Author's Notes: I have not done this in so very long but I somehow keep holding onto all these various, unfinished fanfics. Here's my Harry does it again trope. I stole a few lines straight from the book but that will go away fast. I hope this is enjoyed by someone.

Teddy's crying woke him up.

Harry was face first on the sofa, wand arm dangling over the side. His grip tightened, muscles tensing as he took half a second to remember where he was. He lifted his head, wincing at the sunlight. He had fallen asleep in the sitting room and Andromeda never had any qualms about disturbing his sleep so the curtains were all drawn open.

He had been sleeping hard judging from the crick in his neck and the bitter taste in his mouth. He sat up slowly, swiping his glasses off the end table. Teddy was no longer crying by the time Harry lumbered to his feet, stretching his back.

He moved almost in a daze, heading to the kitchen where he found his godson in his high chair. He had a bottle of milk, drinking greedily. Andromeda was puttering in the background, preparing breakfast.

"Good morning," Harry cooed, thrilled with the way Teddy removed the bottle to giggle and smile at him.

"Morning, Harry," Andromeda called, never turning around. "You know, there is a guest room with a proper bed upstairs."

He sighed, brushing back Ted's hair - cerulean today - before he stepped towards the witch. "I didn't make it that far."

She hummed thoughtfully, her wand twirling as eggs cracked themselves into a mixing bowl. "Better than the nursery floor, I suppose."

Harry snatched a blueberry from the strainer in the sink. The nearby cutting board had an assortment of fruit ready to go. "Sorry for coming here so late. I know you aren't a fan of the practice."

"Because you shouldn't be working such ridiculous hours."

Harry grunted, mouth busy with a slice of cantaloupe. Andromeda mothered him as much as Molly did, though the two women had strikingly different styles. Molly coddled him, hovering anxiously, feeding him incessantly, and desperate in her desire to wrap him in wool for the rest of time. Andromeda had a more abrupt personality.

"You look like hell," she declared, directing the eggs into the skillet. "When was the last time you properly slept?"

"Uhm." Harry feigned a thoughtful look. "I believe it was ninety-ninety-two. Really, once I nearly got eaten by a giant snake, sleeping peacefully was no longer in the cards for me."

She finally turned to level him an unimpressed look. Andromeda didn't outwardly favor sarcasm but somehow that only spurred Harry on. He was also quite certain Tonks had been just as bad and wanted to keep at it in her honor.

"Oh," he added, "I passed out for sixteen hours after I died last year. Does that count?"

"No," she insisted quickly, stirring the scrambled eggs, "it does not. Are you heading back to the ministry today?"

Harry nodded, "Got a lead on Wilkes."

Andromeda frowned, thinking for a moment before shaking her head. "I can't keep them straight. Most of these names I associate with their parents or grandparents. I wasn't up to date on the most recent gaggle of followers."

"It doesn't help that they share names," he admitted.

Teddy had finished his bottle, calling out for more. Harry took a slice of cantaloupe, handing it to him with a grin. "Can you say thank you?"

The one year old made a hooting noise, something like sneeze. Harry took that as a win. "Good job, mate."

Two full plates in hand, Andromeda moved to the table. "Be sure to shower, shave and put on clean clothes before you leave."

"Because I 'look like hell'?"

They settled at the table, Teddy's high chair between them. "Yes," she responded primly. "At least you're eating now."

Harry dutifully cleaned his plate in spite of his lack of hunger; he didn't remember the last time he had had a real appetite. At this point, food was just necessary fuel to keep him moving, and he had to keep moving to do his job.

"When does Ginny leave for Holyhead?"

He sipped his juice, not liking the change in conversation. "Two weeks. I'm a little bummed we won't see her on her birthday."

"But she'll be here for yours."

Harry's nineteenth birthday was in five days and he was dreading it. His previous birthday had been under the shadow of mourning and had been little more than cake with the Weasleys. Molly wasn't likely to let this milestone pass as quietly, especially considering the amount times she had mentioned his impeding birthday in recent weeks.

"I really don't want a fuss."

"As if that's in your control." She reached to wipe her grandson's mouth. "We like celebrating you."

"The whole damn world does," he grumbled.

"We have better reasons though."

He sat patiently while Andromeda and Teddy finished their breakfast, his eyes darting to the clock every now and then. He helped cleared the table, offering to clean up Teddy.

"No," Andromeda shooed him away, "Go shower, shave-"

"And put on clean clothes. Yes, ma'am."

Harry tickled his godson, earning a happy scream before he trudged up to the guest room where he had a stash of clothes. His time in the shower was mostly a rumination on what he had ahead of him. Tracking mostly. Wilkes was next on his list and while he was a low level grunt in the Death Eater food chain, he was still responsible for plenty of heartache.

Andromeda sent him out the door with an apple and a reminder to go home at a decent hour. Harry half-heartedly agreed. He kissed her cheek to her bemusement and then Teddy's now green hair. Then he took the floo to the ministry.

He made it five steps through the atrium before Robards and Plimsfield were swarming him. Their words barely registered at first and something inside Harry clicked into place, his Auror mentality pushing out anything personal or emotional.

The stinging sensation had him bolting awake, hand around his wand tightening. If it weren't for the familiar scent and touch, he'd already have hexed her.

"You're supposed to heal yourself before you pass out," Ginny scolded, still focused on the cut on his cheek.

Harry fell back against the couch cushions. "Then what would you do?"

"Worry a little bit less," she replied primly, finally pulling the gauze away from his cheek. She lifted her wand and he felt the skin knitting back together properly.

Fully awake now, he adjusted the crooked position of his glasses. "Time is it?"

"Ten at night. But that shouldn't matter since I'm confident you haven't properly slept in days. It's Tuesday by the way, since I'm also sure you no longer have a concept of time."

"Not true."

Ginny's hand wove into his hair. "Andy says in the last week alone, she's found you on the sofa three times, and Teddy's floor twice."

"She's such a tattler."

"You're losing weight. Again."

His jaw clenched, his mood not open for criticism, no matter how good his girlfriend's intentions were. "I'm doing what I can."

"I know, and I'm proud of you for doing so much. But I love you and I want you healthy and whole."

"Tall order."

She didn't like his flippancy, he knew. He tugged her down to lay against him, his arms moving around her. "You staying tonight?"

"That was the idea."

"Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me, Harry. I'm here because I want to be."

They were silent for a minute, the ancient house around them all the more haunted feeling. He needed to move sooner than later.

"Since you've been gossiping with Andromeda, I'm guessing you saw Ted?"

She nodded against his shoulder, voice muffled by his shirt. "He's getting so big. Talking a lot as well."

"Fifteen months old now." It went unspoken, the rest of his statement: fourteen of those months the boy had been an orphan.

"Stop," she breathed.

"What?"

Ginny sighed. "You're going dark. You have to stop doing that. Just think about that brilliant little boy and how adored he is."

He hesitated before asking, "Have I been…darker than usual lately?"

"Not precisely…I just know you. I know you're struggling a little more lately."

"Why is that?"

"Some days are going to be harder than others." She slipped out of his embrace, standing up. She held out her hand. "Let's go sleep in a proper bed. I promise it's more comfortable."

Harry followed her without complaint. He crawled into the sheets beside her, his body giving in to the fatigue. She slipped around him, legs between his, arms cradling him close. He sighed, soothed by her touch.

"Don't let me…" He started, knowing it was pointless to explain his nightmares.

"I'll wake you if they get too bad. You'll do the same for me."

He nodded, eyes closed and already well on his way to the most peaceful sleep he could manage these days.

It was the blood that overwhelmed him. Hot, sticky, and somehow it kept pouring from their wounds. Harry was certain he was covered, his hair matted with it, some even creeping into his mouth - though the bitter taste could have been his own considering he had bit his tongue earlier.

Dolohov slipped from the grapple, getting enough distance to kick Harry in the shoulder. He was lucky his glasses were still on, their sticking charm likely weakening at this point in the night.

"Fuckin' bastard," the Death Eater hissed when he grabbed his boot and yanked.

Their wands had been knocked from their hands three minutes ago, the entire time since then spent in a dirty brawl. Harry was dizzy from blows to the head and stomach and the pain in his side told him he had a cracked or broken rib.

Antonin Dolohov was not walking out of this on his own. He wasn't going to be walking at all. Harry had sworn that much.

The larger man pulled out of his grip, slipping and sliding across the room. How there was still blood coming from the deceased men, Harry couldn't know. He kept his focus on Dolohov. He mustered up strength, surging forward in a lunge that was just enough to send him crashing into his target. They slammed to the ground, stars bursting in his eyes at the new pain in his arm.

He took a knee to the stomach, Dolohov gaining the upper hand and shoving him into the floorboards. Harry managed a wandless stinging hex, just enough to free his hold. He flipped them, hands going for the throat.

"Stay down," Harry groaned, determined that this was the end.

Dolohov held his smirk, his strength leaving him as he slowly stopped struggling. Harry pressed harder, desperate for the battle to be over, to have this name checked off his list. He barely noticed when the man went limp, dull eyes staring up at him. He let go slowly, the realization sinking in. After several seconds, he pressed a few fingers to his neck, confirming the lack of pulse. Then he climbed off his victim, slumping against the wall.

Harry was confident the world was a little safer now. But he was also confident that Remus would be immensely disappointed in him.

He bolted up, gasping. Ginny was already awake, soothing him with gentle touches and words. She waited until his breathing resumed a normal pace.

"Dolohov?"

She always knew. He nodded, swallowing thickly before swinging his legs over the bed. "I'm getting water."

She didn't follow him, much to his relief. He didn't bother with his glasses, stumbling half blind to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, the light flickering on. Everything was a blurry mess but he knew it well enough from memory alone. His heart slowed as he ran water over his hands, rubbing them against his face.

Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there, frozen in place. Long enough for Ginny to grow concerned. She slipped into the bathroom, hugging him from behind. Her lips pressed against the skin between his shoulder blades.

"Everything's okay."

He could only nod, his hands moving to cover hers. He wasn't sure if he believed her.

"This is only contributing to your sleep problems."

Harry's green eyes opened slowly, his girlfriend and best friend both staring down at him. He grunted, shifting his position. He'd been flying in the paddock, stopping for a break from the birthday madness.

Ron's hand hovered over him and he accepted, letting the man pull him to his feet. "Teddy's here."

"And Kingsley, McGonagall, Hagrid…" Ginny slipped her hand into his. "You're very popular, Potter."

Harry forced a smile, kissing her temple as he tugged her closer. "At least Molly's food will be eaten."

"Oh, I would've taken care of that," Ron stated confidently.

Teddy was stumbling around the yard, everyone who spotted him cooing at him - it paid to be the only baby around. He made a beeline to Harry when he caught sight of him and the man was happy to swoop his godson into a spin.

"Thanks for coming," he muttered, hugging the boy.

It was a bit overwhelming to have so many people present for him, but it was a sight better than the madness at the Remembrance Day event. These were people who actually cared about him, Harry, and not just the Chosen One or the Savior. He kept Ted in his arms until it was time to eat dinner, handing him over to Fleur who was making some not so subtle hints to her husband about their plans for the future.

Molly had decked out the table with a veritable feast, the long table crowding the garden with its many guests. Everyone shifted places when it came time for cake, the rotation necessary for friends to see one another. After being force fed a slice of treacle tart and a slice of strawberry cake, he slipped from the table. Kingsley was off to the side with Bill, firewhiskey in hand. The elder Weasley quickly got Harry his own glass.

"Did Robards talk to you about-?"

Kingsley held up a hand, an amused smile on his face. "Harry, I already told Hermione, no ministry business tonight. We're all taking the evening off to enjoy ourselves."

He was disappointed by this but held back his dismay. He knew the former Auror had never planned on stepping into such a major role in their government and it was invading every aspect of life. Harry wasn't the only one who devoted his life to his job.

Kingsley continued, "That girl has only been officially employed for three weeks and I think she's already taken over her department. Leopold is outright scared of her."

"She spent the entire school year drafting legislation," Harry told him, sipping his drink slowly.

"The House Elf Protection Act is already on the docket for the next Wizengamot session."

They carried on until their glasses were empty, at one point being joined by George and Ron who diverted the conversation to Quidditch. Harry wasn't sure he was entirely present.

No one noticed, except Ginny. She found him as the night dwindled. McGonagall and Hagrid returned to Hogwarts, a sleeping Teddy was carried off by his grandmother, and most of the Weasleys were helping Molly with clean up.

"You okay?"

He forced another smile, nodding. "Tired. It was a lot of celebrating. And too much food."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Her tone revealed more but he was grateful she didn't go further. She had been watching him with an uncomfortable amount of concern. Harry wasn't sure how he could head her off, the woman never taking his lies at face value.

"I'm fine, love."

This time, she forced a smile, kissing him softly. "Want to get out of here?"

"Two sleepovers in one week? It is my birthday."

She rolled her eyes. "I was thinking a walk. Then we're sleeping here."

"Am I in Bill's room?"

"Not a chance."

If anyone noticed them slipping away into the descending darkness, they didn't say. Harry just focused on the warm hand in his and the still pleasant feel of the alcohol in his system.

Harry woke up shivering, an unknown cold seeping into his bones. He wiped at his face, the usual tears smearing against his skin. He was sick of this. It took a minute to settle his breathing and then he reached for his glasses.

The house creaked around him, the now familiar drafts blowing over his overheated skin. He had fallen into bed just a few hours prior, so his abandoned jeans and jumper were on the floor near his feet. He dressed quickly before going down the multiple flights of stairs to the kitchen. There was a fresh bottle of scotch on the table, McGonagall's gift from his birthday. He cracked it open, having some mental capacity to remember the glass.

He understood why Sirius went mad in this house. Harry was only staying there because he needed space from the outside world and the house was sitting there empty. Usually a night at the Burrow and a few at Andromeda's was enough to keep him sane. At least, that's what he hoped.

The clock read half past two and he knew better than to invite himself to either of those homes at this hour. He'd sneak over to see Teddy at seven, give him his breakfast and then head into work.

That left too much time for drinking. He refilled his glass twice more, his nightmares playing on repeat in his mind. He couldn't shake them, any of them. The green light of his mother's death, the green light of his own death, the haunted look of Fred's laughing face, the stillness of Remus and Tonks's bodies, Hermione's screams… He was infected with the feeling of casting unforgivable curses, of the Dark Arts he had learned in the last few years, his hands bloody with justifiable murders… Justifiable. Self-defense. For the greater good. He could reason away a lot of his guilt but some just wouldn't fade. Like Dolohov. That one stained him permanently.

Harry gazed around the kitchen, wondering if he could picture Sirius from four years ago, the man he had had such little time with. He swallowed back another mouthful of scotch, no longer tasting it. Yes, he could just make out Sirius sitting across from him, Lupin on one side, Tonks on the other. No, Tonks always sat between Ginny and Hermione during meal times. Sirius would have had one of the twins on his other side, a little section of Marauders.

He could hear his laugh. Harry rubbed the back of his neck, finishing off his glass and chucking it across the room. It shattered against the stone wall, a mess for him to face another time if Kreacher didn't beat him to it.

Harry wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but when he trudged upstairs to the drawing room, he stepped into the floo. Moments later, he was in the atrium at the ministry. It was deathly quiet, even the guards standing watch not making a sound. Familiar eyes acknowledged Harry but they didn't speak. He raised his wand non-threateningly, reminding them the carefully laid wards would've tossed him out had he meant harm. They were used to his odd hours.

He didn't cross paths with anyone. The lift opened for him and he selected his floor, the entire experience feeling like a dream. It wasn't like being under the Imperius or sleep walking - this was something else. He was so detached from reality and the only emotion he had was the pounding guilt from his nightmares.

It took a shockingly short amount of time for him to find the room. Or maybe it took ages and he just wasn't aware. He entered the cavernous space, the archway directly ahead of him. He hadn't been back since that day, since Lupin had loosened his grip, and Harry had taken off after Sirius's murderer.

The archway looked so harmless, the tattered veil moving in the nonexistent breeze. But the feelings it evoked, the darkness it hinted at…that was stronger than ever. Wand in his pocket, Harry approached it.

"What are your secrets?" he whispered to himself, eyes searching for something. He swayed on his feet, a reminder that he wasn't himself for a multitude of reasons.

Sirius said it was like falling asleep.

He wasn't fully aware as he let himself fall forwards, an invisible force reaching out and dragging him down. Then it was dark.

Like falling into ice water, awareness gripped at him but Harry couldn't see anything but the flashes of memories that kept him awake at night.

"Angry I put down your pet, Potter? The dog put up a fight, I'll say that."

"Fred!"

"I killed Sirius Black!"

"Kill the spare!"

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

Harry felt his knees hit solid stone, wide jaws with fangs coming straight for his face. The basilisk. He reacted, his mind not catching up until he felt the sword plunge through the beast, the fang embedding itself into his upper arm. The pain was exactly as he remembered it.

The snake hit the ground and Riddle was speaking but Harry paid him no mind. He reached a shaky hand for the fang, yanking it out. Was this the work of the veil? Was he going to relive unpleasant memories?

Fawkes was craning his neck, trying to shed tears directly onto the wound. Harry jerked away, his vision blurry and the fire spreading deeper through his limbs. "No," he gasped, "no, don't, Fawkes."

Riddle was still talking and with everything Harry's addled mind was processing, he just wanted him to shut up. Where was the damn diary? His vision was fading and Fawkes was frantically trying to get to his arm. He spotted the book across the Chamber and with a weak bit of wandless magic, he summoned it into his grasp.

"What are you doing?"

Harry ignored Riddle. He stabbed the diary with much less frustration than the first time around, not even watching the image of the seventeen year old flail and scream before fading away. He dropped the fang with a clatter, no longer seeing much of anything as his heart rate slowed. Finally. He could rest.

Fawkes wasn't giving up though, the warm feathers brushing against him. Harry tried to pull away but his strength was gone, his head drooping. "Jus' lemme die, Fawkes, please. 'M tired."

He didn't feel the tears hit his wound but it became easier to breathe, light coming back into his vision. The Chamber came back into focus and Harry recognized the lightheadedness of a too-fast, recent recovery. Great. Even in a nightmare he couldn't die.

"Harry?"

It took him a moment to look over at the small girl. This Ginny wasn't the woman who had fought alongside him, spent long nights in his bed, and who had carried him through the worst of his pain. She was just a girl.

"It's okay, Gin…" He coughed, his throat thick. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get a read on himself. He waited for her to begin her rant, faintly remembering the events of the memory. But she didn't speak.

She approached him, one hand grasping his arm. "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that." He shook out of his maudlin thoughts, the effects of the venom fading. He forced himself to stand, helping Ginny rise up with him.

"Well, he's gone," he declared, holding up the ruined Horcrux. Dream or not, he did not want to deal with a hysterical eleven year old girl.

"I'm going to be expelled," she muttered, horrified eyes staring at the damaged book.

"Naw," he replied flippantly, his thoughts split between trying to recreate the memory and determining how to get himself out of this wretched hallucination or dream or devious afterlife. "If anything, you deserve a bloody medal for not losing your mind. A year of him in your head would make any grown witch go mad. You should be proud of yourself."

Ginny didn't speak and he was grateful. He tucked the hat and sword in his belt, the ruined diary fitting in his robes pocket. He gave the basilisk a final look, almost worried that he had forgotten the finer points of the creature - had it been that big?

Fawkes followed them through the tunnel and it was several minutes before Harry realized he was holding Ginny's hand - he was fairly certain that hadn't been the case the first time around. He dropped it when Ron called out to them, the rock shifting ahead of them.

"We're fine Ron, Ginny's safe. How's our favorite professor?"

There was an exasperated sound of relief and then a chuckle. "Bloody idiot wiped his memory. Where are you?"

"At least we don't have to deal with his classes anymore," Harry remarked, finally seeing his friend's too-young face appear in the hole he had been working at.

"Ginny!" Ron gasped. "Oh, hell, don't do that again!"

She blushed, moving forward to help him and Harry push aside enough rock to get through. Harry expected Ron's questions, answering dully; he'd have to get through these next few hours before he could get alone and think.

He was sorely tempted to stun Lockhart's babbling self but that was a fifth year spell and he wasn't sure his gangly twelve year old body had the magic for it, especially after nearly dying.

Fawkes carried them up the pipe and Myrtle was waiting for them.

"You're alive."

"Cheer up, Myrtle," Harry told her, helping Lockhart stand on both feet, "I'm sure there will be plenty more opportunities for me to die. None of them will result in me haunting this bathroom with you, though."

The ghost growled, the noise morphing into tears as she rushed away. Ron shook his head. "Mental, that one."

The corridors were silent, Ron keeping a tight hold on his sister while Harry occasionally had to guide Lockhart. McGonagall's office door came into view and he steeled himself, knowing Dumbledore would be on the other side. He threw up a weak mental shield, not for fear of attacks, but for the simple comfort of not feeling beholden to his conflicting emotions.

He didn't bother knocking this time, stepping right inside to the utter chaos. He swerved past the Weasleys as they mobbed their children. He avoided the headmaster's gaze as he unloaded everything onto McGonagall's desk: sword, hat, diary…Merlin, he wanted this to end.

Everyone was staring at him and he realized this was the part where he explained everything. He had no desire to hash out the details again. "The Chamber of Secrets can only be opened by a parselmouth. The monster within is a basilisk which is now dead." He pointed to the diary. "That's a foul piece of dark magic that Tom Riddle made when he was a student. He's the true heir of Slytherin, by the way."

Dumbledore was surprisingly upbeat, but then again, he always had been. McGonagall looked ready to collapse and Harry wondered if the woman had any of that delightful scotch on hand.

"I had a chat with him…or his image. He filled in the blanks, I guess you could say." He was feeling weak, likely a result of delaying Fawkes's healing. He eased himself into a guest chair wearily. "Seems he's always been unpleasant."

This was when blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The elder wizard had been inspecting the diary but was now inspecting Harry. How had he behaved before? His head was pounding and he wanted to sleep.

It wasn't until the office cleared out, house points awarded and feasts planned, that Harry looked up at his beloved mentor. Fawkes settled on his knee, crooning softly.

"First of all, Harry, I want to thank you. You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."

Harry didn't respond, happily stroking the phoenix's head with a delicate finger. He had missed this damn bird.

"And so you met Tom Riddle. I am sure he was most interested in meeting you…"

Harry nodded, still gazing at Fawkes. "That's one way to put it. Hard to believe he was…a person."

"Yes, troubling how these realizations come to us, isn't it?"

There was a quiet period, just Harry petting the phoenix and Dumbledore's pointed stare. There had been a long conversation last time, questions about how good and pure Harry really was if he could talk to snakes and share such likeness with a lunatic like Riddle. He didn't need nor want that again. He knew he was tainted and his twelve year old self had the excuse of being traumatized.

Lucius Malfoy broke up the thinking and it was laughable to watch him try and intimidate Dumbledore. Harry thought of the frail man rotting in Azkaban, his list of crimes too great to be granted house arrest with his wife. He was immensely pleased to see Dobby the house elf, one of his greatest allies in life, alive and breathing.

"Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy, no one could exactly prove you were the one to give Ginny the diary that day in Flourish and Blotts," he drawled, glancing between the diary and Dobby.

His words had the desired effect, the man's lip curling in disgust. Harry ignored the remaining barbs, trying to remember exactly how he had handled this last time. He waited for the door to close behind the elf and wizard before reaching for the diary.

"Sir, can I…?"

"Of course." His eyes twinkled. "But, do hurry - the feast!"

Harry had no intentions of attending it but he faked a smile and moved quickly. His limbs felt sluggish and he was still lightheaded. There were a million things to take into account but dream or hell or hallucination, Dobby deserved to be a free elf in all of them.

It was less satisfying than the first go around, but he was still pleased with Dobby's gratitude and Malfoy's fury. He waved off the elf's compliments as Malfoy stormed off.

"Thank you, Dobby, really, you deserve to be free more than anyone else I know."

Big eyes shined with unshed tears and the elf nodded shyly. Harry added, "I hope I see you again. I'd like to be your friend - if you promise not to try and save my life like that again."

The tears fell and Dobby could barely contain himself as he bounced in place. They said their farewells and Harry let out a sigh. He slumped against the nearby wall. He half expected Dumbledore to find him or even McGonagall. He remembered last time he had gone to the Great Hall as instructed, settling with his housemates who were all in their pajamas. They'd barely started eating when Hermione and the other formerly petrified students had raced in.

No feast this time. He moved at a lazy pace, taking shortcuts and odd corridors to avoid the usual paths the students would be taking from their common rooms. The Fat Lady cheered when she saw him and then grimaced, letting out a horrified comment about the amount of blood and slime on his robes.

The password. Damn. He tried a few random ones that could have been from any of his six years before the Lady rolled her eyes, asking, "Concussion, dearest?"

"Erm, yeah." He strained, trying to remember more. "Fiddlesticks, balderdash…periwinkle?"

She swung open without another word, and he sighed in relief. He climbed in with a mumbled thanks and was relieved by the empty common room. It didn't evoke the usual warmth and happiness. He moved with little thought, entering the dormitory and immediately stripping off the disgusting robes. He was removing his trousers and shirt when he made it to the bathroom.

He was twelve. A scrawny, short, twelve year old. No scar on his hands, rib cage or chest. He was interested to note the small round scar from the fang - last time there had been no mark, Fawkes's healing having worked magic. Not this time.

He took a hot shower, and then half dressed, fell into his four-poster. He couldn't deal. He had woken up in Grimmauld Place from a nightmare, and then fallen into a very old one. Why was he here? What was the point? Did he have to relive some of his worst memories? Was there a message for him? Was this just how the afterlife worked when you threw yourself through the veil?

Harry fell asleep before he could muster up any possible answers.