This story is based on the Lone Traveller series that was originally created by The Professional and then expanded upon by Dunuelos.
"The Lone Traveller: Young man who tried to change the past and save those he loved… plan failed and became the Lone Traveller, wandering through time and reality, making a difference wherever he went… very powerful… defeated a powerful Dark wizard styling himself a Lord… swept along the path he walked by a spectacular aura of blue light."
Legends & Myths of the Wizarding World by Gertrude Yolanda
"The Lone Traveller: Originally a Mortal Human Wizard and dimensional traveller, this being ascended to Godhood as a reward for services to the Creator. Very often arrives and leaves using a spectacular aura of blue light. His Divine name is Marek Ilumian, Fury of the Light, a Minor God of Knowledge and Travel and Patron God of Free Will. His appearance normally associated with preventing apocalypses or helping to ensure Free Will can be exercised by mortals. All assistance should be rendered when he appears. Does have a mischievous streak, especially when accompanied by a Goddess from another dimension who appears as a small innocent girl."
Rupert Giles Watcher's Diaries, 27 September, 2000
This story features a brief excerpt from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (or, if you must, Sorcerer's Stone)
When the familiar blue light faded, the Lone Traveller found himself just outside a familiar compartment on a familiar train. Within that compartment, he heard a very familiar voice…
"It's just…weird."
It was this universe's Harry who had spoken these words as he leaned his head up against the train window. Ron and Hermione were sitting across from one another, looking at each other, wondering what their friend meant.
"What's weird, Harry?" Hermione eventually asked.
By this time, the Lone Traveller had disillusioned himself and snuck into the compartment without anyone noticing. Based on their appearance, he guessed that they had just completed their 4th year at Hogwarts.
He closed his eyes and examined this dimension. Let's see…Hagrid…the vault…the troll…Quirrell…Dobby…the diary…Hermione petrified…the basilisk…Marge…Sirius…the Patronus…Pettigrew…time turner…World Cup…4th champion…dragon…portkey…Cedric…
It all added up. It's Canon Harry! And if it's Canon Harry, then that means it only gets worse from here on out…starting this summer.
Ah, but now I'm here, which means no more canon. Lucky kids!
It only took the Lone Traveller a few moments to process this information. When he was done, he opened his eyes and saw Harry turn to his friends, the despair that had covered his face gone, replaced by a steely determination—a look that his friends (and their invisible visitor) knew meant that Harry had something important to say.
"Okay, hear me out," Harry said, eyeing his friends, who both nodded.
"Every year something weird happens to us, right?"
They nodded.
"But have you ever noticed when those weird things happen?"
Ron frowned. "What do you mean?"
Harry took a deep breath and charged forward. "Okay, first year, we had the troll and then the Philosopher's Stone, right?"
They nodded.
"What day did the troll attack?"
"Halloween," Ron and Hermione said.
"And when did we go for the stone?"
"4th of June, right after exams," Hermione said.
"So Halloween and June, right? Now, second year, what happened on Halloween?"
"Mrs. Norris was frozen and the Chamber of Secrets was opened," Ron said.
"And when did we go down to the Chamber to rescue Ginny?"
"It was 29 May, I think," Hermione said, recognizing where Harry was going. "Almost the same date as the stone."
"Third year Halloween?"
"Sirius," they answered.
"And then the whole thing in the Shrieking Shack?"
"6 June," Hermione said.
"This year, of course, it was the Goblet on Halloween and the Third Task was on 24 June—granted later than the others but still in the same month."
"I agree that's oddly consistent," Hermione said. "Of course, plenty of other weird stuff happened at other times during the year."
"But those were all life and death situations, either for us or for others—but mostly us. And all of them took place either on Halloween or in late May or June."
Hermione and Ron nodded.
"So the question is why? What's so special about those dates?"
"A couple of things," the Lone Traveller suddenly interjected, making himself visible to the three in the compartment. As expected, all three jumped and then pulled out their wands, ready to strike.
The Lone Traveller held up his hands. "Whoah there, Harry, Hermione, Ron!"
"Who are you?" Harry demanded. "How did you get in here?"
"And how do you know our names?" Hermione added.
The older man smirked. "Does the name Lone Traveller mean anything to you?"
Harry and Hermione shook their heads, but Ron gasped. "But…that's just a legend. It's not supposed to be real."
"What is?" Hermione asked, annoyed that there was something Ron knew that she didn't.
"It's…a story Bill told me," Ron said, dropping his wand arm and silently encouraging his friends to do the same. "Supposedly, there's this wizard who travels from universe to universe solving problems. No one knows who he is, but if he shows up, then it means bad things are gonna happen. But it also means he'll be there to help."
"Wait!" Hermione exclaimed, looking at the stranger's hair and forehead and then at Harry. "Harry, is that—"
"Yes, Hermione, it's me. I'm Harry—an older version. As Ron said, I travel from universe to universe. I don't normally know which universe I'm going to end up in, and once I reach a universe, I don't always know what the problems are that I'll have to solve—though when I meet another version of myself, I usually have a pretty good idea."
"What do you mean?" young Harry asked. "You mean you lived through everything I've lived through? The troll, the basilisk, the Dursleys, Cedric, everything?"
"Not exactly the same. My timeline wasn't entirely canon."
"Canon?" Ron asked.
"Oops!" the Lone Traveller exclaimed. "This'll sound like Hagrid, but I shouldn't have said that."
"Well, you did, so what do you mean?"
The older Harry sighed. I guess I have to explain it all again. Oh well. "Okay. Just to be clear, my presence in this universe automatically changes your stories. As of now, the canon is kaput."
"But….you mean like literary canon?" Hermione asked.
"Essentially, yes," the traveller said. "Actually, I might as well…" he trailed off and started reaching deep into his bag. A minute or so later, he cried out "Ah! Here it is," pulled out a paperback book and handed it over to the trio.
At first, Ron and Harry were unimpressed. Ron even laughed. "Mate, there are tons of those stupid Harry Potter books," he said. "Ginny used to read those all the time. Still does, actually."
"Yeah, those books are embarrassing," Harry explained, "but they don't have anything to do with me and my real life."
While they were dismissing the book, Hermione opened it and started reading. After only a few pages, she looked up and said, "This isn't one of those books, is it?"
The Lone Traveller shook his head and said, "Read the title."
"Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone?" Hermione said. "What's a sorcerer's stone?"
Older Harry frowned and looked at it. "Oh, crap. That's the American version. Apparently the publisher thought Americans were stupid and wouldn't read something with the word 'philosopher' in its title. I don't know—maybe they're right. The proper British title is Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone."
"What the hell?" young Harry exclaims. "Is this about our first—"
"Harry! Look at this," Hermione said, pointing to a page in the middle of the book. Harry and Ron both looked down at the lines Hermione was pointing at:
Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.
"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."
"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.
The three reread the passage several times, then looked at each other.
"What the hell?" Ron exclaimed. "That's…"
"That's exactly what you said, word for word, right?" the Lone Traveller asked. Ron and Hermione nodded.
Hermione turned back to the book and the book's cover. "Who is J.K. Rowling?" she asked Harry's older counterpart.
"Right," older Harry said. "This might take some time," he added before sitting down next to Ron and across from Hermione and Harry.
He settled into the cushion, took a deep breath, and began. "As I said, I'm a dimensional traveller—well, more than a traveller now, but that's another story. Some of the universes I've visited are like this one, filled with magic. But there are other universes where magic doesn't exist."
"At all?" Ron exclaimed, baffled.
"Well, they have magicians, but those magicians are non-magical. They just use tricks to pretend they have magic."
"Like David Copperfield?" Hermione asked.
"Exactly."
"Who?" Ron asked, though Harry also looked confused.
Hermione said, "He's a famous American magician who performs 'magic' in front of crowds. But like…um, Big Harry said, it's not real magic—just tricks."
"Really? Big Harry?" Harry said, eyeing his friend with mocking anger.
The Lone Traveller laughed. "Settle down. Why don't you guys call me Maarek. It's what the goblins call me: Maarek Ilumian."
"So, Maarek," Hermione started, "our muggle world has these fake magicians too, but obviously there's also a magical world here as well."
"That's right," Maarek said. "These other universes have the fake magicians and they even have witches and covens and Stonehenge and ley lines and runic alphabets—but no magic."
"What's the point of having witches and ley lines and runes if they don't have magic?" Harry asked.
Maarek shrugged. "It's likely that magic did exist in these universes at one time in the very distant past, but somehow it disappeared. That happens far more frequently than you'd think. Hell, there are tons of universes where magicals all kill each other off. That could happen here if you aren't careful."
The three immediately wanted to ask a dozen questions about how this could happen, but before they could say a word, Maarek held up his hand. "We can talk about that later if you want, but let me get back to the book in Hermione's hand. You see, the truly fascinating thing about universes where there is no magic is that the people in these universes—well, they love magic. They're obsessed with it. Those ley lines and runes and covens and David Copperfields? They exist in those worlds because the people there love magic so much that they try everything they can think of to make it real or pretend it's real."
"And they fail," Hermione said, nodding.
"Yes and no," Maarek said with a smirk. "That's where this book in your hand comes in. Now, in this universe where you three are living, muggles know about magic. That is, they know the concept of it. However, because of how the Statute of Secrecy works, that knowledge of magic never really catches on as an obsession the way it is in worlds without magic. And the best way to understand this is by looking at the literature that is popular in a universe."
Hermione immediately bounced in her seat. "Omigodthatsamazing!" Harry and Ron both laugh.
Maarek smiled. "It is amazing. Now, Hermione, tell me, when you go to a muggle bookstore, what types of books are most popular?"
Hermione's smile grew wider. "Well, definitely romance and mystery and science fiction. Those seem to be the most popular. There's also historical novels, psychological thrillers, and, of course, the classics like Shakespeare, Gaskell, and Dos Passos."
"Dos Passos? Hmm, interesting. But what about fantasy novels or horror? Are those popular?"
Hermione scrunched her nose and stared off into space. "There are books about serial killers and whatnot. Is that what you mean by horror? And I'm not sure what you mean by fantasy."
"Think of novels that feature magical elements—be it witches and wizards or magical creatures."
"I…think I remember reading something called The Bobbit."
"The Hobbit?"
"Yes! That's it. I think it had trolls and goblins and wizards in it," she said, suddenly realizing how unusual that was—at least, before she learned about the magical world. "Is that what you mean by fantasy or horror?"
"More or less. Can you think of any other muggle novels or TV shows or movies that feature trolls or goblins or wizards?"
Hermione spent a few minutes mentally walking through her local library at home, trying to come up with some other muggle works that might contain a magical narrative. Eventually, she shook her head and sighed. "All I can think of is Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, which has fairies in it."
"What about The Chronicles of Narnia?"
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know that one."
"The Earthsea trilogy?"
"No."
"Dracula?"
"No."
"Lord of the Rings?"
"Uh-hun."
"Do you know who J.R.R. Tolkien is?"
"Who?"
"He wrote The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings."
"He did? I guess I forgot who the author was. It was so long ago. Is The Lord of the Rings any good?"
"In many universes, it's a classic. In this universe…." Maarek paused for a moment to examine the literary history of this dimension. "He did not write The Lord of the Rings. Apparently, Tolkien died shortly after The Hobbit was published—under mysterious circumstances."
"Wait, are you saying the wizarding world killed him because he was writing books about magic?"
Up to this point, Harry and Ron had been listening to the discussion about muggle literature like two 5-year-olds sitting through a lecture on calculus. However, Hermione's question perked them up, and they were eager to find out the answer.
Maarek smiled, happy to finally have an interested audience of three again. "Not the ministry or the wizarding world in general—the Secrecy spell itself."
"The Statute of Secrecy?" Ron asked.
"Yep. In some magical universes, including this one, the spell not only hides the magical world from muggles but also dampens muggles' fascination in and enthusiasm for magic."
"That's amazing!" Hermione exclaimed. "What…"
Before she could ask her question, Harry angrily butted in. "What about my aunt and uncle? They are obsessed with magic. They hate it. They've made my life miserable and I have to go back there in a few hours. How do you explain that?"
Maarek looked at his younger counterpart—his thin arms, his hand-me-down clothes, his incorrectly prescribed glasses—and sighed. "I know, Harry. Trust me, I know. Unfortunately, they are the exception that proves the rule. Since Petunia was your mom's sister and is your aunt, they're free from the limitations imposed by the Statute. But because Petunia's parents and sister were killed by wizards and because they were forced to take you in by other wizards, they despise magic—and, by extension, you."
Harry nodded his head and looked down, but said nothing.
"By the way, I think I can help you with them—and with Tom Riddle." Harry perked up. "But first, you need to let me finish my story."
Harry eagerly nodded his head, as did Hermione and Ron.
"Okay. Now, remember, people in universes without magic love magic. There's no spell keeping them from being obsessed with it. And remember how I answered Hermione's question about whether these people were able to create magic just from wishing for it?"
Surprisingly, Ron answered. "You said yes and no."
"I did. What I meant was, they can't actually create magic. They can't give themselves a magical core or perform spells or whatever. But what they can do is write about magic. That might not sound like much, but, please, trust a dimensional traveller who has been in thousands of different universes when I say that stories have power—enormous power."
Maarek paused and looked carefully at each of the golden trio, making sure they were paying attention.
"They have the power to create universes."
As he expected, the three were speechless. Their eyes grew wide, their mouths opened, and all at once, they looked down at the paperback copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
"All the books I mentioned before, the Hobbits and Narnias and Earthseas, as well as stuff like Star Wars, Star Trek, and hundreds of things—all of them are real. I've been to all of those universes and met all of those characters. But the universe that I go to the most often is the same one that I was born into."
"The…Harry Potter universe?" Hermione asked. Maarek nodded and sat back. He's had this same discussion with dozens of trios over the centuries, and they always react the same. First, they are speechless. They look at each other, at the book, and then at everything around them. Finally, they look back at me, and at that point Ron invariably gets angry.
Sure enough…
"What the fuck do you mean?!" Ron exclaimed. He stood up, ripped the book out of Hermione's hands, pointed it at Maarek, and yelled, "The Harry Potter universe? Is everything about Harry? What about the rest of us? What about me and Hermione and my parents and Professor Dumbledore and…I mean…everyone? Are you saying we're just side characters in Harry's story? The hell is wrong with you?"
"Ron…" Hermione started, trying to calm him down, but Maarek looked at her and shook his head, so she quieted.
Maarek looked at a still huffing Ron and said, "Ron, I did not create your universe. For that matter, I haven't created any universe. When I discovered the truth, I was as angry as you—and I am Harry Potter. I can tell you that Harry is feeling just as confused and angry as you are, though for different reasons. Right, Harry?"
Harry nodded, both his hands balled into fists. "I don't…Ron." Ron turned to look at his friend. "I don't want a universe about me. Hell, I'd love to live in a Ron Weasley universe or a Hermione Granger universe. Those universes sound great—way better than my life anyways."
Ron's anger deflated. "I know, mate," Ron said, sitting back down and giving the book back to Hermione. "I know how much you hate the attention and all that. I just…this is so confusing, you know?"
"Hang on," Hermione—the voice of reason—said. "How can an entire universe be centered around one person? Heck, how can a whole universe even be centered around just one planet? The universe is billions of years old and contains trillions of stars. Billions of people lived and died before we were even born—just on Earth alone. Are you saying all those years and lives were just a prelude to what's happening now? And what happens after we're gone? If Harry is the center of the universe, then does the universe just disappear when he dies?"
Maarek smiled. "Those are all good questions, and I can answer some of them. But even I don't have all the answers, especially to the more nebulous questions. Only God can answer those, but if you ask her, don't expect a straight answer.
"Now, be aware that there are an infinite number of universes, and each of these were created because of choices that sentient beings made. So, in a very real sense, each of us live in our own universe, and the decisions we make in our universe guide and direct that universe on its path. When we die, that universe dies with us. But that's not to say that the universe as a whole dies, if you get what I'm saying."
"So," Hermione said, putting the pieces together, "even though this book tells Harry's story, I still have my own life to live, my own universe, and so does Ron."
"And so does Neville and Seamus and Malfoy and Ginny and Luna."
"Who?" Harry asked, referring to the last one.
Oops. "Never mind. You'll meet her soon. Anyways…"
"Wait a minute!" Harry interrupted. "You said we each live in our own universe, but if that's true, then how did this Rowling person write my story? I mean, which came first, me or her story?"
Well, it took a while, but we made it. "That, my fellow Harry, is the 10,000 galleon question. As I said earlier, stories are powerful enough to create universes. That means, to some extent, J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series of novels in non-magical universes, created the very magical universe that everyone on this train, myself included, currently inhabits. But did she create the lives of everyone who lived before us and will live after us? Where does the story she tells about Harry begin and the rest of the universe's story end? What are the limits of a writer's power over those people she isn't directly writing about?"
There was a brief pause as they considered these questions. Of course, Hermione caught on quickest.
"In other words," she said, "for most of our world, the books don't matter. But for us, it does because we're in the books. During all the events in our first year, all the stuff we went through—the troll, the stone, everything—we were just following the plot in a book?"
"I'm afraid so—at least the major plot points. Most of Harry's childhood is spelled out by this author, so, yes, Harry, the author is the reason your parents were killed by Voldemort. The author is the reason why you were forced to live with your aunt and uncle. The author is the reason why they treated you the way they did and why Sirius was thrown into Azkaban. The author is the reason why you didn't know about the magical world until you met Hagrid in that weird house on that island. I mean, that part right there is a dead giveaway that you're living in a story. Why would your relatives go to such insane extremes to prevent you from reading your Hogwarts letter? Shouldn't they have been happy to get rid of you? It only makes sense if you're telling a story and you need an excuse for Hagrid to make a dramatic entrance. And what you said when I first showed up, Harry, about all the coincidences of dates—that the bad stuff happened on Halloween and in June—all that is straight out of the books as well.
"So most of the big events in your life were created and orchestrated by Rowling. Ron and Hermione, the key events that took place over the last four years in your lives are also straight out of the books, though your childhoods were mostly your own. Sure, Rowling made your parents dentists, Hermione—I'm guessing because she wanted your pre-Hogwarts life to be boring and normal. And she invented The Burrow, Ron. She made your family not as well off as other wizarding families. She gave your brothers Bill and Charlie really cool jobs, made the twins pranksters, made Ginny obsessed with Harry—all of it. She also created Hogwarts, the ghosts, the professors, the elves. She created the four houses of Hogwarts and made sure the hat placed Hermione in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw where she really should have been sorted. Frankly, if Slytherins are supposed to be sneaky and calculating, then how did Malfoy wind up there? He doesn't have a sneaky bone in his body. But he had to be there—because he's your foil, your enemy, and the enemy of Gryffindors needs to be in Slytherin."
"Noooooo!" Hermione screamed and fell to the floor, clutching her knees. Maarek looked Harry and Ron and realized they weren't doing much better. They were panting, sweating and trying to grab onto anything they could just to steady themselves. I guess I went overboard. Time to reel them back in.
With a look, Maarek calmed them down, then gave them a few minutes to rest and relax. He looked out the window and saw that they were only near Manchester, so he still had plenty of time to talk them off this ledge he'd placed them on.
When their breathing had settled and they looked more relaxed, Maarek said, "All that is the bad news. Now, do you want to hear the good news?"
Ron, obviously, was not quite as calm as Maarek had thought. "What good news? We're just puppets being pulled along on strings by some woman in another universe!"
"Were, Ron. Were puppets."
The three looked at him. Harry tentatively asked, "You mean we were controlled by that Rowling woman but now…"
"You were following canon—that is, the original novels, word-for-word. But that all changed when two things happened. First, you, Harry, started wondering about the weird Halloween and June coincidences in your lives. That's not in canon. That, my friends, is fan fiction."
"Fan what?" Ron asked.
"You mean stories written by fans of the novels?" Hermione asked and Maarak nodded. "So does that mean we've left the canon and are now puppets for some amateur fan's reinterpretation of the original story? How is that better? That sounds worse."
"Hang on. I'm not done yet. Right now, everything that is happening, every word I am speaking, was written by a fan. And that's the second thing that has happened today: you're no longer in Harry's story. You're in mine. And I, my friends, am a god. Maarek Illumian, the god of knowledge and free will, at your service!"
They had no idea how to take that except to wait for him to finish bowing and explain it—or wait for the fan writing the story to make him explain whatever it is he's trying to say.
Maarek got the hint. "Fine. As the god of knowledge, I am obliged to give you as much information as I can about your current situation. As the god of free will, I allow you to make your own choices—though let's face it, Harry, we both know what you want—no Voldemort, no Dursleys, Sirius free. Right?"
Harry wasn't used to getting his way in, well, anything. Was this too good to be true? Possibly. Can he trust this stranger? Who knows? Does he want this stranger to help him? Hell yes. So, after a brief pause, Harry nodded.
"Okay, then," Maarek said. "Now, back to fan fiction. In the future, thousands of people will write millions of fan fiction stories set in the Harry Potter universe. It's actually the most popular type of fan fiction in the 21st century. But do you know why so many people want to write stories about you three in particular?"
"Is it sex stuff?" Hermione asked, cringing.
Maarek barked out a laugh. "Fair enough, there's lots of sexy stories out there about you guys. For some reason, Harry, people are obsessed with you falling for Draco."
"Draco?! He and his whole family want me dead. Why would I fall in love with that idiot? Why not Oliver?"
Suddenly, Harry realized what he had said and turned beet red as his friends laughed. "Whoever's writing this story, please stop making me say embarrassing things!"
"Don't worry, he will. Now, forget the sex stories. Do you know why so many fans want to write their own version of your lives?"
"Because…we're magical and they're not?" Ron guessed.
"Not quite. I mean, yes, that is part of it, but the real part—the thing that really compels people to bring their own version of your stories to life—is that your lives, well, they suck."
"Huh?" all three exclaimed.
"I mean 'suck' in the sense of really, really bad things happening over and over and over until, eventually, thanks to some incredibly lucky breaks and absurd coincidences, you guys beat the bad guys and have your happily ever after."
"So we win?" Harry asked. "We beat Voldemort?"
"In canon, yes. You defeat Voldemort in your seventh year—a year that you three spend on the run, in hiding, as you hunt for…well, I'll explain what you were hunting for later. Yes, you do beat Voldemort, but not until hundreds of people die and Hogwarts is almost completely destroyed. And that's the point—fans of these books love you guys. they care about you guys, but they hate what happens to you. They hate that so many people have to die just to defeat a magic Nazi. They hate that you three are manipulated by forces outside your control. They want to give you the knowledge that Dumbledore and others refuse to divulge until they think the time is right. They want you guys to live happily ever after without all the pain and trauma.
"And that's where I, the Lone Traveller, come in. You see, the universe I come from was fan fiction from the start. In my story, I do survive and I do eventually defeat Voldemort—but not until everyone, and I mean everyone, in my life was killed along the way, including my girlfriend, you guys and all of your families, all the professors and friends at Hogwarts and Hogwarts herself. In the end, I was all alone, and I was so desperate and depressed that I did an incredibly stupid thing. I tried to send my memories back in time so my younger self could right all the wrongs. Well, that didn't work. Instead, I started traveling from universe to universe as the multiverse's fix-it man.
"And that's fine. It's great, actually, because I now have the power to help other Harrys and Hermiones and Rons out there, to spare all of you the horrors that I had to endure.
"And now, as I said before, you guys are no longer living in a Harry Potter fan fiction story. You are living in a Lone Traveller Harry Potter fan fiction story, and every single damn Lone Traveller Harry Potter story (save for, like two or three) ends with the heroes—you guys or Luke Skywalker or Delenn or whoever—defeating the forces of evil quickly and efficiently, leaving as many of your loved ones alive as possible."
"So you can just go kill Voldemort now and end the whole war?"
"I could do that, yes, but I am not going to."
"Why not?" Ron asked. "If you could stop him, why won't you?"
"Several reasons, but the biggest one is that, if I went over to Malfoy Manor where he's living right now and killed Riddle, he wouldn't actually die. Just like last time, he'd end up a spirit who would just come back, and then I'd have to do it all over again. You see, right now, he's effectively immortal. Granted, it's a really stupid kind of immortality, but if I did kill his current body, he'd have to go through that crazy ritual again to get a new one. What is keeping him from dying, you might ask? He created anchors—horcruxes they're called—to keep his soul on this plane. Until those horcruxes are destroyed, Riddle will just keep coming back over and over again. That's what happened to me, by the way. No one told me about the horcruxes and so I ended up killing Riddle several different times before I uncovered the secret."
"The hunt," Hermione said. "Is this what we're supposed to do in our seventh year, look for these horcrux things?"
Maarek nodded. "That's what you would have had to do. Now that I'm here, that's no longer your future."
The three were all smiles at that. Maarek looked out the window and saw the outskirts of London. Almost there.
"Now, I have a lot of power and could use that power to solve every problem in your lives—from Voldemort to the Dursleys to Snape being a dick. But I am, as I said, the god of free will, and in my many, many centuries of life so far, I have learned that whenever I try to solve every problem, I end up making things worse.
"But that doesn't mean I can't help you. First, Harry, do you want me to get rid of that scar on you head?"
"Are you kidding?" Harry exclaimed. "Yes! Do it!"
"You got it. Now, this is going to hurt for a bit, but it'll pass quickly. Hermione and Ron, make sure Harry stays still and be prepared to be freaked out for a second. Here goes." The Lone Traveller pulled out the elder wand, aimed it at Harry's lightning bolt scar, and sent some of his divine essence towards him until three things happened: Harry started screaming, black ooze started leaking from the scar, and a black cloud that look like a face appeared, screamed, and then vanished. Maarek dispelled the black ooze on Harry's face, and then did a quick reparo on the remaining scar until nothing was left.
Through all this, Hermione and Ron never let go of their friend and kept him from jerking around and hurting himself. When the screaming ended and the ooze was gone, Harry took a few deep breaths before looking at the Lone Traveller.
"It's gone?" he asked. Maarek nodded.
"What was that thing?" Hermione asked.
"That, my friends, was a horcrux."
The three paled. "You mean I had a piece of Riddle in my scar?"
"I'm afraid so—but not anymore. Look." Maarek conjured a mirror so Harry could see his scar-free forehead. The smile on Harry's face was so big that Hermione had tears in her eyes as she hugged him.
"Okay, I'm running out of time, guys," Maarek said as he felt the train slow down as it approached King's Cross. "I don't normally do this anymore, but… ah, screw it. I'll be right back." With that, the Lone Traveller vanished…for two seconds. Then, suddenly, he was back and wearing a slightly different colored t-shirt under his leather jacket.
"So, I'm a god, remember?" he asked. The three nodded. "That means I can do whatever the hell I want. Normally I don't use my powers unless I have to, but in this case, I decided to go back a few hours or a few days and take care of some things for you—get the ball rolling, so to speak. First, I grabbed Peter Pettigrew and took him to Amelia Bones. Do you know who she is?"
"The head of the DMLE," Ron said, "and Susan's aunt."
"Correct. I told her who I was and proved it by…well, that doesn't matter. But I handed Peter over to her and told her that your godfather was innocent, has never gotten a trial, is the current Lord Black and is your oath-sworn godfather. I then went to Sirius, told him who I was, got him to believe me (much harder), and then put he and Amelia in a room together to work out a plan. The trial is in two days. By the way, I also told her about your less than perfect living situation. She's appointed herself as your temporary guardian until an investigation can be completed. She'll be on the platform when we arrive in a few minutes, and she'll take you and Susan with her back to Bones Manor where you'll be able to stay for a few days or a few weeks until Sirius is able to claim the guardianship—be that after the trial or later on."
Tears were streaming down Harry's face at this point, and Harry couldn't help but lunge at his older counterpart and embrace him.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Harry kept exclaiming as Hermione and Ron watched on, their smiles equally bright.
"You got it, Mini Me."
"Hey!" Harry said, fake punching Maarak.
"Okay, okay, we're almost out of time. Two more things. First, Dobby!"
Dobby popped between the two Harrys. "Great Lone Traveller sir! Master Harry Potter! What can Dobby do for you?"
Maarak pulled out a small pouch, enlarged it, and handed it to Dobby. "Take this to Ragnok at Grigotts bank. He should be expecting you."
Dobby popped away, and the three looked at Maarak, who smiled.
"Those were all of Voldemort's horcruxes—including his snake, which I took when I took Pettigrew. Yeah, yeah, I know I said I wouldn't do all the work for you, but as I've discovered, this universe's ministry would have spent the next three years on their asses while a madman went on killing spree after killing spree, and your Dumbledore would still have expected the three of you to do all the hard work by hunting down these abominations. So screw them all. You've done your part. It's time for the adults to take over that burden.
"Anyways, horcruxes. The goblins can remove the soul pieces without destroying the priceless objects they're housed in. Then they will place those objects in your vault so you can do what you want with them. I'd suggest you ask Amelia to take you to Gringotts soon to meet with the Potter account manager. Your parents will has never been read, and that document is filled with surprises—for you and also for Dumbledore."
Ron looked over at a smiling Harry and wondered when Maarek would get to him. Maarek didn't even need to read Ron's thoughts to know what he was thinking, so he said, "Ron and Hermione, if it seems like all my attention is centered around helping Harry and not helping either of you—consider this: how much better will your life be if you don't have to worry about Harry or all the problems that follow him?"
Ron looked at Hermione, who was nodding at him. "Think about it, Ron: no more worrying about Harry over the summer, no more defense teachers trying to kill us, and maybe no more Riddle!"
Hermione's right, Ron thought. A year without any of us almost dying would be amazing. Still, he was hoping for a Firebolt.
The train was almost at the station and the platform was within view. Maarak felt the pull that would take him away from this universe, but he had one more gift for Harry and his friends.
"I haven't solved all your problems, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and it would be a disservice to you if I did. There are still a lot of problems in this world—Voldemort's mortal but he and his Death Eaters are still around, the Ministry and the press are corrupt, there's rampant bigotry all over the place, Dumbledore is far too invested in controlling Harry's life, and of course Snape is still a bastard. I can't suddenly solve all these problems for you, but I can show you how to do it yourself."
With that, Maarak pulled out what looked like Tom Riddle's diary only it didn't stink of evil. He handed it to Hermione, of course.
"In that notebook, you'll find every J.K. Rowling Harry Potter book and every fan fiction story set in the Harry Potter universe that's ever been written and ever will be written in any universe—including the story we're living in right now. Within that book, you'll find the answers to any problems you might ever encounter for the rest of your lives. If nothing else, they'll be a good laugh. Oh and Ron?" Ron looked at him expectantly. "Remember: none of the Rons in those stories are you. Got it?"
Ron didn't know what to make of that, so he simply nodded and looked over at Hermione who was already salivating at the chance to read so many versions of her own and her friends' stories. There would be a goldmine of information there, she was sure.
"And this brings me to my final point," the Lone Traveller said as he stood and the sound of orchestral music swelled behind him. "Before today, you guys were, effectively, canon fodder—you were puppets at the whim of an author who was trying her best to create a series of magical hero's journeys. You were thrown back and forth by the tides of plot structure and by the bloodlust of readers. Today, you became the fodder for a fan fiction writer who may or may not know what the hell he's talking about. But that's over now. As the god of knowledge and free will, I free you from the chains imposed upon you by others. It's time to write your own stories and live your own lives. From here on out, you make the choices.
"Did you hear that, Mr. fan fiction writer? Leave them alone!"