Chapter 2

The underground stone room was dark and still. The only source of light was a dim white glow emanating from strange symbols carved onto a mysterious gateway standing in the center of the room, atop a pedestal. Quiet whispers slowly drifted out from within the gateway, where ethereal curtains of transparent shimmering silver hung in the air.

Suddenly, a disturbance appeared in the rippling Veil. As if the cloth-like sheets had been pulled taut by an unseen hand, the shimmering silver curtains tightened and lost their soft wrinkles. The Veil gained texture and solidified, as if gradually shifting into reality, but the silvery material still trembled as if under immense strain. The stones forming the archway soon began to tremble as well, shaking loose dirt and dust and causing small spidery cracks to begin to snake across brightly shining white runes.

The silent whispers began to rise in reaction to the disturbance, slowly transforming into an incomprehensible cacophony of human moans, animalistic shouts, and unnatural ringing. The dust that had covered the stone room for millennia flew up into the air, vibrating in intense discord.

Then, just as the tension seemed to reach a breaking point, the Veil tore open, as if two hands had managed to rip apart the curtains. All sounds froze into silence, as a bedraggled man covered in red dust was flung out from the rip in reality, causing him to sprawl across the steps of the pedestal in front of the Veil. The moment the man exited the gateway, the unstable rip seemed to collapse into itself. Silvery curtains twisted unnaturally, blinking out of existence, while the pale glow of the gateway runes seemed to drain into nothingness. Then, the trembling of the arch stopped. The light from the grey stone archway faded, and the room fell back into a more complete darkness than before.

Harry groaned as he picked himself up from his awkwardly sprawled position on the stone stairs. Still cursing his inane decision to tempt fate, he kept his eyes tightly shut, hoping against hope that he would see the bright noon sun shining against the stone walls of the excavated chamber and the concerned faces of the rest of his research team and … nope. Harry stood up and opened his eyes, only to see complete darkness.

Taking deep breaths to calm his beating heart, Harry took stock of his body. He couldn't feel his Invisibility Cloak wrapped around him anymore. His holly wand was in his arm holster. His pouch containing his rune analysis tools and personal items was on his belt, while his other pouch containing his travel documents and money was in his pocket. He was wearing the same clothes as he was before - hiking boots, hardy work pants, belt and jacket. Everything seemed to be in order, except his Cloak seemed to have disappeared.

Deciding to first check out his surroundings, Harry snapped his wand into his hand and whispered "Lumos". Looking around at the brightly lit room, Harry saw that it appeared to be the same exact chamber, except that the ceiling was no longer open to the air, but rather now made of the same stone as the walls. Turning around, Harry stared at the pedestal and what looked like the remains of the grey archway. It appeared that the gateway had collapsed after he was pushed out, with the stone crumbled and chunks of rocks covered in runes fallen to the ground.

No sign of his Invisibility Cloak could be seen.

Harry sat down on the stairs in the center of the room, running his left hand through his hair. From the detailed studies he had done on the Veil after joining the research division of the Department of Mysteries, the leading theory on what happened to people who crossed the Veil was that they were transported to another dimension, an alternate universe. Since no one ever came back after they had crossed, it was assumed to be a one-way trip. From the looks of the sealed dark room he was in and the lack of any excavation team members shouting at him for destroying the gateway, this was Harry's best guess for what had just happened to him.

The other theory was that the Veil would just cause sudden death. Since Harry had already experienced a bit of what death was like, he thought that this stone chamber was a bit too different to be the afterlife. If he were really dead, Harry thought that Dumbledore or his parents would have already shown up, and he would be in King's Cross waiting for his next great adventure or something. So, right now he would go with the dimensional theory.

Thinking back to his trip across dimensions, Harry felt that it seemed a bit anticlimactic. He was expecting something that felt similar to apparition or portkey, except much stronger. Strangely however, he didn't feel anything when he touched the grey Veil. He just flew through one end and then came out the other.

After coming to terms with his situation, Harry felt a pang of guilt. He put his head in his hands and felt some tears in his eyes. Not only had he not managed to find a way to get his godfather Sirius back, he himself had been dragged into the gateway a mere four years after Sirius. Harry thought of his godson Teddy, his friends Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Neville, and the Weasley family. He thought of his team members in Australia and his snarky mentor Trevor Lapis, who had taught him so much about warding and enchantments despite him basically using his fame to get a position on the team.

Harry had let them all down, especially his godson Teddy. Harry had promised to himself that he wouldn't be like Sirius, and wouldn't be the godfather that foolishly abandoned his charge. He had left Teddy with Andromeda, vowing that after he finished figuring out where Sirius went, and after he finished snuffing out the guilt in his heart, he would be the godfather for Teddy that Sirius couldn't be for Harry. Yet in a moment of rashness and stupidity, he had thrown it all away, just like when Sirius went after Peter that fateful night. The worst part was, Harry was pretty sure that unlike Sirius, he would never have the chance to apologize to his godson.

Allowing himself to sink into his guilt, Harry took a few minutes to curse himself, curse the stupid Veil, and curse fate for dragging him into yet another stupid adventure after only managing to enjoy a couple years of relaxing normalcy. The only sounds in the dark room were from Harry's occasional sighs, as depressing thoughts whirled through his head.

After he composed himself, Harry contemplated his options. Assuming he was in an alternate universe, Harry would first need to figure out if he had traveled through time as well. Then, he had to figure out if this alternate dimension was significantly different from his own. Finally, Harry would have two main goals - first, figure out a way to travel back to his own universe. Second, look for possible signs of Sirius. Although Harry had traveled through a different archway in Australia rather than the one in London, there was still a small chance Sirius had ended up here as well.

With a plan in mind, Harry found renewed energy to stand up. If he could survive the Dursleys, dodge 7 years of murder attempts, and defeat Voldemort, surely, he could do something as trivial as leaving an alternate dimension, right?

Deciding to keep the remnants of stone rubble that used to form the Veil in case he wanted to try to reconstruct the archway, Harry waved his wand to shrink the rune-covered rocks and levitated them into one of his spare moleskin pouches. As he did so, Harry noticed a slight fatigue in his body.

Confused, Harry realized that he was experiencing magical exhaustion. Previously, Harry had needed to cast many powerful spells before he would experience this level of fatigue, since he was a relatively powerful wizard. How come now he was feeling tired after only a shrinking and levitating spell?

Deciding to try some other spells, Harry raised his wand and positioned himself to the side of the room. He needed to blast himself out of the chamber, and the closest way would be through the ceiling. Aiming at the far corner, Harry first put out his lumos spell, then moved his wand in a triangular motion and shouted, "Bombarda Maxima!"

A surge of power forced out of his wand, blasting a chunk of the ceiling into rubble. However, immediately after the spell Harry felt much more tired than he had before. He had to struggle just to keep his wand arm level. Taking in deep breaths, Harry considered the results of his spell after lighting up his wand again. A good ten feet of ceiling had fallen into the chamber, leaving a large amount of dust in the air. It seemed like the same amount of power as he had before (although he hadn't had to throw around a bombarda maxima in years), but the amount it took out of him to cast the spell was much higher.

It seemed like crossing dimensions had caused him to lose a lot of magical power. Harry slumped down against the stone wall, exhausted, and sighed again into his hands. 'Looks like this will take a while …"

Around ten hours later, a powerful explosion collapsed a portion of the ground in the arid Australian grasslands. Red dirt and brown soil tumbled into the sinkhole, raining down into a dark chamber. A few moments later, an exhausted Harry Potter covered in grime rose out from the underground room on his Firebolt.

A chilly night breeze brushed past, a refreshing change from the stale, dusty air of the Veil chamber. Looking up, Harry saw that it was already night. This far from the cities, the night sky was brilliantly clear, although Harry couldn't recognize many constellations due to Australia being in the Southern Hemisphere. From the position of the moon, the time couldn't be after midnight either, which fit assuming that he had traveled to this dimension sometime around noon.

Observing the area around the small hole he had made, Harry noticed no sign of the excavation team and no tents. It seemed like no one had discovered the chamber in this dimension. That would either mean he had jumped back in time, or the Australians had never dug up the location.

Harry had been trapped in the underground room for over ten hours, so he needed shelter and food. He decided to try to get to Wagga Wagga to rest up and gather information before deciding on his next step.

Forgoing apparition in case he splinched himself in his exhaustion, Harry was about to set off on his broom before he suddenly looked back. He needed to hide the chamber entrance in case he needed to come back and reconstruct the Veil or study the site – it would be a major hassle to deal with the Australian Ministry if they discovered the room.

Resigning himself to using more magic, Harry sighed and waved his wand, levitating some of the surrounding ground to bury the hole he made. Afterwards, he tapped his wand on his head, shivering as the disillusionment charm trickled down his body and over his clothes and broom. Slumping down onto the Firebolt, utterly exhausted, he guided the broom to shoot to the east.

The chilly night air blew past Harry's hair, brushing off the soil and dust that had settled on him after all the demolition curses. Harry idly wondered where his Invisibility Cloak had gone after he had passed through to this dimension. He remembered being bound tightly by the Cloak before being tossed into the gateway, but somehow after passing through the Cloak suddenly disappeared. Maybe the Cloak was some type of sacrifice to the Veil, some payment for traveling between dimensions?

Although he was a little saddened that he couldn't find the Cloak that had helped him through so much during his Hogwarts years, Harry still held a bit of irrational anger towards the piece of cloth. Why did the bloody thing suddenly want to jump into the Veil? And it had the guts to drag him in as well!

Now he was trapped in this new dimension, his magical endurance mysteriously lowered, the Cloak gone, and with no identity and no citizenship in any country. Would his counterpart still be alive? Would this world's Sirius be alive? Harry knew that some theories of dimensional travel hypothesized that two people couldn't exist at the same time, even across dimensions.

Harry shook his head. There wasn't much point to worrying right now. His best way to find out more was to get a hold of a copy of the Daily Prophet, which usually would only be delivered to Sydney.

For now, Harry concentrated on the vast stretches of scrubland whipping past underneath. The lands were covered in darkness, with specks of electric lights clustered here and there to indicate muggle towns. Narrow trails of golden light connected the towns, forming thin, spidery patterns that stood out against the land. When contrasted with the star-scattered sky, the Australian night held an almost awe-inspiring beauty.

Harry followed one of the larger highways to his destination. His expedition team back in his own dimension had passed through Wagga Wagga for quick resupplies, since it was the closest magical town to the Veil chamber. Harry easily pinpointed the stretch of magical buildings on the outskirts of the muggle side of Wagga Wagga.

Landing at the head of the dirt road that formed the main street of the small enclave, Harry stored his Firebolt and walked into a shabby wooden townhouse that served as the town's inn. The inside was warm and homely, with a burning fireplace and a couple road-weary travelers eating at their tables.

Harry ordered some roast lamb and sat down at the counter. As he was waiting for his food, he saw a stack of newspapers in the corner of the inn. He quickly stood back up and strode over to the stack, picking up the top copy.

It was the newest edition of the Billywig Times, the biggest Australian newspaper. Above the Quidditch scores section (reporting the results of a recent match between the Thundelarra Thunderers and the Woollongong Warriors) was the date of publication – July 1st, 1995.

The bed was soft and comfy. Heavy blankets pressed down on him, forming a warm cocoon. The smell of clean linen drifted into his nose, interspersed with hints of mountain ash wood and cooked meat.

Blinking awake, Harry stared blankly up at the wooden ceiling of his room. The soft brown wood was lit up by sheaths of morning sunlight that shone in from a window to his left. Slowly, he began to realize he wasn't sleeping on his hard cot in his wizard's tent, nor in his larger bed back in Grimmauld Place. Instead, Harry was lying in a small inn in Wagga Wagga, Australia, in an entirely separate dimension, in the year 1995.

Last night, Harry was too tired for the shock of the newspaper's date to really sink in. Only now, left much more clear-headed after a restful night's sleep, did Harry finally begin to consider what 1995 really meant.

July 1st, 1995 marked the ending of his fourth year and beginning of his fifth year. It was only a week after he had won the Triwizard Tournament; a week since Cedric had died; a week since Voldemort had returned. Harry still remembered the pain and regret over Cedric's death. He wondered if the same thing had happened in this dimension. Was the Triwizard Tournament still held? Was his counterpart lying on his bed in Privet Drive, drowning in guilt like Harry remembered himself doing that summer?

Harry thought about what his next step would be. His top priorities were to find a way to return to his original world, and to find any signs that Sirius had crossed over. Given that the Veil he had gone through had crumbled into dust, his best chance of getting back would be the London Veil in the British Department of Mysteries. If Sirius had come to this dimension, he would most likely have also ended up in the Department of Mysteries.

'Back to the Unspeakables, I guess,' Harry thought.

However, the fact that he had traveled back in time also presented a new opportunity. People that had died in his dimension could be alive here … and Harry knew himself best. If there really was a chance to save Cedric, save Sirius, save Remus and Tonks and Fred and Dumbledore and all the others who had died in the war, he would never be able to ignore it. Harry would do whatever it took, come hell or high water. And if he managed to relieve the burden from his 14-year-old self, and allow himself the chance for a real childhood? All the better.

This, of course, was only if there were no major differences between dimensions. The quickest way to find out was to get a recent copy of the Daily Prophet.

Driven by renewed purpose, Harry finally found the motivation to climb out of bed. After Harry got dressed, he scarfed down some eggs for breakfast and quickly strode out of the inn. Fixing the image of Sydney's magical quarter in his mind, Harry apparated.

Port Mantle was a stretch of wharf east of the Sydney Opera House, situated on a stretch of land muggles had named Potts Point. Hidden from Muggle eyes, the waterfront was filled with all manners of magical sea transport – 11th century Song Dynasty junks bobbed alongside 18th century British schooners in the gentle waves of the Tasman Sea, while a giant passenger liner that looked suspiciously like the RMS Titanic was anchored right next to the apparition point where Harry appeared.

It was a beautiful, clear day in Sydney. Ships arrived and departed regularly from the busy magical port, sailing under a deep blue sky. Many naval vessels looked shoddily maintained and had odd bits and parts sticking out asymmetrically, reminding Harry of the Burrow. No matter how dilapidated the ships, however, they always cut through wind and water with ease.

Harry watched as a bright golden sailboat named The Snitch passed by, its two wing-like sails rippling in the ocean breeze. The white sails were decorated with fluttering snitches that darted in and out of sight, just like the seagulls that dipped and weaved above the waters of the bay. The boat brushed past a muggle cargo ship with unnatural quickness despite the wind blowing against the boat's direction, and suddenly accelerated out into the open sea, leaving white-crested waves in its wake. Soon, even the golden glimmering of its hull vanished over the horizon.

Shaking his head at the eccentricities of wizards everywhere, Harry made his way briskly down the crowded seaside walk, looking for a newspaper stand. As he breathed in the salty sea wind, Harry considered how he was going to get back to Britain.

Harry and the rest of his British research team had arrived in Australia through international portkey. Unfortunately, international portkey was strictly regulated and required official government documentation. Harry, being a dimensional traveler, naturally could not use his old documentation. Even if his papers allowed him to obtain a portkey, he would still risk the Australian or British Ministries realizing that "Harry Potter" had never registered for an official ID. The last thing Harry needed was Aurors tracking him down and asking him uncomfortable questions.

That left him with two options. One, Harry could apparate halfway across the globe to Britain, essentially hopping from one magical enclave to another. Given his current magical weakness and unfamiliarity with the route, it would probably take Harry a couple days to make the trip, not to mention tire him out.

The other option was to take one of the shabby ocean vessels docked on the quays. The cleaner and more expensive sea vessels required documentation, but Harry knew a couple of the shadier options worked much like the Knight Bus – one only needed to pay a fee to board. The route would make trips to various magical ports around the world in an unpredictable order, but even in the worst case he would still be able to reach London on the same day.

The second option was much more appealing. Glad that he had the foresight to exchange Galleons for Australian wizarding currency, Harry finally spotted a small newspaper shack that carried press from around the world. Eager to get his first glimpse into the situation in England, Harry hurriedly ran over to pay for a copy of the latest Daily Prophet.

On the front page, printed in dark, bold letters, was the headline: "HOGWARTS LEAVING FEAST PAYS TRIBUTE TO STUDENT DEATH".

Right underneath, in slightly smaller text: "DEATH EATER SUSPECT SIRIUS BLACK STILL AT LARGE".

Two moving pictures were printed underneath the headlines. On the left was the mugshot of Sirius Black that Harry knew so well. It had been printed everywhere over Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade during his third year. On the right was a shot of the Great Hall, with Dumbledore giving the traditional leaving feast speech before tables of Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts students. Black drapes hung over the teachers' table, and the students and teachers were all standing, raising their goblets.

The Leaving Feast scene left Harry with a feeling of déjà vu. Although Harry knew that he had no control over when the Veil had dropped him into this dimension, a wave of sadness still passed over him at the confirmation of Cedric's death. Confused as to why Sirius was in the news, Harry moved on to the article.

Last night, the traditional Hogwarts Leaving Feast paid tribute to the tragic death of 6th year Hufflepuff student Cedric Diggory. During the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament last week, a Death Eater polyjuiced as the Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Alastor Moody entered the maze where the contestants were competing to reach the Triwizard Cup. After reaching the center of the maze, the Death Eater, suspected to be known fugitive Sirius Black, attacked both Cedric Diggory and the Girl-Who-Lived, Iris Potter, in a possible kidnapping attempt. Although Headmaster Albus Dumbledore managed to arrive in time to stop the battle, Cedric Diggory was tragically killed before the Headmaster arrived, and the Death Eater escaped through use of a tampered portkey.

The presence of a Death Eater on the Hogwarts staff explains how the Girl-Who-Lived, Iris Potter, was entered into the Triwizard Tournament against her will. It also calls into question Headmaster Dumbledore's hiring practices yet again. With a werewolf and a half-giant among previous hires, can we really trust our sons and daughters to be safe at a Hogwarts run by Dumbledore?

One young student whose death was caused by Dumbledore's negligence was Cedric Diggory. Cedric Diggory was a model son, prefect, and captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Admired by his fellow students and teachers alike, Cedric will be sorely missed by all. Amos Diggory, Cedric's father, had this to say: "My boy was all we could have asked for in a son … good, loyal, and kind, the pride of our life. All I can hope for now is that his killer be brought to justice."

With regards to the escaped Death Eater and suspected murderer of Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black, the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge reiterated his warnings to the public from last year: "Black is a most dangerous individual … completely mad. Just look at the tragedy at the tournament! The community must continue to be on alert. I vow to you as Minister of Magic that I will do my best to bring the young boy's killer to justice …"

We at the Daily Prophet also wish to extend heartfelt condolences to Iris Potter, who's blossoming relationship with Cedric Diggory became well-known after the Hogwarts Yule Ball in December. We can only hope that the Girl-Who-Lived will be able to recover from the tragic loss of her star-crossed lover.

For more information on Sirius Black, turn to page 3. For a summary of the tragic romance between Cedric Diggory and the Girl-Who-Lived, turn to page 4. For more information on Hogwarts' safety track record under Headmaster Dumbledore, turn to page 5.

Halfway through reading the article, Harry had to find a nearby bench and sit down. Thoughts and speculations rushed through his head, but the most prominent one was that – he was a girl. Well, not him specifically, but the him (her?) in this world. Harry really wasn't sure what he felt about that.

'Hmm … I guess now I know what Mom and Dad would have named me if I had been a girl …' After a few minutes of trying to wrap his head around this major difference between the two dimensions, he finally turned his attention back to the rest of the article.

The assertion that Sirius Black was the disguised Death Eater was clearly an attempt by Fudge to cover-up the fact that Barty Crouch Jr. had escaped from Azkaban under the Ministry's nose. Harry knew that if the Ministry had questioned the real Alastor Moody, they would have discovered that it was the younger Crouch along with Pettigrew who attacked Moody before the school year began.

'But then again, this is an entirely new dimension. What if Sirius really was the Death Eater here? How much can I rely on my previous knowledge?'

Harry shook his head. There was no way that Sirius would have joined Voldemort. Questioning everything he previously knew would only lead to madness.

Harry furrowed his brows, reading over the article again. Going back to the reported events, assuming that Moody was impersonated by Crouch Jr. like in his dimension, why would he enter the maze during the Third Task? The tampered portkey had to be the Triwizard Cup – if so, Crouch just had to wait for Iris to take the cup, right?

Perhaps Cedric was about to win instead of Iris. Or maybe they noticed something wrong about the Cup, and decided not to grab it?

Either way, now Harry had to consider what Voldemort would do without the blood of his enemy, forcibly taken. Best case scenario, Voldemort would be fixated on Iris' blood and try to concoct another plan to kidnap her, delaying his resurrection. That would give Dumbledore time to prepare, if Dumbledore realized the Imposter Moody was acting on Voldemort's orders.

Worst case, Voldemort would give up on Iris' blood and have his servants kidnap another "enemy" who was easier to kidnap. Voldemort would then resurrect the same as before, but it would still leave him vulnerable to the blood protection running in Iris' veins.

Harry realized his conclusions relied on a lot of assumptions. He had to return to Britain and gather more information before he could use his future knowledge effectively.

Reading over the article yet again, Harry noticed that the Daily Prophet seemed to have a more favorable opinion of his dimensional counterpart when compared with his own Daily Prophet. The article never questioned if Iris had put her name in herself, and there was no mention of her being crazy or having visions or seeking attention. Dumbledore's name was still dragged through the mud as usual, though.

Did being a girl mean people automatically treated you nicer, he wondered? Or was his dimensional counterpart (sister? twin?) just more likeable than him? The thought stung a little. Still, at least Iris wouldn't have to worry about Umbridge setting dementors on her to try to expel her. She never saw Voldemort in person, so she didn't go against the Ministry by claiming Voldemort was back.

Feeling a bit better now that he knew Iris wasn't in immediate danger from dementors, Harry decided to learn more about his female self and her alleged relationship with Cedric. He turned to the gossip columns on page 4, where his eyes were immediately drawn to a photo of Cedric and a dark-haired girl, taken during what looked like the Yule Ball.

Iris wore a flowing, light-colored dress as she waltzed in time with Cedric. Her right hand was outstretched and held in Cedric's hand, while her left was placed elegantly on her partner's shoulders. Familiar green eyes were lit up with mirth as she looked up, and a small smile played on her lips, as if she were privy to a secret no one else knew. Long messy hair styled in a waterfall braid fell to her waist, while dark curls hung on both sides of her face. Underneath her parted hair, a pale, lightning-shaped scar could barely be made out on her forehead.

The two glided gracefully across the dance floor, moving with an utter confidence that Harry wasn't sure he could ever possess. It was the quintessential picture of a power couple. Even in the small photo, Harry could tell they were the stars of the ball.

He wasn't sure what he had expected a female version of himself to look like, but it wasn't this. Oh, there was nothing wrong with her physical features, per se – her facial shape was like his, although her chin and nose were more like Lily than James. Her scar was in the same position as his, her eyes the same shape, and he could tell her hair was just as messy. She didn't wear glasses, but they could still be mistaken as twins if they stood side by side.

It was the way she held herself - the poise and self-confidence that she displayed in every movement, the lack of nervousness in her expression despite being surrounded by people – that completely went beyond Harry's expectations. Harry still cringed at the memory of his disastrous Yule Ball, where he and Ron awkwardly tried not to step on the toes of their dates. Back then, any event with crowds of people would cause him to drown in anxiety, doubly so for the first formal dance of his life.

Even after he had defeated Voldemort, Harry still couldn't face the public spotlight as unaffectedly as she was. Harry wondered how his twin could be so calm when faced with the expectant eyes of all of Wizarding Britain. What did she experience that had made her so different from him?

Harry could see why the Daily Prophet's treatment of her was so different compared to his own. No doubt Iris knew how to play the role the public wanted to see much better than Harry did – it seemed like even Rita Skeeter couldn't find any faults with her.

He sighed, a little put out that his dimensional counterpart seemed to be fairing a lot better than he did his fourth year. Standing up and stretching, Harry noticed the sun was a lot higher in the sky than before. He must have been sitting there for a while.

Deciding to continue his perusal of the Daily Prophet after he had time to process everything, Harry set out to find a ferry to London.