The World as We Knew It

Chapter One

Night had fallen, hot and humid over the rows and rows of identical houses. Most of the windows were lighted, displaying families gathered around dining tables or scrunched around tellies. One upstairs window was lit on one of the houses however, and next to it sat a teenage boy with messy black hair and glasses. He was gazing out of the window with a distant expression on his face, his hand absentmindedly massaging the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

It was Harry's first night back at Privet Drive. Only a few hours before, he had said good-bye to Hermione and Ron, promising them that he would owl them in a week or so when he felt he had spent enough time at the Dursleys' to fulfill Dumbledore's request that he return to his aunt and uncle's house one last time. Hermione had tearfully kissed his cheek and hugged him goodbye, assuring him that in the following days she would be researching ancient possessions of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor in the stacks of books she had borrowed from Hogwarts' library. Harry had smiled ruefully--this was definitely the Hermione he had been best friends with for the past six years. "And Ron, you ought to take some books and look too," she had finished, looking sternly at the tall, gangly, red-headed boy.

"Come on, Hermione, it's the holidays!" he had protested.

"And you've got much more important things to do than eat, play Quidditch, and gape at Fleur all summer," she had retorted. Then she had dissolved into tears again and quickly kissed Ron on the cheek before picking up her bag and dashing away through the gateway from Platform Nine and Three Quarters to the rest of King's Cross.

Ron had stared after her for a moment, then seeming to come to himself, he slapped Harry on the back and said, "See you in a few weeks, mate," before leaving to join Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Now as Harry thought about it, he wished he'd said good-bye to Ginny, but they had been pointedly avoiding each other ever since the funeral that morning. He steeled his resolve once again, but couldn't help the flood of memories that filed past his unseeing eyes. Ginny playing Quidditch, her red hair flying behind her, Ginny telling off Ron, Ginny hexing Crabbe and Goyle, Ginny spending those sunlit glorious hours with him under the shady tree near the lake, Ginny kissing him after they had won the Quidditch Cup...

No, he mustn't... He couldn't think of it... Voldemort would hurt her, and that was the last thing he needed, another death to feel responsible for. Harry looked down at the cool metal locket he was holding in his hand, and thought of Dumbledore. His throat tightened as he was once again struck with the finality of Dumbledore's death. He would never again be able to speak to that great wizard, the man who had mentored him, helped him, guided him... loved him.

And Dumbledore had died at the hands of that traitor, Snape. It was all in vain, the trip into the cave, the horrible potion Dumbledore had drunk, Harry thought as his fingers caressed the locket that was nothing more, for it hadn't been a Horcrux after all. He vaguely wondered if Hermione had figured out who R.A.B. was yet. Harry knew he should care, should wonder, but all he felt was an odd sense of detachment. It was probably because he had just lost the fourth most important figure in his life. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore...they were all gone. It was just Harry, now.

The clock downstairs struck eleven. Harry felt his eyes becoming heavy and finally decided to go to bed. After undressing, he crawled under the covers, and removed his glasses. Stray thoughts wandered through his mind, wishful thoughts. He wondered what would have happened if his parents had lived. He wished he could talk to them, just once. Just a few words would be nice. Harry thought about his godfather, Sirius, who had died because of Bellatrix Lestrange. If only they were still alive... He felt almost like he was betraying Dumbledore, thinking about his parents when Dumbledore's death was the one he should be feeling most deeply. Harry's eyes were almost closed now, and his last waking thought was...I wish they hadn't died...

Harry awoke to the sunlight streaming down on his face. He rolled over and groaned, pulling the covers over his head. There was a knock on the door. "Go away," he muttered.

The knocking continued. "Aunt Petunia, I'll weed the garden later! Just let me sleep a few more minutes!"

The door swung open. Someone, a man, was laughing jovially. "You thought I was Petunia Dursley?" Harry started. Quickly he rolled back over and sat up, reaching for his glasses. Except his glasses weren't there; his hand was grasping empty air. The room was all blurry, but Harry could see the outline of a man cross the room and pick something up from a nearby piece of furniture. A moment later, his glasses were being pressed into his hand, and the man sat on the edge of his bed. Harry shoved the glasses on...and gasped.

James Potter was sitting on his bed. It could be no other. He was tall and lean, with jet black messy hair, and sparkling brown eyes. "Thought you'd sleep in just because it was the first day of summer, huh?"

Harry gaped at him. This had to be a joke. It couldn't be real. Then it occurred to him, this man must be a Death Eater using Polyjuice. "Yeah," Harry said, trying to sound casual, just like it was an everyday occurrence to meet a parent you had thought to be dead all your life. "Yeah. I thought I'd sleep in, that's all. I was just dreaming about the Dursleys for some reason."

"We haven't seen them in years," James said, grinning. "I don't mind at all, but I think your mother misses Petunia once in a while. Harry...what are you doing?"

Harry had edged out of bed and towards the desk on which he had spotted his wand. With the reflexes of a Seeker, he snatched up the wand and had it pointed at the Death Eater before James had time to draw his own wand.

"Who are you?" Harry hissed. "What do you want with me?"

James's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. "Harry James Potter. Put that wand away! It's me, your dad!"

"No, you're not. You're a Death Eater, aren't you? Under Polyjuice? Another one of Voldemort's ploys to get me. Don't move, or I'll hex you!"

James rolled his eyes. "What has Moody been teaching you in Defence Against the Dark Arts? How to be so paranoid that you pull your wand on anyone who enters the room?"

Harry was momentarily thrown off guard. "Moody's not the Defense teacher," he said. "Snape is...or was."

James drew back a little. "What are you talking about? Snape is a Death Eater," he said contemptuously. "He's never taught at Hogwarts."

"Liar! I thought all Death Eaters knew Snape taught Potions at Hogwarts for years and years!"

James sighed. "This is getting nowhere. Fine then, ask me a secret question, then you'll know who I really am."

Harry looked at the older man warily, but he was thinking. What could he ask? Finally it came to him. "What spells did you use against Snape down by the lake right after your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. exam?"

James looked shocked. "How did you know about that?"

"Never mind. Just tell me." Harry's arm was aching, but he still held the wand aloft.

"Levicorpus and Impedimenta. And Scourgify."

Harry started to lower his wand. This wasn't a dream. Only his dad would have remembered that so clearly...Unless this was Snape sitting before him under Polyjuice. He raised his wand once more. "One more question. What form does your Animagus take?"

"A stag."

Harry lowered his wand, but James held up a hand. "If we're going to do it right, I've got to ask you a question too."

Harry waited nervously, hoping he knew the right answer. If his father was truly alive, he wasn't sure of anything now. His mother was alive too. That meant...maybe Sirius had never gone to Azkaban. Maybe Dumbledore had never died. Maybe...

"What is your cousin's name?"

Harry grinned. This was too easy. "Dudley."

"And...just to make sure...what position do you play on the Gryffindor team?"

The word "Seeker" was on his lips it occurred to Harry that he might not be a Seeker in this world. Maybe James had taught him to play a different position growing up. He looked around the room and noticed a moving poster of Uraiah Yates, Keeper for the Oxford Otters on his wall. No posters of Seekers were present. "Um...Keeper?"

"Right. So will you stop this death eater business and get downstairs? Your mother's making fried eggs, and Sirius is coming over later this morning."

Harry's heart leapt. Sirius was alive and well. But he merely mumbled, "Sorry, Dad. Moody said constant vigilance. I'll get dressed and be down in a minute."

James left, still shooting odd glances at Harry over his shoulder. Harry pulled open the wardrobe and selected a t-shirt and pair of jeans he had never seen before. After dressing, he stuck his wand in his back pocket and flopped down on the bed. This couldn't be real, could it? What had happened overnight? He thought of his last waking memories the night before. He had been wishing that his parents were still alive.

Did I bring them back to life? He wondered. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and automatically stroked the part of his forehead where the scar was. Except that now the skin was smooth.

He froze in shock, then sat up and pulled his wand out. He murmured the spell specularis and a mirror erupted from the tip of his wand. As Harry looked into it, the truth hit him hard--his scar was gone.

Breakfast was delicious, but Harry wasn't thinking about the food. His eyes followed his mother around the kitchen as she bewitched the dishes to wash themselves and the ingredients to fly back to their places in the cupboards. She was more beautiful than any of the pictures he had seen. She had thick reddish-brown hair and her green eyes sparkled and danced when she smiled. His father sat at the head of the table, reading the Daily Prophet. "What a load of rubbish," James exclaimed over the paper. "Listen to this: 'The Ministry of Magic announced this morning that Minister Lucius Malfoy is considering a decree to ban all half-bloods from government positions.'"

Harry choked on his orange juice. "What?"

"I know, it's outrageous. There aren't enough purebloods left to occupy all the ministry positions. I daresay You-Know-Who has just about cleansed the wizarding world of Muggle-borns. He'll be working on making it completely pure-blooded next."

"He's gotten rid of all the Muggle-borns?" Harry said incredulously, his mind spinning to process the new information. Lucius Malfoy, minister of magic. He never thought he'd see the day. He wondered if Voldemort had ever fallen in this world.

James's eyebrows shot up. "Where have you been for the last seven years? Think, Harry. When's the last time you saw a Muggle-born at Hogwarts? You-Know-Who has banned them from the school ever since he came back to power."

"What happened to them?" Harry said, wildly wondering if Hermione was out there, with her extreme intelligence and brilliant skills, still thinking she was a Muggle.

"Some don't know the truth that they're witches and wizards. Some were killed off by the Death Eaters when they protested the law, and some were secretly smuggled out of the country to attend foreign schools. Salem, Durmstrang, Beaubatoxons, and Pacisnitor all opened their doors secretly to British Muggle-borns. And some hid their lineage, like your mother."

The conversation was interrupted when the door flew open and a girl with bright green eyes and dark hair highlighted by auburn streaks stalked in.

"First day of summer and you won't even let me sleep in," she said accusingly to James. "Come on, Dad, just once I'd like to wake up on my own!"

"Maybe you'd wake up earlier if you weren't up late last night on the telephone with Luna," Lily Potter called from the kitchen.

The girl slumped into the chair opposite and glared at Harry. "You told her, didn't you?" she spat at him. "You're such a prat."

"Leila," Lily said, a warning note in her voice. "Watch your mouth. Your brother did no such thing. I overheard you on my way to bed. Now apologize."

Leila looked disgruntled, but she stared down at her lap and muttered, "Sorry."

Harry said nothing. He was still trying to digest this new information. He had...a sister? He looked her over; she definitely had inherited characteristics from both parents with her dark hair and almond-shaped green eyes. She didn't wear glasses, and her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail secured by a ribbon. She was wearing a pair of old jeans and a red shirt that accented the auburn locks in her hair. Lily waved her wand and a plate of bacon and eggs came flying across the room to land in front of Leila, who began to eat sullenly.

Suddenly James swore and threw down the paper in disgust.

"James! Language!" Lily said sharply, glancing up from the pile of potatoes that were peeling themselves.

"I never thought I'd see the day the Ministry would be so corrupted," James sighed. "My father used to work for the Ministry, and he was on the Wizarding Grimott. He had nothing but good things to say about the way the government was being run, but now...well, it's so corrupt! And most of the people on power don't even know that the whole Ministry is being controlled by You-Know-Who."

"'Cause Malfoy's one of Voldemort's Death Eaters," said Harry automatically

James looked surprised. "Well, yes, Harry. Don't say that name, though. Nowadays it could get you killed on the streets."

"Dumbledore says fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Harry said before he could stop himself, irked that his own father wouldn't say the name.

There was a crash from the kitchen. Lily had dropped the dish she was holding onto the tile floor. Quickly she waved her wand and repaired it, then turned to Harry. "Where did you hear that?" she said quickly, white-faced.

"I...er, heard it somewhere," Harry said. "Why?"

Lily sank down into the chair next to Harry's and sighed. "Harry, you know how people feel about Dumbledore these days. After his death, the Ministry covered everything up and said he had turned to the dark side. They gave Malfoy the credit for defeating the Dark Lord and made him Minister of Magic. We know the truth, though," she said softly, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder affectionately. "We know that he died duelling You-Know-Who."

Harry reeled back in surprise. "Dumbledore's dead?" he said, dumbfounded. Dumbledore? Dead from duelling Voldemort? "When?" he muttered hoarsely.

"Right before you were born," Lily said softly, looking out the window with a distant expression on her face. "He was the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had. He battled You-Know-Who until both of them were weak from the fight and then Dumbledore tried to kill him."

"But Voldemort didn't die," Harry prodded, hoping to get the whole story out of his parents.

"No." James answered this time. "And no one knows why. It seemed like You-Know-Who died, those who witnessed it said he kind of just disappeared. And Dumbledore died shortly after, probably from the strain and intensity of the fight. He wasn't young."

"Tell me again about how Voldemort rose to power again," Harry said. His parents both glanced at him; his mother's glance was condoling, but his father looked suspicious. "Um...you know how it is with the Ministry interfering at Hogwarts these days," Harry put in quickly, guessing that if Lucius Malfoy was Minister of Magic, Hogwarts would be no better than it was during the days Dolores Umbridge was headmistress. "You can't trust anything you hear anymore."

It seemed to be the right answer, because his father broke his inquiring gaze. "It happened seven years ago, before you went to Hogwarts, remember?" Harry nodded, to keep him talking. "I don't know he did it, but I suppose he made himself a new body, since it seemed he was broken, powerless, and bodiless before that. I suppose he called upon really ancient dark magic to perform the ritual, but it probably doesn't matter. What matters is that he's more powerful than ever before and everyone's under the impression that resisting him is useless." James's shoulders slumped. "The Order disbanded."

"What?" Harry couldn't believe it. The Order of the Phoenix, give up?

"I thought I told you about that," Lily broke in, looking at him curiously. "I owled you and your sister last fall."

"Ahh...maybe she forgot to give me the letter," Harry lied.

His explanation seemed to mollify his parents, but he noticed that Leila was listening very carefully now to the conversation and watching Harry, an unreadable expression on her face.

"We re-formed after You-Know-Who..."

"Say 'Voldemort,' Mum," Harry said. "No one else is here."

She nodded. "We re-formed after V-voldemort's return, and fought him for years, but it's too dangerous to have any kind of organization against him, now that he's got the Ministry under his thumb. We fought, but whenever Voldemort suspected anyone of being against him, he sent Death Eaters to their house and..." she broke off, wiping a tear from her eye.

James jumped in. "He lets people know exactly what will happen to their families if they refuse to join him. He murdered my parents right after his return to power. Lily's parents...well, that was just recently, remember?"

Harry nodded, though he didn't remember anything. "How come he hasn't killed you?" he asked.

"You, me, your mother, Leila, this house--it's all under the Fidelius charm. Sirius is our Secret-Keeper. I suppose that charm was applied so long ago that you wouldn't remember it."

"Which members of the Order died again?" Harry knew he was pushing his luck, but he simply had to know. He hoped they wouldn't ship him off to St. Mungo's for supposed memory loss.

"Let's see..." Harry's mother ticked the names off on her fingers. "The Prewetts..."

"No, Mum, the ones that died in the second war," Harry said, having been told the list before. "Moody showed me an original Order photo and told me who died in the First War," he explained quickly, when his mom shot him an inquisitive look.

"Oh, okay... Second war: Arabella Figg. Dedalus Diggle, Sturgis Podmore, Rubeus Hagrid..."

"They killed Hagrid?" Harry exclaimed, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Took ten Death Eaters to take him down too," Lily said sadly. "Oh, and they got Charlie..."

"Weasley?" Harry said very quickly.

Lily nodded. "Yeah, him and Tonks at the same time. They were to be married too. I'm sure you've met his brother Ron in school."

"I've met him," Harry said, smiling a little, remembering all the things he'd done with Ron--homework late at night, practicing Quidditch, escaping the Acromantula in the Forbidden Forrest, practicing in the DA, the giant chess game they'd had to get across to get the Philosopher's Stone...

Then what his mother said sank in. "They got Tonks too?" he said. His breakfast was balling up in his stomach.

"That poor family," his mother said, still going on about the Weasleys. "Arthur and Molly have seen it all... first their daughter, then Charlie..."

Harry gave her a blank stare. "What happened to Ginny?"

"Oh Harry, don't you remember? In your second year? I don't know how, but she was opening the Chamber of Secrets and word got out to the Ministry that she was the one responsible for all those deaths. They let Hagrid off easy the first time, but the jury said this time they couldn't do it again...with four students dead, and all. They sent her to Azkaban, that poor little girl..."

But Harry had pushed back his chair and stood up so abruptly the table slid forward and his glass was knocked over. "THEY SENT HER TO AZKABAN?"

His parents and Leila stared at him, openmouthed. "I thought you knew, Harry," Lily whispered.

"I bloody well didn't know! How could they send her to Azkaban? It wasn't her fault!"

"Harry, what's wrong with you?" Leila said loudly. He froze, realizing how stupid he must look, yelling about something that happened years before.

"I'm not feeling well," he lied. "I need to go upstairs and lie down." And he fled the room and bounded up the stairs to his bedroom.

Ginny in Azkaban. The very picture tore at his insides. Harry flopped down on his bed and balled his fists so hard that his fingernails were cutting into his skin. The great lump in his stomach had now risen to his throat. He swallowed hard. What had happened? Had the diary been discovered at all? The basilisk was still alive, no doubt, the diary cast away, waiting for the next unsuspecting victim to come along and write in it. But how come she hadn't been killed? Harry guessed it was because Voldemort was already back, and didn't need life from a diary anymore. Or maybe she had been caught in the act... The unwanted images of Ginny chained to that chair in the courtroom came to his mind...Ginny being dragged away by dementors... Ginny huddled in her cell, reliving the worst memories of her life again and again...

Harry made up his mind. He was going to rescue Ginny if it cost him his life.