Anyone But Me

Chapter 2

Stumpy

The Stump was a gorgeous home. Stunning, really, with soft colors and a constant smell of flowers or food or pets or, and most especially, family. Coming out of the fireplace, Harry almost stumbled, but someone caught his arm, surprising him a great deal. He yanked his arm away reflexively and pointed his wand at the person in front of him before he recognized that it was Christine McGrath--the little girl Alana's mum who had tried to feed him orange juice early that morning and teased him about sleeping in. He put his wand in his pocket again, though he didn't let it go.

"Welcome back," Christine said, backing away from him, hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. "Have a bit of an itch to shop, did you?"

Harry looked at her. "I suppose."

After the way he had spoken to her that morning, Harry hadn't exactly expected a warm reception from this tall blonde woman. If Harry had spoken to Mrs. Weasley the way he spoke to Christine, she would have raised hell. She also most likely would not have stopped screaming until next Tuesday. Unless they went to a World Cup and their lives were threatened. Then she would have given him a hug. But that was a different story.

"Did you end up buying anything?" Christine asked, walking toward the stairs. Harry looked around and then awkwardly followed her.

"I bought a wand," Harry said. Christine turned to look at him. He held out his wand.

"You didn't have to buy that with your pocket money," Christine said, taking it out of his hand and giving it a swish to produce a lot of rainbow-colored bubbles. Harry fought the urge to reach out and snatch his wand back.

"Oh, er," Harry didn't know what to say.

"Pocket money is for fun things, like sweets or presents for girlfriends, which is what I thought this trip was all about." She held his wand out to him. "Tell me how much it cost and we'll pay you back."

"Oh, all right," Harry said, taking his wand back.

"Are you packed yet?" Christine asked.

"Packed for what?" Harry asked before he could remind himself that this was something he probably ought to know about. He didn't want to give himself away as being totally new to this place. They would, no doubt, think he'd gone mad if he told them he remembered a completely different history from their own. Besides, he sort of wanted to pretend like maybe this could be his life, was his real life.

"I know you're upset about our trip overlapping your birthday, but you couldn't have forgotten about going in general," Christine said, shaking her head at him even as she kept smiling her smile. She placed a soft hand on his shoulder. Harry moved away from her. "Well, you could have forgotten, I suppose, but I've raised you and I haven't seen any signs of giant memory lapses yet."

"No. I knew we were going somewhere, I only forgot where exactly," Harry said, lying a poor lie.

"Villa. Tuscany. Eight weeks. Come on, Harry," said a boy about Harry's age walking down the stairs, yawning.

"Good morning, Andrew," Christine said, smiling at him.

"Morning, Mum," he said, walking past her.

"It's ten 'til noon," Christine said. Andrew turned around and tried to climb the stairs again, Christine put a hand on his shoulder and turned him back toward the kitchen.

"But, Mum, I still have ten minutes!" Andrew said. He looked a lot like that Matt guy who had been in the kitchen, Harry noticed. But what was this business about a Villa for eight weeks?

"Harry's been up since eight this morning. He's even made it into Diagon Alley while you were sleeping."

"Why?" Andrew asked first Christine and then Harry. "Oh, right, it's nearly her birthday, isn't it? What did you buy?"

"A wand," Harry answered. Andrew gave him an incredulous look, chuckled, and shook his head.

"She's going to hate it, though you two are officially broken up right now so I don't suppose it matters what you get her," Andrew said. Christine made a quiet exit up the stairs after reminding both boys to finish packing.

"The wand's for me," Harry said.

"Oh, good, then you won't get another Howler like last year," Andrew said, heading into the other room. Harry followed. "I know you planned to get her all riled up, but you really did not have to send it to her at midnight. Mid-morning would have been just fine for upsetting her."

"Who is she?" Harry asked, just dying to know.

"Wow, you really are angry with her, aren't you?" Andrew asked.

Despite Harry's best efforts, he could not get Andrew to drop the girl's name. Not at all. But Harry realized he could probably find this information out fairly easily from someone over the course of the summer and it didn't bother him as much. Okay, it bothered him a bit, but not so much that it incapacitated him.

"Boys!" Matt McGrath called from upstairs. "You need to finish packing within the hour. The house-elves are bringing the things over at two."

"I guess I ought to go pack now then," Harry said. Andrew seemed to agree as he threw back the last of his orange juice and raced up the stairs. It was a lot like the day before leaving Hogwarts for the holidays. Harry, who always ignored all of Hermione's constant reminders to pack early, continually ended up shoving everything into his trunk at the last minute.

The house-elves came and went with the trunks and soon the whole family was flooing long distance, making three stops to check identification. For Harry, who had never been abroad unless Hogwarts counted, this was rather exciting. For the rest of the family, it seemed perfectly natural. Even five-year-old Alana looked merely bored at all the traveling.

The third McGrath child, thirteen-year-old boy Stephen was most careful about doing things in order, giving the wizards exactly what they were asking for exactly when they asked for it. Christine chatted with all of the officers in whatever language they happened to speak. It was rather amazing.

Still more amazing was the villa itself when they arrived. It included a Quidditch field in the back. Harry would be sharing a room with Andrew, who immediately picked up a broom, yelled for Harry to grab his, and started a family pick-up Quidditch game.

Matt, Stephen, Andrew, and Harry all played. Alana played on her toy broom a few feet above the ground as Christine lay on the grass, watching.

It was the most relaxed game of Quidditch Harry had ever played. No one seemed obsessed with winning or even competing. They threw the Quaffle back and forth with the ease built from years of working together. Harry felt very much like an outsider.

"Just wait until the Ryans get here and we can play a real game," Stephen said, landing and moving to the dining area for dinner. Harry landed beside him.

"The Ryans?" Harry asked. He hadn't known another family was joining them.

"I know they're all girls and they say they don't want to play, but maybe they will this time," Stephen said, whispering to Harry, "If Nadine and Andy aren't too busy snogging."

Harry smiled uncertainly.

-----

The Ryans arrived the next day during lunch, their luggage already in their assigned rooms. And if Harry had been uncomfortable and awkward around the McGraths, who acted as though he were their son, he felt even more uneasy near the beautiful Ryan girls that hugged him like Hermione did, as if they were close friends.

Soon enough, though, the two families broke off into pre-arranged groupings: Matt, Christine, and Alana with the Ryan parents who were only leaving the girls there and were actually doing something for work over the course of the two months; Andrew and Nadine, the girl that seemed about Harry's age; Stephen and the youngest sister; and Harry and the eldest sister. It was confusing. The Ryans all had names that started with Ns.

"Naomi and you should go shopping for your significant others together," Mr. Ryan had suggested, walking past Harry and Naomi at lunch. Naomi looked at Harry and ate a bite of pasta.

"What's my girlfriend's name?" Harry asked Naomi.

She nodded knowingly at him. "You two broken up at the moment?"

"So I hear." Harry wanted to bash his head into the table. Why wouldn't anyone ever just casually mention the name? Ever?

"Too bad," Naomi said, not sounding particularly sincere or as though she cared. She wiped up the last of her pasta sauce with her bread. Harry looked at the last of his pasta and pushed it away.

"What's this?" Andrew asked, sitting down next to Harry as Nadine took the other empty chair. "Harry Potter turning down food?"

Harry shrugged at him.

"What are Nadia and Stevie up to?" Naomi asked.

"Well, Nadia's probably thinking up ways to be exported and Stevie's following along like the good friend that he is," Andrew replied, picking up a fork and eating the last of Harry's food.

"Andrew, do you--" Harry began.

"Andrew?" Andrew repeated, shaking his head but smiling. "Harry, no one calls me Andrew except Mum, and that's only because she hates nicknames."

"Oh," Harry said. What had he been about to ask him?

"You all right, Harry? You've been off your game all day," Andy said. Harry shrugged. The conversation went on without him. Andy, it appeared, was Harry's best mate. There was really no other reason Harry could see why the boy would know such details about his life. He was like a blonde version of Ron. Sort of.

-----

A week at the villa had not eased Harry's uncomfortable feelings when in the large group, but it had let him learn everyone's names and what he was actually supposed to call them. That was a bit of an improvement. Then, just when Harry began to understand the workings of the villa--which staircase to take when he wanted to eat and which he took to go to the Quidditch field--the family headed off for a day trip to Rome. Which was sort of great. Harry saw a lot of things he had heard about in History of Magic. Or which Hermione had heard about in History of Magic and later related to him.

Not that Rome was magical. Actually, that was one of the most interesting pieces of information about the city. With the single exception of Agrippa, Caesar Augustus's son-in-law and a virtual nobody besides that, there were no notable magical people in the history of Rome, meaning all of the amazing statues and monuments were created solely by Muggles.

On the tour bus, Andy tried to pick up Alana and put her on his lap, but the five-year-old twisted out of his grasp and climbed onto Harry. She was small and warm and talking non-stop. Harry was very uncomfortable with her proximity but tried not to act that way. Maybe she was used to sitting on him. Harry let her words and voice move past him as he looked at Andy on his right (shoulder touching Nadine's), and Stephen in the row in front of him tons of photos of everything as Nadia chatted.

Naomi (the Ryan sister who was going to be a seventh year) sat to Harry's left, quiet for the most part. Christine and Matt sat side-by-side, pointing to various things, smiling, chatting, and glancing back at their kids every now and again, proud. Harry wondered if they looked at him like that.

And though he did not know it, Harry was filled with humility right then, wondering subconsciously what he had ever done to deserve this moment.

Alana poked him in the belly. Reflexively, Harry grabbed her hand before it had even stopped touching him and yanked it away from his body. He looked down into her large brown eyes and smiling, trusting face, at her little hand in his. He could crush her hand, if he tried. He let her go quickly.

"I want a gelato," Alana said.

"Er," Harry said, not knowing how to respond. Three seconds of silence.

"Bored, are you?" Naomi asked, coming to the rescue as she tickled Alana. She laughed and playfully pushed the older girl's hands away. "Do you know where we are, little duck? We're in Rome."

"We're in Rome!" yelled Andy and Nadia in unison, raising their right arms. Then they laughed at themselves.

"And?" Alana asked, turning around to look at Harry.

"And Rome is where the world began," Andy answered for Harry.

"That's an exaggeration," Nadine said. Andy covered her mouth with his hand and looked at his little sister.

"That is not an--ouch! She bit me!" As Andy and Nadine started squabbling, Alana turned to Harry for an explanation.

"Rome is really old," Harry said, trying to think of reasons why a five-year-old might be excited to be in Rome. Why anyone ought to be excited. "And it's big."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because the ancient Romans liked building big things?" Harry guessed. It was a shame Hermione wasn't there. She would have loved to teach Alana about the intricacies of the city and its history.

"Why?" Alana was rather persistent with these whys. Harry knew the way the Dursleys would answer: "Because I said so. Don't ask questions."

"So things would last, I suppose," Harry said, trying his best to actually respond but feeling very lost. He looked at Naomi and shrugged. She hesitated, smiled, and bent down so that she was at eye-level with Alana, her black hair framing her face.

"See that over there?" she asked, pointing to a stone thing to their right. Alana nodded. "That's the Arch of Constantine, built around 410."

"410 this morning?"

"410 AD, 1600 years ago," Naomi said.

Alana gasped. "That's as old as Dumbledore!"

"A bit older," Naomi said. And so the tour progressed, Harry's legs gradually went numb as Naomi and Alana talked about old buildings that Harry probably would have known about had he not slept through the last five years of history class.

The bus eventually stopped at the Coliseum and the guide suggested that everyone get off and take a tour of the Flavian Amphitheater. They all did. Harry let Naomi and Alana wander away.

"Letting Naomi play tour guide for a while?" Andy asked Harry, who shrugged.

"I don't know anything about this stuff," Harry admitted.

"Who are you and what've you done with the real Harry?" Andy asked, laughing. From the clap on the shoulder, Harry assumed he was just joking. The tour was long. The sun was hot. The building was falling apart.

"Come on, Harry," Christine said, walking past Harry as she addressed him. Harry happily followed her away from the tedious guide.

"Where're we going?" Harry asked, glancing back at the group they'd left behind.

"I told Matt the Unadventurous that we'd walk back to the Floo station," Christine said, beginning to climb the worn down stairs. Harry climbed beside her.

"It's pretty far," Harry said. Besides being generally worn past all convenient ability to climb them, the stairs were also really small.

"True," Christine said, taking out her wand and unlocking a gate that looked like it was there to protect people, but if there was anything Harry had learned about Christine in their short amount of time together, it was that she did not let social convention stop her from doing or saying anything.

They climbed until they reached the highest point they could reach in the amphitheater and then stopped to look down at the gutted arena. It was, in a word, spectacular. The old stone crisscrossed in large chunks across the floor as the rows and rows of seats stacked on top of each other around it. But probably the most amazing feature was the missing wall of the far right side. Someone had built this place so well that when an earthquake hit it and a portion broke off, the rest of it still managed to stand alone. Spectacular.

"It's it great that Muggles see the exact same thing from here?" Christine asked, leaning against the stone railing in front of her.

Harry had been busy staring at the tiny people in the arena. "What?"

"You know how if a Muggle were to see Hogwarts, they would see rubble?" Christine asked. She motioned with her hand over everything in front of her. "Here everyone sees the exact same thing. Or maybe we see something less, since it was their technology that built this."

Not knowing how to respond, Harry didn't. Instead he stood beside this woman who ought to have been like a mother to him and felt out of place atop that building. He was still trying to figure out his exact connection to Christine and Matt without being obvious about the fact that he didn't know who they were or why they adopted him or why he'd never met them in his natural world. It was all very confusing and it was what Harry focused on as the pair climbed down and then left the coliseum.

"Thanks for taking care of Alana today," Christine said as they walked to the Roman Forum.

"She's"--Harry tried to think of an appropriate word to describe how he felt about Alana and the virtual hero-worship she bestowed upon him--"small."

"True." Christine laughed. "I'm glad to see you and Naomi are getting along too. You normally get exasperated and say 'Come on, Naomi, say something. Give me something to work with!' Then she replies by saying you really needed to learn the art of silence."

"Er, she's not that bad," Harry said. Actually, she was probably the person on this trip that Harry got along with best. She didn't ask questions, didn't talk to him like he ought to entertain her, and when Alana confused him, she took her off his hands.

They walked a bit further before Christine spotted an ice cream cart and hauled Harry over to it, insisting that they get some gelato. Christine started speaking rapidly in Italian to the man and Harry stared at her. Did she speak every language in the world?

"What do you want, Harry?" she asked. Harry shrugged and pointed at two different types of ice cream. Christine bought him the largest cone she could with two scoops of his chosen flavors. Then the pair walked away with two tall cones of delicious ice cream.

"I could have paid for that," Harry said, enjoying his ice cream very much.

"Why would you?" Christine asked, walking up the hill that led to the forum.

"Dunno, just--" Harry cut himself off. "I didn't know you spoke Italian too."

"Oh! I forgot that you were underage." She pulled out her wand and pointed it at Harry. He instinctively swiveled out of the way of the spell she sent at him. She gave him a strange look and cast the spell again. Harry forced himself to let it hit him, knowing it could be a curse. But after the spell hit, Harry was not itchy or missing a limb. Instead, Harry understood everything the people around him were saying.

"I can understand them," Harry said wonderingly.

"True. That was an Italian translation spell," Christine said, putting her wand away and continuing the march as she ate her ice cream. Like speaking Parseltongue, speaking Italian sounded like English to Harry if he weren't paying attention. Still Harry couldn't help but have a thousand questions run across his mind about Christine and Matt in general. He decided to just ask them.

"Er, Christine," he began, unsure how to word this, "do you ever--regret--well, taking me in?"

"No." Christine took a lick out of her ice cream and walked on. She said it so easily, so quickly, so sincerely that Harry believed her instantly. And that scared him.

"You don't regret adopting me?" Harry asked.

"No," Christine said, looking around the forum.

"Not ever?" Harry pressed.

"No," she answered without pause or a shred of doubt. She answered like she thought the question was inherently stupid. They stopped to make sure they wouldn't be in the middle of the picture the people in front of them were taking of a large temple.

"Well, why did you adopt me in the first place?" Harry asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" That was what Harry wanted to know: why wouldn't Christine and Matt have taken him in back in his natural world?

"Are you my godmother?"

"No. I don't think you have one of those. Your mum and dad were in already in hiding then, so only their secret keeper could go to your christening." Harry felt a pang thinking about Sirius. "Besides, Matt and I were in hiding then too."

Harry looked over at her in shock.

"It was right after his parents were attacked." She mentioned it in a way that suggested that Harry should know about the attack on Matt's parents, like it was something the family had discussed before. Deciding not to draw attention to his own lack of information, Harry went on with his line of questioning.

"And after my parents were attacked, you just came and got me?"

"No, the Aurors did, but when I heard about what happened, I went straight to the hospital and found you toddling around the daycare, stacking blocks. I picked you up and brought you home." They stopped to look at the Temple to the Divine Faustina and Antinious Pius.

"And Dumbledore let you just take me, didn't say a word?" Harry asked disbelievingly after they had walked past the Vestal Virgin Temple.

"Nothing that mattered," Christine said. And just like that, Harry knew he had grown up happily.

How had things been so different?

-----

The holiday passed quickly in this fashion: the week spent at the villa or roaming about nearby villages and the weekend full of fun trips to famous cities with Matt and Christine. Harry's birthday had been a special occasion, warranting a rare dinner out. It must be noted that the food at the restaurant was not as good as the House-elves' food.

Christine had the entire restaurant sing to Harry. He was highly uncomfortable, though not nearly as uncomfortable as he was when they returned to London and the Stump August 25^th, tired and sleepy. Harry could have slept until the next day, and that was his plan until Christine stopped him in the kitchen.

"Hey, Harry, I have an owl from the Daily Prophet," she said. He tensed. "They want to come with us to Diagon Alley."

"Are we going to Diagon Alley now?" Harry asked.

"Your mum would probably want us to, but no, we're not."

"Then why did they--"

"They just want to follow you around whenever you decide to go and do a piece about you," Christine said, putting the letter down on the counter in front of Harry. He glanced at it.

"Why?"

"It'll be a year in mid-September," Christine said, riffling through the rest of the their letters. Matt came in right then.

"Since what?" Harry asked, worry creeping into his heart. How had that woman in Robert's bookshop known him?

Christine didn't reply, just looked pointedly at him and then at the letter. She had a vaguely sad look on her face that Harry didn't understand. In the weeks since he had been taken into her home and her family, he'd never seen her really display any emotion other than happiness and love. Harry shook his head, knowing it would be obvious that something was wrong if he didn't know what she was talking about now.

"Well, could you tell them that I'd rather they didn't come with us?" Harry asked. "I don't want to be in the paper."

"You sure, Harry?" Matt asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "And if they ever ask you again, please tell them that I don't do interviews and I hate pictures."

"They'll wonder what happened. It'll make them more curious," Matt said. Standing next to him, Christine looked at Harry for a long moment.

"I don't want to be in the paper," Harry repeated, pushing the letter toward the two of them.

"All right," Christine said, pulling out a new sheet of parchment and beginning to write. Harry nodded at her, satisfied, and headed up to bed.

-----

August 31^st, after a wonderful family dinner, Matt and Christine sent all the kids to bed, but asked that Harry stay. He looked at them, these people who acted like they were his parents, who hugged and kissed him good night and good morning, who made eggs and bacon without the help of house-elves, and who threw him his first real birthday party.

"Christine and I have been talking," Matt said, "and we've decided that it's time give you some things from your parents."

Harry said nothing.

"You're sixteen and old enough to take care of these things," Christine said, lifting a box off the ground and handing it to Harry. It always surprised him how sparingly she used magic to do menial tasks.

Harry reached out and took the box, bringing it to his lap where he opened it with wonder. It was full of pictures and nick-knacks: a cat collar, a worn parchment note, a patrol schedule.

"I know you enjoy having your father's journal, and this was sort of like your mum's diary," Christine said. "She boxed away everything she loved. She'd have kept you in there, if she could have."

Taped to the side of the box was a key that Harry dislodged and held out.

"My Gringotts key?" he asked, looking at Matt and Christine.

"You recognized it," Christine said happily.

"See, I told you it was probably in there," Matt said. Harry thought back and remembered asking Matt where it was the first day he arrived.

"You've paid for everything all my life," Harry realized wonderingly. Who were these people? Who was he to them that they would adopt him so thoroughly, without even looking for compensation? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would surely have cleaned out his bank account if they had known it existed.

"We'll still pay for everything," Matt said. "This isn't like we're kicking you out."

"We wanted to treat you like an adult and give you access to your inheritance," Christine said.

"I don't know how to--" Harry cut himself off and looked down at the key and then up at the beaming faces of Christine and then Matt. "Thank you."

"Thank us by continuing to get great marks," Matt said, standing and walking over to Harry, placing a fatherly hand on his shoulder and nodding at him in approval. Harry looked down at his hands. Even after eight weeks of it, Harry was not used to this physical attention from adults.

"You knew my mum, then," Harry said. Both Matt and Christine looked at him like he was crazy.

"Your mum was my best friend," Christine said.

"And a great friend to me," Matt said. "My last year at school, I lived just a few blocks from your grandparents. I thought you knew that."

Christine pulled her chair closer to Harry and began riffling through the pictures in the box. Matt sat on Harry's other side.

"Here we are!" Christine said, pulling a picture out of the pile. Harry looked at it. It was four girls holding up sheets of parchment, smiling and laughing. The pretty redhead on the left was also holding up four fingers on her other hand. "That's your mum, me, Matt's sister Tracy, and Samantha."

The last name was said with a bit of bitterness that Harry didn't understand.

"My mum's holding up four fingers."

"That's because she came in fourth in our Game again," Christine said. "She always came in last. I didn't understand how one person could be so bad at Defense."

"She looks happy," Harry noted. Now that he was seeing the photo, he could remember seeing Christine and the two other girls in some of the photos in the photo album Hagrid had given him his first year.

"She was," Christine said, smiling so sadly. Harry stared at the photo as his mother started to laugh and shake her head at the camera.

"Who took this photo?"

"Your dad," Christine said. "It was the morning after our last game at Hogwarts. Actually, hold on."

She got up and walked out of the room, probably in search of something, and left Harry and Matt staring at a photo of happy, laughing girls, and a box full of similar photos. Matt reached into the box and pulled out one of him and Lily dancing. She was winking at the camera and then lifting her eyebrows suggestively at Matt.

"That's from my wedding. Right before your mum and dad went into hiding. She was giving him a hard time, saying we ought to just run off and leave our spouses behind. Your dad cut in shortly after this photo." Matt looked sad and Harry looked at the photo, pointing to a person in the background.

"That's the same girl," Harry said, pulling the other photo back out and lining them up.

"Yes, that's Sam Caldwell." Matt's tone was short. "I don't think we've spoken to her since this photo, actually."

Harry looked questioningly at him.

"She invited a lot of suspected Death Eaters to her wedding and Christine was so angry that she stopped writing her," Matt said.

"I've never seen Christine mad."

Matt gave Harry a funny look. "She gets mad a lot when people do stupid things for stupid reasons, and Sam marrying a suspected Death Eater and inviting others to her wedding just because her parents arranged the marriage struck Christine as very stupid."

"Caldwell?" Harry said aloud, trying to think of a Death Eater he knew by that name.

"That was her maiden name. She kept it because she is the head of her family, but she married the head of the Nott family," Matt said, putting the photo back down and picking up one of Harry's mum twirling underneath a large banner that read 'Friendship Appreciation Day x 2.' She looked very happy.

"Your mother was brilliant," Matt said quietly. Harry looked at him. "Never failed to make me laugh. I knew she'd be Head Girl before she did, though that's not saying much as even when she was Head Girl, she wasn't sure she deserved it. But she inspired respect with a single gesture and kept that respect with her skills and humility."

Harry stared at the spinning girl in the photo, the one who gave her life for him.

"She never thought she was a savior, never wanted to be," Matt continued, "but when push came to shove, she stepped up and saved a lot of people from heartache. I can't believe we've never talked about them or showed you these photos."

Matt put down the photo and picked up one of Harry's dad with his mum, dancing in the autumn leaves.

"I didn't know your father very well," Matt said. "He and his friends were very self-contained."

"Hey!" Harry said, feeling miffed even if the memory of Snape's Pensieve kept him from feeling completely hostile.

"I'm not insulting him," Matt said, raising his eyebrows. "It's just that he and his four friends were all they ever seemed to need at school, though Lily came to be the thing he needed the most, and then you. Still, I'm allowed to be a little bitter. He flew better than anyone in my house, even if Gryffindor never won a cup while I was at school. Tracy knew him pretty well, though, because they were both on the Quidditch team."

"Here it is!" Christine said, walking into the dining room with a framed picture. She held it out for Harry to take, which he did. "I knew it was here somewhere. It was in our room! It's my favorite picture."

And it was Harry's favorite too, after only a moment of looking at it. There was his dad and mum sitting on a bench next to Christine and Matt. Christine and Lily had their arms linked together, chatting. On the ground in front of them were two babies crawling after a quaffle. Soon, James leaned forward and picked up one of the babies as Matt picked up the other.

"That's you and that's Andrew," Christine said, pointing. "It was after the Longbottoms were attacked and I wrote to Lily, telling her how to get past our wards. She and James came the next day."

"It looks like it was a great day," Harry said.

Christine leaned her head on Matt's shoulder. "True."

-----

Getting up and to King's Cross Station the next day was easy. The house-elves took all of the trunks ahead of them and then the whole family piled into a very interesting car that reminded Harry of the Ministry cars: it was very spacious on the inside and it seemed to cause entire buildings to move aside in order to let it pass. When they arrived at the station to find three trolleys waiting for them: one for Andy, one for Stevie, and one for Harry with an unfamiliar owl on top of it.

The family pushed their trolleys through the divider and toward the train. A large group of adults shouting and taking photos caught Harry's eye. Reporters. He turned away from them and tried not to be noticed.

"Looks like Neville's keeping up his Going to School tradition," Andy quipped. It took a moment for Harry to remember: that's right, here Neville was the famous one, the Boy Who Lived. Harry smiled in relief. "You should go over and say hello, Harry. You're practically his best friend."

"I'll say hi later," Harry said, walking past the crowd and hearing snatches of conversation, feeling simultaneously relieved and curious about the fact that reporter in his natural world didn't follow his life as closely as they followed Neville's here.

"Why won't you release your O.W.L. results, Neville?" a reporter called out.

"Don't want to give the enemy more knowledge than they need, do I?" Neville replied, laughing. Harry did a double take. What? Was that Neville? That certainly didn't sound like Neville. Nor did it particularly sound like a normal human being.

"Right, like 'the enemy' is going to attack Neville with all those bodyguards just because they know he failed his Potions O.W.L.," Andy muttered. Harry smiled.

Neville was a good friend, but what was he talking about with this 'enemy' business? And what was with the reporters? Harry didn't have reporters hounding his every move. He'd have hated that. And this business about bodyguards confused Harry as well. A shiver passed through Harry. Were things here really that horrible that they needed to constantly watch Neville?

"Oy, Potter!" called Neville. Harry looked over out of habit and flinched when the first flashbulb went off. He looked away and put his hand up to block the cameras.

"Hey, Neville," Harry said. "I'll talk to you later."

"Harry, why didn't you want an article about you?" a reporter called out.

"Harry, look over here!" a photographer shouted.

"What does it feel like closing in on a year?" shouted a woman.

The reporters and photographers kept calling out to him, but Harry turned and left without saying a word. If Rita Skeeter were still out there, it would be better to say nothing at all than excite that damnable quill of hers. So Harry climbed aboard the train, away from photographers and reporters, wondering why they were so interested in him here. Even back in his natural world, where he was The Boy Who Lived, reporters didn't follow him around or hound him for information about his life.

"You look a little ill," Matt noted as he levitated the three trunks into the same compartment. Harry shrugged. Christine looked at the three of them--Andy, Stevie, and Harry--and smiled.

"You lot are going to have so much fun this year," she said, hugging them each in turn. When she arrived at Harry, she hugged him as she had the other two and Harry felt briefly very grateful for that simply motherly hug, even if it was awkward to receive for a practical stranger.

"We'll be up at Hogsmeade the first weekend in October, so stop by and we'll have lunch, all right?" Matt said. Harry looked at him. Why would he be in Hogsmeade?

"He's decided to start with the Hogsmeade store for the monthly inspections," Christine explained. But still, Harry didn't understand. He supposed it had something to do with what they did for a living. Whatever it was, it let both Christine and Matt taking weeks off during the summer for a vacation.

"Be good," Matt said, eyes lingering on Harry. "I don't want any notices about month-long detentions, all right?"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon barely cared if he lived or died (though he supposed the latter was what they hoped for), and here Matt McGrath felt like he could tell Harry to avoid detentions. It was a decidedly odd feeling to have someone else to report to. Harry wasn't sure if he liked the felling or not, though he supposed he didn't.

------

After Andy said he was going to find his friends and say hi, Stevie ran off in his own direction, and Harry was left to walk up and down the corridor trying to find a familiar face. He felt odd, out of his element, and a bit like a first year. But when he heard a familiar laugh, he opened the compartment door and found a very welcome sight: Ron playing Exploding Snap with Seamus and Dean. Harry smiled and walked in.

"Hey, Harry, have fun in Italy?" Seamus used his teasing tone, but why would he tease Harry about vacationing in Italy?

"Yeah, it was brilliant," Harry said, sitting beside Ron, who rolled his eyes.

"Of course it was brilliant," Ron said, making a play. "We all knew it would be, but you just kept moaning about missing your birthday."

"Well, I'm sure hanging out with Naomi Ryan was just brilliant too, eh?" Dean asked, laughing. Okay. That was confusing too. Naomi had actually been Harry's favorite of the Ryan sisters. Plus, she was bloody beautiful.

"We got along well enough," Harry said.

"I'm sure," Seamus said sarcastically. Harry was beginning to wonder if Naomi was his girlfriend--the one with whom he had such an apparently explosive relationship. Everyone seemed to expect him to have hated spending time with her, or at least for it to have been awkward.

Dean looked up at Harry. "Hey, are you back together with--"

"No, they're not," Ron interrupted him. Harry wanted to smack him. Why hadn't he let Dean finish his sentence and name the mysterious girlfriend?

"How would you know?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at Ron.

"I saw her last week," Ron said.

"Saw her, did you? How do you feel about that, Harry?" Seamus asked. Harry shrugged and said it was fine. Hell, he didn't even know who this girl was. "Look at that! Harry doesn't care. Maybe they've broken up for good this time."

"Keeping dreaming, Seamus," Dean said.

"There are other girls out there. I don't have to dream of her being free," Seamus said.

"Sure, there are other girls, but they've all dated Harry during one of the breaks from the steady."

"There's one he didn't date," Seamus said, winking at Ron, who glared at Seamus and told him it was his turn. Harry figured now was as good a time as any to confront Ron on whether or not he was the 'one Harry trusted the most to keep his natural world a secret,' the key to changing the world after he figured out who he wanted to replace him.

"Hey, Ron," Harry began, deciding blunt confrontation was the best option, "you don't happen to remember an alternative history do you?"

"What are you on about?" Ron asked without looking up as he made his move.

"You know, maybe you remember a different past. One where maybe my girlfriend and I never got together?" Harry asked. Ron's lack of reaction apart from his verbal answer did not bode well for him being the secret keeper.

"Why are you so mad at her?" Ron asked. Harry knew that if Ron had known about the other world, he would have reacted differently, telling Harry everything. But that was part of the problem, Harry supposed, because hadn't that guy - Robert Whatever - said that the one who remembered would be the one Harry trusted most to tell no one? That wouldn't be Ron, who Harry knew would tell Harry or Hermione almost immediately. He might even tell his Mr. Weasley or the twins.

No, Ron was not the one Harry trusted most to keep the secret. He was the one Harry trusted most to be there for him. There was a difference between the two.

------

Stepping off the train into the rain, Harry followed Ron into a carriage.

"Harry!" called a female voice. Harry spun around, but not spotting Hermione, he turned back to the carriage. It wasn't until after the thestral had started walking that he realized the girl who had been calling him might very well have been his girlfriend and not Hermione at all. He just wasn't used to any girls except Hermione seeking his company.

Climbing out of the carriages, Harry couldn't stop berating himself. He had been so close to identifying her.

"Mind your step," said a voice to his left. Harry looked up and saw the thestral in front of him and walked around it, turning to address the speaker, Luna Lovegood.

"I wasn't going to hit it," Harry said, oddly comforted by the presence of the fifth year girl who this time last year he would not have considered an acquaintance, much less a friend. But seeing her unnaturally large eyes, he was glad to see her unchanged between worlds, bottle-cap necklace and all.

"You see them," Luna said, her wide eyes staring at him. Harry realized he may have just messed up, but he shrugged and nodded. She kept looking at him. Harry began to wonder if he trusted Luna to keep the secret.

"Do you remember talking to me about the veil?" Harry asked, feeling vaguely uncomfortable bringing up this subject (it still hurt to think about the veil and what it meant), but knowing this was the easiest way to question her. She shook her head.

"Should I?"

"No," Harry said, "I suppose not." No, Harry believed Luna would tell her theories to anyone. She wasn't right either. He looked at Luna and began walking with her up to the castle. He could see that other students were looking strangely at him, probably wondering why he was talking to Luna, but if Harry let public opinion rule his actions, he'd have slit his own throat the year before.

Besides, even if she didn't know it and even if it hadn't happened in this world, Luna Lovegood had earned Harry respect and loyalty through a year of D.A. training and secret keeping, and by coming to save his godfather without thinking once of how dangerous it might have been for her. Yes, Harry knew what people thought about her, knew what they said about her, and he decidedly didn't care.

------

Neville walked past Harry as he was saying good-bye to Luna in the Great Hall and gave him a strange look.

"Hanging out with loonies now, Harry?" Neville asked, clapping Harry on the back and walking over to Gryffindor table. Harry watched him cross the room, waving at girls who stared at him, blowing kisses at one.

Harry watched Neville trip as he tried to get into the seat and eat his meal, and then completely ignore a younger year who tried to help him up.

"Better check that glaring, Harry. Neville's head might explode," Andy said, walking up to Harry with Ginny Weasley beside him.

"Might not be that bad a thing to see Neville's head explode," Ginny said, smiling. Harry nodded, looking over at the pair of them.

"Let's get some seats," Andy said, nodding toward the table. Both Harry and Ginny agreed, walking over and sitting together. It was odd, not sitting with Ron (who was only a few seats away) or Hermione (who was at the other side of the table). Neville sat in the middle of the table, the focus of everyone, regaling them with stories of his summer. Harry tuned him out and found himself wishing for the old Neville.

Ginny and Andy proved to be great distractions, as did Seamus and Dean who sat down with them when they entered the Great Hall. Actually, a lot of people sat around them and a lot of people joined in their conversation. It was odd and a little uncomfortable for Harry. He was used to only ever having a small group around him.

Toward the end of the Welcoming Feast, someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned to see Katie Bell standing behind him with a clipboard in hand. She looked the same: light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, professional and friendly and kind all at once.

"Hello, Harry. How were your holidays?" Katie asked, smiling.

"They went well thanks, thanks," Harry said. "How were yours?"

"Busy. I made captain," Katie said, sighing but showing Harry the clipboard as if to prove that she was indeed Quidditch captain.

"That's great, Katie," Harry said, smiling and genuinely happy with the appointment. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Katie said, a slightly confused expression on her soft features. But that quickly went away. "Anyway, Quidditch try-outs are tomorrow. I need you and Ginny there."

"Tomorrow? Before classes even begin?" Harry asked. The first of September had fallen on a Saturday this year.

"I thought it'd be best to have the team work together all year," Katie said. "Besides, we have a lot of positions to fill: two beaters, a chaser, and a keeper. I really hope these second years can pull it together in time, otherwise we won't have a shot at the Cup."

She left soon thereafter and Harry turned back to the group, locking eyes with Ginny and seeing her nod as if to tell him she had heard what Katie said. Harry nodded back at her.

"What was that all about?" Neville called down the table.

Harry looked back at him. "Quidditch."

During the Feast Harry had noticed some things about the people he knew: he noticed that Hermione and Ron did not eat together, noticed that Seamus and Dean were pretty much the same, noticed that Dumbledore also seemed unchanged. But he noticed changes in Ginny and Neville most. Like Luna, both Neville and Ginny had come to the Department of Mysteries, yet while Luna seemed the same between the worlds, there was something different about both Ginny and Neville. Ginny made him laugh and feel comfortable. Neville just irritated him.