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Chapter Text

Harry made his way to the Room of Requirement with little fuss. There had been a brief slow-down on the fifth floor as he had to navigate quietly around a whistling Flitwick, but otherwise his journey to the seventh floor had been quiet and uneventful. It was a good thing, he told himself, he didn’t need ‘eventful’, but the quiet solitude gave his mind unnecessary time to stew…

He had the same wand as Riddle. He hadn’t foreseen this, but he supposed it wasn’t surprising either. It made him wonder what wand his counterpart used…

He thought of Ron and his now broken promise to him…

He thought of Malfoy and how he had been right about the Horcrux hunt all along…

He thought of the things they would say to Harry when he returned.

But mostly he thought of his magic and how it had been utterly worthless against Riddle. Why? How was that possible? He had assumed it had been their wands, but clearly he had been wrong. His next assumption was their connection, but he wasn’t completely sure. Maybe it was something else. And what did this mean for any future encounters with Voldemort himself?

‘Dear god, no,’ he thought. That was not going to happen.

Harry paced in front of the familiar tapestry exactly three times. The door appeared just as expected and Harry entered the Room of Requirement for the second time since coming to this world. The broom he had used during his first visit still laid in the exact same spot. It had only been days ago, but it felt like a lifetime—so much had happened since. He seized the broom, flew over the mess of clutter, and just as anticipated, Harry located the aisle he needed with ease. 

It felt too easy. He half expected Voldemort to jump out of him at any minute. He didn’t want to stick around and tempt fate though so he Summoned another Basilisk fang from his pouch and seized the blonde wig. He found the diadem still laying safely beneath it. He didn’t think about it twice. He used the wig to brace the diadem against the floor (he had no desire to feel that blasted connection again), then he rammed the fang right through the front of it. 

The diadem let out a painful hiss as a thick black substance oozed around the Basilisk fang. Harry waited patiently for the diadem to become still and once it did, he tentatively reached out and touched it. He felt nothing. Another Horcrux had been destroyed. 

He callously tossed it aside and pulled out Zabini’s coin. ‘The diadem is taken care of. Still okay?’

Zabini answered while Harry was flying once more above the aisles of junk. ‘Nicely done. Almost passed the boundaries, I think.’

‘Tell them that I’m sorry.’

‘You can tell them yourself, Potter. See you soon.’

Harry thought about that as he flew the remaining distance to the door. He had no idea what he would say to the group once he made it back to the camp. He felt impossibly intertwined with this world now. All of his efforts to stay detached had completely and utterly failed. First his counterpart and by extension his parents and now the Horcrux hunt… 

But it was more than that. This world’s Hermione and soon to be Dumbledore. The exposure of multiple Death Eaters. Voldemort and the death of Tom Riddle…

Even on his first day in this world he had cast that Patronus…

He had never been just a bystander waiting to go home. It was laughable. He was entwined and always had been…

The thought was still not an easy one to swallow. 

He blew out a long breath as he landed. Then he felt the coin heat once more. 

‘I marked the boundary for you. You can’t miss it. And please, do try to stay out of your head.’

Harry grimaced at being so obvious. He sent a quick response back to Zabini then he donned his Cloak and asked the room to give him a clear exit near the one-eyed witch statue. The room shifted, he opened the door, and just across from him was the statue. Despite his request, he looked around anyway, half expecting to still see Hermione. She was long gone though, most likely filling in Dumbledore on what had just happened. 

He didn’t waste anymore time. He opened the statue with a quick muttered spell then he began to make his way down the long underground tunnel. 

His next stop was the Gaunt Shack. If he hadn’t been at Hogwarts already, it would have been his first stop. He reckoned that whenever Voldemort suspected something had gone wrong that his ancestor's home would be one of the first places he would check. 

It wasn’t an ideal situation. Harry knew the location of the house and what Horcrux lay within it, but he knew little else about what he was about to face. Snakes, presumably, given the stream of Parseltongue Harry had heard come from inside, but little else.

To make matters worse, it was now dark out. He would be doing this in pitch blackness all while hoping Voldemort wouldn’t appear out of nowhere. 

Definitely not ideal.

He traversed the passageway as quickly as he could all while searching for Zabini’s mark. Zabini had reckoned that once they were outside of Hogwarts’ boundaries, that they could Apparate out of the tunnel. Harry would never dare Apparate into the tunnel, but out it? It made sense and cut out valuable time from their mission. 

It was some minutes later that Harry found the spot. Zabini was right, Harry couldn’t miss it. For on the walls in large white writing were the words, ‘Apparate here, but before you do, message me.’ 

Harry frowned, then pulled out his coin. He was half tempted to ignore the latter part of Zabini’s directions, but he thought better of it. 

Zabini’s response to him was instant. 

‘Draco and Ron will meet you at the gap in the hedge. Do NOT proceed without them.’

Harry cursed. He didn’t want to take this on alone, but he honestly thought it would probably be better to do so. He would be safe, underneath his Cloak, as he tried to figure out how to enter, but if Ron and Draco were there…It meant he would have to navigate this task out in the open…and it was just more people in harm’s way, if and when Voldemort decided to show up…

‘This is not negotiable.’ Zabini then added and Harry cursed again. There was nothing he could do. No argument that he could make. The decision had already been made for him and he was just wasting time. A moment later, he was gone. 

~sSsSsSsSsSsSsSs~

The sitting room at his father’s safe house did not remain silent for long. There was a chaotic line of questioning from his parents and Hermione’s clipped responses to each of them squashed Harry’s thoughts of meeting his counterpart anytime soon. 

Where he was. What he was doing. She would not share a thing. 

Harry, still located on that small guest bed, thought she had a lot of nerve, but he was also begrudgingly impressed. Not many people could go head to head with his parents like this.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Hermione said. “This matter just happens to be sensitive. And there’s…more that needs to be said.” 

Again, there was a long silence, but Harry knew there were still plenty of things being said between his parents, Sirius, and Remus. Harry needed to see this conversation to interpret it fully. He forced himself out of bed and padded his way out to the sitting room. Hermione saw him first.

She wasn’t what he was expecting. He had aged her in his mind, but he had not done her justice. She carried herself in a way that was striking. She was assessing him too and he was embarrassed that there was mostly just pity in her eyes. 

“Harry, dear,” his mother said, “if you insist on being up, at least sit down.” 

Glad that he wasn’t being forced back to bed, he willingly took the open seat closest to him then he looked between his dad and Hermione. “I need to know what happened to me,” he said hoarsely. 

“You and me both, pup,” Sirius said. He rested his elbows against his knees and looked pointedly towards Harry’s father. “James,” he added, “no more secrets. I don’t give a damn how sensitive they are.”

His dad looked torn. His eyes darted between them all, but they landed on Harry the most. “Fine,” he eventually said. “Fine. But Jude, you’re going home.”

“No way,” Jude snapped.

“This is not a debate.”

“Harry almost died and I deserve to know why!”

“Not today you don’t. You are underage and are about to go back to school where I cannot protect you.”

“Then I won’t go!”

“Jude, honey,” their mother said, gently.

“You can homeschool me,” Jude continued. “I know you’ve been talking about it anyway. Come on. Please.” He added desperately when no one seemed to take up his cause. 

Harry understood. He remembered being a child surrounded by Order members all too well. The clipped coded conversations of his parents. The eavesdropping. The comparison of notes with Neville. He had grown up understanding more than most of his peers, but knowing there was so much more that he didn’t know had been frustrating to no end. 

But…

This was more than Death Eater activities and Dementor attacks. Harry had been kidnapped by Voldemort himself and had almost lost himself entirely. Regardless of school (for that would be a discussion for another day), his dad would not relent on this. The look he was giving Jude made that perfectly clear. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Harry said, still hoarse. “The team needs you.”

The betrayal in Jude’s eyes was clear. 

“Look,” Harry added. “If I had to choose between this and Quidditch. I would choose Quidditch every damn time.”

“That’s bollocks and you know it,” Jude spat.

“Please,” he said. He held Jude’s gaze and tried to convey to him that he would share what he could when he could, but that Jude needed to leave so Harry could find out for himself. “Please,” he said again, but more purposely this time and after a moment, Jude let out a sigh and gave Harry a small nod. He understood. 

Their dad allowed no time for Jude to reconsider. He called for Leor and after a quick apology and good-bye from Harry’s parents, Jude and Leor were gone. 

His dad scrubbed his face and looked at each of them in turn. “This goes without saying, but this conversation does not leave this room.” He looked at Harry directly and Harry took it to mean that he knew exactly what he had just conveyed to Jude. 

“Harry,” and at this, he motioned towards Hermione to clarify, “was very careful on how to share this information and after hearing it, I agree with his approach. However, given everything that has happened—”

“Out with it, Prongs,” Sirius said, impatient. 

“You’re overthinking this, dear,” his mother added.

Hermione was watching, clearly fascinated, but she seemed to share Sirius’ impatience too. “Perhaps,” she said, “it would be easier if I explained.”

“Very well,” Harry’s dad sighed. Then he sank down into the couch, next to Harry’s mum, looking relieved.

“Okay,” Hermione announced, clapping her hands together. “The cup was something called a Horcrux.” 

“A wha—”

“Just listen please,” she said to Sirius then she launched into her concise explanation of Horcruxes—the what, why, and how many—and what had happened to Harry after he had been rescued. Jude had been right. Harry had nearly died and his death would have brought forth another Lord Voldemort. 

Harry grew cold at the news. 

He had been so concerned about the contents of the cup—of not being controlled or poisoned by the red liquid inside—that he never even considered that it would be the vessel that would be his downfall. The cup had merely been there, a constant presence in his cell. He had studied it, talked to it in times of boredom and he had kicked and thrown it in times of frustration. 

He realized now the true reason he had brought the cup home with him. He had grown attached to it. 

Harry grew colder still. 

How could he have been so stupid…?

“You’re not the first person to succumb to a Horcrux, Harry,” Hermione told him, quietly. “Voldemort made you purposely vulnerable. You were alone, tortured, and hungry. And without knowing…”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his throat dry. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at parents or his godfather. He forced himself to push on. “And this Basilisk venom?”

“It can destroy a Horcrux. One of the few known ways.”

Harry nodded. He had already pieced this together, but it was nice to have his muddled conclusion confirmed. His counterpart had saved his life by facing a Basilisk so the cup that was killing him—the cup he had been dumb enough to succumb to—could be destroyed. He had planned to say ‘thank you,’ and of course he would, but it felt wholly inadequate. He was indebted—he could feel it. His skin prickled with unease at the thought…

And it was mostly because there was still something he hadn’t pieced together at all.

“How did he know?”

He looked around the room as he asked and its mood shifted. “Well?” He prompted again. “How? The last I knew Harry wanted nothing to do with us and we had no idea where to look.”

Hermione winced a bit. 

“We kept looking,” Sirius said, “and we got creative with the ways we reached out.”

“Because you needed his help to save me.”

It was his dad’s turn to wince. “Son,” he said.

Harry ignored him and turned back to Hermione. “If I hadn’t needed help, would you lot have ever come to us?”

Hermione smiled patiently. “We would have eventually. Harry decided—wanted to help this world and he knew he needed to share his knowledge of the Horcruxes to give you all a fighting chance. He was working out the best way to do so when we learned of you.”

Her answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear. It hollowed him out. “So let me get this straight,” he said. “He’s willing to save us—to save me, but he has no desire to actually know us.”

Hermione’s smile faltered. “That’s not fair,” she said quietly. “It’s complicated.”

“How complicated could it possibly be!?”

“Son,” his dad said, quickly, “He never knew us.” His words were painful. “Your mother and I. We died when Harry was very young. Sirius and Remus are gone too. He never knew us.”

Harry’s temper, which had been quickly rising, disappeared in an instant. He stared at his dad in disbelief. Out of everything he had missed, this was the most shocking. He took in his parents then Remus and Sirius. His family. His source of comfort and safety. He could hardly imagine a world without any of them, let alone all of them…

He didn’t want to imagine it…

He turned to Hermione for confirmation. She only gave him the briefest of nods.

He didn’t know what to say. He felt sick—the enormity of it hitting him at once. 

“How,” he managed. 

“It’s not my story to tell,” Hermione said. “You should hear this from Harry himself, okay? Give him that chance.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t know what to feel, but he could still feel himself deflating. He was beginning to understand.

“Of course we will give him that chance,” his mother said to Hermione. “Of course we will. Perhaps, instead, you can share what else you wanted to tell us.”

That was apparently the right thing to say because Hermione launched into her story. She summarized the Horcrux hunt in their world and how her, Harry, and Ron Weasley had been involved. She shared how they had been reluctant to hunt for Horcruxes in this world. And she explained that despite their thoughts on the matter, that it was now imperative to hunt down the Horcruxes as quickly as possible. 

Harry knew there were details missing from her story—big details—because it didn’t make much sense and she was cagey when his parents pushed for clarifications. Her story and their questions ended, however, when she waved them off and said she needed to speak with Kreacher.

“Kreacher?” Sirius said, frowning.

“Yes,” she replied. “Because if we’re lucky, he'll still have the Horcrux that was entrusted to him.”

~sSsSsSsSsSsSsSs~

The moon was shining bright against the inky night sky. It was a small mercy as Harry was able to navigate the paths outside of Little Hangleton without any additional wand light. He hugged his Cloak close to him regardless and he walked quickly, anxious to find Ron and Malfoy. 

He found them just where Zabini told him they would be—by the gap in the hedge. Harry was admittedly impressed that they beat him there. 

He removed his Cloak from around his head and sheepishly said, “Hi.”

“Hi, he says,” Ron greeted. “Not, sorry for breaking my promise. Or even, sorry for being dumb enough to think I should do this on my own. But hi.”

“To be fair,” Harry answered, removing his Cloak completely. “I’m also sorry. On both accounts.”

Ron sighed. “Do you have a plan?”

Harry rubbed the back of his head. He mostly just planned to follow his instincts and use Parseltongue to his advantage. He couldn’t do much more than that. He told Ron as much. 

“Soooo we’re winging it.” Ron said. He glanced back towards Malfoy. “If you want to go back, now is the time to do so.” 

“And miss my chance to tell Potter, I told you so?” Malfoy said. “I think not. Let’s go.”

Harry kept his response to himself.

They made their way down the narrow path leading to the forest clearing. Within ten feet it became difficult to see so Harry cast a quick Revealing Charm to check for anyone nearby before setting his wand alight. Behind him, Ron and Malfoy did the same. 

Ever since he left the Room of Requirement, Harry had tried to dredge up every old memory he had about the Gaunt Shack and the Horcrux that lay within it. He remembered being in Voldemort’s mind and seeing an empty box within a hole beneath the floorboards. He could almost picture the surrounding furniture, but that hardly mattered much, the place was not very big. It would not take long to blast open the floor and check beneath. His more immediate problem was how to get inside the building. Dumbledore had mentioned the place had been surrounded by numerous enchantments to deter entry, but so far, Harry had yet to encounter one…

Nor, as he thought harder, could he remember Voldemort being deterred by anything either. Voldemort had endured the same obstacles as Harry had in the cave, but he had not been deterred by anything at the shack.

Had he simply been immune? And if so, was Harry too immune?

It seemed strange that Dumbledore would have mentioned the enchantments and Harry had yet to feel one. He had found the place quite easily, after all.

Perhaps, he had just not gotten close enough…

They reached the end of the path and entered the clearing. It was pitch black beyond the light of their wands. Ron cast another, “Homenum Revelio.” They were still alone. 

Harry carefully marched forward. The earth crunched beneath his feet. Then the hissing began…

“You…”

Harry kept inching forward. The breathing of Ron and Malfoy was loud in his ears.

“You have returned…”

He flicked his wand, expanding his Lumos. He could see the outline of the door now. He crept forward, still waiting—waiting to feel anything untoward. 

“You have returned…”

He was a few feet from the front landing when Malfoy gripped his arm, stopping him. “Potter,” he whispered. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Harry glanced back at Malfoy. He looked petrified. 

“I would like to remind you,” Ron said, flatly, “that you’re the one who wanted us to do this. I wanted to task this out to the Order.”

“I was wrong,” Malfoy said, promptly. “Please, I think we should go back.”

“Harry?” Ron asked.

Harry searched Malfoy’s terrified face. He did not look like himself, not quite. Something was wrong. Harry looked around at their surroundings, but all he could see was blackness. He grabbed Malfoy’s arm and dragged him back towards the forestline. 

“Draco?” Harry prompted.

Malfoy shook his head a bit, his eyes seemed to clear. “There’s a ward,” he said, shaken. “I’m not going to be able to get past it.”

Harry frowned. He hadn’t felt anything. Nor had Ron apparently. He wanted to press more, but there was no time to do so. He handed Malfoy his Cloak instead. “You can keep watch then. Message us if you hear something.”

At Malfoy’s acknowledgement, Harry resumed his course. Back at the stoop, Ron was watching Malfoy carefully. 

“Maybe this can wait til morning?” Ron suggested. 

“It’s not worth the risk,” Harry said, then he climbed the two front steps.

Once, there had been a dead snake nailed to this door. Now, only the nail remained. Unsure of what to do, he pressed a hand against the door to see if he could feel anything. Dumbledore had done this in the cave, but Harry couldn’t feel anything, only the wood grain beneath his fingertips…

“Come in and see us…”

Could it be that easy? Harry reached for the knob and twisted. The door creaked open.

“Come in…”

Harry pushed the door open. He held his wand high and what he saw were eyes. Hundreds of bright yellow eyes. Behind him Ron whimpered for every surface of the shack was covered by snakes. Small snakes. Large snakes. Snakes of every color and breed. The hissing was now deafening. Harry could hardly make out anything being said.

“Quiet,” he bellowed out. “I cannot hear. Who is in charge?”

A large python rose up from the den. The smaller snakes slithered off and away from her. 

“I am,” she hissed.

“You are not to harm us,” Harry said. He watched the snakes near the door, but none of them crossed the threshold. 

The python cocked her head. “Only the one who can command us may enter. Anymore shall be killed. That is how we were made, was it not?”

“Made?”

The python simply nodded and then Harry understood. Voldemort had conjured these snakes to protect his Horcrux. 

“Harry, mate,” Ron whispered urgently behind him. “I don’t like this.”

“They’re conjured,” Harry whispered back to Ron. “They’re not real. Look, they're bound to this house, not one of them is leaving.”

“That doesn’t mean that they can’t do very real damage,” Ron whispered back.

Harry grunted in response before turning back to the python. “If I come alone, what happens when I step inside?”

“As long as you can command us,” she answered, “you have nothing to fear.”

Harry thought about it. Could she be trusted?

“Did you not notice how we quieted when you demanded it?” the python continued. She almost seemed annoyed. “We remain at your disposal.”

The words did not sit well with Harry. He had thought it, when he had last been here with Malfoy, but it now seemed like a sure thing. These snakes thought him to be Lord Voldemort. How could they remain at his disposal when he was only just meeting them…? 

“Harry,” Ron whispered again. “What is happening?”

Harry turned to look at Ron. “I have to go in alone—”

Ron shook his head furiously. “No way.”

“They have been instructed to only allow Parselmouths inside. Anyone else will be killed. It makes sense.”

Ron shook his head again. “There must be something else we can do. Dumbledore! He wasn’t a bloody Parselmouth. There has a be a spell, or a—”

“Ron,” Harry said, calmly. “There probably is, but we need to do this now. And our sure bet, right now, is for me to go in alone. I’ll be okay.”

“You can’t know that,” Ron said, strained.

“I can, because they think I’m him, Ron.”

Ron stared into him. “Zabini told us what happened in the Chamber, at least what he knew of it.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m still figuring it out. What I do know is that I’ll be okay. Go keep watch with Malfoy. I’ll be out soon.”

Ron blew out a forceful breath. “You better not be wrong about this, Harry.” Then he marched off towards the forestline to find Malfoy. 

Harry knew he wasn’t. So he turned back towards the house and stepped inside.  

He kept his wand bright and aloft. The small shack and the hundreds of eyes within it were fully illuminated. When he had stepped inside fully, the door creaked closed behind him. Some of the smaller snakes began to encircle his ankles.

“Stop that,” He instructed. “Clear a path, so I don’t step on you.” 

The snakes complied. Meanwhile the python slithered closer to him. “What can we do for you?” She asked. 

“I came for the ring. Remind me where it is.”

At first, Harry thought that he had pushed his luck. The python had stilled at his words and gave him a long searing look, but then just as Harry gripped his wand a little bit tighter, she nodded and turned towards a group of snakes near an old, moldy armchair.

“Show him.”

The snakes pushed their way out, clearing a small section of floor. Harry carefully made his way over to it. He pointed his wand at the floorboards and thought ‘Evanesco!’ And just beneath, was the small gold box. He flicked his wand again and the box sprung open, revealing Marvolo Gaunt’s ring. It gleamed in the wandlight, almost speaking to Harry. 

He dropped to his knees, to better position himself, and found the python was now at his side. Her face was level with his. 

“You have changed,” she hissed.

A nearby snake moved against Harry’s leg. Another moment later, another snake joined. Harry took a steadying breath as he fumbled with his moleskin pouch. He wanted this over as quickly as possible, but couldn’t help but ask the python, “How so?”

“Your magic,” she replied. “It has grown.”

Harry stilled at these words. His magic had grown? And by this, the python meant Voldemort’s magic. He felt certain now. His mind swirled and his stomach clenched as he tried to understand. He felt so close to an answer, but still so far away…

It was then that another snake slithered into his lap causing him to refocus. What was he doing? He needed to stab the Horcrux and leave, not listen to conjured snakes while being slowly covered by them. He wouldn’t find answers here. If anything he just had more questions because none of this made sense. Why did these snakes think he was Voldemort? Why couldn’t he cast magic against Riddle? And why did he feel so damn good whenever he had any sort of physical connection with any of it? How was any of it possible? He wasn’t a Horcrux anymore. His connection had been severed. It was gone and again, none of it made sense.

‘This is different,’ the back of his mind whispered. ‘This is new.’

Frustrated, Harry Summoned the fang. There was a hiss of surprise but Harry paid it no mind as he drove the fang right through the middle of the ring.

There was a scream and a cacophony of hissing, but within moments the room was still. The snake in his lap, the python, and every other snake within the shack faded away as the Horcrux let out a final hiss. 

It was done. 

Harry closed his eyes in relief. 

The diary, the diadem, and now the ring were destroyed. 

His bizarre connection to Voldemort didn’t matter. The plan was still working. 

He reached down to retrieve the fang. It took a moment to work it loose as it had driven through the bottom of the box. When it finally broke free, he could see the ring had splintered apart. The gold band was in pieces and its stone laid some inches away…

Harry stared at the stone, his breath catching. He had forgotten. Too focused on hiding and Horcruxes and weird connections to remember what Gaunt’s Ring had held. 

The Resurrection Stone.

Harry carefully picked it up and wiped it clean on his robes. It felt warm in his hand and a sudden, overwhelming temptation rolled through him. Conjured snakes couldn’t provide him with answers, but could this?

Would it even work?

There was only one person Harry could think of that had any chance of providing him with answers: Dumbledore. His world’s Dumbledore. Could the dead visit other worlds when called…?

A coin heated against his chest. It was Ron, asking for an update. Harry clutched the stone as he decided on how to respond. A small part of him knew he should leave this alone, but a much larger part felt like the day’s events had led him to this moment—alone and with the Resurrection Stone, teeming with questions. 

He needed answers…

And he finally had a way to get some…

‘I found the ring box. I’m working on opening it.’

‘Hurry, Harry.’ Was Ron’s quick reply. ‘Stab the whole damn box if you have to.’

Harry smiled despite himself. ‘Be out soon.’

He turned his attention back to the stone. He felt bad for lying to Ron but doubted Ron or Malfoy would approve of his sudden plan. He briefly considered just taking the stone with him and doing this elsewhere but he knew once he was back at camp that his chances of being alone again were slim to none. And that’s what he needed. Just a few minutes alone and a few answers, then they could leave… 

He turned the stone over within his palm. “I need to talk to you.” He whispered into the room.  

Nothing happened. The shack remained eerily still. 

Harry turned the stone over three more times. “Please,” he said, desperation edging into his voice. “I need to speak with Albus Dumbledore. The one from my world.”

Again, nothing happened and he closed his eyes feeling foolish. Of course it wouldn’t work. 

Heavy with disappointment, he slipped the stone into his pouch. He made to leave, but several things seemed to happen at once. Fawkes appeared in a flash of flames, perched on a chair near the door. There was a loud crack of Apparition outside in the forest clearing. The air seemed to chill. Harry felt the coin heat against his chest again but he had no time to check it this time because Fawkes was flying towards him. Light engulfed him, the sound of the front door creaked open, but that was all he could hear before he was gone. 

~sSsSsSsSsSsSsSs~

Sirius didn’t argue with Hermione. He just gave her a long, steady look before hollering out for his old family house elf. Kreacher promptly appeared with his standard scowl in place. 

“Kreacher,” Sirius instructed. “This is Hermione. You are to truthfully answer any questions that she asks of you.”

Kreacher took a moment to process before nodding once. His scowl seemed to deepen. “Kreacher understands.”

“Lovely. He’s all yours,” Sirius said, but what transpired over the next several minutes was not anything Harry could have predicted, for Hermione slowly pulled out a tale from Kreacher that made his godfather turn pale. 

Harry had long known that Sirius had a younger brother named Regulus. Sirius did not talk about his brother much, but Harry knew enough. Regulus was the Black family favorite who did everything a member of the Black family should: sorted into Slytherin, despised Muggleborns, and proud of his Pureblood heritage. At sixteen, two years after Sirius had left his ancestral home, Regulus became a Death Eater which eventually led to his untimely death. His body was never found, just rumors that he had defected from Voldemort’s ranks and did not survive. 

Regulus had become a cautionary tale. Both to Death Eaters and to Harry, alike. 

Throughout Harry’s life, Regulus’ name would slip into random tidbits of advice from his godfather. Advice that mostly centered on ‘using his head’ and ‘being nicer to his brother.’ Sirius never said much, but he didn’t have to, Harry knew his godfather had regrets.

Regrets that were currently etched deep into his godfather’s face because apparently Regulus hadn’t just defected…

“You’re telling me,” Sirius said hoarsely, “that Regulus knew about these Horcruxes? And sacrificed himself to destroy one?”

Kreacher let out a pitiful sob.

“I doubt he knew about all of them,” Hermione answered. “But yes.”

Sirius bowed his head, covering it with one hand. Remus gave Sirius’ shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. 

“It’s not your fault, Sirius,” Harry’s father said quietly.

Sirius let out a small laugh. “He knew I was a part of the Order and he didn’t come to me. We were so far gone, that he couldn’t even come to me when we were finally on the same side. Godric, all of this time I…”

Sirius broke off and no one seemed keen to fill the silence—to interrupt the moment Sirius discovered the truth about his brother. Harry felt guilty just witnessing it. The moment was brief though. It was cut short when Kreacher let out another small sob. Sirius stiffened and looked at Kreacher with steel in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Mother—your precious Mistress!?” Sirius spat. “Not knowing what happened to Regulus killed her and you sat by and said nothing!”

“He couldn’t!” Hermione answered in alarm. “Regulus forbade it.”

Kreacher let out a loud wail as confirmation.

Sirius stood, pacing the length of the room. “Where is it?” He demanded. “Do you still have this Horcrux?”

Kreacher glared as he let out another sob. “Yes, Kreacher has it,” the elf managed, then he began hitting and scratching at his face. “Kreacher failed Master Regulus. Failed!”

“You didn’t, Kreacher,” Hermione said, trying to still his arms. “Please stop hurting yourself!”

Kreacher wrenched himself from Hermione. “Kreacher will answer you because he must, but Kreacher will not let YOU befoul—”

“Enough!” Sirius bellowed. He grabbed Kreacher, preventing him from banging his head against the stone hearth. “Enough! You are to bring us this Horcrux at once!”

Kreacher let out an angry cry before disappearing with a crack.

Sirius’ chest heaved and no one dared to speak. That is, no one, except for Hermione. 

“You could be nicer to him, you know,” she said coolly.

“Nicer?” Sirius bit out. He looked at her incredulously. “I assure you that our feelings towards one another are entirely mutual. Do you know what he wanted to call you just now?”

“I have a good guess,” Hermione replied, still cool.

“I’ve forbidden him from saying it,” Sirius explained. “It got pretty exhausting to hear it anytime James or Lily were brought up or came over.” 

“Too right, it was,” Harry’s father muttered.

“Unfortunately,” Sirius added. “I can’t stop him from thinking it.”

“You’re wrong,” Hermione said with conviction. “You’re just going about it in all the wrong ways.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“In my world, Kreacher likes me.”

Sirius gaped at her and Harry exchanged a look with his parents because it was difficult to imagine Kreacher liking anything . He had always been a miserable mean house elf, embittered that he was bound to Sirius, the last remaining Black. And yet, Sirius was not alive in this other world…

It occurred to Harry then that if his parents weren’t alive and Sirius wasn’t alive in this other world, what did that mean for Kreacher? Had he been passed on to Harry? Is that how Hermione knew him?

But before he could ask, Kreacher reappeared with a pop and Harry’s mind went somewhere else entirely. 

Kreacher had brought back a heavy gold locket and Harry knew at once that he had seen this locket before. Where? His initial thought was Grimmauld Place but somehow that felt wrong…

So he watched, with a deep sense of unease now, as Hermione grabbed the locket from Kreacher’s outstretched hand and examined it. There was an inlay of green emeralds down the locket's front that did little to ease his mind. He had seen them before, he was sure of it. Where? Harry closed his eyes, thinking hard. He could still see them, glinting up at him in his mind, but now the green glint came from an empty basin surrounded by death and darkness…

The cave…

Kreacher had said that he and Regulus had gone to a cave.

Harry had seen this cave and had seen the locket within it…

How?

He had no idea and so he watched, distantly, as Hermione spoke to Kreacher. He watched as Kreacher nodded in disbelief. Then Hermione handed Kreacher a bloodied Basilisk fang before bringing the locket to her lips and whispering something completely indecipherable to it. She pinned it to the ground and as she did a swirl of black robes lifted up and out of the locket, taking the form of Mrs. Walburga Black.

“What the!” Sirius exclaimed.

And while Harry agreed with the sentiment, he couldn’t take his eyes off the locket. Couldn’t stop wondering why he has such a strong memory of it…

“Mistress,” Kreacher cried, bowing. “Mistress!”

“YOU have allowed FILTH into my HOME!” Mrs. Black screeched. “Half-breeds. Blood traitors. And Mudbloods, alike!”

“Noooooooo,” Kreacher moaned. 

“Kreacher, stab it!” Hermione yelled. 

“Is this what you’ve become?” Mrs. Black laughed. “A filthy elf that takes orders from a MUDBLOOD?”

“OI!”

“Stab the locket, Kreacher! Stab it now! Stab it for Regulus!”

“Listen to her,” Sirius added. He looked pale and shell-shocked. “Stab the bloody thing or I will!”

Mrs. Black hissed at Sirius, but then she let out a terrible screech as Kreacher raised the fang above his head and deftly thrust it through the locket’s middle. When it was over, Kreacher sat still, his breathing heavy.

“You did it,” Hermione said, kneeling in front of Kreacher. She pried the fang from his hands. “You finished what Regulus asked of you. It’s done.”

Kreacher let out a strangled noise before flinging himself at Hermione’s feet. “Kreacher wanted to bring Master Regulus home,” he moaned. “Kreacher did not…did not want to leave him in the cave.”

“I know,” Hermione said soothingly. “You had no choice.” She looked up to Sirius. “You never do.”

And Harry could see it—see the cave as Kreacher let out another sob and Sirius bowed his head. He could see the vast dark waters and the pale figures beneath. He could feel the glide of the boat and the cool stone beneath his fingertips. The image was so vivid in his mind that he knew what it had looked like when Regulus had been dragged to his death…

What Kreacher was remembering…

Hermione picked up the destroyed locket and Harry willed himself to look away. It was nothing, he told himself. It was just his overactive imagination. But his eyes couldn’t help but drift towards the small bedroom he had only just recently emerged from and wonder if he was wrong. 

~sSsSsSsSsSsSsSs~

Harry came to his senses much quicker this time. He spotted the lone red feather and recognized his new surroundings immediately. He was back at Grimmauld Place, only this time, he was in his own world. 

He rushed out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and began yelling for Fawkes. How dare he bring Harry back here. Not now. And what about the others? Had they been brought back too? Harry hastily pulled at Ron’s coin and read the newest message. 

‘VOLDEMORT. GET OUT NOW.’

Harry cursed. He tried to respond to Ron, but it didn’t work. The coin remained still. He swore again and tried the others. Again, nothing happened. It was as if the coins had been deactivated. What did this mean? He had made these in the other world. Did they simply not work here or were his friends still there and he was unable to reach them?

Even worse, were Ron and Malfoy in danger?

Harry pulled at his hair, frantic. He needed to find them—to help them. He spun around, planning on heading back to the kitchen so he could Apparate or Floo, but then something strange caught his eye: Kreacher. He was on the stairs, just steps away from the first floor landing, and he was as still as a statue. 

“Kreacher?” Harry ventured. He carefully made his way up the stairs, but the elf didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Nor did he respond to voice, touch, or spell. He was simply frozen in place whilst seemingly polishing the banister.

What was going on? 

And it wasn’t just Kreacher. The whole house felt unnervingly still. 

His wand out, Harry moved around Kreacher, up the stairs, and into the sitting room. Everything was as he had left it. Mail was strewn across the coffee table and on the sofa was the Prophet, rolled up and untouched. Harry rushed towards it and flung it open. 

5 August 1999

The day they had left. No time had passed here. 

Harry made his way to the window and his theory was confirmed. Everyone on the street below stood frozen in place just like Kreacher. Time stood still here. 

This world was awaiting their return. 

Harry knew then that he was the only one here. His friends remained in the other world. Fawkes had temporarily brought him here, but why? To spare him from Voldemort? No, surely he would have brought Ron and Malfoy along as well if that were the case…

Harry eyed Fawkes’ empty perch warily. 

“What am I meant to do here?” He asked. 

His breath caught once more as he remembered—remembered what he had been trying to do before Fawkes appeared. It hadn’t worked in the other world, but would it here? Shakily, he reached for his pouch and Summoned the stone. 

He had felt torn for wanting to do this, but he now felt certain he was meant to do so if Fawkes had brought him here. All of the questions that he had wondered in the shack still remained and he only knew of one person that had any hope of answering them…

He turned the stone over in his hand. “I need to speak to Albus Dumbledore,” he whispered. 

Harry knew it had worked this time before he even looked up. The room seemed to shift and there standing next to Fawkes’ perch, was Dumbledore. He was smiling warmly at Harry, though Harry could also see the sadness in his ethereal eyes.

“Professor,” Harry breathed out.

“Hardly, Harry,” Dumbledore replied. “Call me Albus. Please, come sit.”

Harry did. He waited for Dumbledore to situate himself before speaking. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry began, “For calling you. So much has happened and I didn’t know who else could help me.”

Dumbledore peered over his spectacles, willing Harry to go on.

“Do you…do you know why I brought you here?” 

“I do,” Dumbledore said with a nod. “Just as your parents were a part of you in the forest, I am a part of you right now. You do not need to explain.”

Harry exhaled, relieved. 

“You have found yourself in quite the predicament,” Dumbledore continued, “Rather unexpected, if I do say so. However, I do not believe that you need me.”

“But sir—“

“Albus.”

“Albus,” Harry corrected hurriedly. “I disagree. None of it makes sense. Why is any of this happening? This connection. The Horcrux is gone and—“

Dumbledore held up a hand. “Precisely, the Horcrux that resided in you is completely gone. Voldemort wouldn’t have been able to be defeated otherwise. You do not need to worry.”

Harry furrowed his brow. He knew this deep down, but he did not know how to explain his connection to the other Voldemort any other way.

“What you are experiencing is entirely new. Think Harry, what is different?”

“Well…I feel it. I’m not having visions or experiencing emotions. It just feels…intense whenever I touch a Horcrux or Riddle.”

Dumbledore nodded again. “And when exactly did you feel this most intensely?” Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Dumbledore held up his hand to stop him. “Think Harry. Think.”

Harry looked away, willing his first thought away. His instinct had been to say, down in the Chamber when Riddle had him pinned down. The moment was still so fresh in his mind, haunting him during the moments he let his guard down. Yet, Dumbledore clearly wanted him to dig deeper so Harry thought hard, cataloging each of his interactions that had caused this intense feeling. His mind kept drifting back to the Chamber, but then he recalled the raw intensity of a different encounter…

An encounter that had left him breathless…

“My counterpart,” Harry said in realization. 

“Precisely again,” Dumbledore beamed. 

“I don’t understand.”

“I suspect that if you asked Ms Lovegood of her encounters with her own counterpart that it would provide an important clue.”

“You mean, Luna feels this same thing?” Harry’s head was spinning. 

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses. He was clearly enjoying himself now. “Again, Harry. You do not need me. You have all of the knowledge and resources to figure this out. You just have to be willing to use them. Do not close yourself off to your family and friends as I did.” He smiled sadly then. “Speaking of, there is someone else here that wishes to speak to you.” 

Harry followed Dumbledore’s gaze and saw them, his parents as they were in the forest. He couldn’t help but take them in readily and after meeting James Potter in the other world, he realized just how young his parents were when they had died. His stomach twisted sadly at the thought. 

“I hope you don’t mind that we tagged along,” James Potter said. 

Harry shook his head and he wondered if he had inadvertently called them. Wondered if they would always be on his mind when he held the stone that was still clutched in his hand. 

His mother approached him and a cool breeze graced his face as she brought her hand up to him. “We love you so much, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry whispered.

“Promise me,” she said, “that you will not allow us to hold you back. Promise me.”

Harry shook his head minutely.

“We were robbed of our time together, Harry,” James said. “We could have never imagined you finding yourself in this situation, but given your knack for adventure.” James gave him a wry grin. “Here we are. Don’t rob yourself of any more time, okay?”

“I won’t,” Harry said, understanding perfectly. He could never know his parents in this world, but he could in this other one if he allowed it.

And while he had started, in a way, it had been slow and reluctant, pushed mostly by his desire to help his counterpart more than anything else. Harry knew himself well enough to know that he would have been perfectly content holed up in that tent with his friends exposing more Death Eaters rather than meeting the Potters so willingly. 

His meeting with James had been a reluctant one, but even that one small allowance had been a relief. What would it be like if Harry let himself go completely?

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying…

“Harry,” Dumbledore said and Harry startled a bit, forgetting that his old Headmaster was even there. “When you met my counterpart, he asked you a question. He asked if you had considered the possibility that you were brought to this other world for a reason. Do you remember?”

Harry nodded, the memory still fresh in his mind. 

“I do not agree with his reasoning for asking you this, but I do agree with the question itself. Can you help this other world, Harry? Of course you can, if you so choose. And you have so already—immensely. The part of the question I’m more interested in however, the very crux of your situation, is how this other world can help you?”

Harry looked into his parents' smiling faces. “And my friends?” he asked quietly because he wasn’t the only one who was in this mess.

“Them too, Harry.” Dumbledore replied. “You must look beyond the chance to reconnect with those we lost. Friendship. Redemption. Knowledge. Adventure. The reasons are many. Ask them yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Harry thought about his time in the other world and found himself unable to argue. He knew at once that he wouldn’t trade this time in and this had little to do with the Potters, but rather it was his time with his friends.

It was the late night and early morning conversations…

It was laughing at one another's disguises…

It was trying out new spells and seeing who mastered them first…

Harry smiled a bit, remembering all of the moments, and he knew in that particular moment that his friends probably felt the same way. Harry had put such a heavy burden on himself. He felt responsible for all of it—for all of them. 

And yet…

Each and every one of them had shown up time and time again. Not because Harry asked them to—because he would never—but because they willingly chose to do so.

Harry let out a long breath as a calmness washed over him. The last threads, which had held him back, unravelling…

He turned to Dumbledore, suddenly eager to return. Not just to his friends, but to all of it. 

“How do I get back?” 

“Ah,” Dumbledore said. “While I have never travelled across dimensions myself, if it’s anything like normal phoenix travel, earning your ticket is, by far, the most difficult part.” He waved his hand. “Once you have it, things are quite simple. You merely need to be in possession of it and think about where you need to go.”

The red feather that had appeared with Harry in the kitchen floated through the doorway and hovered just out of Harry’s reach. 

His ticket…

“Does this mean I can avoid dropping into the middle of Grimmauld Place?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Certainly. That was you earning your ticket, so to speak.” Dumbledore was definitely enjoying himself now. 

“Right,” Harry said.

“Like all birds,” Dumbledore continued, twisting and hovering the feather closer to Harry. “Fawkes has many types of feathers—tail, flight, plume, down. What’s fascinating is that I’ve never quite seen this particular type before. It is truly special. Make sure you keep it safe.”

“I will,” Harry said, reaching for the feather.

“Very good. In that case, I think it’s time for us to say goodbye.” Dumbledore stood and smiled warmly at him once more. “Oh and Harry.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Make sure our next meeting is in the distant future after you live a long and happy life.” He looked pointedly to the stone and Harry flushed a bit. 

“It will be,” Harry promised. “Goodbye.” And it wasn’t just to Dumbledore. It was to his parents too. He could still feel them, just behind him. He turned so he could take in their young smiling faces one last time.

“Don’t hold back.” 

He closed his eyes against his mother’s words, savoring them. Then he dropped the stone to the floor. 

He had called on Dumbledore hoping for answers. He didn’t get the ones he wanted, but he most certainly got the ones he needed. He gave himself a long moment to process it all—the day, his connection, Fawkes, his friends, his parents. Then he sat down and planned his re-entry into the other world. 

It didn’t take long to decide what to do. 

~sSsSsSsSsSsSsSs~

“Would you please calm down?” Malfoy hissed.

Ron wanted to throttle Malfoy. And after he did, he was going to throttle Harry because he knew something was happening in that bloody shack. Did Harry think he couldn’t hear what was going on? Because he could. Hearing screaming and bloody hissing wasn’t normal. 

“I’ll calm down when Harry’s out of there,” Ron bit out.

“You make a terrible look out.”

Ron huffed, but clamped his mouth shut, determined to prove Malfoy wrong. 

They stood there, underneath Harry’s cloak, in a tense silence and Ron couldn’t help but think of the reporter who had once asked him what it was like to be friends with Harry Potter. He had botched the answer at the time, too surprised that a reporter was showing any interest in him, but his true answer was that it was exactly like this. 

It was standing underneath Harry’s Cloak with Malfoy—in another bloody world—while Harry destroyed a sodding Horcrux.

It really explained things quite perfectly, Ron thought, because being friends with Harry meant caring so much that Ron was willing to throw himself into danger over and over again even if that danger somehow included Malfoy. 

And it was easy to care because Harry was funny and loyal and just plain good. He made the people around him better, Ron especially, a fact that had become painfully clear after learning of his counterpart’s fate. Willingly jumping into the fray was par for the course. One that Ron would never mind…

But…

The friendship also came with a certain ache that was difficult to describe. When he was younger it had been the ache of jealousy—of not being good enough. Now the ache was different. It was navigating the secrets and the lies—now included—of learning when to ignore them and when to force them to come to light. It was knowing that Harry had been so willing to sacrifice himself…

And it was knowing that his best mate still felt the need to take on so much alone…

The ache was heavier on some days than others and Ron knew he wouldn’t have survived it without Hermione—the only other person that really understood. Because being friends with Harry couldn’t be explained. It was simply a lived experience. 

A lived experience that Malfoy and Zabini were slowly coming to understand too. Ron could feel the tension and worry in Malfoy’s stance and Ron found himself not minding sharing this particular burden. Even if he had no plans of telling Malfoy this…

He blew out a quiet breath. Harry may be lying to him, but he also trusted that Harry had a bloody good reason for it so he opted to let this one go, filing it away for later. He kept his eyes fixated on the door, waiting for Harry to emerge. His eyes had long adjusted to the darkness so when there was a crack, he saw what was happening with ease. 

A dark figure had appeared and this figure strode towards the shack with a purpose that left Ron feeling cold. Ron tapped his coin with his wand and sent a message to Harry immediately. 

‘VOLDEMORT. GET OUT NOW.’

He didn’t know this for sure, he just knew that Harry needed to get out and now.

The figure was at the door now and Ron knew that it wasn’t enough. He needed to do something. Malfoy gripped his arm in warning. 

“Think,” he urged him. 

Ron shrugged him off because what was there to think about? But before he could do anything, several odd things happened at once. A blinding white light burst through the seams of the shack. There was a shout of rage. Then Harry appeared with another blinding flash just feet from him and Malfoy. 

Malfoy yelped in surprise.

Harry bent over and picked something up. 

“Harry!” Ron called out.

Because he found Harry’s behavior odd. In the moments Harry had taken to collect whatever object he had deemed to, this figure had re-emerged from the shack. And Ron saw it, almost in slow motion, as they twisted their wand and shouted, “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

The forest clearing lit up in a brilliant green and Ron saw Harry turn. He saw the spell collide with Harry’s chest. He saw his best mate stumble back and Ron was screaming—screaming and being held back by Malfoy’s firm grasp.

“It missed,” Malfoy whispered.

It hadn’t. Ron had seen it. And yet, Harry was still standing. Stumbling, but alive.

“Run!” Harry said urgently, he didn’t seem affected in the slightest. “I’ll meet you back at the tent.”

And Ron didn’t have a chance to respond. He saw Harry run into the forest and Malfoy was dragging him back and away from the rage that was now being released into Harry’s direction. A deluge of spells exploded from the shack and Ron felt Malfoy’s grip tightened yet again before the sickening blackness of Apparition took them away.

~sSsSsSsSsSsSsSs~

The mood at his father’s safehouse remained tense after the locket was destroyed. Kreacher had been dismissed. Sirius had simmered to a cool. Harry’s mum, however, had lost her patience entirely. Harry was honestly surprised she had lasted this long and it served as a convenient distraction for him from his strange memories of the locket. He watched his mother pace, her attention solely on Hermione. 

“The locket,” she was saying. “And the cup. That’s two Horcruxes that you were sent to take care of, am I right?”

Hermione nodded.

“Which means Harry is out there somewhere taking care of the others. I know I am not wrong!” She added when Hermione stood to protest. “Where is he!?”  

Hermione rubbed her forearm anxiously. “Mrs. Potter, I—”

“Don’t Mrs. Potter me,” his mother said and Harry winced. “This is our world for Godric’s sake. Harry wants to help? Fine. Harry wants to put himself into danger because that’s what he does ? Also fine, but decidedly less so if you ask me. But what about us?” She gestured widely to the room. “Are we not allowed to help? Or put ourselves into danger? These Horcrux things are horrid and we are just supposed to be fine with Harry going after them without any help?!?”

“He has help,” Hermione said stubbornly.

“But not ours!”

Hermione huffed out another sigh, but then her attention turned elsewhere. She reached into her pocket and glanced at something that seemed to be a Galleon. Her mouth curved into a smile and she looked up at each of them. “He did it,” she said.

Harry exchanged a look with Remus and his father. Sirius hardly seemed to notice the announcement, he was still sitting in a contemplative silence. 

“Harry destroyed a Horcrux?” Remus asked, curious

Hermione laughed and beamed. “He destroyed three.”

‘Three?’ Harry thought stunned. He had just learned about these blasted things, but based on everything he had heard and experienced for himself he knew this was an incredible feat. And if his counterpart had destroyed three Horcruxes and they had just taken care of two more at the cottage then that meant five Horcruxes had been destroyed in a matter of hours, leaving just one more…

At least, if Hermione’s predictions held true. 

Hermione glanced towards that Galleon-like object again and she let out another laugh, this one was mixed with relief. 

“What is it that you’re looking at?” Harry’s mother asked. 

Hermione didn’t answer though. Instead, she strode to the front door. There was a knock then Hermione swung the door open wide, revealing Harry’s counterpart. 

Harry stared, caught off guard at the suddenness of the moment. His counterpart was covered in dust, grime, and sweat. His hair stuck out every which way. Despite this, he looked pleased. 

Hermione threw her arms around him and he squeezed her back in return. “I’m sorry,” he told her as he pulled away.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she admonished, gesturing him inside. “Seriously. I don’t.”

He gave her a sheepish smile before turning his attention to the rest of them.

“I know I owe you all an explanation,” he said, scanning the room more thoroughly. His eyes seemed to linger on Harry’s mother and there was a flit of surprise when he saw Harry himself, but his eyes mostly searched out Harry’s father. “But I need help bringing the rest of our group here first.”

“Why? What happened?” Hermione asked immediately. 

His counterpart grimaced. “Our current living situation may be compromised.”

Hermione squeaked. “I’ll go. You stay here. Yes—you will definitely stay here.” She shoved him further into the room.“I can check the wards and I know where everything is and where everything needs to go and oh—”

“It will be alright,” Harry’s dad said, putting a calming hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Come on now so we can sort this out.” 

The pair of them made their way to the door and as they did, the other Harry said, “Ron’s in a bit of a state. You may have to talk him down a bit.” At Hermione’s returning look, he hastily added, “If you have time!”

The door slammed shut and his counterpart scratched the back of his neck. He turned back around to them, clearly embarrassed. “Hi,” he greeted, awkwardly.

Remus and Sirius said their hellos as Harry’s mother took a step forward. She seemed to be taking in every detail of him. “I’ve been so eager to meet you, Harry,” she said.

“Me too,” was the quiet reply.

She smiled warmly then—a smile that Harry had seen countless times before. She opened her arms wide and Harry could see himself walking into them—as a little boy, on every holiday break and summer home from Hogwarts, even now when days were hard. So many moments that he had taken for granted that he now knew, his counterpart had never experienced.

Until now…

“Go on and get over here,” his mother said. “Don’t let that dirt hold you back.”

His counterpart laughed a bit then he stepped forward and embraced their mother fully. Harry saw enough to see his counterpart’s eyes close and his whole body ease before looking away. He knew that this wasn’t his moment to witness. 

He found Remus and Sirius watching him. They were checking on him, he knew. He gave them a small smile and a shrug. He was okay. It was odd, but after everything that had happened that day, he was most definitely okay. 

“It’s good to see you up.”

His counterpart had untangled himself from their mother and now stood nearby. Harry winced a bit as he stood, both from the soreness and from the realization that his counterpart had seen him while he had been incapacitated.

“I need to thank you for that,” Harry said, then winced a bit again. “For saving me. I owe you my life.”

The thought was still an uncomfortable one. 

His counterpart shook his head. “I promise you, you don’t.”

Harry had the urge to argue, but chose to look deep into his counterpart’s face and found himself believing him instead. His counterpart truly thought nothing of what he had just done for him. Did he not understand the magic of a life debt? Harry continued to take him in, in wonder now, because how could someone be so casual about this? It was then that Harry noticed the thin lightning bolt scar…

‘You can’t fake that detail, can you?...’

“You have a scar,” Harry said, a memory coming to light. “That’s why Malfoy calls you ‘Scarhead.’”

His counterpart chuckled, clearly amused. “That’s a favorite of his,” he said. “Personally, I prefer Harry.” He extended a hand then, looking more at ease now. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Right,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed. “Of course.” 

He extended a hand of his own and in the next moment he couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. A calming warmth had surged through him the second they made contact. It was both wonderfully familiar and a bit overwhelming. He looked down at their connected hands and back up to his counterpart’s face who did not look surprised in the slightest. In fact, he almost looked guilty. 

“You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?” Harry realized out loud.

His counterpart swallowed and nodded, his green eyes looking into his own. 

“Do you know what it is?”

“I…think it’s our magic,” his counterpart said, “responding to one another.”

Harry looked back down to their hands. ‘Their magic?’  He didn't know about that. Nor did he know how his counterpart had come to that conclusion. Whatever it was though, he was realizing that he had felt it before…

A familiar warmth that had brought him back to himself, reminding him of who he was…

“It was you. When I—” He struggled for the words. “It was you.”

His counterpart nodded, words apparently not needed. “I’m surprised you remember that,” he said. 

“Remember what, dears?” Harry’s mother asked.

Harry shook his head, not knowing how to explain it, but he desperately wanted to be able to do so. He reached out and covered his counterpart’s hand with his other one, trying to understand—trying to come up with the words to describe this feeling that was putting him increasingly at ease. He thought of flying and of warm baths and of his mother’s embrace and that’s when it hit him, what he was feeling underneath the calm warmth…

Peace. Safety. Belonging.

It was the feeling of coming home. 

Harry let out a shaky laugh and he knew then that whatever this was, their magic or otherwise, that it was okay. He looked back up to the other Harry, they shared a smile, and Harry knew his counterpart felt the same.