XxX

The year was 1998.

Harry had been asleep for seventeen years, under Tom's careful spell work. He still aged and grew as he was meant to, but he was free of physical ailment. And best of all, Dumbledore was unable to find him. This was already quite the paradox- or, it would've been, had they not been moved into a different timeline, of which Tom was dimly aware of at the time- and to further change things, Tom had managed to reclaim his diary. After feeding some of his magic into it, he'd set it as a guard of sorts, to prevent anyone from taking Harry away from him. And while Harry shouldn't have been aware of this at all, he already knew about it.

He'd slept for years, and in that sleep, he'd dreamt. It could've been the runes affecting his mind, but he'd ended up seeing strange things- the diary horcrux, the dark entity in Slytherin's locket, a grandfatherly old man whose eyes sparkled mysteriously, a great castle full of students his age, and a pale man stuck in a prison cell for reasons neither of them understood.

He'd tried so hard to contact these beings, but his efforts were in vain. He couldn't get past the psychic wards imprisoning his body.

So he resigned himself to sleep, and in his sleep he dreamed, and in his dreams, he waited.

Elsewhere….

The Order of the Phoenix in its entirety surrounded the Riddle manor just outside Little Hangleton. Tonight, the Dark Lord would fall.

Severus had already gotten inside with the letter of surrender. Above, the Weasley twins were getting ready to deploy their ward busters. Everyone else waited outside, wands and the more effective muggle artillery at the ready.

The doors opened, and all havoc broke loose…

Somewhere else, but not somewhere we haven't been…

Peter Pettigrew hid behind Harry's bed. Initially, he'd been surprised that his Lord had chosen to keep the boy preserved, but as time passed, and he was forced to reflect on his actions, the surprise was replaced with bittersweet silence.

Even though his best friends were dead, he'd been glad to watch their son grow into such a strapping young man- even if he was stuck in an eternal sleep. It was almost fitting, in a way. He was like Snow White, except there'd be no prince to wake him up.

He heard the commotion downstairs, and rushed into the room Potter was being kept, hoping the wards would save him. But he was not that fortunate. The other horcruxes- and especially the diary- kept everyone away.

And so, sixteen year old Tom sneered down at the pathetic rat before him, and with a soft murmur of "Avada Kadavara", quickly put an end to him. Gunshots sounded downstairs, and there was a split second where the house itself trembled, threatening to collapse. Somehow, Voldemort had been caught in the crossfire.

There was the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs, and Tom retreated into the diary held in the sleeping Harry's hands.

Remus entered the room, followed by Severus, and then abruptly stopped. Severyus walked past him and scooped Harry into his arms. The boy looked to be merely asleep, but Severus knew better. He was much too light, even though on the surface he looked perfectly fine.

Remus was still staring, perhaps coming to terms with everything he'd dreaded being put to rest? In any case, now was not the time.

Severus kicked him, hard, and Remus quickly sent out a patronus to fetch Dumbledore and Arthur. The old geezer had left the three of them to search the house for survivors.

Arthur rushed in in a few moments, while Albus took a longer time getting there. Both eyed the boy sleeping in the Potions Master's arms.

"Is it really…?"

But Arthur knew without a doubt who it was. The scar was unmistakable.

"It is," Albus affirmed, "But the boy seems to have been placed under a sleeping spell. Come, Severus. We'll bring him to Hogewarts."

Severus nodded his head slowly and waited for Dumbledore and Remus to apparate before doing so himself, leaving Arthur to walk.

It was a little after they arrived at Hogwarts when Harry woke up.

To keep a better eye on him, the adults agreed to meet in Dumbledore's office. As soon as Fawkes caught sight of Harry, he let out a joyful trill, and the boy stirred, but didn't wake until a little later, when Fawkes let out an indignant squawk at something McGonagall said.

His eyes opened, and Severus was in silent, invisible awe- they really were just like Lily's.

"Harry, my boy. You've woken up at last," said Dumbledore, "How are you feeling?"

Harry opened his mouth, as if to answer, but quickly closed it. He'd never learned to speak properly. He smiled and began to look around from his place on a couch in the headmaster's office, and Dumbledore took it as a good sign. At least, until Harry's gaze landed on the diary and stayed there.

"Would you prefer to write your thoughts, child? I'm sure this will work for now," said the aged wizard, reaching for the leather-bound diary with one hand and a quill with the other. It hadn't occurred to him yet that Harry was simply unable to speak- in any form. But as soon as he touched the diary, a single ribbon of shadow came from it, and Harry's expression changed to one of horror as he lunged towards the desk to snatch it away. He sent the thoroughly confused adults- Minerva, Severus, Remus, and Albus, if he remembered right-an apologetic look. He understood that his actions were probably a bit sudden and rude. But it was for their own good.

"What troubles you, child?" asked Minerva, her Scottish accent showing through. Harry touched his throat, and Remus understood enough what that meant.

"He…can't speak?" he guessed half-sure of himself. Harry nodded, and the werewolf smiled in spite of himself.

"That does present an issue…" said Severus, deadpan, as he went over a mental list of potions that might be able to help.

Remus looked at him, then back at Harry.

"Pro-Harry, can…can you write?"

The boy shook his head. Though he probably had the muscles, he didn't really have the mental development to be able to write, or even read for that matter.

"I see…"

He sounded sad, and that made Harry feel bad. He wanted to answer the questions these adults had for him, but he couldn't without reading or writing. Unless….maybe…would it even work though?

He focused hard on Albus and the message he was trying to convey.

Can you…can you hear me?

The words entered the headmaster's mind, a cherry red color, accompanied by the faintest of voices. He turned his head and caught Harry staring at him intently.

….He couldn't do this with others present.

"…I do believe it's getting rather late. Perhaps we should all retire for the night."

"Yes, I…" Remus cut himself off with a yawn, "I think that's best. Coming, Professors?"

Minerva nodded and began to follow Remus out. Severus kept his gaze on Albus a bit longer before he took his leave, leaving Harry alone with the headmaster.

XxX

"Now, tell me, mister Potter, what seems to be troubling you?"

It's the diary, sir. It's more than a book. It's…alive.

"Alive? I'm not entirely sure what that means. Perhaps you could elaborate?"

It's a horcrux, sir. The person they call the Dark Lord made it a long time ago, and only got it back seventeen years ago. It can take on the form of its master, and it can use magic. He used it as a means of keeping me…undisturbed. I'm sorry I took it from you, but…I was afraid he would attack you.

"It's quite alright, my boy. Now, what happened to put you there, as you were?"

That's…a difficult question. My memories are fuzzy and twisted. I've seen lives different than my own, despite being mine. From what I understand, the Dark Lord discovered it would've been bad for him if I'd died, so he kept me hidden away with his other horcruxes. I feel as if I've been asleep a long time…

"Perhaps that is the case. You mysteriously vanished seventeen years ago, when you were little over a year of age…"

I see…what happened while I was gone?

"A good deal, I assure you. But I believe that is a conversation for another day. Surely you must be tired now. Perhaps we should adjourn for the night, as well."

Of course, sir. Where would you have me sleep?

"For now, you may sleep in my personal suite. Are you able to walk on your own?" His voice sounded genuinely concerned.

Yes…I think so.

Harry stood up. His legs were shaky, unused to bearing his weight, little though it was. Feeling more confident now, Albus went into the suite behind his office and Harry, using the doorframe for support, followed him inside.