Hi again!
I'm very happy to be back with you today for the continuation of the story. Thank you for your follows and reviews. Feel free to ask questions and leave comments, I'll be sure to respond to your queries.
Without further ado, here is Chapter 3, I wish you a very enjoyable read!
My one and only universe
Chapter 3: " You're a competent wizard…"
The first detail Harry noted was the stark red of her hair. Unlike the Ginny he knew, her hair was cut short, barely brushing her shoulders.
As he sat on a bench, Harry let his newspaper fall in surprise, his gaze locked on her face. It was distinctly different from the face he remembered...
The Ginny Weasley that stood before him seemed unburdened by the ravages of war. She was blossoming, her face bright with a smile... she was happy...
In his world, he couldn't determine if she had ever been genuinely happy. They scarcely had moments to themselves, barring perhaps their sixth year, and even then...
Just prior to the last battle, Harry and Ginny had shared one final conversation. That conversation was etched in his memory forever. He remembered every word, every insinuation he had made during that last encounter: He'd pledged that after their final battle, nothing would keep them apart and he would ensure they led a peaceful life. Having always been engaged in conflict, he had clung onto this hope as his only salvation.
But he had failed to keep his promise.
In the aftermath of the battle, Harry was haunted by guilt. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing her face or hearing her voice. He blamed himself for her death, chiding himself for not being strong enough, for letting her shield him.
His decision to leave his world hadn't been taken lightly. He'd always viewed escape as a cowardly act, a slight to Ginny's memory and her sacrifice.
The incessant door knocks from journalists and a flood of letters overwhelmed him. The war had not left him physically shattered, but it had inflicted severe psychological damage. His turmoil began with Dumbledore's demise. He had thought he'd never recover, but the war had forced him to adapt and he had pledged to seek justice, vowing to ensure his mentor's death was not in vain.
With the war's conclusion and Ginny's death, his world had crumbled. He had known nothing but war since his sixth year at Hogwarts and in its absence, he felt lost and useless. And Ginny... Had she been there, everything would have been different. She had been his pillar during wartime, she would have probably been his rock during peacetime too.
Eventually, he broke. From the excessive introspection and the relentless replaying of the death of the person he loved most in the world, he was driven to escape.
Once his decision to leave was made, his mental health saw a significant improvement. He found the will to live, the curiosity to discover what awaited him.
He visited Ginny's grave and spoke to her for hours and hours. It comforted him, and he knew Ginny would understand his need to leave, to distance himself from it all.
And now he was here, in a different world. A world that seemed at peace, a world where Ginny was alive, merely a few steps away. His mind was in disarray, unsure of his feelings. Was the girl in front of him a total stranger? Was she akin to his Ginny?
The young girl wasn't alone, she was amidst a group of friends whom Harry didn't recognize or even really see. They were gathered around a table at an ice cream parlor, serving ice creams of implausible flavors.
At a loss for what to do, Harry continued observing her.
The 17-year-old girl was dressed more like a Muggle; sporting simple jeans, a pair of small boots, and a solid red top. A tiny cape draped from her shoulders, subtly hinting at her wizarding roots. In front of her was a giant, vibrantly colored ice cream, and a small parasol perched atop her glass spun automatically.
Next to her were two girls, also garbed in Muggle fashion. Unlike Ginny, they had long hair, one with curls, the other tied back in a ponytail.
Facing them were two brown-haired boys with sparkling eyes, deeply engaged in a conversation. One was wildly gesturing with his arms, while the other was shaking his head in disapproval.
They all had large bags at their feet, presumably having come to Diagon Alley for school shopping.
Harry swallowed. He hadn't anticipated seeing her so soon, it unsettled him. Everything had transpired so swiftly since he left his world; he hadn't really had the time to consider what he'd do when he saw her.
The first thought that occurred to him was... Nothing. He would do nothing. Because he was a stranger to her, and she was different. What would she think of him if he just appeared like that, in front of her? Moreover, he was 22, nearly 5 years older than her, he didn't want her to misconstrue his intentions.
"Sir, hey sir!" a small voice called out next to Harry.
The Boy Who Lived swiveled his head around just in time to spot a tiny child, barely 4 years old, standing next to him. The small boy clutched the newspaper that Harry had inadvertently dropped.
"You dropped this," the little boy announced, stretching the paper towards Harry.
Harry accepted the newspaper absentmindedly, while the boy continued to study him with a fascinated stare.
"Are you okay? You seem a bit strange..." the little boy inquired innocently, his pointed hat teetering dangerously over his eyes.
Sharp kid, Harry thought to himself. However, before he could respond, a woman dressed in a vibrant blue dress rushed up to them.
"Arthur! I've told you not to wander off!" she scolded, clutching the boy's hand and leading him away, completely oblivious to Harry's presence.
The scene stirred a soft smile on Harry's face as he watched the boy squirming in an attempt to break free from his mother's grasp. Shaking off his amusement, Harry redirected his attention back to the ice cream parlor, only to be taken aback by the sight of the vacated table. The group had departed!
Harry sprang to his feet abruptly, cursing under his breath with a reference to an owl, and swept his gaze across the square. Nearly a hundred wizards ambled around, obscuring his view beyond a mere 10 meters. Heart pounding, he dove onto the main path, hauling his suitcase and roughly squeezing past two elderly wizards. What on earth was he doing? Such recklessness was uncharacteristic of him.
Unfazed by the astonished stares of the wizards he dashed past, Harry forged on through the alleyway. As he was about to veer into a side street, he crashed headlong into someone.
The collision, though not violent, was enough to startle him. His reflexes kicked in before his mind could process the situation, and he reached out to prevent the person from falling. The unexpected weight of the individual pulled him off balance and sent him sprawling onto the hard ground.
A grunt escaped his lips as he felt the uncomfortable jab of a paving stone against his hip, and an indistinct mass crumpled onto his chest.
Wind knocked out of him, he opened his eyes, squinting to discern what had landed on him. Having misplaced his glasses, all he could see was a vague blur.
"Ginny, are you okay?" a voice tinged with concern reached his ears.
A surge of realization zapped through his brain, restoring his alertness in an instant. He had collided with Ginny! Harry, a seasoned wizard, and the triumphant survivor of the war against the Dark Lord Voldemort, made a hasty attempt to rise, nearly toppling the redhead in the process.
"Ouch, hey, this guy's lost his marbles!" Ginny cried out, shoving him back down and distancing herself from him as quickly as possible. One of her friends rushed over to assist her.
"Really, Gin, aren't you looking where you're going?" a boy jested, lending Ginny a hand.
"He ran into me," she retorted defensively, dusting herself off and ensuring she wasn't hurt.
Harry regained his footing, only to find himself face-to-face with the group he had noticed in the ice cream parlor earlier. Ginny was flanked by two other girls, one with dark hair and one blonde, and the boy who had assisted her, who scrutinized Harry with a bewildered expression. Slightly behind, another boy with short hair seemed utterly uninterested in him.
"Are you okay?" the boy questioned Harry, his eyebrows knitted in concern.
Harry was so focused on Ginny that he barely registered the boy's question.
"Um... are you okay?" he repeated, meeting Harry's silence.
"Just leave him be, he doesn't look quite right," retorted the girl with a ponytail beside him, earning approving nods from her companions.
After one last inquisitive glance, the boy relented and walked off, taking Ginny and the other girls along with him.
"Hey... Wait! Ginny!"
Harry called out without thinking. As he saw the group departing, he instinctively shouted after them. The group spun around to face him.
"Ah, so he hasn't lost his voice..." the boy jested, grinning.
Ginny, on the other hand, looked at Harry with a puzzled expression.
"You know my name?" she questioned.
Harry internally chastised himself. He'd messed up. First, he'd collided with her, which wasn't great, and now, if he didn't rein in his thoughts, he risked uttering more foolish remarks. He had to think on his feet!
"I thought I heard him call you that," he explained, gesturing towards the boy.
Sensing their anticipation for more, he continued :
"Uh... I just wanted to... apologize... for running into you."
His words came out clumsier than he intended, but he was short on options. The group chuckled as Ginny maintained an indifferent expression.
"Hmm..." was her simple response before she turned and walked away.
Harry nodded and the group continued their journey, neglecting to pay him any more heed. He sighed and retrieved the newspaper that lay at his feet. Like him, it seemed the newspaper hadn't fared well today either. A glance at the sun informed him it was about five in the afternoon, time to consider his lodging for the night and strategize for the ensuing days. He directed his steps towards the Leaky Cauldron, replaying in his mind the recent events.
The Ginny he had just encountered was a stark contrast to the one from his world, he was certain. Or perhaps, this was the authentic Ginny? The one untouched by war and fear?
He recognized the somewhat worn yet cozy ambiance of the Leaky Cauldron and was not taken aback to see Tom, faithfully at his post. The man offered him room 15 and presented him the keys. No sooner had Harry crossed the threshold than he collapsed onto the bed, only then realizing the extent of his physical and magical exhaustion. He closed his eyes.
"That bloke was rather odd!"
The boy who had assisted Ginny to her feet was now striding backwards before the small group.
"Jim, according to you, everyone's odd!" the blonde-haired girl retorted.
"And according to you, everyone's a saint..." Jim replied, resuming his normal stride and hopping onto a bench.
As the group reached the end of Diagon Alley, they gathered around him.
"He's not entirely wrong, Jessica. You always see the world through rose-tinted glasses!" the second boy, with his short hair and broad shoulders, chimed in. He towered over Jim, making him the tallest of the group.
Jessica stuck out her tongue at him, turning towards the ponytailed girl.
"You could stand up for me when Jim and Mr. Know-It-All gang up on me, Anny!"
"Mr. Know-It-All is called Elliott!" the tall boy retorted.
"Moreover, they aren't entirely wrong..." Anny added, causing Jessica to shoot her a look of betrayal before she launched into a tirade about female solidarity and stormed off to a corner, inciting laughter among the group. Jessica shot a frown at Ginny, noticing she seemed lost in thought and hadn't joined their playful banter. She sat next to her and draped an arm around her shoulders.
"What's on your mind, Gin'? Still daydreaming about that handsome Ravenclaw, Scott? You should give it a shot this year, we're entering our seventh year, after all!"
Ginny lifted her head.
"Scott? No, I was contemplating something else..."
Jim sauntered over and rested his hand on her head, shaking it gently.
"What? Your mind is usually 99.999% fixated on him, are you feeling unwell?"
The redhead gently pushed him away, shaking her head.
"Says he, who spent the entire day chattering about his Kat-something..." she shot back, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips.
Jim's face flushed, but Elliott intervened before he could retort.
"If you're not dwelling on Scott, then you must be musing over the man who collided with you this afternoon," he stated calmly, his soft voice belying his rather formidable physique.
Amidst Ginny's silence, Jessica couldn't suppress a giggle.
"Mr. Know-It-All strikes again..." she teased, triggering a chuckle from Jim and an exasperated glance from Elliott. Ginny let out a sigh.
"Well... I was pondering his gaze..."
Her four friends stared at her, their curiosity piqued.
"If he gave you an unsettling look, I'll have a word with him!" Jim declared, attempting to flex his right bicep.
"No, it's not like that... He just seemed so... Sad," she concluded, her voice barely above a whisper.
In the distance, the tolling of a church bell marked six o'clock, jolting the young girl back to reality.
"Oh dear, I must be off!" She sprung to her feet and retreated a few steps before spinning around and waving at her friends. "See you at the start of term! Don't cause any mischief without me in the meantime!"
They all waved back, and she trotted off, deftly navigating her way through the few remaining people on Diagon Alley until she arrived at the broomstick shop where a lady as ginger-haired as herself awaited.
"Ginny! We agreed on 5:30 in front of the shop!" the woman reprimanded gently, more tender than annoyed.
Ginny playfully stuck her tongue out.
"I completely lost track of time, Mum."
Molly Weasley enveloped her daughter in a brief hug before pointing towards the exit.
"Let's head home swiftly. I promised Ron we'd have turkey for dinner tonight; he's probably already seated at the table, salivating!"
Ginny laughed.
"I bet he hasn't budged from the table since lunch!"
Harry opened his eyes as sluggishly as a sloth. Despite having slept like a rock, and although he was fully dressed atop his bed, he had no inclination to stir. For the first time in two months... no, in years, he had drifted through the night untroubled by nightmares.
He lay motionless for a good ten minutes, his mind a blank. Eventually, he summoned the herculean effort required to awaken and swung his legs out from under the bed. He must have exhausted his store of magic to find himself in such a state. Dramung, the Trapper Elf, had informed him that the Archi-world thrived on magic; he must have served as a light snack during his fleeting visit.
One foot brushed the floor while the other came into contact with a different material. It was an odd sensation to wake up in a world different from his own, a world where he didn't fear the constant threat of assassination.
Still semi-conscious, Harry bent down to retrieve the object he had just grazed and picked up the newspaper he had purchased the previous day. His eyes wandered through lines of text before landing on a box of text at the bottom of the page. His brain was still in a sluggish state, but he was alert enough to draw a connection.
Dumbledore... Hogwarts... Seeking... Defense Against the Dark Arts...
Harry jolted upright, now fully awake. Professor Dumbledore was urgently in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to start the new term.
Harry clenched his fist; this was an excellent opportunity to start his life afresh in this new world.
He descended to the reception area, found Tom busying himself behind the bar, and requested paper and ink. Swiftly, he penned a note and handed it to the bartender, asking if it could be owl-delivered to Hogwarts.
The bartender agreed, requesting five knuts for the delivery, which Harry promptly provided, instructing him to leave any reply in his room.
With that task accomplished, it was time to do some shopping. His primary concern was that he lacked a legal identity in this world, and thus couldn't open a Gringotts account. Setting that problem aside for the moment, he dedicated a good chunk of the morning to procuring the items he desperately needed: a change of robes, essential magical accessories.
Unconsciously, he had postponed buying the item he missed most since his arrival: a magic wand.
He stood before Ollivanders' shop, reluctant to step through the small door. Oddly, he felt a twinge of anxiety about having to endure the selection process anew.
Drawing a deep breath to steel himself, he entered the shop, which was an exact replica of the one in his memory. A small bell signaled his arrival, and he heard Ollivander moving about in the back of the shop.
"Just a moment, just a moment," the old man called out.
Moments later, the man appeared at the counter. Perhaps a touch older than in his memories, the man had white hair and a pale face. He examined Harry with an inquisitive eye.
"Are you here for a wand?" he asked.
"Yes, I lost mine," Harry replied.
The old man arched an eyebrow and peered at him with a scrutinizing gaze before turning away.
"What were the specifics of your old wand?" he asked as he began rummaging through the small boxes scattered around him.
"Holly wood and phoenix feather, 27.5 centimeters," Harry responded without hesitation.
Ollivander paused his search momentarily, and Harry felt the piercing intensity of his gaze. When he glanced back at him, the man was again rummaging. He swiftly returned with three boxes.
"I don't have that particular kind of wand here," he stated in an almost urgent tone. "But one of these should be a good match."
He opened the first box and extended a long black wand towards Harry.
"Dragon heartstring, Chestnut, 29 centimeters."
Harry delicately gripped the wand, weighing it in his hand. It was lighter than his previous wand, and he knew instantly it wasn't a good fit. He placed it back on the counter just as Ollivander was already offering him another one.
"Phoenix feather, Yew wood, 28.5 centimeters."
Again, Harry took the wand into his hand. This time, a gentle vibration traveled up the wand and a pleasant warmth coursed through his arm. With a fluid gesture, he cut through the air with the wand, and a soft, flute-like sound filled the room.
Ollivander let out a satisfied grunt.
"This one seems perfect, don't you agree?"
Strangely, Harry felt perfectly comfortable with it. The wand had immediately adjusted to his grip and seemed to consent to being Harry's new wand. The young man paid and left the shop much more at ease than when he had entered.
Upon returning to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was quickly informed by Tom, the innkeeper, that a letter awaited him in his room. With a sense of urgency, he made his way up to find a blue envelope neatly placed on his bed. The familiar round handwriting of Professor Dumbledore was unmistakable. Eagerly, he opened it.
Dear Mr. Majes,
It was with great pleasure that I received your letter this morning.
Therefore, I propose we meet this very afternoon, at 6 pm, in my office.
Please present yourself at the school gates where my keeper will welcome you.
Yours sincerely and respectfully,
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Harry was compelled to read the letter twice, his disbelief temporarily clouding his comprehension. He had just confirmed a meeting with Dumbledore, on the same day no less! His heart pounded in his chest, and an unstoppable grin spread across his face. He was to see the headmaster again, after all these years, after so much loss...
Determined to make a good impression, he prepared meticulously for the upcoming meeting, considering carefully what he might say without revealing his origins from another world. He had chosen the name Majes as an alias for Potter, not yet knowing if any of his family existed here - something he intended to investigate. It seemed safer to err on the side of caution.
At 3 pm, he realized he hadn't eaten, and headed down to ask Tom for some sustenance. He settled for a quick lunch of a sandwich, which was surprisingly palatable, before donning the finest wizarding robe he had just purchased. He filled his pockets with a handful of galleons and secured his wand to his belt.
Feeling prepared and slightly ahead of schedule, he apparated to Hogsmeade. The charming village unfolded before him, identical to his memories. As he strolled past the post office, he caught sight of the distant Shrieking Shack and the Three Broomsticks pub, each sight bringing a rush of nostalgic memories.
Following the path around the village, he crossed an empty station, which he knew would soon be brimming with students, and then directed his steps towards the School of Witchcraft. The sight of the castle drew a deep breath from him. In his world, the school had been utterly decimated - none of the towers had survived the battle, and the entrance was now a gaping hole.
As he arrived at the gates, he was met by a half-giant who was instantly recognizable.
"Mr. Majes?" he asked. "You're early. Follow me."
Harry smiled, falling into step beside the giant. Ever the chatterbox, Hagrid couldn't resist engaging in conversation.
"My name's Hagrid. I'm the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts. It's a very important role, mind you!" he declared, with a hint of self-importance.
"Pleased to meet you, Hagrid. I'm Harry Majes. I'm here for an interview..."
"Yeah, I know," Hagrid interrupted. "Not to frighten you, but there hasn't been a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that's lasted more than a year here..."
Harry was familiar with the infamous curse associated with that position, even in his world. Some things, it seemed, were consistent...
"Don't worry, I don't plan on stirring up any unnecessary trouble!" Harry replied, laughing. His lighthearted response seemed to ease Hagrid's furrowed brow.
"You'd better not. No offense, but you're a bit on the skinny side. Wouldn't want to make enemies here," Hagrid added hastily, noticing Harry's surprised expression.
The future professor of Hogwarts wasn't accustomed to being called "scrawny" by Hagrid, but he didn't let it bother him.
"No offense taken, Mr. Hagrid. You're not wrong," Harry said, grinning.
They reached the castle doors, and Harry marveled at every room they crossed. The intact Great Hall was particularly breathtaking, and he found himself gazing at the enchanting sky-ceiling, a pride of Hogwarts.
After a short walk, they arrived at the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office. Hagrid approached and announced the password.
"Apple, lemon, flambéed banana."
The gargoyle rotated, revealing a hidden passage leading to the office. Hagrid instructed him to ascend the stairs, promising to wait for him there.
"Thank you for accompanying me, Mr. Hagrid," Harry said, appreciating the familiar company.
"No problem," the tall man replied. "Just call me Hagrid. You seem like a good chap. I hope you get the job."
With a friendly wave, Hagrid sauntered away, leaving Harry to climb the stairs. He knocked on the small door before him and entered upon hearing the command, "Enter!"
The headmaster's office was a sight to behold, almost as if it was his first day. The round room was cluttered with various items - parchments, magical artifacts, books, and boxes of sweets were haphazardly placed.
Behind the desk, donned in his midnight-blue robe and partially concealed by his long white beard, was Headmaster Dumbledore. His twinkling eyes were fixated on Harry.
"Well, please have a seat," Dumbledore said in his calm and collected voice, gesturing towards the chair across from him.
Harry obeyed, his eyes never leaving his former professor. He had resolved to maintain neutrality, but now that he was face-to-face, it was proving to be a challenging task.
"Harry Majes, is it?" the professor inquired, picking up the letter that Harry had written earlier.
The young man simply nodded.
"I had imagined you to be older. What are you, twenty?"
"I'm twenty-two, professor," Harry clarified, finding it odd to be providing such basic information to someone who knew him so intimately.
"Twenty-two years old... And you're from Preston, right?" Dumbledore continued, his gaze never wavering.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Harry shifted in his chair. If he was not convincing, it could end badly.
"Yes, but I only lived there for a few years. I've traveled extensively throughout Europe and even a bit in Asia," he replied, hoping his response would suffice.
Dumbledore continued to scrutinize him, his deep, penetrating gaze making Harry feel as though someone was trying to see right through him.
"I see, I see," Dumbledore continued, his smile unwavering. "And you believe you are proficient in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Mr. Majes?"
Harry nodded slowly.
"My travels have indeed necessitated extensive practice, and I believe I have amassed enough knowledge to teach the subject."
The headmaster gave a thoughtful grunt as he submerged himself once again into Harry's letter.
"Understand this," Dumbledore continued, his voice steady, "I cannot permit an individual as young and inexperienced as yourself to teach without the surety of your aptitude."
"I have taught before," Harry defended, "and my students were rather content."
At school, and then during the war, Harry was given the responsibility of training new recruits who flocked to the Order. This role had become somewhat enjoyable to him.
"And am I to merely accept your word for it?" professor Dumbledore's tone was teasing.
Harry found himself without an appropriate response and simply let his gaze drop.
"Well then, let us adhere to the wisdom of our dear Alastor Moody," Dumbledore suggested, rising from his chair and heading towards the door. Catching Harry's questioning look, he elucidated, "To truly know your opponent, engage them in combat. Let's have a friendly duel in the training room, I am in need of a bit of exercise."
Moments later, Harry found himself slightly bewildered, standing face-to-face with his former professor, wand at the ready. This wasn't their first duel. The Dumbledore of his own world had previously given him duelling lessons, but now, Harry felt uncertain about how to proceed.
"Are you ready?" Dumbledore queried, taking his duelling stance.
Harry gave a firm nod, but as soon as he affirmed his readiness, a spell zipped his way. He deflected it with a swift movement, and they both descended into an intricate dance of spells and shields. Dumbledore moved with the agility of a man in his prime, twirling in the air, utterly unfazed by his advanced age, while Harry retaliated with increasingly complex spells.
The duel had commenced gently. Dumbledore, not wishing to harm Harry, had initially dialed back his magical prowess. However, as the bout continued, his spells became faster and more deceptive. Harry surmised that the professor was probing his abilities, steadily escalating his force to gauge Harry's limits.
Harry was aware that he shouldn't flaunt all his skills. He had resolved to distance himself from the relentless warrior he had once been, a decision which essentially meant reducing his magical power and refraining from constant offense.
Despite this resolution, the adrenaline of the duel exhilarated him, and sparring with Dumbledore proved more cathartic than he could have anticipated.
What had commenced as a modest training duel was now a high-stakes magical spectacle. The two wizards traded blows, neither of them resorting to perilous spells.
With a sweeping motion, Harry redirected the professor's last spell towards the ceiling. He dissolved his magical shield and aimed his wand at Dumbledore, conjuring up a swift spell.
"Stop!" Dumbledore thundered, his hand outstretched.
The abrupt end of the duel took Harry aback, nearly causing him to stumble backward. Dumbledore observed him, eyes narrowed into thoughtful slits and a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"You're a competent wizard, Mr. Majes."
Hundreds of kilometers away, in a quaint wand shop, the craftsman Ollivander sat in his back room. In his hand, he held a long, dark box, about thirty centimeters in length. He gently lifted the lid, his brows furrowing into a frown. The box was empty. Or nearly so: a sprinkling of ash-gray dust glowed faintly in the place where a magic wand should have rested.
"Phoenix feather and holly wood, 27.5 centimeters... peculiar... Most peculiar."
End of Chapter 3
The story is finally taking shape, and Harry's adventure in this new world begins, but will it all be that simple?
Next chapter will be posted before the end of the week!
See you soon!
