Chapter four:

I really had no idea how I was going to blend in as a completely different Harry at Hogwarts, especially because this other Harry seemed to be popular and kind of a git. Ben and I said our good-byes to our parents on the platform, and I began searching the train for Ron.

"Hey there, Harry!"

"Nice summer?"

I pushed my way through the vaguely familiar faces, awkwardly nodding at everyone who greeted me. I found Ron near the middle of the train, trying to force his trunk on the overhead bin. "Still alive then, huh?" he said when he saw me.

"Yeah, I guess it'll take a bit more than a Quidditch accident to do me in," I replied, forcing an awkward grin.

"Blimey, that's a hell of a scar—"

Automatically my hand went to my lightning bolt scar on my head. "Er, yeah—wild, isn't it?"

"Your memory still a bit fuzzy?" he asked more seriously.

"A bit," I replied. Merlin, I really hoped reading the other Harry's notebooks would enough to blend in. I forced my trunk onto the rack next to Ron's and plopped down into the seat across from him. Dean and Seamus joined us a few minutes later, immediately filling Ron and me in on their summer trip to Holland.

"There are these canals on practically every other street. Everyone rides a bike there, too, and you should see their wizarding shops."

"Or their muggle ones," Dean added, grinning at Seamus. "They've got these weird coffee shops that—"

A brown-haired figure passed by the compartment door, then did a double take. I found myself looking at Hermione Granger, who had an eyebrow raised. She slid open the compartment door, and—ignoring everyone else in the compartment—said to me, "You know we're supposed to meet in the Prefect's cabin, right?"

"Oh, sh—er, right, yeah," I stammered, jumping to my feet. "Yeah, I was just catching up. Walk with you down there?"

Hermione stared at me with an eyebrow raised, but waited for me to say my hasty goodbyes.

"It's gonna be a good year, yeah?" I tried as we walked between compartments. "Er, what classes you up for?"

"Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, D.A.D.A., Arithmancy, Herbology, Ancient Runes, and Astronomy," Hermione listed off. "All N.E.W.T. level."

Yeah, this Hermione was pretty much the same one I knew. "Cool, we'll have half our classes together."

She gave a tight-lipped smile. I could tell I made her uncomfortable, but I didn't know why.

"So, er, how was your summer?" I tried conversationally.

"It was nice. My parents and I spent the last week in France visiting my aunt."

Another awkward silence.

"Well, I nearly killed myself in a quidditch accident had lost a bit of my memory—" I tried to begin, playing it off, when we were suddenly interrupted.

"Oi, Potter!"

I turned around to see a group of students I vaguely recognized in the hallways at school beckoning me to come over.

"Take a look at what Cumberland brought!" one of them shouted between laughs.

"You git, Granger's with him," another said, smacking his arm. He didn't even try to keep his voice down. "She'll tell on us."

Hermione turned on her heel and marched down the train without me. I waved the students off, not sure how to react, and hurried after Hermione.

"You can tell your friends that Fanged Frisbees are still banned, and they will be confiscated," said Hermione curtly when I had reached her.

"I don't even know them," I said awkwardly. "And what they said was stupid—"

"What, that I'll tell on them? Because I tell on everyone, right?"

"Woah, Hermione, I never said—"

"Of course not," she replied curtly. We had reached the Prefect's compartment. "Because the wonderful Harry Potter never does anything wrong." With that, she stormed inside, letting the door shut behind her. I caught it halfway, dumbstruck.

What just happened?

I tried really hard to pay attention during the brief meeting. Hermione explained to the new fifth year Prefects all of their duties, ranging from monitoring the halls after hours and giving out detentions. "You can take points away as needed, but only from your own House," she continued, sounding very much like a professor.

Someone raised their hand. "I heard we get our own bathroom?"

"Yes, the Prefects have their own bathrooms on the second and fifth floors," said Hermione, sounding a little caught off guard by the question.

"And we're allowed to stay out past curfew?"

"Well, within reason—"

"And give people detentions?"

"Look," said Hermione, sounding annoyed. "It's a very serious job, and it's not meant to be taken advantage of. Professor Dumbledore chose all of you himself—so while there are certain…amenities…of being a Prefect, your duties are much more important. Now, when we get to the castle, we'll be in charge of escorting all the first year students to their dormitories."

At this, Hermione shot me an expectant look. I hesitated, looking around uncomfortably to find that everyone's eyes had travelled to me.

"Er, yeah, you tell them the passwords," I began hesitantly. What had Ron told me when he had been made Prefect? I looked at Hermione, and her face had a look that clearly said, go on. "And you help them find their classes and stuff, 'cause it's easy to get lost."

A few people giggled. Unamused, Hermione took back the lead. "While on duty, you'll wear your Prefect's badge at all times so you're easily recognized. You'll also be expected to represent the school and the staff—by becoming a Prefect, you're an extension of the faculty—"

"Yeah, so don't blow up any toilets," I muttered, thinking of Fred and George. I hadn't expected anyone to be paying me any attention as they were all looking at Hermione, but that comment caused a wave of laughs around the compartment. I hadn't thought my comment was particularly laugh-worthy, but it was greeted warmly by the other Prefects.

Hermione, however, didn't laugh.

Once the awkward Prefect's meeting had ended, I headed back toward my compartment, trying to be as invisible as possible. But nearly every carriage I passed was filled with students who wanted to share a story of their summer, show me their latest Zonko's product, or talk about Quidditch. Apparently I was an avid Puddlemere United fan.

Ben hadn't been kidding when he said I was popular. And I wasn't even the Boy-Who-Lived anymore.

I found my original compartment, and Ron and the others were lounging around a wizard's chess set.

"Ah, bollocks! I thought I'd finally beat you!"

"Nah," said Ron easily as the chess pieces destroyed each other. "I grew up playing against cheaters."

"Harry, fancy a game?" Seamus asked. "Ron here's not any fun to play against."

"Well, maybe if you were a better player—"

"Right. I'd rather play against Snape."

"No way, he'd get inside your head and read your mind," I said without thinking. The others gave me half-amused, half-surprised looks. "Er, you know, since he's such a creep, floating around the dungeons."

Dean pulled a face. "Ugh. I think I'd rather have McGonagall in my head—"

"And see all the fantasies you have of her? No way, mate," interrupted Seamus, grinning. Dean smacked him.

"Better than your fantasies of Hagrid—"

"All right, are we playing or not?" I interrupted, poking the chess pieces into position.

We were halfway through our first match when the compartment door slid open. I wasn't paying attention to the new visitor until a lithe body suddenly sat itself down in my lap. I jumped back like I had been electrocuted.

"Didn't you miss me, Potter?" asked an unfamiliar girl, tossing her curtain of brown hair over her shoulder.

"Uh, sorry?"

I looked around the compartment—for help, clues, anything. They just stared back at me blankly.

"I know we broke up last year, but I've had the summer to think on it. I think we should give it another go," she said, leaning in much too close. I scooted sideways several inches to give myself a little breathing room.

"Er, maybe we should talk about it later," I said hesitantly. I had no idea what she was talking about. Ron, Dean and Seamus all shot each other unreadable looks.

She wasn't deterred. She sat back comfortably in the seat, crossing her ankles in the cushion across from her, right between Ron and Dean. Her toes tapped playfully against Ron's leg and he cleared his throat loudly. The strange girl smirked at him before turning back to me. There was a mischievous smile playing around her lips.

"No problem. How about our old spot in the Charms classroom?"

Holy shit.

She chuckled to herself, rising to her feet elegantly. "See you later, Potter," she said, grazing her fingers across my shoulder as she moved past me. The second the compartment door slid shut, I turned to my friends.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" I said, stunned.

Seamus chuckled from across the chess board. "I think I've got a few ideas."

I looked at Ron. "Who is she?" I mouthed.

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "How the bloody hell could you forget about her? Clare Phillips?"

Seamus and Dean turned to look between the two of us. "What are you on about?"

"Harry lost his memory over the summer," said Ron. I had opened my mouth to reply, but Ron beat me to it.

"Bloody hell," said Dean, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "How'd you do that?"

"Quidditch accident," I said hastily. "And I can remember most things—just—not her," I added lamely.

They laughed at that.

"What's so funny about that?" I asked, frowning.

"Well, Clare's hot but completely crazy," said Ron, grinning. "And you dated her for a bit last year."

"Yeah, 'dated,'" said Seamus, nudging Dean. They laughed at that, but I was still serious. I was sure I hadn't come across Clare's name in any of the other Harry's old notebooks or letters. And I was positive I didn't recognize her face from my world.

"So now she wants to date me?"

"Congrats, mate," said Seamus.

No, no, no. The last thing I wanted to do was mix myself up with a girl that only existed in this universe. Especially if she was crazy.

"I bet she heard you were made Quidditch Captain," said Dean.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

The other three all exchanged grins.

"Well, Clare's got a thing for…authority figures. She was all over you when you were made Prefect last year," said Ron. "You really don't remember any of that?"

I shook my head.

They all shot each other amused looks.

"Well, mate, you'd best stay away from her," said Ron as the train neared Hogsmede station.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Seamus added.

We made our way through the packed platform, hoping to find a carriage that hadn't been claimed. The thestrals waited calmly, sniffing at each other and occasionally at unsuspecting students who passed by.

We managed to beat a group of third year girls to an empty carriage and quickly climbed inside.

"Man, I hope the song isn't long this time, I'm starving," Ron noted as we began moving.

Hogwarts looked just like my memory of it. The Great Hall was packed, and there at the front, sat Dumbledore. My heart leapt in my chest a little. He was sitting with McGonagall, talking animatedly about something. He looked like the Dumbledore I knew, but there was something off about him, too. He didn't look as old, as burdened as the one I had become familiar with.

Most of the professors were the same. Flitwick, Binns, Sprout, Snape, Sinistra, and Vector were all there. Even Hagrid down at the end. There were a few unfamiliar faces, ones I had never seen in my world.

I followed Ron and the others to the Gryffindor table, mildly surprised to see they chose the same spot I had always favored in my world. Ron downed a goblet of pumpkin juice while we waited for the students to settle, and finally, Dumbledore's welcoming speech.

"Good evening, Hogwarts!" he said pleasantly, his voice carrying across the silent hall. "To our new students, welcome! To our returning ones, welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before I get carried away with myself, our caretaker Argus Filch has asked me to remind you all that after last year's incident regarding itching powder in the laundry, an updated list of banned objects has been posted in his office for any student wishing to refresh their memory.

"Now, I should like to introduce the newest addition to Hogwarts, Ellie Dowson! She will be replacing Professor Lewis in Defense Against the Dark Arts while he enjoys time with his, er, remaining faculties. Some of you may remember Professor Dowson as a student, having just graduated Hogwarts only five years ago."

There was a hearty round of applause. I heard a lot of laughter, and turned to look around the Great Hall.

"Merlin! I didn't know they made them like that anymore!" Seamus said loudly over the applause.

"What?"

"Look at her!"

I could barely see the professor's head over the students craning their necks to get a better view. There was a young woman I didn't recognize, a strawberry blonde head sitting next to Professor Sprout and Hagrid. I sat up straighter to get a better look, and immediately knew what Seamus must be talking about. She was certainly beautiful, and she didn't look much older than the seventh year students. Dowson seemed mildly amused by the reaction from the students, whispering something in Professor Sprout's ear.

"Lastly," said Dumbledore loudly to get everyone's attention. "Any students wishing to submit their ideas for this year's school clubs is advised to meet with Professor McGonagall before next Friday.

"Now, I shan't take all the attention! Let us welcome our first year students and begin the Sorting!"

There was polite applause as each student was sorted into their new houses. I could hear Ron's stomach growling next to me, and my own was starting to twist in knots. I had only been present for maybe half of the start-of-year feasts, but there was definitely a more relaxed air than I was used to.

Finally, after Dumbledore invited us to start the meal with a simple "Tuck in!" food appeared on the spotless dishes and the Great Hall was instantly flooded with the smell of roast chicken, warm bread, and vegetables. Ron and I helped ourselves generously, having only snacked on the train ride here.

An hour later, when we were full to burst and becoming rather sleepy, Dumbledore dismissed the students. I was ready to follow Ron through the shortcuts to Gryffindor Tower and bypass the crowd, but I caught sight of Hermione and suddenly remembered I was a Prefect.

"Shit, I don't have my badge," I said, searching my pockets. "I think it's in my trunk."

Ron laughed at me. "Tough luck, mate. See you upstairs."

I met with Hermione and the other Prefects in the corner of the hall, where they were rounding up the new students. Not sure what do to, I stood on the edge of the Hufflepuff bench and began yelling "First years over here!" A gaggle of scared-looking students caught sight of me and immediately rushed over. "Hey! First years!"

Once we had divided them up by house, most of the older students had already disappeared to their dormitories.

"This is, er, one way to get to Gryffindor tower," I said to the group following me. "There are a lot of shortcuts, and sometimes the staircases like to change up on you, so you really have got to pay attention to where you're going. Most of the portraits will help you if you're lost, and the ghosts, too—just stay away from Peeves, whatever you do."

"Who's Peeves?" someone piped up. They were at least a foot shorter than me.

"The Poltergeist—he's only scared of the Bloody Baron, so don't even bother trying with him. Your best bet is to ignore all his, er, advice, and just carry on your way. Right, let's go this way," I said, spotting a shortcut. Hermione was leading her group through all the main staircases, but it would add at least another five minutes to the trip, and I wanted to go to sleep.

"This staircase bypasses most of the third and fourth floors, so it'll save you some time. Just be careful, because on Tuesdays and Sundays it likes to change it up and take you in a big loop instead," I said, yawning. We hurried up to the seventh floor, having beat the other groups.

"Right, so all the common rooms are guarded by something—ours is the Portrait of the Fat Lady. You get through by giving her the password. Which is…" I stalled, fishing around in my pockets for the bit of parchment I had scribbled it on. "Fizzing Whizbees."

The portrait swung open and I led them inside.

"Right, so this is the common room," I said, not sure if I was supposed to give some kind of tour. "Staircase on the left is the boys', the right leads to the girls' dorms. Your door should be marked, so, er, feel free to settle in."

I didn't feel too bad abandoning them there, because Hermione soon showed up with the remaining students. I could hear her explaining where everything was while I made my way up the spiral staircase to my dorm. Ron and Dean were already passed out, and Neville and Seamus were still getting ready for bed.

I slipped off my shoes and robes and fell face-down onto my familiar four-poster, not bothering to change into PJs. I slipped my glasses off, and feeling the weight of food in my stomach, soon passed out.

I was not prepared to be the beneficiary of this other Harry's popularity, but I had to admit, it was actually kind of nice.

Most students moved out of my way in the corridors, waving or smiling in my direction. Girls watched me as I passed. Even professors I vaguely recognized offered a "good morning." Ron and I walked down the corridor toward Charms the next morning like two kings. My bag was slung lazily over one shoulder, I was dressed in expensive robes, and—feeling bold—I had loosened my tie and let my shirt go untucked that morning. It was kind of stupid in the back of my mind, but I couldn't help but feel…cool. This must be what my dad and Sirius felt like in their school days.

Our favorite seats were open despite the rest of the class being mostly full. Dean and Seamus sat nearby, cracking jokes, and even the heavy homework load assigned by Flitwick couldn't dampen my mood. Ron and I shared a free period before lunch, which we spent sitting lazily by the lake's edge with a few other older students.

We enjoyed the break as much as possible, because after that was double Potions with Slytherin. I didn't think the school could possibly come up with a worse schedule, although I was amazed I managed to achieve the scores to get into Snape's class. While Ron headed off to Care of Magical Creatures, I made my way down to the dungeons.

I had been dreading seeing Snape more than anything else so far; he had murdered Dumbledore and betrayed the Order in my world. While he obviously hadn't committed the same crimes here, he was still a Death Eater in my mind.

Hermione was sitting alone, and I dropped my bag down in the seat next to her. She spun around, surprised.

"Er, mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all, you're welcome to sit wherever you like," she said neutrally.

I hadn't spoken to her since our awkward meeting on the train. I squinted in the dim light to read the chalkboard across the room.

"He can't be serious," I heard Lavender Brown say from behind me. "We're expected to research all of the Elixers by Friday?"

Just then the dungeon fell silent as Snape swept into the room. I locked eyes with him for the briefest of seconds. I tried to suppress my rage—memories of trying to attack Snape on the Hogwarts lawn surfaced to my mind. I vaguely wondered if this Snape was as skilled in Legilimency, and focused on closing off my mind. I wouldn't have this greasy Death Eater prowling around in my memories of a different world.

"Potter."

Everyone turned to look at me.

"Can you name all of the known Elixers and their primary properties?" Snape asked smoothly.

I wracked my brain. I would have to play along. "Well, there's…the Elixer of Life," I said, remembering my disastrous second year with Voldemort's diary and Nicholas Flamel. I tried to remember Slughorn's lecture on Elixers last year. Which is this year. It was such a mess. "And the Elixer of Euphoria."

Snape gave me a long, unreadable look. "Go on."

I tried to concentrate. Last year had been bogged down with so much information about Horcruxes and Voldemort that I hardly remembered any of my schooling that hadn't been useful in fighting Death Eaters. "Er, there are Everlasting Elixers."

"And what are the notable properties of Elixers?" Snape continued. It seemed he would keep questioning me until I messed up.

I thought back to the day I was trying to trick Slughorn into telling me about Tom Riddle. "They smell good."

There were a few scattered giggles. Snape raised a black eyebrow. I set my own face, determined not to look intimidated.

"They smell good," he repeated slowly, enjoying each word. I was sure I was right, but leave it to Snape to find something wrong in that.

"All right, they're alluring," I corrected, choosing a word Snape might use. "By definition, Elixers are meant to be appealing—their scent, their color. So they smell good."

I could hear Lavender trying to stifle a laugh behind me. Several students were looking between Snape and me with their mouths open. Just behind Snape, I could see Malfoy whisper something to a girl I vaguely recognized as something Greengrass. Danielle? Darlene? It didn't matter.

Snape's eyes narrowed infinitesimally.

"My, it appears Mr. Potter has done his homework for once," said Snape coolly. "Since you are so well-informed, perhaps you can match your textbook answer to your skill. The class will brew an Elixer of Euphoria. You, Mr. Potter, will brew us a Drink of Despair—"

"But that's a poison," I blurted out.

"Then let us hope your classmates are as knowledgeable as you," said Snape coolly. "One of their potions will be your antidote."

"I'm not going to drink—"

"Of course not," Snape interrupted quietly. "We cannot risk harming Gryffindor House's star pupil. I have a class of first year students at my disposal tomorrow morning."

I gawked at him. "You can't be serious—you can't poison a student—"

Snape merely ignored me. He turned his back on me as he walked up to the chalkboard and began writing instructions. "It will take you approximately seventy minutes to prepare your Elixers—and twenty more to suffuse. After the steeping period is over, you are to bottle samples of your potion and leave them on my desk for grading. Let us hope someone in this class can brew a successful Elixer of Euphoria so that Potter does not have to suffer the knowledge that his Draught of Despair might have lingering effects."

I glared at Snape the whole time I loudly collected ingredients. The instructions for my poison had to be borrowed from one of Snape's private books—of course he had a textbook of poison recipes—and I made no effort to avoid spilling liquids on its pages.

The class mostly brewed in silence, long since out of the habit of risking asking each other advice when Snape might hear. I looked over at Hermione—she was at least three steps ahead of the rest of the class, following the book's instructions diligently.

"Add a bit of peppermint," I muttered to her. Snape was safely on the other side of the dungeon. "It'll help the side effects."

"It doesn't say to add peppermint," she said back, barely glancing up from her book.

"Trust me, it'll work," I added, remembering some of the addendums to Snape's old potions book.

When class was almost over, Snape made a final walk through the class to examine potions.

He stopped by Lavender's table, stirring the sunshine yellow contents slowly.

"You have added something," he said neutrally.

"Peppermint, sir," she said nervously.

He set the ladle down on the desk and gave her a long look. "And why might you deviate from the simple instructions?"

She glanced at me nervously. "Er, to help with the side effects," she said quickly.

Snape moved to the next table. "Well, it certainly isn't the worst thing you have made in my class," he told her.

Lavender, who had been holding her breath, let it out with relief and shot me an appreciative smile. Hermione, who had followed the instructions carefully, just folded her arms.

I hastily bottled my stupid potion and left it on my table rebelliously, refusing to take it up to Snape myself. I pulled my bag over my shoulder and made my way to the main floor to find Ron for dinner. I quickly told him the story, which Ron listened to with raised eyebrows.

"He's a fucking nutter," he said when I had finished. "I don't know why Dumbledore keeps him around."

I resisted the urge to tell Ron about Snape's double-agent status. "Yeah, how hard can it be to find a potions master who doesn't have guidebooks to making poisons just sitting on classroom shelves?"

"Potter!"

I quickly turned around to see Cormac McLaggen approaching me with Lavender Brown in tow. "I hear you're Quidditch Captain."

"Er, that's right."

"When are you holding try-outs?" he asked. He had the same calm, arrogant manner the Cormac I knew did.

"Er, next…Saturday?" I said, looking at Ron for some reason. "I've got to book the quidditch pitch first. I'll post the day in the common room as soon as I get one."

Cormac winked at me before passing us into the Great Hall.

Ron and I looked at each other.

"I'm not putting him on the team, not unless everyone dies," I said automatically.

Ron laughed at that. "Don't tell him that, or he might get some ideas."

"You should try out," I said. "You play well."

"Nah," said Ron hesitantly. "I can play with Fred and George, but…I dunno, they always made me play Chaser."

"Go for Keeper," I said confidently. "Besides, I think Ginny'll want to go for Chaser—"

"Ginny?" said Ron incredulously. "Why would she want to try out?"

"I dunno," I said, trying to sound casual. "She's pretty good—besides, Katie will go nuts if she's the only girl on the team."

We took our seats next to Neville, who already had his homework out.

"Professor Sprout says she can make me a teaching assistant for her first year class," he said proudly. "She saw I had a free period, and McGonagall said I can still get credit for it."

"That's awesome," I said.

"Think Dowson's taking any assistants?" Seamus asked, joining us.

"I don't think she'll need to," said Ginny, who was sitting next to Neville. "I hear she's a right terror."

"No way," said Seamus seriously, loading up his plate with food.

"Went and scared the second year classes out of their wits," Ginny continued, buttering a roll. "Sorry, looks like your fantasy's out the window."

I smirked at that.

On our way back upstairs I told Ron I had to stop off in the library for some Potions homework, and promised I'd meet him in the common room later. I scanned the index for any books on alternate universes, but there were only three titles. I grabbed them all, stuffing them in my bag for some late night reading.

I took the long way back to the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the quiet walk through the mostly empty corridors. The sun had nearly set outside; the sky was a deep blue, and only a brilliant orange dot remained just over the lake's surface.

I tried not to wonder too much if this was how my life would have turned out had Voldemort never existed. Not only having my parents back, but everything around me. There were faces here that didn't exist in my world, no doubt snuffed out by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. There were entire lives that only existed here, lives that had been extinguished before even starting in my world. It was unnerving.

I darted up a narrow stone staircase that opened to a portrait just off the seventh floor. I could hear giggling the next level down, and a mental image of Ron and Lavender Brown hiding in this stairwell crept back into my mind.

Laughing to myself, I gave the Fat Lady the password and met my friends in the common room.