Chapter 9: The Backstep

—

"Daphne?" he asked as he looked back up at the beautiful celestial standing over him.

"Yes, Harry, it's me," Destiny replied. She was now waving her hands around above the pod. Harry could see an interface that looked like a hologram floating between them.

"But how?" Harry asked, still confused.

"There's no time to explain," Destiny frowned. "If this timeline doesn't work and you come back to me I swear I'll tell you everything I know about why I'm here."

A phone rang. There was a corded phone on a hook on a desk near the pod Harry was laying in. The Dursly's had a similar landline in their kitchen in Little Whinging.

"Hello?" Destiny said, holding the phone up to one ear. Harry only heard one side of the conversation. "Yes, Sir… Yes, Sir… no he's not been here long… I'm sending him back right now… No, Sir, standard procedures as always. I did explain where he was so he would comply. Nothing more… Yes, Sir, that's fine, you can come watch me send him back if you want to… No, Sir, strictly a professional conversation… Yes, see you in a moment, Sir." Daphne hung up the phone.

"Shit! Harry, I'm not supposed to have this," she said, holding out the memory of the life when Harry was with Daphne. She opened the pod and handed it to him. "I'm supposed to destroy all your memories, not keep them. You need to hide it for me. Drink it quickly or I'll be in huge trouble! I was in such a rush… I was supposed to get an empty bottle for your memory wipe but I forgot to get one. I need this bottle to be empty. I'll get this memory back out of you when I wipe you.

Harry drank as he was told. He'd only seen snippets of his life with Daphne in the Pensive, but now he could see his whole life with her. He could see how much he loved her. He could see how close they were.

"I don't understand," Harry said, beginning to sob. "Daphne… My Love… How are you a celestial?"

"I'm not your Daphne here, My Love. Here, I'm your Destiny," Destiny said. She caressed his hair before retrieving the empty bottle. "He's coming. Keep your eyes closed and pretend I've already wiped your memory. I'll get him to leave and I'll wipe your memory before I send you."

Harry was about to protest when the door swung open. Harry shut his eyes and feigned sleep.

"Hello, Destiny," said a soft spoken male voice. "How is our hero faring?"

"He came closer to winning this last time than he's ever come before, Sir," Destiny said. "I think he just might get it this time."

"This has been a tricky one hasn't it?" The man asked.

"Yes, Sir," Destiny responded. "But he can do it. I know he can."

"I see you have already wiped his memory," the man said. "I haven't seen a soul being sent back in a long time. I'm rather looking forward to it. It's so funny how their little body just goes… poof, you know?"

"Er… yes, Sir," Destiny replied hesitantly. "So you're, er… staying?"

"You're ready to send him now, right?" the voice said. "Go ahead and send him."

"Er… yes, Sir…" Destiny said. "Goodbye, Harry," she added softly. "And good luck…"

—

Fourteen year-old Harry Potter opened his eyes with a start, dropping his butterbeer in the process. The bottle clunked and rolled under the seat.

"Alright there, Harry," George grinned. "You didn't fall asleep, did you? We've only been in the carriage a few minutes."

"I think the bumpy road rocked him to sleep like an ickle baby, right Harrykins?" Fred smiled.

"I, er… yeah, I think I did fall asleep," Harry said hesitantly. He tried to look at the twins but his head was spinning. What a weird dream he'd had. Was it even possible to dream if he'd only had his eyes closed for a moment?

Harry closed his eyes again and tried to focus on the present. It was fourth year. He was on his way back to the castle after a fun Easter break at home with his family…. And then a sudden moment of realization hit him. It was real. The dream… It wasn't a dream. All of it was real. He could see all of it as clear as day. Destiny. The inbetween. Hundreds of other timelines…

His eyes snapped open and he looked around. "Ginny!" he said, wrapping his arm around his sister.

"Merlin's balls, Harry, what?" Ginny jumped, pushing him away. "You nearly made me drop my butterbeer."

"I… you… how…" But Harry couldn't form a sentence. He suddenly had a very strong headache.

"Did you hit your head or something?" Ron asked once he noticed Harry holding his head.

"Maybe he dreamt he hit his head," George laughed.

The carriage came to a stop in the courtyard and Harry was the first to stumble out of it.

"Mione!" he groaned, rushing towards her and pulling her into a hug. Hermione had been sitting in the courtyard reading, awaiting their return.

"Harry, is something wrong?" Hermione asked with concern.

"I… you…" but before he could say anymore he doubled over and vomited at her feet.

"Eww," Ginny said, approaching Harry from behind. She rubbed her hand on his back. "Too many every flavor beans, Harry?"

"Memories… not sick… memories," Harry managed to get out between waves. Hermione, who had backed away now knelt beside Harry. His spit up was silvery and did not at all look like it was from his stomach.

"Harry, why are you spitting up memories?" Hermione squeaked.

"Don't… loose them…" he said as his body clenched, he retched, and yet another wave of silvery blue memories poured out of him.

"Give me that," Hermione said standing up rushing over to Fred who was holding a mostly drunk bottle of butter beer

"Oi! I was gonna drink that!" Fred frowned as Hermione dumped the bottle and cast a quick cleaning charm on its insides. She then levitated up his memories and put them in the bottle. The memories had pooled on the cobblestone in the courtyard and Hermione had managed to collect them all.

"I need a cork," Hermione said, looking up expectantly at the Weasley's.

"Ginny took them all to make a necklace for Luna," Ron informed.

"Oh yeah… hold on," Ginny said, fishing a cork out of her pocket.

"Harry, why are you spitting up memories?" Hermione repeated as she put the cork on the bottle. As she did so, a label appeared on the side of the bottle. Harry recognized Destiny's handwriting. It read '50, S, DG' in green ink.

"I didn't know you could take memories out of your head," Ron said.

"That's seventh year stuff," George said.

"That seems like a lot of memories," Fred smirked. "Has he got anything left in his head?"

"Oh my gods!" Harry groaned. "D…Dumbledore… I need to see Dumbledore."

"I was going to suggest him or McGonagall," Hermione nodded, holding the bottle carefully.

"Well, he's not dying, so I think we'll be off," Fred said. "You're not dying, right Harry?" Harry, unable to speak now due to his headache, gave a thumbs up instead. Fred and Geroge walked off towards Gryffindor tower. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione all went with Harry towards Dumbledore's office.

"Shit," Harry groaned as they were halfway there. He doubled over and began to vomit all over again. Wordlessly, Ron handed his empty butterbeer bottle to Hermione who cleaned it and began to collect the new memory. After several seconds it became clear that Harry was done spitting up for now. Ginny offered Hermione another cork and she stoppered the second bottle. Harry watched as the second bottle also was magically given a label. It read '102 G GW' and was written in red ink.

Harry was still able to vaguely recall his last lifetime and also the dark timeline when he had chosen murder, but he was not overwhelmed with the full knowledge of three lifetimes all in his head at once.

"Hold onto that bottle, Ginny," Harry managed to say and he got to his feet and continued to Dumbledore's office. "I might have more… not sure…"

"Good, you can talk again," Ron said. "Harry, do you know what the fuck is happening?"

"Language, Ronald," Hermione scoffed.

"Yes," Harry said simply. "Need… Dumbledore."

Harry knew he had the love memories of a hundred lifetimes in his head still and wasn't sure if those would come flowing out too. Upon arrival at the stone gargoyles guarding the office, Hermione politely asked to see the headmaster. Nothing happened.

"Cockroach cluster," Harry grumbled. The gargoyles lept aside.

"How did you know the password?" Ginny asked.

Harry didn't bother trying to respond. Instead he sprinted up the spiral staircase and barged through the door at the top. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were close behind him.

"Professor! I…" but before Harry could say anymore, he was on the floor vomiting again. This time the memories didn't pool properly. It was like he'd spit up a hundred tiny marbles, though all were silvery just like the first two memories."

"Gross," Ginny repeated, handing her butterbeer bottle to Hermione. Hermione handed both filled bottles to Ron before taking the empty one from Ginny.

"Harry, we're out of bottles, so cut it out, would you?" Ginny added. Dumbledore observed curiously as Hermione scooped up the little memories with her wand. The last bottle labeled itself 'miscellaneous' in gold ink.

"That should be all of them," Harry said, his headache finally abating.

"Professor, Harry just spit up all these memories," Hermione said, setting the corked bottle on his desk. Ron set down the other two.

"This is far too many memories for one person to have in their mind at once," Dumbledore said. "No wonder you spit them up. Harry, have you been going around stealing memories?" The twinkle in his eye told Harry he was joking.

"No, Sir, that's Lockhart's job," he grinned. Ron sniggered.

"Harry, do you know how these memories came to be inside your head?" Dumbledore asked calmly. "What can you tell me about them? I'm afraid there is so much memory here it would take two to three lifetimes for me to view it all in my pensive." He gestured towards the cabinet upon which sat his pensive.

"Two to three lifetimes is right, Professor… you're all going to want to sit down," Harry said.

Dumbledore conjured a few extra chairs and everyone had a seat.

"I'm… uh… from the future," Harry said. "Well, not the future of this timeline we're in… rather, the future of a similar timeline… This timeline," he said, pointing at the bottle with red ink. Ron and Ginny both raised an eyebrow. Hermione gasped. Dumbledore simply nodded.

"Do you mean, Harry, that you believe these memories to be from the future? Or perhaps, alternate futures?" Dumbledore asked.

"Er, yes Sir," Harry nodded. "I suppose, I'm not actually from the future. I just have memories of possible futures…alternate timelines…" he said, pointing at the bottle labeled with green ink. "That future was about a hundred and fifty lifetimes ago I think… this one," he gestured back towards the bottle labeled with red ink, "Is my most recent timeline."

Harry explained briefly about dying, going to the inbetween, and meeting a celestial, He skipped the part where the timeline they were currently in was handcrafted by himself and the celestial and instead simply said that the celestial allowed him to view a few other memories of his previous lifes.

"She was supposed to wipe my memory and she was supposed to send my soul all the way back to my date of birth," Harry concluded. "That's what she's done every time before. But neither of those things happened this time."

"Harry," Hermione said. "How many times has your soul been sent back?" Hermione asked timidly.

"About two hundred times I believe, though I am only aware of about twenty of those lifetimes, and I only have a copy of two of them… these two," Harry replied.

"Why's this one different?" Ginny asked, pointing at the bottle labeled with gold letters.

"Each of those beads is all my memories about the person I loved across about a hundred lifetimes," Harry said. "My, er… soulmates."

"How do you know what's in them if they aren't in your head anymore?" Ron asked.

"I can mostly recall them, but only if I focus on a particular aspect of the memory's contents," Harry said.

"This is what happens when a person removes their own memories from their head," Dumbledore nodded. "If I were to provide you with, perhaps, the memory of what I ate for breakfast today, I could only recall what that was if I specifically chose to think of breakfast. Otherwise, the memory is not in my mind. I still have the information, but it is not a conscious memory, it is subconscious."

"Thank you for that explanation, Sir, that's exactly how I feel regarding these other timelines," Harry said. "I have a full lifetime's worth of subconscious knowledge of about twenty possible futures as well as limited emotional subconscious knowledge from about a hundred."

"Say something that's going to happen," Ron said skeptically.

"You are quite likely to marry Lavender… or Hermione," Harry said quickly. "I don't know the future of this timeline we're in, so I can't be sure. I did know the password for this office though, didn't I?"

Ron gave Hermione a look of bewilderment.

"Who do I marry?" Ginny asked eagerly.

"Me," he responded automatically. "Well sometimes me. You don't get married and you focus on a career in quidditch in the timelines you don't marry me. I usually die by age thirty-five, so if you get married after that, I don't know."

Ginny blushed heavily as this response. "But you're… my brother, Harry," Ginny said.

"Your mum doesn't adopt me in most of the timelines I'm aware of," Harry shrugged. "I'm not usually your brother."

"As curious as I may be about who will marry whom in the future, I feel like there are more important things to discuss," Hermione said suddenly.

"Indeed, Miss Granger, I still have many questions," Dumbledore said. "Harry, my boy, I don't believe it would be worth my time to try to observe any of these memories as they would take too long to view in a pensive. Would you be willing to meet with me periodically if I need insight into possibilities the future may hold?"

"Yes, of course," Harry said. "That's why I came straight here when I got the memories."

"Then I will schedule our first meeting for some time this week," Dumbledore smiled. "But for now, is there anything urgent you wish to tell me about our future?"

"We need to discuss what Professor Slughorn told Tom," Harry said. "Tom made seven of them."

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" said Ginny.

"Who's Tom?" said Ron.

"Seven of what, Harry?" said Hermione.

"Slughorn was potions master before Snape," Harry replied. "And by Tom I mean Tom Riddle… Voldemort… as for that last thing, sorry Hermione, but I'm relatively certain that Professor Dumbledore is not ready for you all to know that just yet. If my past lives he didn't want any of us to know until we were seventeen, or sometimes sixteen."

"Quite right, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I would ask that the three of you allow me a few minutes alone with Harry."

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione got up and left.

"Would you like to freeze the portraits, Sir?" Harry suggested. "That's right Phineas, I know you're only pretending to sleep."