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Chapter Text

"I don't think you do understand, Hermione," Harry found himself saying. Despite a personal vow that he'd say whatever Hermione wanted to hear. He'd become quite fond of his only female friend, especially when she was turned away and picking up her books, or leaning towards him to see his homework, both of which she did quite often.

Fortunately, Hermione had a brief bout of sanity, and they decided to take the issue to the house elves themselves. Even more fortunately, the first two elves they encountered were Dobby and Winky. Well, Winky was there because she was too depressed to work with the other Hogwarts elves, and Dobby was there to care for Winky, so, really, it wasn't fortunate at all, but it was handy.

Dobby conferred with the other elves, and then said that Harry and Hermione should join him and the Hogwarts Head Elf at dawn for a journey into the Forbidden Forest, past the Centaur Ceremonial Grounds, through the Crystal Cave of the Unicorns and into the Underground Grove of the High Elves. There they would meet the Top Elf, who preserved the Lore of the Elven.

And so it fell out. Yawning and stumbling, the two investigators made quick time to the grove, as both the centaurs and the unicorns chased them out of their demesnes, and both were swift and powerful foes. Harry ended up having to put murtlap on Hermione in a tender place, but he was always happy to help.

Not only were the ears of the Top Elf obviously fake, but his beard was somehow familiar to Harry, as were his twinkling eyes. Dobby and Tipsy the Hogwarts Head Elf were just as obviously impressed by his enormous height by elf standards, and his demonstrated ability to use a wand.

The Top Elf explained to them that the reasons the elves needed to be servants to a wizard were lost in the mists of antiquity, but no one wanted to sacrifice a house elf's life and magic to test whether the requirement still existed. "Would you wish to pick an elf to suffer that fate, Missy Granger?" he said, giving the girl a knowing look.

Harry was biting his tongue all the way back to the castle. Surprisingly, they were met at the entrance by Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, the former being for some reason a bit out of breath.

It turned out the walk had cleared Hermione's head as well as Harry's, as she looked to be full of sceptical questions. When she would have begun, the headmaster simply puffed out that there were many mysteries Magic and Hogwarts did not give up to the wizarding world, the joy of service was a beautiful thing, and so on.

When she still didn't seem impressed, Dumbledore stood back and they rolled out the big guns.

"Miss Granger, Mr Potter, the simple fact is that house elves must serve, and you are endangering them with wild ideas that don't suit them!" Professor McGonagall said, forcefully,

Hermione's expression changed immediately. She turned to Harry and said, "See, Harry, there was nothing wrong all along! After all, Professor McGonagall is not only the Deputy Headmistress - she's our Head of House!"

Getting a little fed up, Harry was about to pop the bubble on the whole operation, when he reconsidered:

He was making Hermione happy by bowing to her newfound wisdom

He could have a bound house-elf in Dobby, which would make him safer, happier and more effective.

The powers-that-be at Hogwarts wouldn't have any reason to retaliate against him for queering their pitch.

Against all that, the Truth was in many ways small beer.

Thus, "Yes, Hermione," was his only reply. 

Over her shoulder, he saw Dumbledore smirking. He pointed to himself and McGonagall, held his hands out as if they were dripping something, then wiped them on his robes. When the professor looked at him curiously, he mimed putting elf ears on, at which gesture his deputy laughed.

"Yours aren't any cleaner than ours!" was the clear message.

Well, reflected Harry, sometimes the straightest path runs through the mud.

At least they ended up in a good place - the Room of Requirement in a beach setting, with Hermione in a bikini feeding Harry the grapes Dobby and Winky were peeling for him.

All was well.

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore stepped through the Portal and went to work immediately. Since the attack on Arianna, he'd kept his health and fitness mostly through non-magical means. He'd trained for violence as well as diplomacy. It hadn't always been useful. Most years, not at all. So, despite the distasteful list of tasks he had in his mind and backed up in his expandable pouch, this was a bit of an adventure. Not his last one, necessarily, but certainly possibly so.

He found the old wizard in his office. He knew how to enter silently and undetected. A simple cloak over the wizard's old body let him levitate the other Dumbledore out the office window.

He could, of course, put him through what he was planning on putting the boy and his minion through. Give him to the giants as a servant. Keep him in a cell with a Dementor tethered outside it.

Doing that to someone who was, at the end of the day, him would have impacted his sanity. Therefore, it wasn't even in question. No, what he would do was the necessary.

Breaking his own protections against truth serums and mind magics was undoubtedly painful mentally and physically, after all.

It took only an hour in the cave near Hogsmeade that had almost been designed as a hideout to get a run-down of all the "variations" as he thought of them. Most of them were centred on this Albus Dumbledore. Once you've accepted the calculus of one - one guilty one - to save thousands, it wouldn't have been out of the bounds of possibility to end him. If he'd been fifty years earlier.

As it was, taking his place and keeping him imprisoned for information would do.

The Potter boy had barely enough magic to resonate with the Key in this dimension. Any earlier was out of the question. In the headmaster's office, where the lemon drops had been, he put a very special Omniocular that showed various elements of the dimension he'd just come from.

The ceramic urn full of lemon drops was in the cave with this world's Dumbledore. He would dole them out as the old wizard became more cooperative.

He wasn't as creaky as he imagined this Dumbledore was as he rose from his chair and went out and down the stairs past the gargoyle. He set the password to the name of a cinema film that had never existed in this world. It was one of his favourites. He passed the Deputy Headmistress and told her somewhat abruptly that he was off on an urgent matter. Seemingly, she was used to this, as her eyebrow raised only a fraction of a centimetre.

He apparated to the shore of the spur of land nearest Azkaban Island. Since this Dumbledore was Chief
Wizard, his passage to the prison island was taken without protest. He went unaccompanied to Sirius Black's cell. He stunned the poor man instantly, undid the magic on the doors carefully, not skipping steps, dragged Black out, then re-cast the spells in the correct reverse order.

He'd turned an extra cloak he'd worn - of two extras - into a simulacrum of Black. It would lie comatose but breathing and twitching for a week. That had taken a bit out of him, but not enough that he couldn't apparate himself and his cloaked company back to the cave near Hogsmeade. It was time for Black to be the first to know.

Dumbledore Two - after all, who had the upper hand here? - looked appropriately shocked as he levitated the still-unconscious Black into the cave. He gave the new cave-mate the same provisions he had made for the old wizard. Without a wand, no Dumbledore could get past a barrier created by one with a wand. Dumbledore had pocketed the Elder Wand and used his own. No sense in letting that cursed artefact derail a plan that seemingly would be complete in a trice.

It would be a disaster for Black to awaken with a Dumbledore bound to a bed in the same cave.

"Rennervate!" he said, pointing his wand and making a Raidō rune in the air.

"I'm fetching your godson. I'm fetching Harry." it was his first real interaction since he'd arrived, and it was all one-way. Black blinked.

According to what the Omniocular in his dimension showed, at this time of day Harry Potter would be slaving away in the backyard at his residence in Surrey.

"Come with me, Harry Potter." The boy looked up. This was another weirdo like those that bowed to him at the market was the clear message on his face.

"Your parents, James and Lily, were murdered. I need you to help find their killer. Grab hold."

Not that the boy did, but at least he didn't shy away, either. 

They landed in Little Hangleton in front of the Gaunt hovel. A snake was nailed to the door.

"Talk to the snake as if it were a person. Any old chatter will do."

"There is a barmy old codger and if I weren't so sick of life with the Dursleys I'd be frightened. He wears a dress and a witch's hat but keeps a beard. I suspect Vernon would soon sort him out, and then we could file a complaint against Vernon, I wonder if that can be arranged. If I wasn't still smarting from the rose thorns, I'd think this was a dream. There is a barmy old codger here and SSSSsss sssss sssss is sss sssss sssss s-sss"

The snake on the door hissed back.

"Tell it you are its master, and you demand it open."

The boy's head whipped around to Dumbledore, and there was a long pause. It was noticeable that no insects at all were on the Gaunt property, not even midges. It was as silent as the nearby cemetery.

After a minute, the boy turned around and, probably, complied.

Every step of the way after that, the old wizard would work his magic and the boy would help him find the next problem. It was fortunate that Dumbledore shielded them, as misspeaks by the boy would trigger small reactions that could be unfortunate.

"Take this walking stick and smack me lightly on the shin." Another pause.

"That's the stuff," said Dumbledore, wincing. "If I seem to be unresponsive, whack me again, but hard. Even if you broke something I'd be grateful."

He would have had no trouble ultimately prevailing against the box and the ring. He had no one it was urgent to see. His parents had died of old age, and his sister and brother and his nephew Aurelius were all still around. He had pondered drawing someone back in this dimension as an isolation zone. Herpo the Foul came to mind. Something needed to be done about the Dementors in both worlds. While he was lost in thought, a very hard whack indeed brought his attention back to the problem at hand.

His words belying his thoughts, he thanked the boy for following instructions. The ring ended up in a new box that was enchanted against curses and curse effects.

"I'm taking you to see the only sort-of parent you have left, Harry," he said, as they limped away and he gathered his strength to apparate.

"He's been very ill," he continued, "and was a prisoner of some evil people, so don't fret over his condition."

The boy's eyes widened when he saw the bedridden man. He was too weak to fully sit up, and tears poured down his lifted face. "Ha ... Harry?" he asked, weakly. Harry nodded.

"One last bit of unpleasant business," Dumbledore interrupted. "I'm afraid I'll have to hex Harry for the next part." He tossed the boy his wand. Like his world's Harry, the boy had great reflexes. It was clear to Dumbledore that having to survive in this world had sharpened the boy considerably over the one James and Lily had raised.

As he caught it, Dumbledore showed him, with the Elder Wand, how to hold it. He caught on quickly - he'd probably caught the "hexing" part and assumed whatever that was, it wasn't pleasant, and to be avoided.

It took less than an hour for Harry to have making Ehwaz quickly and saying "Expelliarumus" down pat.

Belying his ancient status, the old wizard moved suddenly and zapped Harry with a small Sowilo rune and said "Spiculus."

"ouch!" said Harry, but quietly. More stinging jinxes followed. Harry tried to avoid them, but Dumbledore was practised and wily.

Finally, Harry tried Expelliarmus, but it had only a small effect.

"Oh, my, I am deeply sorry, Mr Black, but it seems your godson is a failure. I am at a loss to think of a better place for him than the cupboard he currently lives in. At least *STING* the Dursleys *STING* will get some use out of the freak."

The next Expelliarmus would have carried the Elder Wand off, but Dumbledore dodged it.

"Oh my, oh my. It seems this inferior child needs more of a handicap than I thought." With that, Dumbledore seemed to hold rippling air in his hands. He threw it over Harry suddenly and then shot a Stinging Jinx where he remembered Harry being.

After one hit, Harry managed to combine dodging and casting. The wand was yanked out of Dumbledore's hand.

"Catch it!" Dumbledore exclaimed. It was in unison with Black, who had somehow grasped that something was going on.

The wand disappeared.

Dumbledore opened the new box for the ring. He sprinkled a powder made with Phoenix tears and dried Basilisk venom on the ring and cast several enchantments a Parselmouth acquaintance had learned in their Chamber of Secrets.

When it glowed a pure white, Dumbledore grazed a knuckle over the ring. Nothing happened.

"I gift this to you as a reward for being a quick study, Harry."

He reached the ring out into the air. It wasn't until a few minutes had passed that he felt it being gently removed.

"Wear the ring, wave your wand like this," he began, repeating the Mannaz rune several times in the air. It wouldn't matter if it were reversed, fortunately. "Then, say 'Magister mortis esto.'" 

"Magister mortis esto!" followed immediately. Even through the cloak, Black and Dumbledore could see a deep, dark, purplish outline. 

"If you take off the cloak, now, your god-father can see you," Dumbledore said.

When Harry reappeared, his forehead was glowing. The glowing part lifted off his face and rose up. Then it vanished.

This is unexpected. Dumbledore wondered if he wouldn't get bored replacing this world's wizard, at this rate. Harry was, basically, safe already.

"What ... on Earth ... doing, ... if you ... are ... Dumbledore.?"

"Who else would I be?" he said, turning and addressing Black.

"Grin .... delwald ... some ... wondered."

"Ah!" It wasn't silly, at least.

"He still lives, but I assure you I am not he," he said. "Believe it or not, everything I do now is for young Harry's protection. That said, the same was said by ... him." and he pointed at the other Dumbledore.

"He ... who?"

"Also Dumbledore. But I am from a timeline that is a great deal nicer."

The eyes of the weakened man widened, but he didn't say anything.

"What do you mean?" came a sudden response from the boy.

"I came through a Portal, Harry. My name is Albus Dumbledore. That man over there..."

Harry, surprisingly, had never really examined the unconscious Dumbledore.

"Is he ... a twin?"

"Of sorts. A dimensional twin. In theory, he's the proper wizard called Albus Dumbledore of this world."

Black looked fearful, but Harry Potter was just baffled.

"He's one of the evil people that hurt your godfather."

"But wouldn't that make you an evil people too?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore said, "while imperfect, in my world, I have done very few of the evil things this one has. Nor will I do any of the evil things he has yet to accomplish."

Black was staring at him. He wouldn't use Legilimency on a shattered mind or a frightened man, but he could guess some of his thoughts.

"He was the main instigator of your incarceration," he pointed out to Black. "His main motivation was to control Harry so he could have him abused by the Dursleys then die to a resurrected Voldemort and fulfil a prophecy. Crouch went along with it because it was good press and took the pressure off his Death Eater-friendly child. Before Black could correct him, he added, "whom he did not know to be an actual Death Eater at the time. Also, he has a vendetta against the Black family. Moreover, should the Malfoys be eliminated, Crouch would be part of the Black inheritance struggle. Bagnold was both bribed and threatened, especially by Abraxas Malfoy, who sought control of the Black family money through Narcissa Black marrying his son Lucius. You were in the way of so many people it was hard to pin things on just one person."

"The same could be said of you, Harry," he said, turning to face the boy. "Dumbledore wanted to end the Potter line because it's too unpredictable and too progressive. He wanted your family's prize possessions - a cloak of invisibility hundreds of years old, and your family magic book. Your parents weren't wastrels, they were wizards like I am, like Mr Black here is, and like you will be. A really bad wizard - worse than my twin, here, and that's saying a lot! - and his gang, called the Death Eaters, wanted you dead to fulfil a prophecy. One of those Death Eaters knew your mother and is a favourite of my twin. He wanted you and your father dead and your mother given to him. He knew the prophecy and convinced the really bad wizard to go after you and another boy who fit the prophesy as well. Both of you lost your parents. The others involved were Dumbledore there - he stole your family's cloak, which could have hidden you from Voldemort, he convinced your family to leave their family manor, which was well-protected, he claimed the inhabitant of a house could not be what is called the "secret keeper" of that house - a blatant lie. He suggested they pick another person involved in killing your family instead of your godfather here, and that your godfather would pretend to be the one keeping your family safe. I assume, the easier to blame and smear him after what Dumbledore II here wanted to happen, happened. So you have Albus Dumbledore, the secret keeper Peter Pettigrew, the Death Eater Severus Snape, and the bad wizard, whose name is Voldemort, to thank for not having parents anymore,"

He was, naturally, speaking for Black's benefit more than the boy's. He pulled out a list of topics he hadn't yet grilled this Dumbledore on (which included many he had, but which needed to be repeated for context).

"Black, I want you to grill the other Dumbledore on the topics I listed, and explain them to young Harry. Bear in mind that how you treat a helpless enemy reflects your inner self and sets the best example for your godson."

"Harry, this man is the one designated by your parents to effectively adopt you and be a substitute father if they perished, and they did perish. You can trust him with your life, and more so once his mind, spirit and body are healed. Pay attention to everything. I've left adequate food for all three of you in a hamper. Your hands won't pass through the barrier to the other Dumbledore, but trays of food and flasks of water will."

The last thing he did was ask Harry Potter for the borrow of his new ring. "I plan on summoning Herpo the Foul, Black. Not something Harry needs to see, but we have both a dementor problem and a Horcrux problem, and the sands of time wait for no man." Sirius Black said nothing in response, but when Harry Potter looked at him quizzically, he nodded slightly.

The other Harry Potter had cheerfully said "Open" and "Open for Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four" to be recorded on a gramophone record. placing it down on the floor in the 2nd floor girls' bathroom worked perfectly. Dumbledore's portkey would be a last-ditch defence, and he would probably seal the entrance in such a way that even a basilisk couldn't force an exit if things went wrong.

Three turns later, Herpo of Anatroxides was there in the Chamber of Secrets.

"The quicker you help me, spirit, the quicker you can leave."

"The folly here is yours, wizard. Compared to my afterlife, even the torment of the Resurrection Stone is nothing to fear."

"Perhaps not now, or soon, but one day, it will exceed any torment imaginable."

"Then, let us compromise, wizard. I help you, and you, in turn, leave me here in relative comfort until that moment arrives."

Bargaining with Herpo wasn't on his list.

Nonetheless, it was a mere hour later that he had insights on both horcruxes and dementors sufficient to advance his program. Unbeknownst to Herpo, his protections on the opening of the basilisk's exit into the Chamber was, indeed, proof against its might. Furthermore, if it used its exit into the Forbidden Forest with ill intent, it would be killed while exiting. He assumed - hoped, at least - that what he'd had his world's Harry Potter record telling the snake as much would do the trick. It would be a pity to slay anything as old and magical as Slytherin's basilisk.

He had also called James and Lily Potter. After all, his Potters were all alive and well. When he briefly explained who he really was, they worked out a protocol where Harry would summon them for sessions no longer than a quarter of an hour, with questions already written out. The Potters told them that both Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were good at the Patronus charm. He would need to recruit very many Patronus casters, so it was lucky to have a good start, he told the Potters.

Lily suggested he do whatever he could to make amends for any issues between him and the Flamels. James agreed, saying, "Your counterpart never realised when he was in over his head, but it's obvious to us, and we hope, to you."

Surprisingly, the Flamels were easy.

It was hard to reconcile the fact that it was still only midday of his first day through the Portal. But since he was completely honest with them, they welcomed the chance to undo both Voldemort's and Dumbledore's mischief through him. They immediately approved of his plan to corral the dementors into fireproof quarries and eliminate them with Fiendfyre. The same method would be fine for the Horcruxes, but they cautioned that Voldemort might realise something was up, so it was best to save them and eliminate as many as possible in one motion.

"Changing hearts and minds in Wizarding Britain will be a much greater challenge," Perenelle Flamel told him. "We believe Harry Potter should be taught at Beauxbatons to remove the temptation to subdue him for others' interests. A Harry Potter who arrives at 17 in Britain speaking mainly French, without glasses or a scar, and with kempt hair, would surely disillusion the generation that grew up on Harry Potter and the Gleeful Ghoul."

Well. Black certainly had no love left for Wizarding Britain. It was ambitious, but fixing things had been a fraction of the difficulty he'd planned for and envisioned. Come to think of it, Britain was a moral virgin field.

The Flamels gave him permission to bring Remus Lupin there. He appeared behind the inebriated werewolf and stunned him that instant. Lupin still managed to turn partly around and start to dodge. He wasn't to be underestimated.

After he'd been healed from the damage he'd done to himself and any compulsions or potions on or in him were cleansed, Dumbledore brought him to the cave. He gave Black and Harry Potter quick, polite greetings, then put Lupin on another cot in the part of the cave behind the barrier. Silenced. Lupin was there to learn, not interfere.

Surprisingly, Black made no motion to interfere, either. They must have made progress, enough to convince Black to play along. Harry Potter had clearly been told something about Lupin, as he looked on the verge of questioning his treatment, but Black shook his head.

It was twenty minutes work to purloin Peter Pettigrew from the Weasley family. It was eerie that Pettigrew would end up in the same place as he'd fled to in Dumbledore's world. The addition of actually being a Death Eater, instead of simply a coward, was shocking to Dumbledore, but it actually was helpful. He'd not be censured for using radical methods to interrogate the somewhat pitiful boy.

After he'd gotten everything he needed, he trussed the animagus in non-magical ropes but put a bracelet on his wrist that inhibited animal transformation. He left him seated (somewhat) in Amelia Bones' chair.

Dumbledore popped all over Europe looking for Tom Riddle. It turned out he was still a wraith in Albania. Dumbledore didn't specialize in either necromancy or exorcism, and the Flamels had told him there wasn't time to train him. Nor were they still strong enough to banish Voldemort themselves. Dumbledore contented himself with setting permanent, rune-based enchantments at the farthest range for the snake Voldemort was currently possessing.

Nicholas Flamel had taught him how to simulate a large magical event. He decided to use an upwelling of magic to strengthen the protections around Hogwarts. It required the destruction of a large number of wands. Twice, scouting in Diagon Alley, he'd sensed a house elf that radiated anger and resentment. The third time he felt him, he secured the elf and whisked him to the cave. Was he behaving like a tourist who feels he doesn't need to obey the laws of the backward country he's visiting? Probably. He'd have to watch that.

The Flamels had given him a "dementor trap" that a strong wizard could use to temporarily capture and transport one of the demons. Since he was killing a flock of birds with each stone, when he was scouting Hogwarts to plan his event, he'd kidnapped Death Eater Severus Snape. The sheer number of people in this dimension who were Death Eaters boggled his mind, he had to say. He didn't plan to ever let Snape wake up. He was bait, no more, no less. The dementors fed on his negative feelings, one by one, and suppressed all the positive feelings as he slept. By the time Dumbledore had what he thought of as a minimum number of dementors, he was exhausted.  He was also a bit regretful he had already dumped Pettigrew. Two baits were better than one.

He'd found an abundance of wands at #12 Grimmauld Place, though he wanted even more. Black had given him permission to ransack the place, and his mother, the last Black in residence, had recently died. He used mind-reading on the vicious elf there and came away with another Horcrux. The house elves at Hogwarts helped him find Ravenclaw's diadem - really, elves were a watchword for helpfulness already, but it did not sufficiently cover their helpful potential!

The angry and resentful elf he'd captured ended up rewarding his gamble handsomely. Once the creature, named Dobby, saw two Horcruxes and learned of his plan to destroy them, he overcame pain and trembling to fetch, not only the bulk of the Malfoy collection of wands, but also yet a third Horcrux. After that, the elf went unconscious but was clearly still being ravaged by elf magic. Dumbledore fed him a Draught of Living Death and left him for the Flamels to tend. The rather evil elf at Grimmauld Place had told Dumbledore bits and pieces of a fascinating tale. While he was saddened to learn that one of his favourite students, Regulus Black, had been a Death Eater here, it would cheer Black up as it had him to learn he'd stolen a Horcrux from the Dark Lord.

It was inconceivable to dark wizards that anyone would use a wand-destroying ritual to bolster the protections around a school. Including Tom Riddle. One side effect was breaking the chains of the resentful elf. He was a fan of Harry Potter. Unfortunately, because he'd made a habit of reading the Adventures of Harry Potter series quickly while out on errands for his Dark family. Still.

A quarry near Hogsmeade was his test of the Horcruxes and, unbeknownst to them, of herding dementors.

As Fiendfyre approached, the three Horcruxes - the book, locket and diadem - opened and gave up the spirit inside rather than see it destroyed. Unfortunately for the soul shards, that was where the dementors came in - they gobbled up the shards, having been herded into place by a single Patronus from Dumbledore. He was even able to Accio the diadem, book and locket before they were consumed.

Confidence, alacrity and efficiency were bringing him very far. And the further they brought him, the less the Dark or the subordinates of Dumbledore - who were also his subordinates - would be able to imagine who was doing it, or that one wizard was responsible for all the subterranean shifts he was putting in motion.

Since he had not, in fact, destroyed the Horcrux vessels, he doubted Voldemort would understand what was going on that caused dementors to eat pieces of his soul. He estimated he'd need no more than 20 strong Patronus casters to herd all the dementors in Azkaban to their destruction.

A group of Albus Dumbledores were looking around the Chamber of Secrets and shaking their heads. On the one hand, this Dumbledore had dimension-hopped and summoned, of all things, the spirit of Herpo the Foul. On the other hand, their remit didn't handle such situations. Was it better for the Greater Good to send Herpo back to the afterlife, or keep him here to atone? Was this really atonement or a relief?

There were still some loose ends, though he could see Riddle's end in sight and the ruination of this Dumbledore's worst plans. The Potters had befriended a non-magical couple that they'd taken Harry to for a dental check-up. Visiting their home, something had made their daughter evince accidental magic. That had broken the ice between the families. The two children had become so close that the Potters had eventually convinced the Grangers to enter into a betrothal for their progeny.

And Neville Longbottom was still at the mercy of his rather dotty grandmother and his repellant great uncle. The Flamels had given him a cure for the Longbottoms. He snuck into the Janus Thickey Ward and administered the initial component. When their diagnostics changed, he apparated them both in stages to France, where Perenelle and Nicholas had agreed to nurse them back to health.

The Grangers, it turned out, were at their wit's end. Their daughter's poltergeist activity, as they saw it, was not only frightening, it was embarrassing. Dumbledore offered to bring them in disguise to a cave where he was debriefing several individuals about the magical world. They told him they were exhausted. If he would guarantee Hermione's safety, they'd give him permission to take her along. Her squeal of delight when they said that caused a ringing in the old wizard's ears, which still heard very well.

When they got to the cave, the other Dumbledore had been given a break, and was napping fitfully.

"We'll wake him up in a bit," said Black, in a stronger voice (the potions must be helping). "Meanwhile, who's this?"

"Her name is Hermione Granger, and she is outstanding enough that I deemed her fit to join Harry in observing your interrogation. If you and Harry would be good enough to fill her in on the highlights, I would be very much obliged to you."

He turned to the girl. "Hermione, you must limit yourself to one question at a time. Furthermore, no questions should be asked until you've listened for at least a quarter-hour at a time. Do we have a deal?"

A disappointed look crossed her face, but she nodded. Like Harry, she naturally was taken aback by the other Dumbledore and the scarred man next to him as well as the sickly man who looked like he'd been in one of the concentration camps from the world war. Probably unconsciously, after she sat next to Harry, she moved a little closer to him, so much so that they were touching.

The leader of the Dumbledores couldn't believe what his diagnostics were telling him. A dimension headed firmly towards a Voldemort apocalypse had been completely transformed in less than a day. Rather than admit that one Dumbledore was doing a better job than their entire crew of twelve usually achieved, he simply announced that this world was off limits for them and had them prepare to Portal to their home dimensions.

Niggling though they might be, all the "details" took another eight hours to straighten out, and it was a weary Dumbledore indeed who retired to the cave. The other Dumbledore smiled as he saw that. Not so easy, being me, is it? his expression said.

While the girl was still there, she and Harry had fallen asleep cuddling together. The werewolf submitted meekly to a mental examination, and Dumbledore brought him out from the barrier. He put bracelets on both Harry and Hermione that would let them know when the other was thinking strongly of them, and had their Floo addresses engraved on the sides. He returned Hermione home with a Kneazle cat that had responded so strongly to her blood on a handkerchief that he believed the cat would be a good familiar. An owl at Eylops had had the same reaction to Harry's blood, and he'd left that owl in the cave with a sleeping Harry.

The cat, he told the Grangers, would calm Hermione down considerably. He also left a custom wand that had no Trace on it with them, and some discontinued books on training your underage witch. Done correctly, Hermione's magic training would look accidental. That training, too, would reduce the incidents. The Grangers were embarrassingly grateful. When he gave them a precis of what would be a briefing on wizarding Britain, they agreed to move to France before Hermione's eleventh birthday so she could attend Beauxbatons with Harry Potter. Not only was he famous, Dumbledore told them, but he was very powerful and already inclined to be a protective friend, if not more, to their daughter.

Half of the crew were furious. This violated everything they'd been told when they agreed to band together to preserve the timelines or return them if already compromised. While they dutifully returned home, they'd prearranged a return to this timeline. One of them knew of an abyssal dimension they could probably drag this Dumbledore to. Problems solved, and their leader need never know.

Everything was going well. The less time you spent after Portaling, the better. He had conspired with the Flamels to keep this world's Dumbledore in line, introduced Harry to Hermione, arranged for Neville to have his parents back, eventually cleared Sirius' name and ensured Pettigrew would face justice, made a great start on the Horcruxes that Lupin, Black and their allies could continue.

It was in the Chamber of Secrets he noticed that his magical trace was many times what it should be after being away. Herpo had to obey him, as he was going to give Harry back the ring at the last moment. The malevolent wizard spirit told him about the visitation by a crew of Time-restoring Dumbledores from various dimensions. Dumbledore had often surmised that possibility - he knew "himself" after all - but this was the first time in his life he'd had rather direct confirmation. Shrewd interrogation even told him about the plan by six of the Dumbledores to return and send him to the Abyss.

The Potter family commiserated with Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and family friend. It wasn't that Dumbledore was behaving badly, exactly. And he was still spurning all involvement in politics outside of Hogwarts. However! He had a new routine now. He spent almost exactly half his time doing something with a "portal" that took him to what he called an equally urgent calling, if not more so.

"It gives us half the time to go over budgets, rearrange the disciplinary measures, and I don't know what-not. Also, it's not a restful task he's about. He's often quite weary when he returns."

The Potters couldn't help looking at their son out of the corner of their eyes. He'd had many tutoring sessions with Dumbledore, accompanied by his betrothed (who was next to him on the sofa at the moment). He probably knew more about what was going on than all three of them did, combined. But was literally sworn to secrecy. Even veritaserum wouldn't get it out of him.

Albus Dumbledore made headlines the day he announced he was resigning from the Wizengamot and the ICW. While he said it was to concentrate his efforts on Hogwarts, privately Minerva McGonagall told her friends he was only there half the days. The other days he was off on a mission. It seemed to be something with the Flamels and involved, from what she'd overheard, a portal of some kind. She also suspected it was Dumbledore who'd convinced Harry and his guardian Sirius Black to move to France and sign Harry up for Beauxbatons. It was a terrible overreaction to his blunder of placing Harry with the Dursleys, but if it did keep him away from that awful family, it was perhaps not worth quibbling over.

One day he came in bloody, lacerated, his robes burnt, his leg snakebit - Madame Pomfrey had great difficulty preventing him from long-term consequences there - and his whole body trembling. He brought the body of a Rhesus monkey with a blackened arm and a ring on its hand. It was really a transfigured cursed piece of board, he told her. He was keeping it transfigured as a reminder.

OMAKE: What about Snape?

it took awhile to break Severus Snape. What he got out of him was news even to Black, and certainly educational for Harry Potter. It also made clear the fact that he’d not be able to live his new double life unhindered if he left the wizard as a loose end.

After hours of work, he was finished. He taught young Harry a sealing charm and had him cast it with the Elder Wand. He was only too eager, given what he’d found about the men being connected to the death of his parents. The combination of two wizards and two wands, one of them of such great power, meant Dumbledore’s work could never be undone.

Later, when he was old enough to reflect on this, Harry would realise how stern one must sometimes be in times of crisis.

Dumbledore II had been silenced and had to look on in mute horror.

I outgrew that ‘bad boy’ fixation decades ago, but clearly, he never did, he thought.

“I must refuse your request for aid. The Potters are already dead, thanks in no small part to you, and I won’t have a Death Eater in my ranks.”

With these words to the stricken man, he reached forward and pinned a translation enchanted earring through Snaoe’s left ear. As he clutched at said ear, Dumbledore put a port key in his hand and told him it was taking him to neutral Switzerland, which didn’t honour ICW jurisdiction.

That was the last anyone in Britain saw of Severus Snape.

Chapter Text

It had taken him years - almost two decades - to work up the courage for this - this this. What this was, was hard for Harry to specify. Interrogation? Confrontation? Confession? Whatever it was, Hermione hadn't made it any easier by bringing him to the crypt they'd found partly excavated during the attack on Hogwarts, at the base of the Gryffindor tower.

It had been covered with rubble before they could explore it, so it merely added to the deadly, deathly mood of the day. Somehow, some why, she had managed to find it again. And even tidy it up. It seemed she wanted to make this encounter as uncomfortable as possible for both of them.

But Harry had been denied answers for too long.. It was as simple as that. He was past his snapping point. So he would be patient but insistent, and Hermione was going to give him the answers he needed. He didn't mind wheedling, guilting, flattering, or anything else it would take.

"I want to talk," Harry began.

"So you said," she answered, rather emotionlessly.

"About ... about..."

"Us," she finished with him. "Oh, don't look like that," she continued, as he stared at her, feeling suddenly upset.  "It was plain as the nose on your face, Harry. And who knows you better than I do?"

"Then ...." Harry said tentatively, "then .... why???"

"Why what?" she asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"Why everything! Why ... Ron? Why not us?"

"I'm not going to make light of your question, Harry. Instead, I will tell you the truth, or some of it. The truth is, the 'why' is a long story, and it won't make you happy at all to hear it. It will make you sad. Angry. Sick. But definitely, definitely not happy. And I bear you no ill will. Is your happiness less important than your curiosity?"

"By this point," Harry fired back, "yes. I have had no peace this year. Last year, I vowed this would be the year. But I kept being a coward. I don't want to stew over this for a full twenty years. I have that much pride left."

"All right, but what makes you certain I didn't naturally transition away from you? After all, Ron was your best mate. He must have had some sterling qualities."

"Taking Ron out of the equation for a moment, there was that discovery I made in 6th year. It's pretty hard to get around that."Harry paused. "You know, Trelawney was right, wasn't she. Did I ever tell you about when I was hiding in the cloak and she passed by me, reading Tarot cards as she walked. She suddenly muttered 'What's this? Someone is very near. Someone hostile to the querent.' Then she dismissed it as nonsense. I mean, why would someone you predict the death of every week be hostile to you? I think a lot of her Divination was like that - if you don't like the things you see, ignore them and hope they go away."

"You mean, she was right about me not having the Inner Eye?" Hermione asked, with a smirk.

"Yes," agreed Harry. "But I was thinking of the other thing she said as you stomped out of class."

Hermione's imitation of Trelawney was spot on: "My dear, you will never-r-r experience the Higher-r-r Delights of Vision because you are too enamoured of your mad, MAD SCIENCE!" She even imitated her dramatic gestures flawlessly. Harry laughed a little, weakly. 

"I mean," he said, after a bit, "the business in sixth year."

"Technically, I started in fifth year," Hermione corrected. "It took until almost your discovery before he was grown."

"By 'he' you mean 'me,' right, Hermione?" Harry said, a bit sarcastically, "or do I mean not me?"

"A bit of both," Hermione said. Her small but visible smile looked a bit wistful.

"You will concede, I think," said Harry, matching her tone for the first time, "that combining human cloning and golem raising, not to mention all the memories you took from me, is the very definition of 'mad science.'"

"I suppose I would," she granted.

"But anyway, given that ... what did all the Ron stuff amount to?" Maybe this would be his first real answer.

"I said I wouldn't make light of your questions, and I won't. You know, there was a certain element of keeping my options open, playing the field, and so on then."

"Still," Harry said, prodding her.

"Okay, most of that was cover. I never wished you to find out, you know."

"That you grew your own Harry Potter, and you kept him disillusioned under your bed with copious amounts of Dreamless Sleep potion, and Draughts of Living Death whenever you left Hogwarts? Don't blame you a bit. I remember really, really wondering why you needed so many memories after I went to sleep Friday night and woke up Monday morning."

"He agreed to it," she said.

"You know you'll have to turn in your Spew badge for that, right?" Harry said. "I mean," he continued, "what choices did you give him. Does ... what he was ... even make real choices?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I did tell him he wasn't you. We froze the ageing process, too, when he caught up with you. So he would grow old along with you, and live about as long, too."

That was news to Harry. He'd assumed, somehow, that clones and golems both were unstable and short-lived. "Oh. Now I almost regret suggesting you ... euthanise him. It."

"Well, your point that that was what would happen anyway if he were discovered was hard to counter, Harry. Don't let your conscience fret over things you can't control."

Somehow, that reminded him suddenly of her other Grand Mad Science project. "Did you ever finish the Polyjuice stabiliser?" Harry asked. He didn't know why he was letting the conversation drift. He was afraid it was cowardice. He was afraid he was still afraid.

The expression on Hermione's face was hard to read, all of a sudden. She merely nodded. Suddenly, Harry wondered if that project had played a role in the long story she didn't want to share with him. It felt as if it did.

"The potions book was one part in three the dark magic spells Snape wrote in the margins ...." Hermione began.

"Professor Snape, Hermione!" Harry interrupted. The look he got back made him decide not to do it again.

"One part," she continued, "cover for the clone, just like some of the business with Ron and Lavender. Though as to that,  it did hurt how evil he was, rubbing my nose in the fact he didn't think I was desirable." 

Harry thought of interrupting, but just nodded instead. Hold your questions until the end of the lecture, he thought.

"And another part," she finished, "I admit was me being threatened by how good you were becoming at potions. I really didn't want you picking up that I had finished my permanent polyjuice project." 

"Wait!" Harry demanded, definitely upset now. "Was that your plan after the not-me died? Get a boyfriend willing to become me permanently?"

"No, not at all, Harry," she answered. She looked thoughtful. "Quite the contrary."

"You keep dodging the question! Why are you doing that? Why did you do that? Why not just have the real me, without all the weirdness and the drama?"

"And how," she retorted, "could I know for sure that was an option? First Cho, then Ginny, when was there a chance to confess without breaking my heart and ruining our friendship?"

Harry could tell she was sincere, however wrong it seemed to him.

"There has to be more to it than that," he decided. 

"Well if you call a fight for our lives against the worst dark wizard in history and his vast legions of evil something more," Hermione snapped. "When, again, was romance supposed to bloom?"

"In the tent?" Harry asked. He must have sounded distraught, because she suddenly looked worried and a bit guilty.

"I had plans after Ron left, but it seemed too sad to get together just because we were doomed. It would be like admitting it. Looking back, I was being ridiculous."

"So, you wanted to ...." Harry began, hesitantly.

"Very, very much, and every single day. You remember how Ron used to pull me aside and run you down, and I played along? Before he left - thinking you wouldn't overhear?"

"I doubt I'll ever forget," Harry admitted.

"Well, you have to know I was pacifying him. I mean, I wasn't a bit like that after he left. But anyway, after he returned, I pulled him aside and told him there wasn't going to be anything between us, not ever."

Harry's eyes widened. "So, what changed???" he demanded.

"Last chance, Harry," was all she replied.

"To hear the story?" 

"To not hear the story. And it might be the last chance for us, too. Even our friendship."

Looking in her eyes, Harry realised she was serious. He had rarely seen such a vulnerable expression on her face. It reminded him, in fact, of their first year. And to a degree, of the start of their third year.

"That will never happen," Harry said. Hermione seemed unconvinced.

"Never say never, Harry."

With that, she pulled out a picture. It showed them together, cuddling near the homely structure that was Shell cottage. He didn't remember doing that, but it had been a confused and harrowing time. As he watched, the Hermione in the picture moved, and over her shoulder, he could see Ron and another person flying around, playing tag. He was hidden behind Hermione, but when she saw the fliers, she suddenly Disillusioned him. Then he saw the face of the other flier -- he remembered now. It was Harry.

"You didn''t ... you never ..." Harry stuttered.

"I don't understand how you could imagine I would - or could," she said, coolly.

"How in bloody hell did 'he' get to the cottage?"

"He was always there after sixth year ended. That's where he rested. I told Fleur everything, and she understood. Well, he Living Death rested. Fleur used his ... coffin? I guess, you'd call it that - like with a vampire? Anyway, she used his box as a table. No one ever twigged.Remember how I extracted all those memories when we were at the cottage?"

"You said it was for our strategies!"

"It was!" she said. It seemed to Harry, sincerely. "But I didn't waste them after planning, is all."

"You were ... you were bloody updating your Harry Potter sex doll? And you made fun of Ginny???"

"He's not a sex doll, he's a person. He's like ... your twin. Sort of."

"He doesn't have a soul, Hermione."

Hermione had a triumphant gleam in her eye. "That's where you're wrong," she said.

"What do you mean?" Harry replied, shocked.

"Well, you and I are no fit judge of whether someone has a soul, but there are beings who are," she said. 

"You didn't!" 

"We did. We went to Azkaban island, assuming not all of them were gone. And we were right. He went ahead, and lo and behold they swarmed him like he was meals on wheels. And before you say 'happy thoughts' I'll point out those demons will never pass up a soul to go after that thin gruel. I wasn't that far away, but they swarmed him." After a pause, "Good thing we both had strong Patronuses."

"Why, in the name of all that is good, did you do such a mad thing," he demanded.

"He wanted to know. Apparently, as you grow a living person, a soul  grows. Or it attaches. Or something."

Harry's head lowered, all by itself. "So ... that's the story? My actual rival is ... me? Or rather, not-me? You've been having an affair with him?"

"Not ... exactly," she began. "I might as well make a clean breast of it. When the worst happens, it will comfort me that I was capable of that much."

She looked Harry in the eye. He could swear hers had grown to half again their normal size.

"You remember when we returned to Hogwarts? You bolted off to look for the diadem, and Ron and I went somewhere, right?"

Puzzled, he nodded.

"Well I think Ron had decided we were goners. And unlike me, he had no qualms about spending our remaining hours having sex."

"So you two were ... ?"

"No, but not for lack of effort on his part. He disregarded what I'd said in the tent. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to Gryffindor tower. He planned to ... screw me on his old bed. And when I tried to get loose, he told me refusal was not an option and said some rather bad things about you. Even though you gave him that awful pander about me being like a sister."

Harry's fists tightened and his nails bit into his palms a little.

"We came across the crypt. It was excavated by the Carrows. They were going to throw the muggleborns in there after they were -- done with them. Ron was having such a time with me - he kept his wand trained on me so I wouldn't scream out - though he pointed out that having his way with a muggleborn would probably get him readmitted to Hogwarts with extra house points. Anyway, he decided to drag me into the crypt and straight up force me. I guess his manhood was still offended that I would dare to refuse him. He said he knew we were lying, that we were shagging in the tent and the locket told the truth. Anyway, what he didn't know - what he couldn't know - was that the other Harry had followed us to Hogwarts, and was hiding in the crypt. When he heard me struggling, he crouched down and when we came down into the entrance, he hit Ron with something that broke his arm - but unfortunately, not his wand arm. Ron threw me down and while Harry caught me, Ron took advantage of the higher ground to cast a Bombarda that buried him under part of the wall. I saw red, and ... and just like you in the bathroom ..."

"Sectumsempra?" Harry asked, quietly. Her silence answered him. 

"He would have survived," she finally said. "He was badly injured, but it was like Malfoy. But I had nowhere to take him to .... and .... and I didn't want to. I thought the other Harry was dead, so I planned to ... to wait Ron out. But then ... Harry moved. And ... and. ... " Suddenly, her speech became more rapid. "And then  I took some of Ron's hair and, and his blood. And I took my permanent Polyjuice out of my bag, and I put the hair and blood in, and I turned it over nine times deosil and nine widdershins, and I ... I pinched Harry's nose and forced it down his throat. He coughed a little, but it was enough. Enough to .. to work. And I realised that that was my - our only chance. So I ... we ..." She stood up. Harry had scarcely noticed they'd both sat down on the dusty ground of the crypt. Hermione went to the corner farthest from the entrance. Lumos, she said, then tapped the wall and said, "Requiescat in pace". A plaque appeared, on the door to what looked like a reliquary - was that what the niches were called? Harry's baffled brain couldn't remember. The plaque read "Ron Weasley, 1981-1998. He deserved better. So did we all." "It made sense at the time," he heard Hermione say. "When we're gone -- as in dead and gone --  the illusion will end, and they'll find him."

"So." Harry was surprised he could get even a small word out. Hermione had killed Ron. Under the starkest circumstances, but still. And then lived a lie for 19 years. "So, after that, the Ron I knew was .... Not-Me?" 

"If you won't call him Harry, call him Ron. It's been his name most of his life by now."

"No!" Harry shouted. "I don't think I will do that." But then he noticed. Hermione was so afraid - of him - that she was shaking.

"Why did you tell me now?" He asked then.

"You asked," she said, in a quiet, lifeless voice.

"What does it mean, then?" he wondered out loud. 

"He's leaving me. To see the world," Hermione said. 

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. He's always resented you a little. I guess it made playing Ron a bit easier."

"Wait ..." Harry pondered. "So when you two came back with that cock-and-bull story about how you got the basilisk fangs ..." 

"That was the truth. If you hadn't been so overwhelmed and obsessed with Ravenclaw you would have realised you don't learn Parselmouth like I claimed Ron did. Instantly from hearing it once."

"But other Harry is ... how did that work?"  

"Dumbledore didn't know everything. The other Harry had your memories of making that body open the Chamber. Making Ron's body do it was difficult, but after many tries, he got the feel for it. He said that - that it was more a feeling than a sound."

"So what do you want out of this?" Harry asked. Hermione looked at him meaningfully. "Me? You want me to leave Ginny?" She nodded.

"It's a good time for it. You two have come to the end anyway. It will make her feel better to blame me." Hermione paused, then said, "She's started cheating on you."

"What?" Harry was at a loss for words for a while. "Who is it?" he finally asked.

"It's a couple of someones.. She's more resentful and restless than committed." 

"Did ... he say why he's leaving?" Harry ventured.

"He says 'he' about you in exactly the same tone, if that's a clue." Hermione looked pensive. "He said he wants to go somewhere he can be who he is. Not Harry, not Ron, not a thing - just his own man. He'll pick an identity of his own and stick to it. He'll write the Weasleys now and then. He'll come back and play Ron for the big events. But that's all."

"Fine. I'll talk to Ginny. No one will be too surprised. Lots of them thought it would be you and I, anyway."

If Harry could wrest one thing to salve his pride, it would be the startled look on Hermione's face. 

"But you did wrong, Hermione. Real wrong, not like rule-breaking, but something a little evil. You should do --- should have --- some sort of penance."

"What do you imagine would work for that?" she wondered.

"Easy.. For you, your mad, mad science is like the Elder Wand for Dumbledore. It leads you to places you're better off not exploring."

"But my fall from grace ties in to your habit of recklessly throwing your life away pursuing dark forces. Can you give that up?"

Harry thought about it. He had done his bit. If Hermione wanted to raise a second family with him, the least he could do was stay around to see them grow up, too. He nodded.

"Is it a deal?" He prodded.

"It is." she said, as Harry reached out for her.

They shook on it. It wasn't as if he was going to kiss her in a bloody crypt!

Chapter Text

Not wanting to be ungrateful, Harry made conversation with Fred and George.

"Quite a few of you going to Hogwarts, eh?" It sounded clumsy, and he regretted it immediately. But the redheaded twins did not seem to mind.

"A year or three ago and you'd have caught Bill and Charlie," one said. "And the blushing little girl over there will be the last one next year."

"Wow!" Harry responded. "Seven of you in all? Must be nice!"

The twin gave Harry a sympathetic look, then shrugged. "It has its good sides and its bad sides. I don't think our youngest brother is exceptionally fond of it."

"Oh?" said Harry, surprised.

"When you're Number Six, everything is hand-me-down, isn't it?" said the other twin.

"We've had our share of that, of course, but it's probably worse for Ron," said the first twin.

At that point, Harry's trunk was on the train, but he couldn't help but ask about an old woman who was standing aside and glaring at the family.

Harry jerked his head in her direction and gave a questioning glance.

"Oh, her?" said the other twin. "That creature is a Bile-filled Muriel. Quite dangerous, and it's not said to be edible."

"Poisonous indeed. It's a shock to magizoologists that they're related to the Weasley Magnificus, but there you are," said the first twin.

"She ... hates you?" asked Harry. "Why?"

"She criticized our mother for marrying Arthur - said she was disgracing the Prewett family by marrying a "poor squib who'd never make anything of himself."

"And when Percy came along, she predicted if Molly kept having children, they'd undoubtedly become squibs. Which, to be fair, is what happened."

"Oh wait," said the second twin, and he muttered something that sounded like "incendio" and waved his wand in a complex pattern. Harry saw the word "NOT" appear in the air. It was quite impressive.

Then the other twin wrote "SQUIBS YET," which was even more impressive. Even Harry laughed. The woman's scowl looked like it could kill with a glance. Harry was almost glad he had the Dursleys instead of her. She even stamped her cane on the ground and looked away.

"The main problem is she knows our great uncle and she talked him into disinheriting our cousin, who really is a squib."

"CPA whatever that is."

"Nice man."

"Anyway, that meant that the Weasley heirship passed to our dad, and it will pass to Bill."

"Which would normally please her. Dad's no slouch as a wizard, nor is Bill."

"But she's written the Weasleys off twice - once out of looking down on Dad, once on her stated conviction we'd all - me and Fred and Ron and Ginny - be squibs."

"Hence, her bile."

Harry found a compartment, the first one with a window seat, and settled in. He was able to observe the Weasley family dynamics further. The youngest Weasley opened the door to the compartment. 

“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.

Harry was a bit surprised, as he'd taken a compartment near the front so he could observe the platform. Still, maybe everyone went to the back out of preference. He shook his head.

They hadn't been long before the twins came back.

“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there,” said the first twin.

“Right,” mumbled Ron.”

“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our
brother. See you later, then.”

He gave Harry a wink.

“Bye,” said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

“Are you really Harry Potter?” Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

“Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes,” said Ron.

“And have you really got — you know . . .”He pointed at Harry’s forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar.

Ron stared.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who — ?”

It really wasn't Ron's fault, though he was annoying.

"Voldemort," said Harry, bluntly.

Ron looked at him in shock.

"According to Hagrid, that's his name. So I know who."

Harry probably had a scary expression on his face. He thought about explaining patiently and kindly. He thought about it for two seconds.

"So. Ronald Weasly, correct?"

Ron still looked stunned, but managed to nod.

"Okay, Ronald. Do me a favour. Try imagining with me. Can you do that?"

After a while, the stunned Ron Weasley nodded again.

"You're a year and a quarter old. But you're pretty precocious. You're already doing accidental magic, you've ridden your first broom, you've learned to identify your parents and some family friends. If it helps, pretend you're already two. With me so far?"

Another stunned nod.

"My point is, you're pretty aware of what's going on for a fifteen-month-old toddler. That's not a good thing, Ronald."

"Anyway, for whatever reason, somehow Voldemort has found the Weasley family. He's there to kill, not just any Weasley, but you, Ronald. For whatever reason, old "You Know Who" wants you dead."

"But that's not to say he won't enjoy the work. No, not at all. Your father - you have one, right?" Harry asked.

More nods.

"Yeah, your father. He yells to your mother to take the kids and flee upstairs. They've tried to leave by whatever ways you wizards have of leaving but for some reason they don't. Your dad holds Voldemort off. Then he's snuffed out like a candle. Like a candle, Ronald."

"Next, he comes up. Say goodbye to Bill. And Charlie. And Percy. And the twins. And oh, little Ginny. Sorry about little Ginny. And you get to see the life leave their eyes as they drop to the floor. You know it's bad, you just don't fully understand the badness. You're too scared to cry. You're a toddler, and you're too scared to cry."

Ron was very pale.

"Now, your mother comes into her own. This is the part you remember."

"'Don't kill him!' she says. Meaning, don't kill you, Ronald. 'Take me instead! Have mercy! Have mercy!'"

"Do I need to tell you whether Voldemort takes her up on her offer?"

Ron shook his head.

"Correct. In what I now see as a strange response, he demands your mother should stand aside and let him at you. She, being a mother, refuses. Cue the green light. Now, your mother looks like Bill and Charlie and so on. Like little Ginny. And she drops to the floor. I guess it's your turn, Ronald."

"The man laughs. His voice is unforgettable, but only now do I think it has a quality. It's quite high, and sounds like he has a clothespin on his nose. Do wizards have clothespins? Never mind. He laughs and tells the toddler - you - that you won't win. Then he says 'Abracadabra' and he points his stick at you and you see the green light again. Everything hurts, and then you fall asleep."

"When you wake up, some family friend has you. Who are your neighbours, Ronald?"

"Umm ... Diggorys ... umm ... Lovegoods ..."

"Okay. So Mr Lovegood comes and picks you up and you wake up. The bodies of your family minus your dad are still piled up on the floor. There's also a pile of wizard's robes, but that's not something you pay attention to. Their eyes, Ronald, their eyes are all still open. You know things are bad and scary, and you're still too scared to cry. You also feel really sad, but you don't really understand your feelings."

"Then a big, big man comes and pulls you out of Mr Lovegood's arms. He flies you somewhere. It's actually the first good thing that's happened in a long while. When you arrive, there's an old man and a very stern-looking woman. They leave you on your cousin's doorstep like a bottle of milk. The cousin that does accounting. That means keeping track of money like the goblins at Gringotts. You know that cousin?"

"Never met him, but ..." Ron mumbles without finishing his sentence.

"Anyway, you better get to know him. He's your new guardian. He finds out next morning leaving for work. There you are in a basket. Thanks to his treatment in the wizarding world, including his own Prewett father and the Weasley family, Ronald, he hates wizards, he hates magic, and he hates ... YOU, Ronald. He hates you on sight. Anyway, in retrospect, the main thing you remember the old man saying was that he wouldn't remove your scar if he could. And the stern woman says your cousin isn't an appropriate guardian, but I guess no one cared."

"So does his Muggle wife, by the way. Hate you, I mean. And their Muggle child is trained to do the same."

The first thing you know, you're inside a cupboard under the stairs. They change your nappy once a day, usually with a cuff to the ears. They feed you table scraps and whatever's peeled away while making dinner. You drink water. Not quite enough water."

"Even better, they want to get in good with your Aunt Muriel. You are, after all, the last Weasley, a magical family even if Muriel hates them all. Hated them all. Glad they're dead. But she hates squibs more? Probably. Moreover, though it's been arranged you won't ever know about it, you're the Boy-Who-Lived. You even have a nice ugly scar disfiguring your forehead. Get used to it. It's the only thing anyone will ever care about concerning you in the future. Anyway, she visits, and she hates you, too. More than your cousin. More than his wife. More than your cousin's child, who literally beats on you every day. Your cousin and his wife are a little more selective. They only beat you for what they think are good reasons. Something went wrong in their lives, for instance. But she punishes you for breathing. She has her dog rip your flesh. She laughs. It's one of the few things that can make her laugh, in fact."

"Imagine how sad the funeral must have been, Ronald. Eight coffins. One of them is quite tiny. But you won't be there. You're going to be told by your cousin that your whole family are squibs. That your mother used Muggle's drugs and paid for them by being a whore. That your father killed your whole family somehow in an accident while drinking, which he did every day, all day. That they survived by begging. Anything you remember is a lie, like being magic or flying a broom. All lies."

"One day, a bunch of letters come in, addressed to your cupboard. But your cousin still hates the wizarding world. He won't let you open it. Instead of sending someone to talk to you in person, they send tens of thousands of letters, driving your cousin into an insane fury. He yanks his family and you out and relocates to a remote island. Finally, the wizards send the big man that took you from Mr Lovegood. He terrorizes your cousin and his family and brings you to Diagon Alley. Everyone mobs you. Everyone calls you the Boy-Who-Lived, Ronald. You're famous! Really famous! It's a little hard to understand. You are still thinking your family were drunks and Muggle drug addicts. The big man sets you straight. Voldemort murdered your family, it wasn't an accident. And you have money. You didn't have to wear the baggy torn clothes your cousin's son no longer needs. You could have bought enough food not to be small and skinny. But no one told you. Still, you know what, Ronald?"

Ron shook his head.

"It's all worth it. Because, let's not forget, you're the Boy-Who-Lived! 'Hey, Boy-Who-Lived, show us your scar!' 'Me, too! Show me, too!' You're like a Muggle celebrity. Of course, it's a little weird you never ever got any mail from anyone in the magical world. You'll have to look into that. But fame, Ronald. And fortune! Well, it's not really a fortune anymore, but it's better than nothing. And nothing is better than being famous."

"Anyway," said Harry, moving his hair aside again, "Yes, this is where You-Know-Who thought he'd killed me, the last of my family. Ended me and my line. The Potter line. I assume it's magnificent-looking, but for some reason when I have a mirror handy, I don't really look at it much."

There was a very long, very tense pause.

"If you didn't want to show me," said Ron Weasley, finally, "you could have just said so."

Neither of them said anything after that until a girl burst in asking about a toad. Harry took the opportunity to help her look for it, and did not return.

Chapter Text

Dumbledore: James, Lily, it's time to cast a Fidelius. I hate to be indebted to that nasty little s__t Severus Snape, but if what he told me is true, time is of the essence. Which one of you will be the Secret Keeper?

Lily: Wait, I thought you couldn't be the Secret Keeper if the location was where you resided?

Dumbledore: What? No, not at all. Nor does being the location's owner, and so on. Arthur Weasley is the Secret Keeper for the Weasley residence, and will be until the current war is over. He plans to give his oldest another Weasley home called Shell Cottage and teach him how to cast it for himself in a few years.

James: I guess that's a relief. How will we get in touch with the handful of people we'll need after it's cast?

Dumbledore: I wouldn't advise doing this for more than, perhaps, Sirius Black and perhaps one of your relatives, James. But you can write out the secret and pass it to me, and if I am the caster, I can pass that on to someone else, though it would be useless them passing it on.

James: Maybe great-uncle Henry? Or Charlus and Dorea?

Lily: What about Peter or Remus?

Dumbledore: I've been trying to find who's the mole in the Order of the Phoenix. To put it bluntly, I questioned young Sirius using Veritaserum, and insisted he let me use Legilimency on him without defending against it. Remus is a difficult matter, because he's resistant to most truth-finding methods, though my gut instinct is that he's not the problem. Peter, however, was always an outlier in James' band of firm friends. And this past year, his unexplained absences from the Order and from his old routine have piled up. And he hasn't been available to be pinned down and vetted for months now.

[Peter borrows James' cloak, sneaks back, and catches Dumbledore passing the note with the Potters' location to Sirius Black. He peers at it. Later, he repeats the process when Frank Longbottom shows the secret to his mother.]

Dumbledore: Lord Black, Andromeda, I promise you Sirius Black won't be in any trouble over this, regardless of what the Daily Prophet is insinuating. I will release all the evidence I have against Mr Pettigrew, and if worst comes to worst, offer young Sirius sanctuary at Hogwarts and stir up trouble for the Death Eater faction in the Wizengamot and for Bartemius Crouch. In the bright glare of the public spotlight, they won't dare to railroad him. After all, while it cost us the lives of Frank and Alice Longbottom, we were able to get the truth out of Bellatrix LeStrange before she was executed, and thanks to poor Neville's parents, Barty Crouch, Jr, Rabastan and Rodolfus will all trouble us no longer. Bellatrix affirmed that Pettigrew was Voldemort's inside man, and if we get any trouble in the Wizengamot, our faction plans on fully exposing the Death Eater faction as they present themselves.

McGonagall: Headmaster, What about that cursed scar on the boy?

Dumbledore: It frightens the wits out of me. When he's a bit older and magically stronger, I plan to consult Nicholas, the Unspeakables, and whatever curse expertise Gringotts has about it. One way or another, we'll have it out of him, I promise.

Dumbledore: Molly, I heard your son Percy has a pet rat that appeared suddenly ...

Molly: Uncannily enough, when you Flooed us, he jumped out of Ron's hands and ran into the woods.

[Dumbledore convinces Sirius and Andromeda to try his experiment at placing Harry with the Dursleys. He explains himself to them - it may weaken Harry's personal protection, but he needs a safe place to live, and if he's in a place he considers home, owned and resided in by his late mother's closest relative, then he, the location, and the people in charg]e of him will all be protected very strongly].

[Dumbledore sends the Dursleys several letters, has them meet toddler Harry, patiently explains that they are in danger just for being Lily's relatives, and convinces them to grudgingly try putting Harry up, eventually in the room they'd earmarked as being for a future brother for Dudley or a second bedroom for their only son, if that was how things fell out.]

Dumbledore: McGonagall, did Harry get all the materials he needs for Hogwarts?

McGonagall: Yes, and all the information we forgot to supply him in our periodic letters to the boy. Standard stuff for muggleborns, plus some Potions instruction books.

Dumbledore: Well, that precaution is moot. I moved Snape to something more suited to him, and I've arranged for Horace Slughorn and Andromeda Tonks to split the Potions education.

McGonagall: Oh, Bless you, Headmaster! Thank God that half-baked idea you had about keeping him ignorant of Wizarding Britain never materialised.

Dumbledore: Yes, my convoluted reasoning included having Molly Weasley lie about not knowing where the Platform is at King's Crossing, and complaining loudly about Muggles, violating the Statute of Secrecy. Then I would have Ronald Weasley lie and say all the compartments were full, even though we have less than a quarter the population the trains were designed to carry.

McGonagall: All that, just to get him to befriend Ronald Weasley? Why?

Dumbledore: some half-baked idea, as you say, about keeping Harry Potter under my thumb, I'm sad to say.

McGonagall: Well, glad you gave up on that. Do you still want him to befriend the Weasleys?

Dumbledore: I think so, they're a fundamentally right-thinking family, after all.

McGonagall: So, what will you do?

Dumbledore: Tell Harry, "Harry, the nasty, anti-social families are all banding together, and the families fighting them should do the same. Would you be interested in getting to know the Weasley family? Their son, Ron, is your age."

McGonagall: As simple as that?

Dumbledore: As simple as that.

McGonagall: Good for you, Headmaster!

[There are no issues at King's Cross, Harry meets Ron Weasley on his terms, so Hermione and Neville aren't pushed away by Ron. Harry soon is acquainted with a majority of students in his year, especially in his House. ]

[Potions is enjoyable, leveraging Harry's cooking skills. Severus Snape is part of Pomfrey's hospital wing, and the official Potions brewer for Hogwarts. None of his work is done in secret, and after Dumbledore vouched for him, the idea that he'd somehow try to convince the Death Eaters he was on their side is seen as laughable. Argus Filch is given a generous retirement, and his duties are assumed by Rubeus Hagrid and the Hogwarts house elves, who'd done most of the work already.]

Dumbledore: Cuthbert, you're going to have fewer students soon. You're going to be moved to teaching Special Subjects once a week, starting with the Goblin Rebellions. Didn't want you upset when you noticed. Another teacher will be sharing the Magical History lessons with you.

Dumbledore: Sybil, we're going to have the prominent Centaur Seer Firenze take your classes for a while, while you undergo treatment at Saint Mungos. After you're released, you will be forced to take a vacation, which you haven't for years. Since the forces of Voldemort are still a danger to you, because you told me a true Prophecy about Voldemort, we'll sneak you out and you can't communicate with anyone in Britain until you're ready to return. The staff met generally, and in addition to the drink, your new habit of predicting the deaths of children as young as eleven years of age we see as a cry for help.

Dumbledore: Charity, you're going to be co-teaching Muggle Studies with a Muggleborn next year, but for a while, they will have the sole teaching duty. The staff agreed you needed a sabbatical, living in the Muggle world for a year. In the meantime, we're surveying all the other magical schools for better textbooks.

Dumbledore: Remus, once we've managed to vet you, and I've consulted Nicholas Flamel and a leading Werewolf scholar who've agreed to help, I've been considering hiring you for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Alastair Moody has volunteered to teach a class once a month in your place, so have no fear on that score. In the meantime, you, I, and Alastair are going to prove our mettle by determining the existence of a curse on the position once and for all, and if it exists, removing it.

Dumbledore: Head Unspeakable, I was able to determine that my former Muggle Studies professor, Quirinus Quirrel, is possessed by a spirit that seems to be that of the late necromancer, Thomas Riddle, or Voldemort as he is normally named. I was able to stun him, and if you can keep him in your most enchanted cell, that might be wise. Tom was heavily involved in Necromancy, I daresay he could give even your most skilled and educated colleagues in the field a lesson or two, so beware. Also, if there's anything I can do to assist you, please call on me. My former mentor, Nicholas Flamel, can be consulted through me, for the security of him and his wife Perenelle.

Dumbledore: Head Goblin, I've brought Harry Potter here to have his scar looked at.

Dumbledore: Thank you, Cursebreaker Snakehook, Healer Grimtooth, and the Unspeakable curse breakers all. Your exhibition of cooperation may have saved us all, if my worst suspicions were to prove correct.

Dumbledore: I've strengthened the protective enchantments on our castle, and the fallout from that is that I've determined that a basilisk was on the loose. The poor possessed student was relieved of the cursed artefact controlling their actions and sent to St Mungos at my expense. A team from the Department of Control of Magical Creatures and I will make short work of the beast, now that painstaking investigation has revealed the location of the entrance to its lair.

Dumbledore: Minister Fudge, if you even dream of putting Dementors anywhere near Hogsmeade, let alone Hogwarts, just to scare little Peter Pettigrew away, Madame Longbottom and I, assisted by several prominent figures, will have you thrown out of office. Don't test me on this.

Dumbledore: If you don't drop this barbaric fixation with the Triwizard Tournament, which is dead, dead, dead and I will personally put a stake through its heart, Fudge, I am going to assume you didn't learn your lesson when your repugnant Undersecretary had the bright idea of killing off our students with Dementors. I have a list right here of the radio and newspaper sources that have been begging me for interviews for decades, and if you think I'm bluffing, well, then, read about it or hear about it later, but don't claim you weren't warned!

Dumbledore: Madame Bones, I had both Mr Potter and Mr Longbottom put their wands near the Prophecy, and for neither of them did it turn red. Mr Potter seemed the more confident child, so I let him take it, and he and Mr Longbottom heard it. I was the one it was made to, and I have a Pensieve memory of it for you. I then let him throw it to Mr Longbottom, who smashed it on the ground.

Amelia Bones: But how will you know if it's fulfilled?

Dumbledore: As to that, I have a dreadful confession: I stirred up the Potter and Longbottom boys with a painful description of their parents' suffering at the hands of Voldemort, because I feared using magic on them would violate the conditions of the Prophecy. In a fit of pique, they finally pushed poor Quirinus, with his passenger along for the ride, through the Veil. Then, when the Prophecy went black, the Chief Unspeakable and I Obliviated them. We then put a semblance on the shelf, with the appearance of it being unfulfilled. That should confuse any remaining supporters.

Dumbledore [to Bill Weasley, an Unspeakable Curse-breaking team and a Goblin curse-breaker]: Without an unprecedented team effort, this last anchor would have, I am sure, taken more than one of us with it. With the right rituals, these things could have been used by a powerful necromancer to create at least a semblance of Ton Riddle, who we knew as Voldemort. I am pleased beyond measure to tell you that that danger has now passed.

McGonagall: I found Mr Potter's career consultation quite fascinating, I must say, Headmaster.

Dumbledore: No, no [waves her away]. Whatever was said is very much none of my business anymore, if it ever was, that is.

Dumbledore: Mrs Dursley, the past summer was, strictly speaking, the last time you needed to see your nephew. In the future, with the chief danger to him ended, he won't even spend the required week at your home, but will live with his godfather whenever he's not at Hogwarts. But I believe you'll regret cutting him off as you sadly did with your sister. At least consider writing occasionally, I urge you.

Petunia Dursley: I'll ... I'll think about it, thank you. I must say it will be a great relief for my husband, Vernon, whose tolerance for freakishness is far less than I or Dudley have ever had.

Dumbledore: Thank you, Harry and [Female Not Pushed Together With Harry by Molly and Dumbledore]*,  for the honour of being at this blessed event. Mrs Dursley, I am so glad to see you and young Dudley here, and I can only wish it to be a sign of hope for all of us to put the past behind us and move forward with that which really matters.

*Yes, I'd prefer Hermione, but Luna, among others would be okay, too.

Chapter Text

Harry's wand was out as he materialized, as was the word Expelliarmus.  Just like that, he had the powerful, but evil wand caught in his left hand. Before  Snape  could  react, he was stunned. Seven times. Harry alternated throwing powerful spells at Dumbledore to keep him from having enough time to draw a back-up wand.

Kill them with fire. Kill them with fire.  It kept running through his mind. But Fiendfyre would be overkill within Hogwarts. He spoke nonsense in Parseltongue as he waved his wand in an intricate but meaningless pattern. At the same time, with two fingers of his left hand he stuffed a torn-off sleeve into the Headmaster's bottle of Firewhiskey and set it on fire with the Elder Wand and a muttered Incendio. He knew being covered in fire would only slow the old man down for a short reprieve.

I know where I want to get rid of him, but how would I get him to a remote island? He looked over at Snape. Gellert Grindlewald, Severus Snape. Two people that can do no wrong in his world. Dumbledore likes Bad Boys! he realised. He'd probably be able to follow their trail as he disapparated with the unconscious Potions master.

And so it worked out. Dumbledore could not locate where Snape was stowed without searching on foot. A Point-Me spell would only tell him the rough location on the magically shrouded desert island.

Meanwhile, Harry was piggy-backing on the largest satellite he could find. He'd purloined a medium-sized nuclear missile. He had once been shown - by Hermione - the nested differential equations and frames of reference for even the simplest rocketry, but thanks to Magic, he could visualize the island, point it in the rough direction it would have to travel, and it would land and detonate where Dumbledore was hunting down his pet Death Eater.

Harry had calculated his orbit very roughly, but he did come over the horizon in time to view the fireball (with conjured dark glasses). It should have been a horrifying sight.

It's more like the beacon of Liberty,  Harry thought. He saluted Dumbledore smartly. Voldemort had been a doddle compared to the Chief Warlock and unelected dictator of Britain's medieval kingdom of magical horrors. He guessed that this time around he'd have Tom Riddle gone forever by dinner time.

He had fantasized about destroying Dumbledore's reputation, but finally decided that forgetting him was far safer. He had liquidated the publisher of the Harry Potter Adventures series and kept their presses and distribution agreements. It should take only a few years to remove Dumbledore from all the Wizarding histories. I didn't make the system, I just have to live with it.

He comforted Hermione when she came to him with the news that the Headmaster was missing. Soberly, he told her that meant they had to settle affairs with Voldemort by themselves. Ron was nowhere in sight, so he told her time was of the essence and popped off to Black Island with her before she could object.

Life was idyllic as they researched the facts Harry'd learned decades ago, by his subjective time. Eventually, Hermione asked him about the Island on the horizon that appeared to be covered with glass.

"An evil wizard died there with his closest servant," he explained. "This is a great place to live, but it's also an outpost. Dark lords sometimes don't stay dead."

Chapter Text

"Put. That lemon drop. Down."

Since he was the only one currently holding such a candy, Albus Dumbledore looked up as an unfamiliar voice gave the order.

"Lemon drops are for educators only."

Shocked at the sudden appearance of a man who looked like James Potter, in even nicer robes than James had favoured, Dumbledore could only stare at him and chuckle nervously.

The intruder looked him right in the eye.

"Do you think I'm f___ing with you?" he asked, heedless of the students listening in rapt attention and, in some cases, horror. His expression grew sympathetic, though it didn't quite seem authentic.

"I am not f___ing with you," he finished. With that, he turned away from Dumbledore dismissively and addressed Minerva

 "Are they all here?"

"All but one, the Divination ..." the Deputy Headmistress began.

"Well, I'm going anyway," the stranger said. He cast a Sonorous on himself.

"You're talking about what? Some bird didn't put out even though she's in Slytherin? Some OWLS came back with nothing but A, P, T, D and you thought it was the headmaster's initials?"

"Let's talk about something important! I'm here from downtown. I'm here from the Wizarding Examination Authority.  I'm here from Griselda and Tofty. And I'm here on a mission of mercy. Your name's Dumbledore?" he whipped around and startled the Headmaster by asking.

"Why yes," Dumbledore began.

"You call yourself a headmaster, you bloody worthless son of a bitch?" he snarled, shocking Dumbledore back into silence.

"I don't have to listen to this s___e!!" Severus Snape finally raised his voice and his body to retort.

"You certainly don't, mate," was the surprisingly calm reply.

"'Cause the good news is -- you're sacked."

He turned to the rest at the staff table.

"The bad news is you've, all of you, got just one week to regain your jobs, starting tonight. Starting with tonight's Astronomy class .... Have I got your attention now???"

"You get the picture??" he demanded, raising his voice.

"You're laughing now!?" he asked, glaring at Dumbledore.

"You've got texts. You've got guides. Griselda and Tofty paid good galleons for those."

"Get our children trained! You can't educate with the materials you're given, you can't teach s___e, you ARE s___e, hit the bricks mate -- 'cause you are going out!"

"I have no idea who you are, sir, but the Ministry's materials are quite weak, and the texts .." Dumbledore tried to say.

"The materials are weak? The bloody f___ing textbooks are weak? You're f___ing weak, mate! I've been in this business five years now. Since I had to take over teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts because of an incompetent headmaster who couldn't be arsed."

Snape hadn't stalked off. From where he stood to the side, he asked, in an insinuating tone, "What is, in fact, your name? What sort of coward invades a school full of children and hides his identity?" 

"PISS OFF!" came the reply, then "THAT'S MY NAME!"

"You know why, Sir?" he continued, in a quieter voice, looking down his nose at Snape. "Because you flew an antique Comet to get here tonight, I flew an eighty-thousand-galleon Firebolt given to me by my last school. That's my name!"

With that, he turned his attention and body back towards Dumbledore.

"And your name is "you're wanting." And you can't play in a man's game."

"You can't educate them."

Nearly whispering, he added, "And you go to your quarters and tell Snape your troubles."

He whipped around and raised his voice again.

"Youngest Potions Master in 50 years? No one gives a damn!"

"Killed some bad guy, some wizard in Germany 100 years ago? What have you done lately?"

"Because only one thing counts in this life! Get them to pass the test that is Nastily Exhausting and Wizarding! You hear me, you bleeding nonces???"

The stranger conjured a blackboard, and a chalk hovering in front of it suddenly wrote "ABC" in large, scrawling letters. Reverently, he pointed at the scrawl.

"A-B-C. A-always, B-be, C-conjuring. Always be conjuring! Always be conjuring!!"

The chalk suddenly wrote a large D after the other letters. Then another one. And another.

"DDD Destination, Determination, Deliberation. Destination -- As far as I go, that's your hovels, far away from this castle! Determination -- are you Determined? I know I would be in your boots, because we've torn off the plaster - it's f___ or walk. You teach or you hit the bricks! Deliberation -- have you started to wake up yet?? Are you deliberating your futures? Joke's on you, mates, as you have none! D-D-D!"

"Ahem," said McGonagall. The stranger didn't glare at her, just looked amused in a condescending way. "Our students only study apparition in their 6th or 7th years."

He just stared at her and said quietly, "All my other schools start prepping in the first year and usually finish by the third year. Is there something in the water here? Never mind, don't bother answering."

"Get out there!!" he said, turning back to the staff.  "You've got the students comin' in; you think they came in to get out of the rain? A child doesn't enter the classroom unless he wants to learn. Sitting out there waiting to give you their attention! Are you gonna take it? Are you man enough to take it?"

He addressed Snape suddenly. "What's the problem, mate? You. Snape."

"You're such a hero, you're so rich. You might as well be a Pot ... " he shuddered at whatever uncomfortable thought came over him then, though he did study the stranger for a second. "Why would you be coming down here from Marchbanks, from the Ministry, and wasting your time on a pack of fools?"

With that, the stranger showed the most elaborate House Ring any of them had ever seen.

"You see this ring? You see this ring?" he demanded.

"Yes?" Snape snarled through gritted teeth.

"That ring is worth more than your whole wing of the castle. I supervised 970 Outstandings last year. How many did you have?" he said with a sneer, out-sneering Snape for once.

"You see, mate, that's who I am. And you're nothing. You don't have to listen to this s___e? You think this is abuse?? You think this is abuse, you bloody prick? You can't take this -- how can you take the abuse you get in a classroom?! You don't like it -- leave. I can go out there tonight with the materials you've got, teach 50 students to apparate and move them most of the way to outstanding NEWTS on all their subjects! Tonight! In two hours! Can you? Can you? Go and do likewise! Get mad, you ruddy ponces! Get mad!! You know what it takes to educate witches and wizards?"

With that, the stranger pulled something out of his briefcase.

"It takes brass bollocks to educate wizarding children!"

Apparently doubting their listening comprehension, he was holding two brass balls on a string, over the appropriate "area"--he put them away after a pause.

"Go and do likewise, lads."

At several scowls, he added, "And you ladies, of course. Though at least you've the option of Bertha's Brothel once you're sacked. It might suit some of you who are less-seasoned, not that I'd say how to run your lives."

He looked away as their scowls increased.

"The students are out there, you pick them up, and it's yours. You don't--I have no sympathy for you. You wish to go out to those classes tonight and teach, teach, it's yours. If not, your heirs are going to be polishing my wand. You'll end up a pack of losers sitting around in a pub."

He affected an effete voice and made a dainty teacup-holding gesture, saying, "Oh yeah, I used to teach at Hogwarts, it's a tough racket."

The stranger opened a book of wizarding pictures. There were large pictures of gleaming cauldrons, top-of-the-line brooms, airy and spacious classrooms and quite serious-looking texts from contemporary giants in their field.

"These are the new books. These are the new rooms. The new supplies. And to you, they're gold. And you don't get them. Why? Because to give them to you is just throwing them away."

He put the book back in his case. "They're for educators."

"I'd wish you luck, but you wouldn't know what to do with it if you got it."

He turned to Snape as he fiddled with his house ring again.

"And to answer your question, mate?? Why am I here??? I came here because Griselda and Tofty asked me to; they asked me for a favour. I said, the real favour, heed my advice and sack your pathetic arses. Because a loser is a loser."

It was only then that staff and students noticed the Board of Governors lined up against the wall near the Great Hall entrance, most of them in the custody of one or two Aurors.

As he marched off, the Harry Potter from the future, who'd begun his campaign of reform where it belonged, for some reason recalled Hermione telling her parents, "And this is why we don't invite Harry to Movie Night."

Chapter Text

SEVERUS Snape would never have ordinarily allowed his godson Draco to make a potion anywhere near this complex. Unfortunately, Draco's father, Lucius, had brought up the idea to Severus just as Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange were returning from some "errand."

Severus and the Dark Lord, at least, had noted that Draco consistently stirred in the wrong direction whilst preparing the Insanity Potion.  Nonetheless, Voldemort's glare had prevented Snape from saying anything.

"Do not fail me, young Malfoy!" he ordered, in his high, hissing voice.

With that, Draco was flooed back to Hogwarts to work the potion into Harry Potter's pumpkin juice.

I wonder what this bastardised Potion will do to the Potter brat, Voldemort mused. Well, in any event, it wouldn't work exactly as promised, so he would have a fine time later torturing the youngest Malfoy in front of his parents. Not to insanity, of course, but a bit twitchy and mad would be fine.

Meanwhile, anything it did to Harry Potter would be a bonus.

Because of course they didn't, no one stopped Draco Malfoy from grabbing the blood-soaked Harry Potter lying next to Diggory's corpse and forcing an unknown potion down his throat. He then dashed over to where he knew the Minister was approaching and walked back behind him, smirking.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter panicked, assuming this was phase two of Voldemort's revival plan, or at least Plan B, and the pumpkin juice, which clearly tasted of potions, was poisoned. With no one helpful around him -- the closest to that was the useless or harmful Dumbledore and his obedient pet McGonagall -- he would definitely not have a bezoar in time. If there's really a family curse, then I curse everyone involved with this year with my dying malediction on behalf of the soon-to-be extinct Potter line, he thought fiercely.

When he wasn't dying immediately, he realised it might be a bit early for such dramatic thoughts.

He snapped out of his reverie when Alastair Moody was trying to drag him away from the hospital ward.

With a clarity he had no idea he possessed, he assessed the situation and, keeping a hopeful trusting expression, stamped on the man's good foot with his reinforced boots, bought as one of the few precautions he could manage to take in the less than a week he had to prepare for the dragon. They were still standing him in good stead.

It actually unbalanced the Defence teacher enough so Harry could strike him in the throat with all his force - about half of what he could do if not knackered and wounded - and that was enough to disable him. As he began to fall, Harry kicked the wand out of his hand. As he actually fell, he stomped on his wand hand, then decided to make use of Dumbledore after all. He ran until he could put the headmaster between him and the fallen, well, lunatic. If you prevent someone from getting medical attention in an emergency, he reasoned, you deserved whatever you got.

It took Dumbledore considerably more time to realise there might be something strange going on - or, as Harry started to suspect, to acknowledge he knew something strange was going on. The whole Triwizard Tournament thing had made his mind up permanently about Dumbledore, Bagman, Fudge, Crouch and so on.

When Fudge started to badger him, he just said "Medical attention! I'm injured! Help me!" until the bastard had to shut up.

He let the school healer Mobilicorpus him to the medical section. As he went, he pondered the legal issues he and Hermione had discussed trying to get him out of the tournament. Some of the information went back to the days of helpig Hagrid, Buckbeak ajd Sirius in Third Year.

When he was placed in a bed, Dumbledore and Fudge clearly wanted to badger him. Very luckily for Harry, there had been a token Auror presence and Moody had been taken into custody before he could recover his wand with his off-hand. They didn't know what he was suspected of, but clearly yanking the arm of the Boy-Who-Lived and making him strike you then flee from you wasn't a good look.

"I want to talk to the DMLE head. The minister is not part of the law enforcement. The headmaster of a school is not, either. This is my right, and this is the law. Anyone denying me my rights I am going to give my side of the story to the WWN and the Quibbler ad the French papers and whatever Durmstrang reads. I want to talk to the DMLE head! This is a murder case. This is a major crime."

With that, he turned his face to the wall and acted as if he were trying to sleep.

The body of Cedric Diggory had, in fact, drawn more of an Auror presence, and the DMLE head did arrive a while later.

"Do you have a place at the DMLE where you can be private? I'm injured, but I can walk and I won't die. Time is short, Madame Bones. I know you're Susan's aunt. What's been going on put her in danger, too. For my safety, I need to be somewhere private."

It was a hard decision, but when she heard Fudge muttering that Cedric Diggory should be handled by Magical Accidents with no investigation - after Malfoy visibly whispered his marching orders in Fudge's ear - Bones looked around and decided she had enough non-suspicious Aurors to handle Fudge's bodyguards.

She had them stun Malfoy and Fudge, and she told her crew to put them in holding cells next to the one for Alistair Moody who was slated to be released after a debriefing, because of his odd actions. Now, she decided, he was a co-conspirator suspect. It would be ironic if he'd fallen victim to an Imperius curse, but that was more and more what it looked like.

"I had them taken to DMLE holding for interfering with an investigation into a serious crime. Covering up a murder by sending it to Magical Accidents is not a precedent I will allow to stand. Harry Potter, would you like to accompany me? Madame Pomfrey, will it do material harm to Mr Potter to have him questioned in our medical questioning room? You can come along, of course."

It was obvious Pomfrey didn't approve. She also didn't want to lie. Potter's main injury was Cruciatus exposure. You couldn't make it better or worse by lying down or by moving around; it just took time. So she just picked up her bag with a sour expression.

Harry's guess that Bones would have a pensieve - and be the only person in the DMLE to have one - proved to be accurate. He and Hermione had wanted to use one for Buckbeak, but the Headmaster had refused them the use of his device. They'd reckoned any pensieves at the Ministry weren't to be loaned out to save a hippogryff. Before being turned down by Dumbledore, they'd practised copying memories until they were both swift and accurate with the process.

He decided to cover all the Dementor attacks on him, personally, discovering Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, enough memory to show Snape had lied to Fudge, Snape lying to Fudge -- testifying to things he would have been unconscious for, Fudge pledging to still kill Sirius Black, trial or no trial, the Triwizard selection, the aftermath, including Susan wearing a Potter Stinks! badge, his encounters with Moody outside class, which now seemed suspicious, the class where students, including Susan, were put under the Imperius curse by the same person who'd defied his orders to drag Harry away from medical care. Harry's part of the first task. The French Minister for Magic thanking Harry and saying that, nonetheless, the Tournament organisers had created an international incident that would have long-standing repercussions.

Then everything that happened from when he entered the Third Task to when he arrived back at Hogwarts, starting with Draco Malfoy forcing pumpkin juice laced with potions down his throat, and  including Moody having a strange expression and suddenly yanking Harry - not towards the hospital ward, as he'd been told by Dumbledore, but i the opposite direction. Harry later told her he was sure it was towards the DADA office.

Further talks after Bones seeing all that led him to show her the unicorn-killing and the end of his First Year. What she recognised as a Malfoy elf getting Harry Potter a use of accidental magic on his record. Mafalda Hopkirk's letter coming so fast she had to have had it ready to send beforehand. Someone had paid her to be that ready. Malfoy fighting with Arthur Weasley - Harry had a funny feeling about that, and he was going with his instincts unless he had a rational reason not to. She recognised the book Harry'd written in, lost, then destroyed, as looking like the one Malfoy snuck into Ginny Weasley's schoolbooks. The basilisk, therefore, implicated Malfoy in a murder attempt on everyone at Hogwarts. And Fudge's following Malfoy's orders to arrest Hagrid was therefore part of covering up and aiding the mass-murder plot. Malfoy using threats and intimidation, which Augusta Longbottom had claimed, to force the Board to sack Dumbledore, simply gave her a cushion to still get Malfoy the Veil. The only additional scene from Fourth Year was the prophecy being made by Sybil Trelawney.

The interrogators had been told by Madame Bones that they shouldn't directly ask anything about Voldemort when interrogating Death Eaters, as it would be very like the dark wizard to booby-trap such questions. They operated skillfully and got "Moody" (he'd turned into Barty Crouch, Jr, shortly after his arrival) to implicate Malfoy unequivocally. Now that Malfoy had evidence implicating him in treason, his dismissal due to being under the Imperius was set aside. Interrogating Malfoy with veritaserum and bringing in evidence to confirm his inadvertent testimony was enough to hang Fudge. She sent Arthur Weasley around to announce that Fudge had been caught red-handed aiding the Death Eaters in a murder plot against the Hogwarts children for money, and she was initiating a vote of no-confidence. She mused cheerfully that Malfoy's legal assistance would assume she meant putting the Dementors around Hogwarts. Not so fast, she thought. Only after he was implicated in the basilisk and book plot woul she then revisit the Demoentors.

She didn't plan to give Fudge any reprieve. If he could come up with evidence like Karkarof had, perhaps.

Her Aurors had to be debriefed quietly, as she'd conjured a cot for Harry Potter. It was the first thing Madame Pomfrey, who'd been finally let into the office, approved of.

The new Minister for Magic, according to Sirius, was no less suspect than Fudge had been. In fact, being intelligent and competent, he might be worse in the long run.

But this is the short run, Harry decided. He resolved to cooperate with Minister Ogden as long as it was useful.

In consultation with Madame Bones and the DoM head Croaker, the Minister had split the difference. Barty Crouch, Jr, was put through the Veil. Barty Crouch, Sr, got life in Azkaban. As Malfoy and Fudge still had supporters and pull, they were both extradited to France, along with Ludo Bagman. The attempted murder of the French Minister's pre-school-age daughter was not a light charge.

Malfoy was wanted on murder suspicion. Interrogation revealed he had done much worse than he'd been suspected of, and he was executed. His holdings in France, including everything at the French branch of Gringotts, were sold or confiscated, and the proceeds doled out to the families of his victims. Ludo Bagman was handed over to Gringotts at the same time. He nearly died slaving in the dragon pits before the goblins were convinced he'd transferred everything from Britain to Gringotts Paris, including buried coins and accounts in his squib cousin's name. Fudge got life on Devil's Island. It had been refitted into a wizarding prison after the Muggles officially closed it.

French Gringott's banned any Dumbledore from doing business there, and Albus Dumbledore was banned from visiting France. They pledged to try to oust him at the ICW, though he didn't seem concerned there.

Everyone was satisfied, except Harry, as he really didn't like the Undersecretary, who was still in her job under "Dear Tiberius."

A crucial difference when the Dementors came for Harry the summer before Fifth Year: Mafalda Hopkirk had been sacked. She was afraid to protest the move, for what Harry thought was obvious reasons. It was good riddance, he thought.

In addition to springing into action immediately - his common sense said, No reason to dilly-dally, it just makes you weaker -- Harry also took an active role and sent a message with his Patronus to the Underage Magic Use office explaining the situation. This, in turn, brought an Auror presence almost immediately. Together with the boy, the two Aurors with strong Patronuses sent the Dementors fleeing.

"Can't we - I dunno - ask them who sent them?" Harry asked one of the Aurors.

"That's the catch, lad," the man replied. "We could - if we had a little magic thingy that makes them obedient. Which only whoever sent them probably has."

Surprisingly, the Aurors not only asked Mrs Figg about the Dementor attack, but even Dudley. They also explained that, far from endangering Dudley, Harry had saved his life.

"There's a great deal about your attitude that doesn't add up for me," another Auror said. "Rest assured, we'll have our eyes on you going forward." And because Muggles could see invisible things in wizarding photographs, they showed the Dursleys what Harry had been up against.

Life had been going continuously smoothly for Harry lately, and he was beginning to have an idea why.

When he'd come back from the graveyard, his plan had been to warn everyone "HE'S BACK! VOLDEMORT IS BACK! PETER PETTIGREW KILLED CEDRIC!"

He now believed that would have been a disaster. Fudge was, clearly, a Death Eater hireling first and a Minister second. The first position undoubtedly paid twice what the second one brought down.

Why didn't I, though? he pondered. It was another mystery, like what Draco had attempted - and failed - to do with him with the potioned pumpkin juice. The DMLE had interrogated Draco - with Narcissa present - but the interrogation had ended when Mrs Malfoy claimed it would threaten Draco's health and sanity if they asked what was in the pumpkin juice. And he was, after all, underage. It had left Harry's system, they thought, and the vial hadn't been recovered.

Returning the favour, Bones had shown Harry a memory of the questioning.

"Why did she say the word 'sanity' so loud?" Harry asked.

Madame Bones dismissed it at the time. Death Eaters and their wives did many incomprehensible things, and sometimes just to play with the minds of DMLE personnel, she thought.

It was only later that night that she wondered if maybe - maybe - Narcissa Malfoy had been giving them a clue. It would have been a nice reinforcement if she'd known that at that very minute, Harry Potter, in bed at Hogwarts, had the same idea.

Deservedly fearful of being investigated for her attack on Harry Potter, Delores Umbridge talked Minister Ogden into forcing her on Hogwarts as the Defence instructor. He wasn't convinced by her argument that Dumbledore had engineered Fudge's fall, but he wasn't unconvinced, either. When she arrived, determined to take over the place as much as she possibly could, she didn't quite realise she hadn't been given the sort of unconditional support Fudge would have.

As a precaution, all bribes were now being delivered to Ogden personally. She'd lost her role as a middlewoman. The Minister never consulted her on big issues, unless they directly threatened his tenure. He had a degree of separation, and hence, plausible denial.

Nonetheless, if she was swift and ruthless enough, she was certain she could de-fang both Potter and Dumbledore.

Harry didn't know what had come over him. When the Weasleys and their fellow Gryffindors in general made grumbling noises and remarks at the speech Umbridge belted out after she interrupted Dumbledore's opening address welcoming new students, Harry had remained quiet, attentive and respectful. Taking her cue from Harry, Hermione had done the same.

What's going on here? he wondered. Sure, it was by far the safest path. Given that she had been in a position to send the Dementors and was the chief suspect, it might even be life and death. But it wasn't at all Gryffindor.

Then again, do I owe that House anything? he thought. No, nothing I can think of, he concluded.

This wasn't just avoiding trouble. This was taking steps to avoid trouble. Wise steps. Even more, sane steps. That, he acknowledged, was something new.

Sirius had started him on Occlumency. They'd worked out a system whereby Sirius would go out an upper window on a Firebolt, Disillusioned, and fly straight up as high as he could manage. Then he'd apparate to a safe house that he'd purchased after moving to Grimmauld Place.

It had taken all night the first time they met there for Harry to convince Sirius to take up the Headship of the Black family.  A lot of manoeuvres that a lesser family couldn't get away with turned out to work for a Black. Bellatrix and Narcissa were disinherited. He sent a note that destroyed itself after a few seconds to Narcissa Malfoy. Either she ended her association with Lucius Malfoy or she was out of the house. Another note sent by a rented owl that caught her shopping alone in Diagon Alley barely escaped her curse with its life.

He'd already gone through the process with Bellatrix. There were now only a few Blacks: Andromeda, Harry, Nymphadora and Sirius.

Ogden didn't truly need money, so the Death Eaters had less of a handle on him. He didn't mind them, but he'd never be their errand boy, either. He'd never had an Imperius claim hanging over his head.

For this reason, the Head of House Black got a trial. Well, two trials. Sirius Black gave an interview to the main wizarding newspaper in France. Harry promised he would give one, too, just "not yet." 

"I may need that interview," he said. Somewhat confusing the editor.

At any rate, Fudge was brought out of Devil's Island and forced to testify under veritaserum that the entire Sirius Black frame-up was an operation with standing orders from Voldemort (according to a careless word he'd overheard Rookwood saying to McNair). He would get an enormous bonus bribe for getting Black Kissed, no questions asked. Curiously, he testified that Dumbledore had never expressed any sympathy with Black, or any desire to get him due process.

"He made it clear Black was fair game," he said, scowling.

After being acquitted in France, it would have been almost a suicide charge for Ogden to have fought it in Britain.

Umbridge's coup was even more desperate than she'd planned. Once Sirius Black was on her case, her plots might all be as scuttled as her old school's rusty and rotted rowboats. It had taken a while for her squib janitor father to earn enough money to buy her way into Hogwarts' Fifth Year from Wizarding Vocational Secondary near Leatherhead.

Hermione Granger liked the new Harry. As such, she was comfortable following his lead. They had no idea that in another world of If, the sitting Minister would have his heavy hand just over their tiny bodies, waiting to swat them.

So they both read their Slinkard and ignored the teacher. She took points for not participating, of course, but she also took points for participating, so they went with the "safe & sane" option.

After a month, Sirius leaned on the Board, Augusta Longbottom supported him, Harry and Neville brought copies of some frantic Decrees Umbridge had made and recounted her classroom behaviour and absurd statements about their Defence OWLS and NEWTS. Ogden committed further by making her an Inquisitor (based on problems she'd already reported). She put up a Decree banning any communication with the outside world. The Headmaster did not fight her.

Probably trying to make himself eventually look good in contrast, but also have been reasonable all along, Harry thought. Harry snuck out and owled a copy to the Board. They summoned her, and when she refused, the Ministry and Board were in open conflict. Ogden threatened the traditional Ministry threat - stopping funding of tuition at Hogwarts by the Ministry.

Unfortunately, there were iron-clad contracts involved. When the Ministry offered to pay tuition, it wasn't generosity on their part. Hogwarts was funding itself with Hogsmeade, with its own extensive farms and greenhouses, with student works, and so on. Most of that was transferred to Ministry's top supporters. The Ministry as a whole was on the hook, whereas the money went to the elite bribe-donors.

Even initially, Ogden lost half his property. Amelia Bones happily reconverted the property of Death Eaters and supporters into Hogwarts territory. The students were cheerfully enlisted as an unpaid labour force - they'd seen how bad it could get: this was war. There were attempts on Umbridge's person, and even once on Ogden.

Meanwhile, Umbridge had struck back against Harry, Hermione and Neville, forcing them to carve degrading slogans into their hands. She never bothered with reasons, just announced the detentions and challenged anyone to say no.

Snape had cheerfully supplied Umbridge with veritaserum. He paid no attention to house-elves, however, so didn't notice when they swapped out the vial he was carrying for one with mostly water and only trace amounts of truth serum. Neither Umbridge nor Snape admitted that Potter beating the serum almost immediately intimidated them whatsoever.

A loose group Harry had called the Defence Association broke down Umbridge's door when Harry didn't leave detention at the scheduled time. They found him under Umbridge's Cruciatus curse. She wasn't in Voldemort's league, of course, but made up for some of that with duration.

Umbridge, who had also murdered some of her rivals, eventually got life in Azkaban. Ogden did not survive a vote of no-confidence in the Wizengamot, but kept his seat there and limped along (still minus half his property).

The new Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, gave in to Hogwarts' demands. All properties previously ceded to private interests were recalled, with no exceptions. The Hogwarts economy was reestablished at about the same income as Ministry tuition had been, but with potential to grow.

Harry's DADA study group had never left the library. When Umbridge banned all student study groups, got rid of Gryffindor's Quidditch team, and so on, neither Harry nor Hermione made a peep. Sometimes, Hermione questioned Harry's attitude, but when he eventually prevailed, though at a cost she found excessive, she decided he might have a better, if jaundiced, take on Wizarding Britain than she'd maintained.

Dumbledore had lost the students forever. All but Slytherin. He had finally made it clear that protecting them from retaliation and responsibility was his paramount goal. No amount of howlers from Molly Weasley had any impact on her children, even Ron and Ginny.

Ron was finding "Academic, soft-spoken, don't rock the boat" Harry less appealing as a friend. Ginny found him less desirable as a future husband. But when Dumbledore made suggestions about favours he might do if they, basically, spied on Harry and tried to influence him, they ignored the hints: he'd shown his true colours during the Ministry takeover. Put simply, they weren't anyone's marks. Dumbledore couldn't make the mental adjustment that he'd have to operate with them on the same basis as with Mundungus Fletcher: On 3, you produce what's in your hand, I produce what's in my hand.

1, 2, 3.

Harry swiftly realised that the visions he was having came from the dark wizard who killed his parents. It would be crazy to take it at face value, he reflected. Sirius was the first person he told about it, over his mirror. Harry had become a master of sneaking out. He went to Grimmauld every Friday evening, where he was taught Occlumency by Sirius and his cousin, Andromeda Black Tonks. He had persuaded Sirius to make a truce with Kreacher, and bonded with Dobby and with Barty Crouch's abandoned elf, Winky. Hermione hadn't approved at all, but she had gotten in the habit of respecting Harry's common sense. It took a lot of Fourth Year, especially with the little time the tournament left them, to fight it out. By the end, Hermione focused on the result - happy elves - instead of the blow to her pride.

Between them, Dobby, Winky and Kreacher made Grimmauld Place tolerable. Harry saw how vulnerable Sirius was after Azkaban. He departed from his uninvolved stance to point out that Dumbledore had betrayed his parents by stealing Harry from Sirius and abandoning him to people who were their enemies. This occurred when Dumbledore tried to take over Grimmauld Place with Molly Weasley as his second-in-command (or third- when Snape was there). Harry agreed with Sirius that neither Snape nor Mundungus Fletcher should ever be allowed into Sirius's home or know his secret. They worked with a curse-breaker (Bill Weasley under a vow of secrecy) to put a Fidelius Charm with Harry as the Secret Keeper. Sirius had wanted to abandon the place to Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, which seemed sensible to Harry at first. Then he thought about what a prize the place was, to be protected from the Snapes as well as the Bellatrixes and Narcissas of the world. If it could be made livable (and it only took one night of brainstorming for Harry and Sirius to move Walburga Black's portrait to an attic room), Harry proposed giving one of the lesser properties to the Order, and that's what happened. The Order members noticed that Harry and Sirius were always closed-mouthed when they went there. 

When Harry finally let out the truth about his visions to Dumbledore, the headmaster insisted that he not only let Snape into Grimmauld, but let him teach Harry Occlumency by attacking his mind in a closed room with no witnesses. When Harry phrased it like that, even Remus, Tonks, Moody and McGonagall saw what a bad idea it was. He pointed out that he was already studying Occlumency. Dumbledore told Harry he was going to do things the Headmaster's way, and there wouldn't be any discussion.

Because Harry no longer got angry easily, when he did over that, it was a little intimidating even for Dumbledore.

He found out that Harry had gone to the Hogwarts Board with his suspicion that there was a prophecy about the Potter family, and that Severus Snape, a Death Eater in good standing and not under the Imperius, had leaked it to Voldemort. When the Board combined that with the dreadful Potions scores under Snape and saw pensieve memories of how Snape treated Harry, they fired him. Dumbledore had to come in and bargain for Snape's position. Snape ended up on probation, with Andromeda Tonks hired as a part-time teacher to teach the first three years. Snape was forbidden to interact with Harry Potter. If he thought Harry Potter was doing something to a Slytherin, he was legally bound to address McGonagall instead. That woman started taking pensieve memories and invariably found Snape was lying and persecuting Harry. She dutifully reported that to the Board, and they fired Snape again. Dumbledore bargained Snape's way back to the castle again, and Snape chose that moment to get publicly huffy.

When he said he couldn't run Slytherin House under those conditions, Aurora Sinestra became the new Head.

Snape continued to aid Draco Malfoy and his cronies in attacks on Harry and constantly egged them on.

Eventually, Malfoy was expelled, with nothing his mother could do or say preventing it. And that time, Snape's dismissal was permanent. Horace Slughorn was hired to replace him. Because there weren't dire threats visible around the school, he wasn't reluctant to rejoin Hogwarts and his Potions classes. He did dote on the Boy-Who-Lived, and Hermione did get upset about the mystery Potions book annotated by the "Half-Blood Prince," but she'd grown to accept that Harry worked hard and was an earnest student.

Just as they had done in their Fourth Year with the House-elf issue, they argued and fought it out and resolved to investigate the book together. That put Hermione back at the top of the Potions classes, but Harry was a quite respectable second. The main difference was Hermione getting much more attention than she would have as the #2 student when she went to Slughorn's soirees.

When Hermione started suddenly bickering with Harry over everything and swooning over Ron Weasley, Harry grew suspicious. When he woke up one day thinking about Ginny Weasley, when she hadn't even crossed his mind all year, he firmed those suspicions.

Just as had been done for the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Hermione was taken at night in her sleep. Winky moved her gently, and Harry nonchalantly fed her a strong sleeping draught.

When she woke up, she had already been given antidotes to things Andromeda found in her blood. Harry told her he thought there was something wrong with her that year and that he did not trust Hogwarts' hospital ward to fix it. Then he left the room she woke up in and let Andromeda tell Hermione what she'd found.

Harry was more peaceful, granted. But by the same token, he thought it wasn't rational to be too forgiving. He wasn't as reflexively nice as Hermione. It involved half doses and he made sure to have it happen where no one else would see, but he did manouevre the potions Andromeda Tonks had told him about until Ron and Ginny shared a kiss. Just to hammer the point home, he asked Hermione to sit far away from the youngest Weasleys.

They spent some of that year learning how to detect potions, so the entire situation wasn't wasted time.

Waiting until someone (Victor Krum) asked Hermione to the Yule Ball seemed rational to Harry. She needed to be appreciated as a girl, not just as a best friend you might be pity-dating. Harry had been careful to ask Luna Lovegood, a younger girl who needed to be elevated socially at Hogwarts because she was being bullied in Ravenclaw. She was very fun, he reflected.

Nonetheless, Harry and Hermione spent a little time together, just the two of them, in Hogsmeade in Fourth Year. A little more in Fifth Year. By Sixth Year, before the bickering and the Ron-yearning suddenly began, it was an assumed thing that all their Hogsmeade outings would be, basically, dates, if rather tame, almost-platonic dates.

Harry asked Hermione to be his formal girl after the potions situation was resolved. She agreed it made sense, and they celebrated with a brief and chaste kiss.

Ron had already been sleeping with Lavender Brown, and Ginny with Dean Thomas, Michael Corner and Neville Longbottom. The latter boy wasn't as carefree as the other two, and ended up getting his feelings hurt when Ginny quickly moved on. Fortunately for him, Hannah Abbott welcomed the opportunity to console him.

After Sixth Year, with Snape openly joining Voldemort and attacking the Order, using every secret and every bit of inside knowledge Dumbledore had granted him access to, there was a mass resignation from the Order of the Phoenix. Eventually, only the old-timer die-hards were left. Out of pity, Sirius deeded the house they'd been meeting in over to Dumbledore and nagged the headmaster until he, in turn, willed it to McGonagall should he die.

Harry and Hermione destroyed all of Voldemort's Horcruxes by the simple expedient of asking for and accepting help. Whether there were ever eventual breaches of secrecy, they'd never know, but it was moot as they all acted swiftly. Harry's scar took painful and somewhat dangerous treatment, but he did not have to die as the Headmaster believed.

The Dursleys ended up in prison, finally, for embezzling money meant for Harry, with Dudley going to his Aunt Marge. There, he learned the ins and outs of being a menial dog-carer.

Voldemort's reinforcements were halted in France with the French Aurors, in Germany with German magical soldiers, and so on. Meanwhile, the Ministry was quietly given aid by those troops in securing their own realm. Some of the things Harry did in that conflict were brave, and all were important, but it was a team effort.

Harry and Hermione married in their Seventh Year. Hermione had chosen to save herself for her wedding night, and Harry did too. He didn't think involving some other girl in their lives along the way was a good foundation for their future anyway.

The pattern they established was, first, killing Voldemort and those around him with explosives and other area-effect weapons. When he was a wraith waiting to be found and resurrected, they went on a hunt for more Horcruxes.

This finally brought results after Seventh Year, where they were Head Girl and Boy. It was anti-climactic. The cycle of resurrection, killed again, anchors destroyed finally ran out of anchors. Then it ran out of targets. And that was that.

Dumbledore had lost the students, lost the ICW, lost the Wizengamot, lost most of the Order. Harry didn't show a lot of outward hostility - he was generally very polite and respectful. His way was unpleasant for Dumbledore: Harry prioritised the herd, the many, over the enlightened few every time.

Dumbledore died a couple of years after Harry and Hermione had graduated. Not wanting to be confrontational while Dumbledore was alive, they quietly undid all his compromises once he was gone. They had intricate alliances based on their fame and status after the Voldemort affair was settled.

When they brought their children to Hogwarts 19 years later, Ron and Ginny seemed to be doing alright with their families. The big shocker of the last few years was that somehow Draco Malfoy had landed on his feet as Durmstrang's Flying instructor. Well, they hadn't ever had any Durmstrang plans, anyway. Ron was still with Lavender, and Ginny had married Gwenog Jones' brother. The Weasleys had married two of the Chasers and Lee Jordan the third. Neville and Hannah ran a tavern similar to the Three Broomsticks, but with rooms like at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Hermione had never had a job after Hogwarts. They did what they liked, learning in Hermione's case, and when they felt like it, they managed to create monetarily rewarding projects for themselves. They were, honestly, a little worried about having their oldest child back in cold, somewhat rainy Scotland after touring the world with her parents, but they had discussed it extensively and had a process to remedy anything that went wrong. They could be a maddeningly sane family, the Potters, but that's how they liked it.

All was well.

But every once in a while, Harry still wondered what had been in that pumpkin juice.

Chapter Text

"My dear boy," said the voice he hated more than anything, "You knowing my plans means nothing - literally, nothing. Nothing you summon (and you played into my hands when you delved into ritual magic to begin with; wait til you see what the Prophet does with that) can enter Hogwarts without my invitation. I should add to your concerns what the Unspeakables will do to a time meddler."

"You, Harry Potter, are the very least of my worries. You were outplayed and dismissed before you cut your teeth."

"You are acting that way, Headmaster, but I'd be a little more worried than you're trying to appear. My Summoning wasn't on your RADAR - that's a Muggle term you should look up - when the prophecy was made. You knew nothing of it."

"Ah, yes. I have done things properly, then. You believe, do you, that I put any stock in prophecies?" He laughed loudly then.

No expression changed on Harry's face, however. He was reminiscing about his time with the lads, bowling with fireballs with his regular Summonees. Especially the loutish, Firewhiskey guzzling demonic construction crew of four brothers. Fine lads, and not bad at ten-pin.

While they confronted each other, the light in the Headmaster's office had gotten weaker and weaker. A feeling of dread began to well up.

Dumbledore's composure showed a minute crack.

"You can't fool me with these antics, dear boy. As I explained, I control the wards. I dispensed with things like keeping the Dark Mark out and focused everything on you, your allies, and your summoned spirits. Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain. For the one that counts, that is."

But then, Dumbledore was trussed up like a Christmas goose. And silenced. With a Muggle gag, not magic. The ropes seemed natural as well.

"Oddment! Search the office. I want anything we can use removed. Spoils of war."

With that, Harry turned to the other three demons who'd entered Hogwarts just before the food appeared at the feast.

"Nitwit, Blubber, we need to break down his resistance and get all his secrets out, recorded, and if they're dangerous to us, removed from his mind."

But unfortunately for those plans, when the old man saw the last demon, carrying a cleaver and wearing a butcher's apron, it was too much for his feeble heart to bear; with a gasp, Dumbledore fell off the chair he was tied to, to rise no more.

On the plus side, Harry had used no magic himself, nor had the demons cast any spells. Everything had been natural as best he could see, looking back over the last half hour. That would leave a mystery for the DMLE.

The best-laid plans, he thought, Mine and his, if we want to look at it straight.

"I owe you 10 galleons, Boss!" said Tweak. "I didn't believe you when you said if I showed up wearing this whacky outfit, you'd bet he'd die of fright."