Dumbledore hadn't gotten someone to cover for you…"
"What was I suppose to do?" Harry retorted. "What would you do if you woke up in a strange house with these strange people who kept yelling at you?"
Shaking her head, Hermione gave up trying to argue with him and busied herself with getting her trunk onto the train. Behind her back, Harry scowled fiercely. 'I hate this dimension,' he thought to himself. 'I can't do anything here! No magic, no Quidditch…I spend all day getting yelled at and being forced to clean that dirty house like a house-elf! I can't believe they treat me, the Boy-Who-Lived, this way! Why did the other me put up with this?'
"Harry?"
"Huh? Oh, hullo Dean," Harry greeted his fellow Gryffindor.
"How was your summer?" Dean asked.
"Rotten," Harry griped. "Simply rotten. Worst summer I've ever had!"
"Oh," Dean stammered, looking taken aback. "I'm sorry to hear that, mate. Where are Ron and Hermione?"
"On the train somewhere," Harry replied, unenthusiastically.
Dean frowned slightly. "Er, did you two have another fight or something? I thought you made up from last year?"
"Last year?" Harry inquired before recalling what he had learned about his counterpart's life. "Oh, that…yeah, um, we made up. Everything's fine."
"If you say so," his classmate answered, though he still seemed suspicious. "Well, it's getting late. You coming?"
"Yeah, sure." Feeling somewhat more cheerful, Harry followed Dean onto the train and reluctantly made his way to the compartment where his "friends" were sitting, while Dean went to find Seamus.
Not wanting to talk to them, Harry sulked in the corner and ignored the other three teens for the first hour or so of the ride, as they chatted among themselves. Then, the door opened and Malfoy came in, flanked by his ever-present goons.
"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed sharply. "What do you want this time?"
"Just thought I'd see if the papers are right," the blond Slytherin drawled. "So, Scarhead, are you as batty as they say you are?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry growled, pure hatred shining in his eyes. His fellow Gryffindors were stunned at the vehemence in his voice. "Shut up before I make you!"
"Oh yeah? What could you do to hurt me?" Draco asked contemptuously.
Blinded by anger, Harry drew his wand and sent a series of hexes at his archenemy, but he was too slow, and his spells lacked the power and complexity of his counterpart. Draco dodged easily, sending a handful of curses back.
"You're getting slow, Potty," he smirked, when a nasty-looking jinx struck Harry and made him cry out in pain.
"Why…you…" At a loss for words, Harry hurled himself at Draco, catching him by surprise, and they went down in a tangle of limbs.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione yelled. "Stop it! We'll get in trouble for fighting!"
"Why'd you break it up?" Ron demanded. "I was just about to give this git what he deserves!"
"Harry, Ron, you should both know better!" Hermione lectured, freeing the former from the Body-Bind. "What will Professor Dumbledore say?"
"Who cares?" Harry panted angrily.
At that, Draco stopped and looked at Harry with some disbelief, and amusement. "Rebelling, Potty? Not quite the Golden Boy everyone says you are, huh?"
"I do what I want," Harry snapped back. "No Headmaster is going to stop that!"
Ron and Hermione gasped and exchanged panicked glances, knowing that this was completely out of character for their Harry. On the other hand, Draco frowned, studying Harry carefully.
"What's happened to you, Potter?" he queried slowly. "You've…changed."
"None of your business," Harry retorted. "Now get out or I'll make you!"
Much to everyone's astonishment, Draco went without a fight, a thoughtful expression on his face. As soon as he was gone, Hermione slapped Harry, hard.
"What is wrong with you!" she raged. "Don't you understand what's at stake here? If Draco tells his dad what happened, and his dad tells You-Know-Who, we'll be in big trouble!"
"What are you talking about?" Ron inquired, baffled.
"If You-Know-Who figures out that Harry's from another dimension, what do you think will happen?" Hermione shrieked. "He might try to go to that dimension, or kill Harry, or…something! We're trying to keep this a secret, remember?"
Finally recovering from the shock of Hermione's blow, Harry's eyes narrowed. "Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? How dare you hit me? I'm the Boy-Who-Lived!"
"We know that," Ron snarled. "You've told us a hundred bloody times already! Just shut up about it, will ya?"
"I can't take this anymore!" Hermione fumed, and stormed out of the compartment, Ron following a second later. Harry was left alone to sulk.
When the train reached Hogwarts, Harry rode up to the castle alone and sat by himself at the Gryffindor table, scowling at everyone who cast him curious looks. He picked at his food, barely noticing what he ate.
'I hate this dimension,' he grumbled to himself. 'I wish I was home again, with Mum and Dad. They wouldn't let people treat me this way!'
Involved in his mental complaints, he didn't notice Hermione make her way to the Head table and hold a whispered conversation with Dumbledore. Therefore, he was taken by surprise when the Headmaster touched his shoulder.
"Mr. Potter, could you please come with me?"
"Why? I didn't do anything!" Harry protested.
"I didn't say that I did. I need to show you something," Dumbledore explained. He guided the wary teen down various corridors, up stairs, through rooms and hallways, and finally to the giant griffin statue that housed his office. "I hope you don't mind. The second floor was getting boring. I moved my office to the 6th floor. Fudge Flies."
The door opened and Dumbledore led Harry up to the office door, and let him in. Harry gaped in awe. Dumbledore's office was made up of one part magic, one part knowledge, two parts of eccentric old man, sprinkled with a strange sense of euphoria, that could only come from wisdom. It was something that this Harry had never seen before.
"Awe, I see that you have never been in my office before in your dimension have you?"
Harry wordlessly shook his head.
"Yes I find that those who have never seen it before behave much like you. But alas, over time they grow used to an old man's comforts and begin to ignore it. I myself have yet to tire from it, but it is my office. Well, come in, have a seat. We'll get down to business."
Harry took a seat, glancing over at the pile of ash by a gold bird stand, and vaguely wondering if this Dumbledore was indeed as crazy as they said.
"Now Harry," Dumbledore said, "Do you know what a Pensieve is?"
"No." Harry said, directing his attention back to the old man.
"A Pensieve is a magical device used to store memories and thoughts, so that you can view them more objectively. You can also use them to share your memories with others," Dumbledore informed him, showing him a large stone basin filled with some silver substance.
"Okay…why are you showing me this?"
"Have you ever heard of Legilimency?" Seeing Harry shake his head, Dumbledore continued, "It is, to put it simply, a form of mind reading. I'm sorry to say that I used some Legilimency on your counterpart without his knowledge."
"You mean…you can read my mind?" Harry exclaimed, shocked.
"Only to an extent. Finding out a deeper secret is impossible without alerting the subject. Legilimency is a very dangerous art, Mr. Potter. I would only use it in the gravest cases."
"Why'd you use it on the other me then?"
"I needed to view his battles with Voldemort so that I could gauge how powerful he had become, but I didn't want to ask Harry to relive them just for me. I knew they were painful memories."
Touching his wand to his temple, the elderly wizard drew a stream of shimmering material seeming from his head and deposited it into the Pensieve. And before Harry could react, Dumbledore took his hand and plunged it into the swirl of memories.
Harry was startled to find himself standing in a dark stone chamber, Dumbledore standing beside him. "Where are we?" he demanded.
"We are currently beneath the school," Dumbledore replied serenely. "This is, I believe, the second time your counterpart met Voldemort."
"What?"
"Just watch."
Frowning, Harry turned and saw a thin wizard in purple robes with a turban wrapped around his head. He was standing in front of a full-length mirror and studying it carefully.
As Harry and Dumbledore watched, there was a startled cry, and a younger version of Harry emerged from the flames guarding the one entrance. "You!" the memory Harry gasped.
"Me," the other man agreed calmly, smiling. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."
"But I thought — Snape —"
"Severus?" the wizard laughed. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"
"What's going on?" the real Harry asked Dumbledore anxiously.
"Quirrell was attempting to steal the Sorcerer's Stone, which I had hidden in the mirror," Dumbledore explained. "You stopped him."
Still trying to process this new information, Harry watched, horrified, as Quirrell tried to get the Stone, and then finally unveiled Lord Voldemort on the back of his head. This last act made him scream in alarm.
"Professor! What…what is that?" he shrieked.
"That is the disembodied Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore answered. "He was, at that time, possessing Quirrell and sharing his body."
"And…and I fought that…thing?" Harry stammered.
"Indeed, you did, and won, as well."
Stunned, Harry stared at his counterpart while he and Voldemort fought, rolling back and forth across the room. He saw the fierce expression and the burning determination in the other Harry's face, and he was awed.
The memory cut off when the memory Harry fell unconscious. Instantly, Harry and Dumbledore were transported into another incident, and then another, and another. Dumbledore showed his charge the battle in the Chamber of Secrets, the times he encountered dementors, and Voldemort's resurrection.
By the time they emerged from the Pensieve, Harry was as pale as a ghost. "Professor?" he whispered meekly.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"That…was…V-Voldemort? He's back?"
"He has indeed returned here, and I'm sure he will eventually return in your dimension as well," Dumbledore responded firmly. "Voldemort is nothing if not persistent and determined."
"Why did I — the other me — have to fight him so many times?" Harry questioned hesitantly.
"Mr. Potter…you defeated Voldemort when you were a child. The Dark Lord does not take kindly to being defeated. He will continue to chase after you if for no other reason than the fact that you have defied him so many times."
Gazing more intently at the teen, Dumbledore continued in a grave tone of voice. "You may be in more danger here than in your own dimension, since here Voldemort is back in power and you have survived him so many more times…but you will always be in danger. Your title as the Boy-Who-Lived is not all glory and fame. You are in very real danger no matter what because of who you are."
Gulping, Harry looked at his feet and realized for the first time that there were disadvantages to his title. "Professor…do you think he'll kill me?" he wanted to know.
"I cannot say, Mr. Potter. That is entirely up to you. Do you know that people look up to you as a beacon of hope? You carry a great responsibility on your shoulders," Dumbledore stated seriously.
"I…I see," Harry stuttered. "Um…can I go now?"
"Yes, but don't forget to think about what I showed you."
Still trembling from the memory of the newly resurrected Lord Voldemort, Harry fled the office. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.