It's a Wonderful Life, Harry Potter

Harry Potter leaned as far forward on his broomstick as he could without falling off, arm outstretched, the wind whipping through his already-tousled black hair. The rain splattered against his round glasses, but the water-repelling spell took care of it instantly. He strained, stretching his arm even farther so he could grab the Golden Snitch that was just centimeters away. He felt the soft touch of its feathery white wings against his fingertips… almost there…

Harry felt something very hard slam into the side of his head and knock the Snitch out of range. Or was it he who was moving? Pain was the next thing he was aware of and he was sure it had something to do with the crunching sound he’d heard when he was hit. Falling… tumbling… blackness.

"I tell you, this Quidditch sport is just too dangerous for children to play without the proper safety equipment! This is not the first time I’ve had this child in here for injuries because of that ruddy game," someone was saying angrily as Harry began to awaken. Madam Pomfrey? he thought faintly, trying to open his eyes. It was easier said than done.

"Poppy, it was a mere accident. Potter should be fine." This voice was definitely Professor McGonagall’s, as Harry instantly recognized the clipped tone. "Has he awakened?"

"I’m not sure, Minerva. Let me check on him." Harry forced his heavy eyelids open and blinked, trying to make something out of the blurs surrounding him. He was pretty sure the pink blur on the right was Madam Pomfrey and the red blur on the left was suspiciously McGonagall-shaped.

"Are you all right, Potter?" the McGonagall-blur asked. Harry made some sort of noise and tried to sit up. That proved to be harder than making his eyelids open.

"I’m okay," he managed to slur out, raising a hand to rub his eyes. His vision improved, but not much. "Where are my glasses?" The Pomfrey-blur moved and handed a black object to him. Harry took the object (glass, by the feel of it) and slid it onto his nose. The room around him instantly sharpened.

He recognized the infirmary room immediately (How many times had he been there during his five years at Hogwarts?) and saw that Professor McGonagall’s red robes were soaking wet and stained with mud. The Quidditch match came back to his mind and he gasped.

"Did we win?" he asked quickly. "I almost had the Snitch, I know it. Something hit me… Did we win, Professor?" Professor McGonagall looked uneasy as she answered.

"No, Potter, I’m afraid Malfoy got to it just after that Bludger hit you. Fred Weasley applied for a rematch, and Madam Hooch was making the decision last I heard." Harry groaned and fell back into his pillows.

"I can’t believe Malfoy got it," he moaned, closing his eyes.

"You have some visitors, Potter," McGonagall said quickly, trying to change the subject. "Shall I let them in?" Madam Pomfrey looked as though she were about to protest, but McGonagall sent her a look that could freeze blood. Madam Pomfrey glared back and stalked out of the room, muttering about sports, injuries and the decline of intelligence in the Hogwarts professors.

"Sure," Harry said, dismally, not meeting the Professor’s eyes. They were probably just going to yell at him for missing the Snitch anyway. Brief footsteps sounded, getting fainter and fainter. Then, two more sets of footsteps began, shuffling quickly into the room. Harry looked up slowly and smiled a little at the sight of Hermione and Ron.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "Are you okay? You were really high when you fell, and that Bludger hit you—"

"Well, his hearing’s never going to be the same," Ron said gingerly, pulling his hands away from his ears.

"I’m okay," Harry said quietly. "I can’t believe I missed the Snitch."

"You were hit by a Bludger. No one can expect you to catch that little thing after a Bludger hit you. George is in the common room moping because he thinks it was his fault he didn’t block it for you." It was then that Harry looked up and noticed that Ron’s left eye was blue and black.

"What happened?" Harry asked. Hermione planted her hands on her hips and scowled.

"He got into a fight with Malfoy after the game," Hermione explained, as though reporting the misbehavior of a young child. "The stupid git jumped on Malfoy as soon as he landed and was shouting that he was a cheating prat."

"I would’ve won if Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t gotten involved," Ron said defensively, touching his eye tenderly.

"And he won’t let me heal it," she continued as though Ron hadn’t spoken. "He’s being stubborn." Ron threw up his hands in defeat, and Harry shook his head at his bickering friends.

"Don’t worry about the game anymore, okay? Hooch might let us have a rematch because Alicia said she called the time out before Malfoy got the Snitch," Ron said, trying to cheer up Harry. "We’ve got the Halloween feast this evening, too. Don’t dwell on it."

But dwelling on the situation was the only thing Harry could do all afternoon that rainy Saturday. The rest of the Gryffindor team said they didn’t blame him – that anyone would’ve missed the Snitch under those conditions – but the look of defeat in their eyes gave Harry a hollow feeling inside. Not only that, but Madam Hooch had gotten so sick of Fred and George Weasley staking out her office and asking her every five minutes if she would consider the rematch that she announced she wasn’t going to make a decision until the next day.

"The feast is going to start soon," Ron said, as his blue eyes watched Harry pace back and forth across the floor of their dormitory. Their other roommates, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas, had already gone down to the Great Hall to socialize.

"Go ahead. I’ll come down later," Harry replied, nodding his head to the door.

"Erm… okay, I’ll tell Hermione." Harry sat heavily on his four-poster bed and listened to Ron’s footsteps as they got to the door. When they stopped, Harry looked up. "You know I’m here if you want to talk… right, Harry?" Ron said, a bit awkwardly.

"I know, Ron." Ron nodded solemnly, opened the door, and was gone. Harry lay back on his bed, hands cupped behind his head. He closed his eyes slowly and reviewed the last few seconds of the Quidditch game in his head. He should’ve pushed forward faster, should’ve reached farther, should’ve dodged the Bludger.

Harry sat up and crawled on his hands and knees to the edge of his bed, reached down and opened the front clasp on his trunk. With a heave, he flipped the heavy lid up to reveal the contents. Harry rummaged briefly in the trunk, reaching his hands down to the bottom, where he kept his two most prized possessions. One was the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father and the other was a photo album of his parents that Hagrid had given him.

He reached to the left corner at the very bottom until his fingers touched the photo album, and he then yanked it out from beneath his schoolbooks. He placed the thick album on his lap and closed the trunk lid.

Harry’s fingers ran over the words inscribed on the cover in shimmering gold: "

The picture was that of Sirius and his mother. Lily was chasing Sirius around a picnic table. Sirius, grinning, was waving a flower in his hand, looking back every few moments to gauge Lily’s position. Suddenly, James came from the corner of the frame and ran smack into Sirius. They both fell to the soft grass in a heap of laughter. Lily walked across the picture and calmly plucked the white flower from Sirius’s outstretched hand. Smiling, she tucked it in her hair and waved up at Harry. He turned the page.

The next shot was of a grinning James, who couldn’t be much older than fifteen, flying around the Quidditch field. He had his scarlet Gryffindor Quidditch robes on and was showing off by riding with only one hand on the broomstick’s shaft.

Harry slammed the book shut.

Harry swirled the mashed potatoes on his plate, half-listening to the conversations around him. Lee Jordan was talking about how a suit of armor had chased him down the hallway when he was out late one evening and Fred was taunting George, who was ignoring his twin and talking to his girlfriend about their upcoming N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests).

"Come on, Harry, you can’t be down on yourself for one loss," Hermione said sympathetically. "Gryffindor is still loads of points ahead in the totals."

"She’s right, you know," Ron said, swallowing some pumpkin juice. "Ravenclaw is definitely going to smash Hufflepuff next week and the Slytherin-Ravenclaw game should be close. And we’ve already flattened Ravenclaw twice. There’s nothing to worry about. It was only one game."

Harry nodded, but it didn’t make him feel any better. The last time he’d missed the Snitch, he at least had an excuse; there were about one hundred dementors, evil soul-sucking creatures, swarming beneath him. This time, it was only rain.

"Nice game, Potter," a drawling voice said from behind him. Harry turned to see a smirking Draco Malfoy standing there with his arms crossed and a malicious twinkle in his grey eyes. Ron moved to stand, but Hermione grabbed the sleeve of his robes and shook her head.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked in a scathing voice.

"Well, well. A little irritable, are we, Potter?" the Slytherin Seeker asked as he raised a platinum eyebrow. "Amazing how a single loss can get rid of your Potter arrogance." Harry stood at this, knowing it was an intentional barb at his family.

"Arrogant? Why would I be arrogant in the face of a ferret?" Harry shot back. By now, the nearby Ravenclaw table had turned to take interest in what looked like a brewing fight. Malfoy’s glare faltered for a moment and Harry felt a sudden surge of power at hurting him. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it.

"At least I had parents to teach me how to fly," Malfoy said in a low voice that only Harry could hear. "What is it now, Potter? Fourteen years since they were killed by their own ignorance? After that disgusting bit of performance on the Quidditch field today, I would think they’d be glad not to have raised you. You know they were killed so the Dark Lord could get to you, right?"

Harry blinked, stunned, and staggered back a step. "Go to hell, Malfoy," he hissed furiously. Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed his hands against Malfoy’s chest and pushed him backwards hard. Malfoy stumbled backwards a few steps, shocked. He looked about to reach into his pocket for his wand, but then his fist flew and hit Harry in the eye.

Ron jumped up beside him just then, but Harry waited no longer and turned to dash out of the Great Hall. Whispers followed him out to the hallway and snickers could be heard all the way from the Slytherin table at the opposite end.

"Wait, Harry! Come back!" Hermione cried, but her pleas were ignored. Harry rushed down the hallway, running faster and faster. He blindly turned corners and climbed staircases, fury pounding in his ears. His fists were clenched tightly at his side, fingernails digging deep into his palm.

"Aurora Borealis," he said through gritted teeth, finding himself in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Indeed," commented the Fat Lady, swinging forward to admit him, "Why are you in such a rush?" Harry ignored her and raced across the common room and up the winding spiral staircase to the boys’ dormitory, swinging open the door to his room and running to his bed. He tore open one of the curtains of the four-poster and threw himself on his bed, burying his face in the pillows to keep from crying out in rage. Words swirled through his mind.

"I wish I had never been born," Harry muttered, his voice muffled by the pillows. His fury had drained his energy and soon, he was asleep.

"Up, Mr. Potter! We don’t have all of eternity! Well, I do, but you don’t. Now, wake up, boy!" Harry groaned and turned over, waving his hand at whatever was poking into his side. He opened his eyes and saw a splash of green pass over him. A face leaned very close in to his and asked, "Are you awake?"

Harry yelped and jumped away, falling off his bed and to the floor. He sat on the ground for a few moments, dazed. Finally, he summoned the courage to peer over the edge of the bed. Seeing only blurs again, he reached for his glasses and quickly slid them on his nose. When his vision sharpened, he saw an old wizard in an emerald cloak standing on the other side of his bed, looking confused.

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"Who are you?" Harry asked suspiciously, his eyes darting around for his wand.

"I suppose I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Clarence, and I’ve been sent to change your mind." His white eyebrows furrowed together as he brushed an unseen speck off his sleeve.

"Change my mind about what?" Harry asked grumpily as he stood.

"About not wanting to be born, of course," Clarence replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"It’d make the world a better place." The words came out a mumble, but the sad look on Clarence’s face showed that he had heard.

"I suppose I’ll just have to prove you wrong by taking you there, then, shall I?" Clarence pulled his sleeves up to his elbows and stretched out his arms.

"Prove what? Taking me where?" Clarence ignored these questions.

"Hold on, boy!"

"Hold onto what?" Harry felt a pull behind his navel (It was almost as though he was traveling by Portkey!) and then felt the sensation of falling forward. He put his arms in front of his face just as the dormitory around him began to spin.

"Now, class, please take out your textbooks and open to page four-seventeen. Mark, please read aloud." These were the first words that greeted Harry as the nauseous sensation in the pit of his stomach settled. He took his arms away from his face and was startled to find that he was standing at the front of a classroom. It wasn’t the History of Magic room or the Charms class, but a simple, Muggle classroom.

Boys and girls about Harry’s age nearly filled up the seven aisles of five desks each. They each had a large red textbook propped up in front of him or her. A boy in the fourth row was reading aloud.

"‘I must not only punish, but punish with impunity,’" the boy read. "‘A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.’" Harry looked around to see that there was a strict-looking teacher at the desk off to his right and that he was standing alone in the front of his room.

Embarrassed, confused, and feeling very out of place, he started for the back of the classroom. He was almost to the last desk when he saw that none other than Clarence occupied it.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter," he said loudly. "Edgar Allan Poe was my neighbor when I was alive. He had me read this story before he submitted it to be published. Quite a good piece of work, if you ask me."

"What do you mean, ‘when you were alive’?" Harry asked in a hushed whisper.

"I’m an angel, and I’ve been sent down to convince you that your life is worth something. Now please, Mr. Potter, sit down and listen!" Clarence replied impatiently.

"Ssshh…" Harry whispered, amazed the teacher hadn’t even noticed their presence.

"What are you shushing me for? They can’t hear or see either of us." The end of his sentence was punctuated by the ringing of the bell. The teacher stood at her desk as a babble of talk broke out and students began gathering their books.

"Please finish reading The Cask of Amontillado and answer the questions at the back of the book. It will be due tomorrow." A collective groan resounded as the students rushed out of the classroom, eager to leave its boring confines. Harry spotted a girl with remarkably bushy, brown hair hurrying out with her head bent over her armful of books. Hermione?

Forgetting Clarence, he ran out of the room after her, careful not to bump into other students. He wasn’t sure exactly how they’d react to hitting something that they couldn’t see. Following Hermione down the hall, he strained to see her through the crowd. She turned a corner and ran up a flight of stairs, head still bent. Harry couldn’t exactly see what happened, but the next thing he knew her books were flying through the air.

Shouts of laughter filled the hallway and a widening circle formed around a bright red Hermione who was scooping the books up into her arms. Harry wanted to push past the crowd and help her, but it was virtually impossible to do without running into anyone. The regular bustle began again and Harry flattened himself against the wall until the rest of the students had passed, leaving Hermione on her knees to pick up all of her books on her own.

Harry knelt beside her and frowned when she saw that her face was streaked with tears.

"Don’t cry, Hermione," he murmured, knowing she couldn’t hear him.

She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. She grabbed the last of the books from the top stair and set it on top of the high pile in her hands. Using the banister for support, she stood and went up to the next flight.

Hermione turned right and Harry followed closely behind. She opened the third door on the right and hurried in, closing it behind her. Luckily, Harry was able to slip in just before it was about to hit him.

She rushed through the room and to another tiny hallway with six doors on each side. Opening the first door on the left, she ran in. Fortunately, Harry didn’t have to dodge any doors as she forgot to close it.

Inside was a tiny, hardly-furnished dormitory with a single bed, a dresser and a bookcase. The bookcase was filled with thick, dust-covered volumes: typical Hermione reading. The girl threw her books on top of her dresser and jumped onto the bed. She picked her pillow out from beneath her and hugged it to her chest, beginning to cry again. Harry sat on the edge of her bed, wanting to comfort her, but unable to.

"Quite sad," a voice said from the door. Harry stood quickly and saw Clarence in the doorway, not looking the least out of breath. "Very bright girl. It’s really awful how the other students treat her. She doesn’t have any friends or much even family, to speak of. She lives with her parents during the holidays, but they’re too busy with their jobs as dentists to pay attention to her efforts in her schoolwork."

"But Hermione never says anything at Hogwarts," Harry protested, letting his eyes fall on the crying girl.

"That’s because she has you and Mr. Weasley for friends. That, and the children at school accept her even if they do think she’s a ‘know-it-all,’" Clarence replied. "But Hermione should be the least of your worries. Come, we have much more to see."

"But Hermione…" Harry began.

"She’ll be all right. Come, Mr. Potter, and see what has happened to the wizarding world without you." Harry began to protest again, but closed his mouth for fear of losing what little he’d eaten at the Halloween feast the night before. As he’d expected, the world around him changed again.

Harry felt a whoosh of air escape his lungs as he landed on hard cobblestone in what looked like a wizarding village somewhat similar to Hogsmeade. Houses and shops lined the old fashioned street and children ran back and forth across the grass. The only thing that threw Harry was that there was no sky. Well, no sky in the sense he had grown up knowing the word. It was a medium brownish-blue, as though someone tried to enchant a mound of dirt to look like the sky and only partially succeeded. From the sky hung small lanterns that emitted a strange yellowish glow.

Harry brushed dirt off the back of his robes and stood, adjusting his glasses. He looked back to see an unshaken Clarence wiping his own glasses on his violet robes, then stop to straighten the spectacles on his crooked nose.

"Now where are we?" Harry asked, looking around. "This place doesn’t look so bad. I mean… people are practicing magic out in the open." With this comment, he pointed to a girl, no older than twelve, levitating a small flowerpot into someone’s second story window with her thin wand. A small group of boys played a game of Gobstones near an abandoned bookshop. Loud bouts of laughter erupted as a nasty-smelling liquid squirted into one of the older boy’s eyes.

"Yes, this is the largest free wizard population left in the world. There are very powerful wards around this small town that keep it Unplottable and invisible to the Muggle eye from the outside. Even wizards can’t see it," Clarence answered, stepping forward to take in the scenery around them. A young girl suddenly passed in front of them and Harry looked back to see the door of a nearby cottage standing wide open.

"Cho," Harry whispered. He smiled a little, thinking once again that she was beautiful. Cho tucked her dark hair behind her ear and turned back towards the door, as though waiting for someone. Harry cocked his head to the side and smiled a bit more at the adorably impatient look that Cho was wearing.

Harry’s smile faded some as he saw who came out of the door. Cedric Diggory. Cedric Diggory, who had had the school convinced he was the real Hogwarts champion during the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric Diggory, who had gone to the Yule Ball with Cho Chang instead of Harry. Cedric Diggory, who Harry had watched die at Voldemort’s command.

"He’s still alive," Harry murmured. He walked closer and watched critically as Cedric smiled at Cho, then took her hand. She led him to the center of the village where a group of younger children, from the ages of five to twelve, had gathered. Harry followed close behind, knowing he wasn’t seen, but at the same time feeling intrusive.

"Someone enjoyed sleeping in late," Cho teased, using her free hand to poke his ribs.

"Ouch! I’ll have you know that I was having a perfectly excellent dream until you came barging into my room," he answered, punctuating the reply with an overdramatic yawn. Cho rolled her eyes and pulled on his hand, urging him to go faster. Harry jogged to catch up and almost ran into Cedric’s back when they came to an abrupt stop.

Cho took her place at the front of the group and went up on her tiptoes to take a head count. Cedric walked into the crowd and began to occupy some of the younger ones with shorter attention spans by making silly faces. He didn’t notice Cho frown as she began a recount.

"Hey Christina!" Cedric said brightly as he knelt down next to a six-year old girl with blonde pigtails. "How are you doing? Is your knee all better?" Christina nodded brightly and pulled up the hem of her robes to show a bandaged knee. "You’re not going to go up in that tree again, are you?" Christina shook her head gravely.

"No. I won’t hurt my knee again." She sniffed. "I wanted Mommy to take care of it, but… but…" She seemed dangerously close to tears, but Cedric set her on his knee and put his arms around her comfortingly.

"I think Cho did a pretty good job," Cedric said, looking up at the girl. Harry followed his gaze, expecting an indulgent smile to be on her face. Instead, there was a still a frown.

"Cedric," Cho began warily. The eighteen-year-old boy stood, a small girl hanging onto one of his legs. "Cedric, there are only twenty-four here. We’re missing someone." Cedric’s grin dropped from his face as he took a quick count himself.

"Who’s missing?" he asked the children. Their joyful smirks faded and were replaced with feared expressions. His blue eyes danced over the children’s faces, desperately trying to narrow down the field so he could identify the missing child.

"Where’s Krystyn?" the twelve year-old who had been levitating the flowerpot asked. This time, Harry scanned the children’s faces, too, though he didn’t know what Krystyn looked like. Soon, all the children were huddled together.

"We should let an adult—" Harry began, before remembering he couldn’t be heard. He also noticed there were no adults to be seen. "Where are all the grown-ups?" he asked Clarence. "Don’t these children have parents?" Clarence pulled his wizard’s cap off his head and straightened the top before answering.

"Most of these children are orphans," he said, plopping the hat atop his head again. "That, or their parents are missing. Right now, we are in the underground village of Amalgamate. Those lamps up there are stores of natural sunlight." Harry looked up at the lanterns hanging above their heads. "Cedric and Cho are the primary caregivers. They must keep the children here, underground. Once in a while, a fully qualified witch or wizard will be able to get into the village, but it’s hard to tell who to trust nowadays."

"What’s out there?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"You don’t want to know, son. There are evil forces out there just waiting to kill anything in its path. Magic, Muggle, white, black, old, or young. It doesn’t matter. Just as long as it’s human." Harry gulped hard and looked back at the assembly of kids.

"Cho, stay here with the children. I’m going to look for her," Cedric announced, pulling the little girl’s arms from around his left leg. "No matter what, don’t come after me." The children around him gasped and clung to each other, confused and scared.

"Cedric, wait—" Cho began, chewing on her lower lip. Her eyes searched the horizon, hoping against hope that Krystyn would come ambling along, chasing after a butterfly. When no such miracle occurred, she looked back at Cedric. "Oh, do be careful. And don’t go above ground. I can’t lose you." She reached out a squeezed his hand hard. For a moment, Harry thought she looked as though she was going to kiss Cedric, but then thought better of it. "Be careful," she repeated softly.

"I’ll be back soon," he said. And with that, he made his way through the congregation of children and began to jog down the cobblestone street. Cho looked after him wistfully for a moment, then shepherded the kids over to the cottage she’d come out of earlier.

"Inside, children," she goaded. Harry and Clarence slipped in the door right after her and watched her nervously take another head count.

"Cho, I’m scared," a little girl said, climbing into Cho’s lap. "Where’s Krystyn?"

"I’m not sure, honey," Cho said in a brave voice. "I’m sure she’ll be okay, though." Harry had to physically restrain himself from stepping forward to comfort her, like he had with Hermione. "But don’t worry about that right now, okay? How about we play a game?" She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her dark eyes.

"No, we wanna hear you sing your song," one of the boys (He looked like a miniature version of Seamus Finnigan.) said, standing. "It’s pretty."

"Oh, I don’t know…" Cho began, blushing a little. The children began to protest, wanting to hear the song. "All right, all right. I’ll sing it then." The small kids’ smiles returned as they found various places of the large sitting room to lie down. Cho began to sing:

Cho finished the last word on a beautiful note and fell silent. Most of the younger children had fallen asleep, including the young girl in her lap. Cho moved slightly and lifted the girl in her arms, then set her gently on the couch. She pulled down the afghan that was hanging over the back of the couch and draped it over the child.

Harry watched as Cho tenderly swept a lock of hair out of the girl’s face and gently kissed her forehead. The door opened behind him and he spun in alarm.

"Found her," Cedric said softly, carrying a little girl in his arms. She – Krystyn – couldn’t have been more than five years old. She had her head on Cedric’s shoulder and was sucking her thumb. "She was in the old Apothecary. She said she was chasing a frog." Cedric gently handed the girl to Cho, who placed the girl next to the one that had been in her lap.

Harry’s eyes moved between the two as Cho finally broke eye contact with Cedric and rushed into another room. Cedric looked after her, bewildered for a moment, and then bent to tuck the afghan around Krystyn. After a glance around the room, Cedric disappeared through the same doorway Cho had.

Harry looked at all the children lying around on the floor. Most of the younger ones were asleep, but the older ones remained awake, looking relieved – probably because of Krystyn’s return. After a moment of watching their sad eyes, Harry turned and followed after Cedric.

Harry entered the next room (a scarcely furnished bedroom) and turned to see Clarence had gone. He shrugged, not caring. If Clarence wanted to appear and disappear whenever he damn well pleased, far be it from Harry to stop him. He turned his attention back to the scene in front of him.

Cho was standing towards the back of the room, facing the wall, with Cedric just behind her. Slowly, he set his hand on Cho’s shoulder and she turned to look at him.

"Cedric," she said softly, tears in her eyes. "We almost lost her. What if she’d gone above ground? Merlin, we’re so careless." Cedric didn’t reply to this. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and she buried her face against his chest. Harry couldn’t tell for sure whether or not she was crying, but he was pretty sure she was.

"We can only do so much, Cho," Cedric murmured. "Krystyn is fine. We’ll just keep a tighter watch—"

"Cedric, that’s not the only thing!" Cho protested, pulling away from him. "We don’t have that much food and water left and… and we’re only teenagers! Why—"

"It’s time to go, Harry," a voice said from behind the young Potter. Harry turned to see Clarence standing in the doorway. "That’s enough here. Our time is running short. We have more to see." Clarence reached out and touched Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked back over it and was just able to catch a glance at a crying Cho before the world around him faded.

The colors around Harry swirled, flirting with the idea of creating solid objects, but never coming through. The darkness around him shifted from side to side and finally settled into an unfamiliar setting, but he knew where he was. Screams echoed from all around him, bouncing off walls of stone. Hooded creatures stalked up and down the hallways, once in a while lunging at the iron barred cell doors. Yes, this was indeed the Azkaban Wizard Prison.

Harry had only known two people to come out of Azkaban: his godfather, Sirius Black, and the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid. Both had agreed that it was the worst place in the world.

Harry took a reluctant step forward and shivered at the temperature of the place. It was freezing, the type of cold that could make bones ache. Cold moonlight streamed through a barred window and fell into a jagged pattern across the stone floor.

"Third on the left," a voice said. Harry jumped and saw Clarence standing behind him patiently, unaffected by his surroundings. "Third cell on your left." Warily, with his arms wrapped around himself, Harry continued forward to the third cell on the left-hand side. The door was wide open, but one would have to be a fool to try and escape with soul sucking dementors on the loose.

"You want me to go in?" Harry asked Clarence, as though the request been to mow the Hogwarts grounds with nail clippers. Clarence nodded and Harry gulped hard. Summoning all his bravery, the boy stepped forward into the cell. There was one lone prisoner who was sitting in the corner, muttering to himself.

"Who’s that?" Harry asked without turning around. The man in the corner was familiar, but Harry couldn’t place him.

"Arthur Weasley," Clarence answered quietly. "Poor fellow. Gone a bit mad in the head, I’m afraid."

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry whispered, sinking to his knees at the man’s side. Arthur Weasley’s fiery red hair was dirty and ragged; the sparkle in his brown eyes gone forever.

"Molly, do put a teapot on, dear. Mr. Fudge is coming for dinner this evening, yes, indeed. Have you talked to Mrs. Johnson lately? I heard Angelina showed her first signs of magic this week. How wonderful! Oh, and don’t forget…" Mr. Weasley went on rambling, speaking as though his wife was bustling about the kitchen and making the said drink.

"Does he really believe that—" Harry began, but was cut off as Arthur stood suddenly, eyes focusing.

"Where am I?!" he shouted. "Molly, where are you? Where the hell am I?" He began pacing furiously, then ran at the bars and began screaming. "Molly! Molly, answer me! Molly, no…" At those final words, he began to calm, sliding slowly to the floor as tears dripped down his face in a similar fashion. "Oh, Molly… beautiful, sweet, thoughtful Molly…"

"What happened to Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked Clarence, who was now deeply interested in a smudge on the wall. The angel’s eyes snapped away and locked with Harry’s.

"Molly Weasley was murdered on August seventh, 1980. She tried to protect her husband and five children… Well, she ended up dead, and Arthur ended up here."

"Five children… oh, wait, Ron and Ginny weren’t even born yet, so--" Harry paled as the horrible truth struck home.

"They never even existed," Clarence confirmed. "You’ve seen enough. Let us go now."

"No!" Harry shouted, surprised at the strength in his own voice. "What happened to the rest of them? What about Bill and Charlie and Percy and—"

"Bill Weasley is alive and living amongst the goblins. I believe he has connections with them through his former place of employment. Mr. Charlie Weasley is being forced to train dragons for Dark purposes in southern Italy. He’s being blackmailed into it."

"Blackmailed? How?"

"Allow me to show you." Harry looked back over his shoulder to Arthur Weasley, who had resumed his babbling.

"Charlie, please don’t put gum in your brother’s hair. You know your mother is out of Drooble’s Gum Remover. No, Percy, don’t touch it. Molly, are you sure there isn’t some in the—oh, there’s a bit left then. Now Charlie, apologize to your brother. Fred! Don’t bite George. I’m sure he doesn’t like it… that’s a good boy."

With a sorrowful sigh, Harry closed his eyes and prepared himself for what was coming next.

* * *

Harry felt sick as his surroundings spun at an alarming rate. He kept his eyes tightly closed, forcing away memories of traveling by Floo powder.

"We need… a new way… to travel…" Harry said, turning to see a calm Clarence looking a bit bored. Harry thought he (Harry) sounded remarkably like Hagrid had the first time they had been in a Gringotts cart. Unlike the other trips, the room instantly came into focus, and Harry recognized it at once.

It was the Potions classroom in the basement of Hogwarts. Harry remembered the way the torchlight lit the cold walls and the cobwebs collected in the corners. There were no desks in the room with cauldrons lining the aisles, as he was so used to seeing each time he entered the classroom. Professor Snape’s desk was absent and was replaced by a small cage, inside of which was a boarhound, one that reminded Harry of Fang.

There were chains and shackles hanging down from the walls. Most of them were empty, with dried blood on the metal. The rest had people locked up in them; perhaps seven or eight at most. The arm shackles weren’t that high, but it was enough to keep the prisoners from becoming too comfortable. There was one tiny window that (somehow) showed the outside. Near the window was one Percy Weasley.

Harry crept closer, hardly believing that stuffy, ambitious Percy Weasley was the same person who was standing before him. Percy half-stood, half-slouched as he gazed out the tiny window. His shabby red hair hung in front of his eyes and he tossed his head to throw the locks out of his face. Compared to his father, Percy looked better, more like himself, but not by much.

"What is he being kept here for?" Harry asked, knowing Clarence was somewhere behind him.

"Like I said before, blackmail. As long as Charlie Weasley trains the dragons, Percy stays alive. Normally, the Death Eaters would put Charlie under an Imperius Curse and force him to train the dragons, but magical creature manipulation must be performed by the unclouded mind."

Harry stepped closer to Percy and followed his gaze out the window to the grounds. Outside was a circle of hooded figures, conversing angrily. The only one not engaged in the conversation was the smallest, face hidden beneath a dark violet cloak. The person reached a hand up and pulled off the hood, revealing long, wavy black hair. The girl couldn’t have been much older than Percy, but she was smaller.

"Vivian," Percy whispered softly from behind Harry. "Ben… Ben, look at this. She’s here!" Harry turned to see that Percy was talking excitedly to the prisoner next to him, a blonde with dull blue eyes who looked to be about Percy’s age as well.

"Perce, you know I can’t see out that window." Ben turned his head away, sighing heavily.

"Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I forgot about your eyesight. I know you miss Amy and all, but… oh, if you could just see how pretty Vivian is." Percy sighed and looked back out the window. Harry followed suit. The argument had ended and one of the cloaked men was pulling hard on Vivian’s hand, urging her to follow.

"Father, slow down!" Vivian cried and, abruptly, her father stopped and threw her hard to the ground.

"What have I told you about speaking outside our home, you filthy girl?" he yelled at her. She scrambled up to her knees and pushed wavy locks of black hair out of her scared blue eyes. Harry risked a quick glance back at Percy, whose muscles were tightening and straining against the shackles. His blue eyes were narrowed dangerously and he looked furious. He wasn’t mad the way he’d been in Harry’s second year, when Fred and George Weasley had stuffed Filibuster fireworks in a salamander and set it off while Percy was trying to study. This was badass angry.

"Percy, what’s going on?" Ben asked, his sightless eyes rapidly moving from side to side. He pulled on his shackles and fear froze his face.

"He pushed her," Percy hissed through gritted teeth. The Weasley pulled on his arm restraints until they cut into his wrist. Crimson blood shed, shimmering, and coursed down his arm. He didn’t seem to notice. "I swear to Merlin, if he ever comes in here…" The creaky opening of the dungeon door cut off his sentence.

Ironically enough, Vivian, hooded once more and led by her father, stepped into the small chamber. Three men in black robes followed, wands at their sides. Two nodded at Vivian’s father and took their positions just outside the door, wands ready. The third closed the door behind father and daughter.

"Sit in the corner and don’t get into trouble," Vivian’s father hissed, leaning very close to her face. The girl’s eyes widened and she gulped slowly. Head bowed, she shuffled over to Percy’s corner and sat just out of his reach. She pushed her hood back away from her face and looked up at him.

And winked.

Harry had never before seen Percy grin so broadly, not even when he’d talked about important Ministry business back in Harry’s world. Vivian reached into her robes and pulled out a small biscuit. After a furtive glance to her father (He was interrogating a prisoner, seemingly thinking that the prisoner knew about resistance uprisings.), she stood and stuffed the bread into Percy’s mouth. Then she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. His eyes bugged out (Vivian covered her mouth with her hand, preventing a giggle from escaping.) and he quickly chewed and swallowed. Just in time, too, as Vivian’s father turned and started for Percy.

Percy straightened and stood respectably, finally resembling the Percy Harry knew. Vivian was looking up at him with a sort of admiration; her head cocked to one side. She pulled her hood down over her head so Percy couldn’t see the small, impressed smile curving her lips. Ben, obviously sensing someone close, stood straighter as well. Harry bent down and peered at Vivian close up. Her eyes were still trained carefully on Percy’s face and she was chewing nervously on her lower lip.

"Benjamin Smith," Vivian’s father said, his black eyes grinning wickedly. Ben stiffened.

"Yes, sir?" Percy watched as Ben’s shoulders squared and he raised his chin.

"News has come from the outside world that I am deeply sorry to inform you of." The Death Eater’s (What else could he be?) eyes grinned maliciously and his voice held an amused tone. "Your wife, a Mrs. Amy Smith I believe…" Harry raised his eyebrows. Ben looked a bit young to be married. "Yes, Amy Smith was her name. I’m sure of it now. In any case, she has been found dead."

"No," Ben croaked out, unaware that his sightless eyes were filling with tears. "No, I’m here so she could be safe. She’s not dead. She’s NOT DEAD!" Like Percy had done before, Ben yanked and struggled with the restraints that held him against the wall. "You lying bastard! She’s stronger than that. I know it!" The Death Eater’s lips curled into an unmistakable smile.

"Maybe so. There wasn’t much left of her. Could have been a false identification then. I will get back to you." Harry looked down at Vivian to see she had one hand over her mouth and was still squeezing her eyes closed tightly. "Come, Vivian. We are late for an appointment." Her father took no notice of the tears escaping her eyes as he knocked on the door to be let out. Moments later, clanging footsteps filled the hallway outside and the door jerked open. Vivian looked straight through Harry to gaze at Percy sorrowfully. Percy crooked a few fingers in a weak wave, sad to see her leave him once again.

"Percy… Percy, you could see his face. Was he lying?" Ben asked desperately, turning his blind eyes on the Weasley. Harry watched to see how Percy would react.

"I… I couldn’t tell. Ben, I’m so sorry."

"God damn it!" Ben shouted, pulling roughly on the chains. "She’s not dead! You hear me, you fu—"

"Ben, STOP!" Percy said loudly. His voice dropped a few levels. "Yelling and shouting won’t bring her back."

"But she’s not dead, Percy. I know it. She’s too smart for that." Both fell silent and Ben dropped his head down to his chest. "She’s not dead… can’t be," he murmured. "Not my Amy. No, she’s safe…" Harry crouched low and looked up at Ben’s tear-stained face. He was amazed at how similar it seemed to Arthur Weasley’s after he’d screamed for his own wife: completely destroyed. Suddenly, Ben’s head snapped up and Harry stumbled backward to avoid being smacked.

"Did you hear that?" Ben asked quickly, in a low voice. Percy opened his mouth to say something, but Ben whispered, "Sshhh…" Harry strained his ears to listen, but there was nothing to hear.

"Ben, maybe you should sleep for a little bit. You’ve obviously not in a right state of mind…" Percy began, shaking his head sadly. He looked like a worried Mrs. Weasley.

"No! Shut up, you stupid git, so I can listen. You lose one sense and another intensifies, right? I can hear better than you. Now shut up." Obediently, Percy fell silent, but turned away and looked back out the window, probably hoping to catch another glimpse of Vivian. Harry stepped closer to the door and heard, just through it, the pattering of footsteps that most certainly did not want to be heard.

Then, a whisper: "Alohomora." Unlocks doors, Harry thought wildly, stepping backwards. His green eyes widened as the door slowly creaked open. A girl in a dark tattered cloak stepped in silently, closing the door quickly behind her. For a moment, he thought it was Vivian returning, but then he realized that Vivian was taller, and that the girl before him had green eyes, not blue, and had brown hair instead of black.

"By Merlin, you were right… someone’s here," Percy said in a barely audible whisper to Ben. Ben looked as though he was trying his damnedest to listen for a clue to give away from the identity of the person. The girl inched along the wall quietly, in the opposite direction from Percy and Ben. Every once in a while, she would lean close to one of the other sleeping prisoner’s faces and study them intently. After a moment, she would move on, always glancing furtively back at the door.

"What does she look like?" Ben asked very quietly, his breath catching in his throat. "Has to be a girl… walks softly… unless it’s a very young boy… doubtful… walking too carefully… can hardly hear the footsteps."

"Brown hair… blue, maybe hazel eyes… Kind of short." Ben’s eyes widened (not that it helped him to see anything) and he froze.

"Green eyes," he murmured. "Does she have green eyes?" Percy squinted in the dim light.

"Maybe… she’s coming this way. Don’t talk. She could be part of some sort of trap." Percy fell silent, but the look on Ben’s face didn’t change.

The girl stepped in front of Ben and had to stand on her tiptoes to get a good look at his face. Harry stepped between Percy and Ben.

"Ben?" she whispered warily, sounding as though she didn’t want to believe it was truly him. She reached out and gently touched his face, but he flinched away and pressed his back against the wall. "I won’t hurt you," she assured him gently. "You can’t see me, can you?"

"He’s blind, you silly girl," Percy said angrily. She looked at him sadly. Harry looked between Percy and the girl, watching as they each sized each other up. "Her eyes are green, Ben," Percy finally said in a choked voice. "Not as pretty as Viv—"

"Amy?" Ben murmured. Harry’s eyes widened at the revelation, as did Percy’s. "My God… is it you?" Without answering, Amy flung her arms around Ben’s neck and kissed his lips hard. At Ben’s agonized protest, Amy apologized quickly, pulled her wand out and murmured a spell to undo his restraints. Not exactly used to being free, he fell backwards. Amy reached out, worried, and sank to the floor with her arms around him and her face buried in the hollow of his neck.

"Is it really you?" Ben murmured, holding Amy close and running his fingers through her hair.

"Well, if she’s short, has long brown hair, green eyes and a bit of a sleepy look on her face, I’d say you’ve got the right girl, Smith," Percy said. Harry saw that he was shifting uncomfortably and favoring his right arm. "Now both of you get out of here before the guard comes by." This sobered the two on the ground quickly and Amy helped Ben stand. Amy looked around the room and pulled out her wand as though she was going to release all the prisoners. "You don’t have enough time to get us all free. Besides, we’d never escape all together. Just get out of here… tell the resistance groups where we are." Amy looked doubtfully between Ben and Percy. "Go on, get out of here!"

Harry watched as Ben’s hand clamped around Amy’s protectively.

"We’ll get you out, Perce," Ben said. "I promise."

"Hey, don’t worry about me. I’ll just be-," he smiled bitterly, "-hanging around." Ben nodded.

"Thanks for being there for me, mate," Ben said, looking in Percy’s general direction. Amy pulled on his hand, and they went forward. She opened the door, looked out warily, and then pulled on Ben’s hand again. He reached back and pulled the door closed behind them.

"I just hope they name their first kid after me," Percy murmured, looking out the window again. For a while Harry stood silent, studying the longing look in Percy’s eyes. Harry then realized how much Percy wanted to be free, and probably with Vivian. Suddenly, there was a scuffling noise in the hallway. Shouts were heard and the noise in the hallway continued. Louder shouts… curses being cast… a brief female scream… Then silence.

"Take the bodies out to the heap and burn them. Damned kids," a gruff voice said loudly. The door swung open again and Harry gasped, stepping backwards. One of the guards that had been guarding the door earlier peered inside. Satisfied no one else was loose, he closed the door again. Harry turned and looked at Percy, whom had his head bowed.

"At least they went together," he murmured softly. "Gonna miss him, though. Wish you were here with me, Viv. I need someone to talk to." He laughed bitterly. "Can’t keep talking to myself. Damn it, Ben. You had to leave me, too, didn’t you?" Percy leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes against the tears. Closing his eyes didn’t help; one solitary tear rolled out from beneath his left eyelid.

"Our next destination isn’t far," Clarence stated simply. Harry didn’t reply; he just closed his eyes and let himself go.

"Where are we now?" Harry asked Clarence as he surveyed his new surroundings. In the back of his mind, he thought it looked familiar, but couldn’t put his finger on it. A dark, ominous castle lay in the distance. Sharp, jagged stones wound around the entire structure, seeming to hold it in an icy grip. Most of the huge grounds were covered in uncut green grass, with large patches of dirt.

Not too far from the castle was a small lake, plugged up with rotting garbage and smoking with fires sporadically spread around the rubbish heap. The flames would burn for several moments and then send a piece of trash into a puff of smoke. Next to this area were two small buildings, each with a door that led out to small separated fenced-in yards.

With a quick gasp of breath, Harry realized where they were: Hogwarts. It was hard to believe they were still there. They were just outside the dungeon where Percy Weasley was being kept.

"It’s an interment camp for children," Clarence answered sadly. "Voldemort’s Enforcers make sure that they spend the day practicing simple, harmless spells so the magic remains running forcefully in their veins. And, at the end of the day…" The angel trailed off, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

"What? What happens from the end of the day?" Harry demanded.

"It’s taken from them. Their magical essence is torn out of their ravaged bodies until there’s just enough left for them to survive. Then… it starts all over again." Harry stared at Clarence, dumbstruck. "Most of the younger ones die right away. The ones who don’t… they’re not much better off. They get one hour a day to be outside so they don’t become exhausted and unable to practice the spells. Wait, here they come now." Clarence fell silent and watched with Harry as children marched out of the small buildings in rows. Girls on the left, boys on the right. Several black-clad beings accompanied them. Harry was left to assume they were Enforcers.

Harry walked closer, strangely drawn to the ragged-looking children. As he got closer, he could recognize several faces. Millicent Bulstrode. Colin Creevey. Ernie Macmillan. Padma Patil. Penelope Clearwater. Susan Bones. He stood at the dividing fence between the boys and the girls and watched as the children paced, muttering nonsense, or curled up in the corner, crying.

Harry stepped forward and placed his hand on the fence. To his surprise, it went straight through.

"Wha—What just happened?" he asked Clarence, who appeared at his side.

"You don’t physically exist in this world. Therefore, this world doesn’t physically exist to you. Go on; walk through it," he explained. After a short hesitation, Harry closed his eyes and stepped forward. He expected to hear some sort of noise or be met with a bloody nose for being so blooming stupid as to walk into a fence, but nothing came. He snapped his eyes open and was relieved to find he’d stepped all the way through, unharmed.

"Hi," George said softly, wrapping his fingers around the iron of the chain-linked fence. "Boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes." The young girl stepped close to her side of the fence, smiling a little. "You look beautiful today." He reached out a finger and gently ran it down her cheek.

"I look like a mess," she said, her eyes filling with tears. She sniffed and wiped her nose on the tattered sleeve of her robe.

"No, don’t say that," he murmured. He closed his eyes and got a dreamy look on his face. "You’re wearing a stunning gown and you’ve got your hair all dolled up with those shiny sparkling things that girls like to wear. And you’ve got those red earrings on that your mother gave you when you were little." He opened his eyes and smiled. "I love you," he said in a rough voice.

Harry stepped forward to put a hand on George’s shoulder, but it fell straight through. Harry shivered at the odd sensation and pulled his hand back.

"I love you, too," the girl whispered back softly. She was crying now, tears running full force down her face.

"Don’t cry," George whispered, wiping her tears away with his fingers. "Please don’t cry. We’ll get out somehow… And we’ll run away from this place and we’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. I promise." She smiled through her tears and reached up to hold his hand. She kissed the tips of his fingers softly.

"WEASLEY!" a sharp voice barked from behind them. Harry spun quickly, eyes wide. He sensed George step up beside him. Before them stood an Enforcer, clothed in a dark, hooded robe and clutching a wand tightly in his left hand. If Harry wasn’t able to see the human hand coming out of the sleeve, he might’ve thought it was a dementor. "Weasley, you fool," the Enforcer growled. "How many times have you been told to get away from the fence? You’ll go the same way as your useless brother, the insubordinate brat!" George’s normally soft blue eyes hardened at this comment.

"My brother was murdered for speaking his mind," George spat angrily.

"Boy, you have been a thorn in my side ever since I’ve been assigned to patrol your filth. Day after day, you have been told to stay away from the fence. And you have shown your disrespect for the Master by refusing to obey!" He pointed his wand at George and whispered a word Harry had heard less than half a dozen times before in his life. "Crucio." Harry gasped loudly, though no one else could hear him.

George grabbed at his chest and screwed his eyes shut, falling to his knees and biting his lip hard. He let out an anguished cry as the girl near the fence shrieked, "GEORGE!"

"Will you disobey again?" the Enforcer asked coolly. It must’ve taken an incredible amount of energy, but George was able to heave himself to his feet.

"Go… to… hell," the young Weasley gasped, still looking as though he was in excruciating pain. Harry’s eyes darted back and forth between the opposing forces.

"After you," the Enforcer said coldly, raising his wand. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry remained frozen as an all-too-familiar green light flashed across the work yard. He turned his head away, shielding his eyes from the bright blast. When he turned back, the Enforcer was walking away casually, calling for someone to come pick up the body. George was lying on the ground in a boneless heap.

"George, no!" the girl near the fence screamed. She pounded her fists against the rough iron and began to sob. Soon, small rivulets of blood appeared on her hands and began to run down her forearm. She continued tearing at the fence, regardless. "GEORGE! No! No, you promised! You said we’d be okay! GEORGE!" Soon, two other girls came from where the mass was working and started pulling her away.

"Stop it—"

"Do you want to get us all killed?"

"Get away… you can’t help him."

The girls (Parvati? Lavender? Harry thought wildly.) pulled her away. She protested, screaming George’s name over and over again.

"KILL ME, TOO!" she screamed. Eyes wide, Lavender and Parvati ran away, back towards the building. George’s girlfriend flung herself back against the fence and yelled for the Enforcer. "Merlin damn you! Kill me, too!"

The Enforcer turned around disinterestedly and answered, "As you wish." He murmured a different curse, and a red light shot out of his wand. It struck the girl in the center of the chest and she shuddered for several seconds before falling unceremoniously to the ground with a dull thud.

"Troublemaking rubbish," the Enforcer muttered as he turned. A gust of wind flitted through the otherwise motionless yard and caused his hood to fall back and reveal his face. It was Severus Snape.

"NO!" Harry screamed and launched himself at the man. As he had before, he dove right through the man’s body and slammed hard into the dusty ground. He bit his lip hard and felt blood run down his chin. When he rolled over to catch his breath, Snape was gone.

"No… no, that’s not how it’s supposed to BE! Snape’s a Hogwarts professor. He used to be a Death Eater, but he changed. He changed, damn it!" Harry said, running at Clarence. He wiped the blood from his lip and pointed a shaky finger at the cringing angel.

"He changed because someone gave him the chance. With Dumbledore’s death just after your father’s, no one would ever accept a reformed Death Eater. So he returned to Voldemort’s side."

"My—My father? Still dead? But… but wasn’t Voldemort after me that night?"

"In you runs the blood of Godric Gryffindor himself, as it did in your father. In Voldemort runs the blood of the wicked Salazar Slytherin. The true heir of Gryffindor was supposedly prophesized to murder the last remaining descendant of Slytherin. Naturally, Voldemort couldn’t have this, so that is why he murdered your father."

Harry blinked, swaying dangerously and very close to shock. "But… but what about my mum? There was no Gryffindor blood in her."

"She’s alive in this world, Harry. Although, I do use the term ‘alive’ quite loosely." Harry mustered all his strength and looked Clarence in the eye.

"Let me see her," he demanded. "I want to see my mum." Clarence bowed his head.

"Mr. Potter, it would not be wise—" he broke off suddenly. "Since it must be so…"

Soon, the area around them began to blur again… trees, fences, and buildings all blended into one rippling mass of color. Then, darkness.

The traveling time from Hogwarts grounds to where Harry’s mum was seemed to take centuries. It was only a few moments, Harry knew, but it was as though time slowed down. When the world finally took on normal characteristics, Harry’s closest guess to their location was the Forbidden Forest. Tall, dark trees loomed over him, their ragged branches curving maliciously in his direction. Unlike the Forbidden Forest, however, there wasn’t a path cut between the trees and no light from the moon above could possibly guide him through the thick undergrowth.

"Where is she? Where’s my mum?" Harry asked instantly, brushing off his knees. His green eyes darted around the forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mother. The only thing he saw besides the foliage was a light in the distance. Was it a campfire?

"She’s near the fire," Clarence said, standing solemnly beside a tree. "Go to her." Harry nodded, his throat going dry. It felt odd to go through trees, so Harry did his best to step around them. Even with his ability to walk through objects, it seemed as though the campfire was miles away. He picked up the pace and continued forward. What would his mother look like after all these years?

Harry finally got to the clearing where the fire was and peered out from between the trees. A small structure had been erected using a semicircle of three trees and what looked like the tattered remains of an old bed sheet. Inside, a woman slept soundly, her body tucked beneath a flimsy blanket and her red-topped head poking out.

"Mum…" Harry murmured, watching her sleep. He dared a few steps into the clearing and crouched down so he was close to Lily Potter’s face. She looked innocent in her sleep, weak almost. If it hadn’t been for the sprinkling of freckles and the long eyelashes, he wouldn’t have been able to tell this woman was the fiery young girl from all the photographs. The woman before him looked old.

The snapping of a twig caused Harry to spin around and stand, ready to defend his mother if it came down to it. The fact that he had no wand, and couldn’t even hold onto it properly if he did, came to him as an afterthought. Nonetheless, his guard was up, as a figure stepped out of the shadows with an armful of logs. The man crouched low and put some of the wood into the fire.

The man near the fire finally picked his head up and looked over at Lily sadly. This gave Harry a good look at his face. Harry gasped aloud when he saw it was Sirius Black, a friend of Lily and James from their Hogwarts days. Sirius was unshaven and looking little better than he had the first time Harry had met him. His black hair was cut raggedly around his face and his eyes seemed empty.

Harry tore his eyes away from his godfather and looked down at his mum again. She was stirring slightly, making little noises and slurring together bits of words. Sirius took notice of this and stood, walking quietly over to her. Harry scooted back to let him pass, even though he knew it wasn’t necessary. Sirius crouched down beside Lily and gently shook her.

"Lily… Lily, wake up. Oh, no, not another nightmare. Lily?" Lily turned over and muttered something, then sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes.

"James?" she murmured, looking very confused. She reached up and ran a hand through her tangled red hair. "James, where are you?" Sirius laid a gentle hand on Lily’s arm and she flinched at the touch. Her head whipped around and she scrambled a few feet away from him, breathing heavily.

"It’s me; it’s Sirius," he said slowly. Harry peered in the tent to see that his mother had relaxed somewhat and shifted so she was kneeling with the thin blanket over her knees.

"Where’s James?" Lily asked desperately, pulling on the blanket. The hollowness in Sirius’s eyes became even more apparent to Harry.

"He’s not here, Lily," Sirius said in a choked voice. "You know that." The confusion and fear left her face gradually and was replaced with something Harry had only seen once before. It was the same look Hagrid had when he’d thought that his pet hippogriff, Buckbeak, was going to be executed: utter and total defeat.

Lily crawled across the ground to Sirius and he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. She put her head on his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Harry fought tears to see his mother’s face in such mental torture.

"S-sorry, Sirius," Lily stammered, wiping her nose awkwardly on her sleeve, embarrassed. "I… I miss him so much and—," she let out a brief sob, "—sometimes, I can hear him in my head." She began to cry and fat, childlike tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Ssshh… Lily, it’s okay. Stay awake now; no more nightmares tonight." The campsite grew a little brighter and Harry looked up to see the clouds had moved out from in front of the half moon. Sirius put his hands over Lily’s fingers. "You’re cold. Here, come sit by the fire."

Lily nodded gravely and sat on the small log by the fire. She placed her delicate fingers over the flames and rubbed them together. Sirius sat on the ground beside her.

"We need to get something to eat," Sirius said, looking a little nervous. Lily nodded. "Go ahead. I won’t watch." Lily closed her eyes and Harry wondered what was going to happen. Sirius stood and shut his eyes as well. Suddenly, he began to shrink and black hair sprouted out all over his body. His robes sank around him as he fell down to his hands and knees, lowering his head. A snout burst out of the front of his face and his ears lengthened and smoothed.

"Padfoot," Harry breathed. The large dog nuzzled Lily’s hand and then bounded out of the clearing. Harry’s mum sighed and drew her knees up to her chest.

"James, I wish you were here," she murmured, drawing little lines in he dirt on the ground. "I had another dream about you. We were in the greenhouse, and you picked a pretty flower for me. A pretty flower for a pretty Lily." She sniffed and smiled sadly. "Oh, this is stupid," she scowled, picking up a twig from the ground and tossing it in the fire.

Harry scooted closer and sat on the ground beside her, where Sirius had been moments earlier. So this was his mum. He’d never had a mother before; the closest thing to maternal love he’d ever received was from Mrs. Weasley. But all of her hugs could never equal a few moments of sitting next to his real mother. His father had been right; Lily was pretty.

A low growl resounded just outside the clearing and Harry looked up in alarm. He let out his breath when he saw it was only Sirius with some kind of dead animal clamped between his jaws. Sirius trotted up to Lily and sat, wagging his tail expectantly. Lily gingerly pulled the small animal (it looked like some kind of rabbit) out of Sirius’s mouth and dropped it on the ground.

Sirius transformed back into a human and rubbed his jaw.

"That part always feels funny," he said, standing as he brushed his robes off. He suddenly halted. "Something’s not right…" His dark eyes darted around the forest.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a new voice asked. Harry lifted his eyes from his mother to see Remus Lupin leaning casually against a tree, twiddling his wand between two fingers.

"Moony," Sirius murmured, eyes wide. His eyebrows narrowed dangerously. "What do you want?"

"It’s not what I want. It’s what my master wants. And he wants your dead bodies," Lupin said coolly, using a cruel tone Harry had never heard him use before.

"Remus, please, no," Lily pleaded, standing. Sirius stepped in front of her protectively, glaring hard at Lupin. "Remus, you’re under the Imperius Curse… I know the real Remus wouldn’t do this to us," she said bravely. Harry stepped between Lily and Lupin, as though his position would make a difference.

"The real Remus?" Lupin scoffed. "I am the real Remus. The man you knew before was a fool, unable to recognize the truth."

"And what’s the ‘truth?’" Sirius spat, as though the word was poison.

"That no one can defeat the Dark Lord. He is the most powerful wizard there ever was, is, or will be. Fools like yourself that resist only bring the torture upon yourselves." Harry goggled at Lupin. This man, one of his father’s best friends in their school days, had once been his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Remus, I know you can hear me in there. You’re under the Imperius Curse. I know it," Lily said calmly, stepping out from behind Sirius. Sirius quickly leapt in front of her again.

"I promised James that I would take care of her. You will not harm her," Sirius swore in a low voice.

"Listen to my voice, Moony," Lily said gently, ignoring Sirius. "Fight it."

"There’s no Imperius Curse on him," Sirius argued in disgust. "He’s a traitor like Wormtail. He’s worse than Wormtail. At least Pettigrew had the dignity to be truthful about his loyalties." Truthful? Harry doubted that. Pettigrew would have his mother locked away in Azkaban before being truthful. Harry had a feeling Sirius was just trying to get a rise out of his old classmate. Stupid, reckless Sirius.

Instead of flaring up in rage, Lupin dropped his wand and fell to his knees, holding his head.

"No, no, no," he repeated, shuddering. "Can’t listen to it… mustn’t…" Lily rushed forward, but Lupin’s head snapped up and she stopped in her tracks. "Get away from me, you stupid girl," he hissed. "Run. Get the hell out of here… can only hold on… so long…"

"Lily, we’ve got to go," Sirius said, reaching his hand out to her. Lily looked at it briefly, then back up into Sirius’s eyes, shaking her head.

"Can’t risk… hurting you… so sorry, Lily… Sirius… James, I’m so sorry." Still shaking like a leaf, he picked his wand up off the ground and pointed it towards his chest.

"And then there was one…" Lupin murmured, raising his eyes to meet Sirius’s. His next words came out a murmur as he closed his eyes, "Avada Kedavra." A whoosh of breath escaped his lips, and he fell lifelessly to the ground.

"Everything after that followed in slow motion. Lily screamed and ran to Lupin’s still body. Trembling, she turned him over and shook him, beginning to sob. Sirius knelt at her side and tried to pull her away, but tears were forming in his eyes, too.

Emotions swirled through Harry almost too fast for him to recognize. Hate, anger, betrayal, trust, love, longing, friendship…

"I can’t do this to them… not ANY of them!" Harry screamed into the forest. The only things that answered him were the muffled sobs of his mother, who was now cradled against Sirius’s chest.

"Clarence, I’m done here! I want to go HOME! I want to be ALIVE again; do you hear me?! I CAN’T DO THIS TO THEM!" He fell to the ground, feeling the tears come. He buried his face in his arms and sobbed like a child for the first time since he was five.

"Your decision has been made." These were the last words Harry Potter heard before drifting off to sleep.

Harry blinked his eyes open slowly, his vision unfocused and red was surrounding him. His reached over somewhere to his left and felt around for his glasses.

"Where are we now, Clarence?" he muttered, his words slurred together. "You said I could go home." His hand hit cloth and he pushed it aside still searching for his glasses. They were on the nightstand beside his bed, right where he’d left them. He put them on and then recognized where he was: sitting up on his four-poster bed, still in the same robes he’d fallen asleep in.

"I’m home," he murmured. He reached up to adjust his glasses, but he accidentally hit his left eye and felt a sharp stab of pain. The full realization hit him. "I’m HOME!" With a whoop, he leapt out of bed and raced through the dormitory, tearing aside the curtains on his roommates’ four-poster beds. No one was in there. Heart pounding, he raced out of the dormitory and down the small spiral staircase that led to the common room.

At first, the common room, too, looked abandoned. A slight movement in one of the poufs by the fireplace caught his eye and he leapt off the bottom step to see who it was.

A girl with long brown hair was sitting on a boy’s lap, her fingers intertwined in his fiery red hair. Her lips were very much attached to his and his arms were wrapped quite loosely and relaxed around her waist. Harry cleared his throat and the girl turned, surprised, and scrambled quickly off his lap. She straightened her robes and looked down at her folded hands, which were now resting tensely in her lap.

The boy she revealed, George Weasley, looked more irritated than anything. He glanced over at the girl (It was definitely the Ravenclaw that George had been seeing since his fifth year.) with a slightly amused expression on his face, then back at Harry.

"Is there something I can help you with?" George asked, raising a red eyebrow.

"Where is everybody?" Harry asked.

"Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione left with everyone else about half an hour ago. Said you should be left alone to sleep." Harry nodded and dashed for the portrait hole. Giggles followed him for a few moments, then silence, leaving Harry to assume George and his girlfriend had resumed to their previous activity.

Harry ran full-speed over the Hogwarts grounds. It was as thought he’d gotten the extra reserve of energy the night before out of his fury, the exhilaration of being back home carried his feet effortlessly across the clean cut grass. He whipped around the corner and through the front gates, skidding as he made the turn.

He began to slow, gasping for breath, as he entered the town. Clutching a stitch in his side, he took in the village around him. The normalcy made him want to scream with delight. Everywhere around him, people were happy, smiling, laughing and enjoying life. A young, brown-haired girl – God, could it be Krystyn? – skipped along happily, holding her father’s hand.

Cho walked alone on the side of the road, head cocked to one side with a dreamy smile on her face. A girl raced up to her and talked excitedly into her ear. Cho’s eyes widened and they dashed off for The Three Broomsticks.

Harry grinned broadly as he passed the owl post office. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted a brown haired girl reading a magazine behind the counter. Could it be? Without another thought, Harry bounded into the post office, running past owl perches, which ranged in size from being as small as Pig to almost as large as Sirius in dog form.

He rushed to the front desk, almost tripping over the hem of his robes in the process. Finally, he finally slapped his palms on the countertop. The witch behind the counter started suddenly, almost dropping her Witch Weekly ("Who Will Win The Most Charming Smile Award?").

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, putting her magazine down to reveal a very pregnant stomach which was only slightly obscured by her dark robes. Harry’s eyes drifted to her nametag that, sure enough, read Amy.

"Hi," Harry said awkwardly, adjusting his glasses. "How are you doing?"

"I’m doing fine; thanks for asking," Amy said slowly, with a slight smile on her face. "It’s nice when customers don’t just come in and demand something. But you’re sure there’s not--" She suddenly broke off, as a small tawny owl swooped in the door and landed on her shoulder, a rolled up sheet of parchment attached to his talon. Amy excused herself for a moment and relieved the tiny bird of its burden.

Harry watched as she unrolled the slip of parchment and read it, an entertained smile growing on the corner of her lips. Finally, she shook her head in amusement and scrawled something on the bottom of the note. She tied it back onto the bird’s foot and the tiny owl went off to make the delivery.

"You would think after being married for over a year, Ben would know I can take care of myself. Honestly, I’m pregnant, not ill." Amy smiled in spite of her annoyed tone and then realized Harry was still standing there. "Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I get a bit flighty now and then. Are you sure there’s not something I could do for you?"

"Err… name your child Percy, okay?" Harry blurted out, before he knew what he was talking about. Amy cocked her head to one side and thought about it.

"I’ll run the name past Ben and we’ll see, all right?" she laughed. She looked over his head for a moment and then nodded towards the front window. "I think a few of your friends are trying to get your attention." Harry whirled around and saw Fred at the front window, waving frantically.

"Yes, that’s a friend…" Harry said slowly, puzzled at why Fred wanted his attention. "I have to be going now. See you!" Harry waved and then rushed out of the post office. In the doorway, he smacked right into a man with red hair. "Sorry, sir," Harry said, picking up the parchment that had fallen to the floor.

"Sir? A bit formal, don’t you think?" the man asked. Harry raised his eyes to see Percy Weasley folding a piece of parchment into an envelope. "Nice to see you, Harry." Percy offered a hand to shake politely and Harry seized it and shook a bit harder than comfort allowed. It was then that Harry noticed a woman standing patiently behind him. Vivian?

"Sir, do you want me to send out…" she began, then saw Harry. "Hello there," she smiled.

"Oh, I’ve been terribly rude," Percy said. "Forgive me. Harry, this is Vivian Hemmingway, my secretary. Vivian, this is Harry Potter." Vivian nodded politely, her arms too full of letters to offer a hand to shake.

"Well, Ministry business calls," Percy said importantly, straightening. "Nice running into you, Harry." Percy and Vivian breezed past Harry and he continued out the door, where Fred was waiting expectantly.

"Hey, Harry, you’ve got to help me out. I need a good plan to get George. Usually, I conspire with him, but since he’s the target, that point is moot," Fred announced, talking excitedly. "Any ideas?"

"Erm… I’m all fresh out, Fred," Harry said after thinking for a moment. "Sorry. I’ll let you know if I come up with any. If it helps, he’s in the common room with his girlfriend right now." Fred’s lips curled into a smile and he began to run off.

"Thanks, Harry!" Fred called over his shoulder, racing towards Hogwarts. Harry smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking slowly along the street. It felt great to be back. Harry looked up and saw he was under the sign for The Three Broomsticks. Mmm… a warm butterbeer would taste great about now. Perhaps Ron and Hermione were in there, too. He stepped forward and opened the door.

The pub was alive and buzzing with the after-Halloween excitement of too much sugar. Hogwarts students filled the tables and lined the bar counter. Harry searched faces and waved at the familiar ones, trying to find Hermione and Ron. Finally, he spotted a brown-haired girl and a red-haired boy sitting in a booth in the back. He might’ve thought it was Hermione and Ron, but they were sitting very close together.

Harry took a step closer and saw, to his surprise, that it was indeed Hermione and Ron. Ron’s hand was sitting on top of Hermione’s and her fingers were intertwined with his. He said something and she laughed loudly, and then covered her mouth at the sound.

"Harry!" Ron said, startled, as he noticed his friend. He pulled his hand off from on top of Hermione’s and stood quickly. "This isn’t what it looks like; I swear!" he said, stumbling over his words. Hermione stood next.

"It’s my fault, Harry. It was my idea to keep it a secret," she said, chewing on her lower lip. Harry looked between the two of them, stunned.

"I’m not mad or anything," Harry said, blinking. "But if it’s not what I thought it was, then I owe Neville two Sickles." He kept his innocent face on for a few moments before grinning broadly. "Hey, I’m just kidding with you." He slid into the other side of the booth as Hermione and Ron exchanged confused looks, then sat as well.

"So… you’re not angry we kept it from you?" Ron said slowly.

"Of course not. Everyone’s got secrets." Just then, Madam Rosmerta, the barmaid, came up to their table in her sparkling aqua dress. Ron raised his eyebrows and Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"A man left this for you at the door, Mr. Potter," Madam Rosmerta said politely, setting a small book on the table. She winked at Ron, whose ears burned bright red. Harry slid the book into his hands and read the title.

It was The Cask of Amontillado, by Edgar Allan Poe. Harry smiled slightly, remembering Clarence’s comment about the story.

"Thanks, Clarence," he murmured, tracing the cover with his fingers. He opened the book and saw there was an inscription on the inside of the cover.

"To Harry Potter – The boy who lived a wonderful life."