To Dwell on Dreams

Chapter Seven -

Stop Crying Your Heart Out

Hold on

Hold on

Don't be scared

You'll never change what's been and gone

May your smile

Shine on

Don't be scared

Your destiny may keep you warm

Coz all of the stars

Have faded away

Just try not to worry

You'll see them some day

Take what you need

And be on your way

And stop crying your heart out

Oasis

"S-Seamus?" Parvati croaked, hands shaking, lip trembling. "Seamus?"

Harry reached numbly over to her with his good hand, covered in grime and blood. "Parvati," he whispered, trying to offer some pitiful comfort. Her face broke, and she crumpled onto Seamus' lifeless body sobbing.

"No," she cried, inconsolable, "no, Seamus - Seamus wake up, c-come back!" Her knuckles were white where she was grasping the material of his torn shirt so tightly, her shoulders rippled with grief and despair.

Hermione slowly brought her hands up to cover her mouth, a sob shuddering through her chest. She stepped back involuntarily, not taking her eyes off Seamus, stumbling into Draco, who automatically put his arms around her shoulders and held her, his eyes glassy and fixed on a boy he supposedly loathed.

Sarah's cries startled the night just as suddenly as Parvati's. With a gasp she dissolved into unrelenting tears and buried her face into her brother's side, holding onto him so tightly she was in danger of breaking him in half.

Harry, of all of them, moved the least. His hand rested lightly on Parvati's shaking figure a moment, before moving silently back over Seamus' body. He gently leant over, and closed his vacant eyes.

Harry had seen death before; he knew the endless feelings of remorse and guilt and despair that were welling up inside him, swallowing him whole. He knew it was his fault, he knew Seamus, like Cedric, had died because of him, and he knew it should have been him in his place. A bitter blackness enveloped him, deadening the cries of the girls, filtering out Draco's presence beside him, snuffing the light from his wand. He felt nothing, and everything.

The rain pelted into the trees, running in rivets down the trunks, sliding along the ground, mixing with the dirt under Harry's knees, plastering his hair to his bloody forehead.

They remained frozen like that for an eternity it seemed. Harry could see nothing but Seamus' peaceful face, hear nothing but the rain; until the pounding of footsteps brought him back into the real world. Two figures were approaching, silhouetted by the light from Voldemort's lair. Harry, felt a sharp intake of breath fill his chest; he fumbled to the right for Gryffindor's sword, guessing some of those still loyal to the Dark Mark were coming to finish the job and kill them all.

They would have to get through Harry first.

He stood on wobbling legs and called for Sarah to get behind him, along with the others. "We're friends!" called out a voice from up ahead, and two men in Ministry uniforms came into the weak wand light. "We're aurors; we're with Alistair Moody - we've come to help you."

***

Harry sat on the stone steps and looked in a detached sort of way at his hands. They were splattered with drying blood. He could trace the threads that were his own; older and darker, and those which belonged to Sarah, Draco...Seamus. His fingernails were black with grime from the tunnel, dust from Voldemort's chamber, mud from the forest. His left hand was swollen, his right developing a nasty bluish bruise just under the thumb joint. They were shaking slightly, and his right hand kept groping unknowingly for the hilt of Gryffindor's sword lying beside him.

He blinked his eyes, suddenly very tired. He tried to concentrate on the words flying about his ears, but his eyelids kept dropping. The blood from his new lightening bolt scar had been smeared across his forehead and was now drying uncomfortably in his hair and eyebrows. There was a taste of sick in his mouth, a thumping in his head.

Somebody placed a firm hand on his knee, stirring them back to his attention. "Harry," said Mad Eyed Moody, "I know you've had a tough night, but you need to tell us the rest - what happened next?" He looked a lot like Harry remembered him, although obviously he had known an impostor for the most part of last year. But even so, a great deal of Crouch's Polyjuiced version could still be seen here; same growling voice, same revolving blue eye, same suspicious nature. He was slightly different as well though; the huge chunk normally gone from his nose was intact here, having never captured those Harry had seen in Dumbledore's pensive, and his wooden leg was of a more ornate design. He was kneeling in front of Harry, another official by his side noting down everything Harry said.

Harry sighed and looked around him. They were back in the auditorium; it was packed with hundreds of Ministry witches and wizards, summoned by Snape, organising the aftermath of the chaos that had been rampant there not half an hour ago. Bodies, both of Voldemort's followers and those of Freiheit, were being covered with white sheets; medical teams ran here, there and everywhere, attending to the wounded; officials, like the one with Harry, were questioning those members of Freiheit not bleeding too profusely; aurors were binding Voldemort's followers who were still standing and transporting them directly to the Ministry. Harry saw Lucius Malfoy with a nasty gash on his right arm being forced into handcuffs; he gave Harry a particularly venomous look before being escorted away.

Harry rubbed his temples. A medi-wizard had healed his broken arm but it still ached, his stomach cramped and his eyes were stinging. "Harry," prompted Moody again. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and found his voice.

"We - I don't know how I survived the curse," he lied, "but I did - and Voldemort's disappeared." He raised his head, meeting Moody's eyes. "He's not gone forever though," he told him, "he'll try everything in his power to return, so the Philosopher's Stone must be destroyed." He rubbed his forehead. "You have to look into the mirror, and only someone who wants to find the stone but not use it will be able to get the stone out."

"How do you know all this Harry," asked Moody, bewildered, "how did you know about the mirror, how did you know the killing curse wouldn't work, would backfire?"

"I didn't," he lied again, "I was just trying to get to my sister, and he kept going on about a prophecy or something...I-I was just lucky I guess."

The questions kept coming. They wanted to know everything, but Harry couldn't tell them. His head was spinning; every time he closed his stinging eyes he saw Seamus looking at the sword driven into his stomach, or lying dead in the forest.

They let him go eventually, saying they would need to come and talk to him again soon, but for now he'd better go home. He walked over, feet tripping every so often, to where Sarah was sitting being looked after by a medi-witch. She stood and wrapped her arms around Harry; the witch left them to attend to someone else.

Harry and Sarah found the others had moved from the forest into the entrance hall. Seamus was covered in a white sheet, just like all the rest. Parvati had lowered it to reveal his ashened face, peaceful and tranquil still, and was stroking his hair, tears falling gently down her face, her other hand grasping his lifeless one tightly. Hermione stood a little away from her, Draco standing awkwardly beside her. On seeing Harry he left her and walked quietly over; Hermione barely noticed.

"Severus made us this," said the blond boy softly, and showed them an ordinary looking Galleon; a portkey. "It'll take us back to your home, and then bring me back here."

Harry blinked a couple of times. "You're coming with us?" was the first thing he said, he wasn't sure why. Draco nodded.

"I think I should," was his only reply.

***

The six of them landed with a thud onto the front lawn of Godric's Hollow, though they were still a fair distance from the house. Parvati was still clinging resolutely to Seamus' body. Harry looked down towards the front door, Draco let go of the portkey and stood up, facing the same direction. "Help," whispered Harry inaudibly for the second time that night, willing his parents to come and rescue him, save him from this nightmare.

As if on command the front door flew open. "Harry!" screamed his mother in relief, "Sarah!" She came racing up the length of the grass, James at her side, closely followed by Sirius and Remus. She skidded to a halt and scooped up her daughter, burying her face into her hair. Sarah bust into sobs and grasped onto her mother as if she planned never to let go.

Hermione stood back with Draco, a numb, out of place look on both their faces. James then reached Harry and held him tightly by the shoulders. "Oh God," he said, "are you okay, are you alright?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I'm fine," he said softly, "but - but Seamus..." The words dried up in his throat.

Sirius and Remus finally joined them. As Remus slowed to a halt his eyes widened, his hand raised to his mouth. Sirius grabbed his arm. "Oh no," he breathed, looking down at Seamus, "no - it can't be-"

But it was. Lily gasped and turned Sarah's face away, but she had already seen it all. Remus dropped to his knees, and as Parvati watched him with saucer like eyes, he pulled back the cloth to look at the wound. He froze like that for some time, until James, having seen equally as much, took his hand, and gently replaced the white material.

James picked his daughter up, Lily gently eased a shaking Parvati to her feet and helped her and Hermione walk to the house. Sirius carefully knelt down and slipped his arms under Seamus, the white cloth still draped over his torso and legs, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping. As he stood, Remus lent in and helped take some of the dead weight, and the two of them followed Lily.

Harry was left standing with Draco, holding Gryffindor's sword uselessly at his side. He stared at the hilt, red jewels suddenly bright and sparkling as dawn broke for the second time. Draco was looking at Harry.

"You saved the world," he said, and edge of disbelief in his tone.

"I do that a lot," responded Harry. Draco let a half, desperate laugh escape his lips.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that feeling." They stood there a moment more. Draco opened his palm, revealing the coin-shaped portkey. "I have to go in a minute." Harry looked up; there were birds twittering in the bare, leafless trees. He let out a shuddery breath, the steam curling in the air, then put the sword back into its scabbard. "I'm sorry."

Harry looked at Draco. "You're sorry?"

He nodded. "He was...a good bloke, really, and he died for what he believed in, but I'm still sorry." It was Harry's turn to nod.

"It's always the good that die young."

"You didn't have to do it Harry," said Draco, making Harry frown. He didn't think he'd ever heard Draco call him by his first name. "You didn't have to but you did..." Harry looked at him as he let out a sigh. "Thank you." He looked at his watch. "It's going to go off any second now," he explained, "but - I'll come and see you, yeah?"

Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. It wasn't because Draco was asking to see him again, or talking to him as if he were a friend, or even calling him by his Christian name; but because Harry himself wanted him to. He wanted to be friends with Draco.

Harry nodded and put his hand on his shoulder. "Thank you Draco," he said.

The blond boy smiled, and then he was gone.

***

Harry sat on the sofa in his living room, absorbed by the steam floating off his hot mug of tea; if it hadn't been charmed it would have been cold long ago. Sirius was sitting beside him, talking to the Ministry officials who had showed up almost an hour ago. Hermione was on his other side holding his hand; she was cold and shaking even with the fire roaring in front of them. James and Remus had only just come back from Ireland. They had taken Seamus and Parvati home personally as soon as James could bear to part from his children; that was almost four hours ago. Lily was with Sarah in her room.

As James walked into the room from the kitchen the officials rose. They felt that Harry needed more time to come to terms with the events last night, and would return tomorrow. James knelt in front of his son and spoke to him; the same words as always. It wasn't his fault, he had done an amazing thing and Seamus wouldn't want him blaming himself; his parents didn't. There was nothing he could have done, the blade was cursed, poisoned, Seamus was dead as soon as it broke his skin. But he shouldn't have even been there in the first place, was all Harry kept thinking.

Remus suggested they take Hermione home, Harry agreed and said he would come with them. So Remus helped Hermione to stand before going to the fireplace and throwing the glittering green powder into the flames. The three of them stepped in and were whisked off in no time to Kent.

As they stepped into the Floo Powder station they were greeted by the same guard Harry had seen last night. "My word!" he cried, "Mr Potter! I can't believe it - is it true what the Prophet's saying, did you really defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" He rushed over to them, and stood eagerly before Harry, awaiting an answer. Harry was only able to nod. Remus took him and Hermione by the shoulder and escorted them quickly round the guard out into the bright November afternoon.

People were bustling around the streets in all directions; starting on early Christmas shopping perhaps, thought Harry. They made their way between the crowds, heading towards Hermione's home; past the netball court and through the park just as before, crossing the wobbly bridge (Harry swore it was going to completely topple over with three people trying to walk across it) before finally reaching her driveway. There was a police car sitting on it. Harry couldn't see how that was a good sign.

There was a big 'closed' sign hanging on the door as Hermione fumbled with gloved hands to get the key in the lock. The door swung open. "Hello?" she called timidly. There was a shriek from another room, and her mother and father came flying into the hallway.

"Hermione," cried her mother and flung her arms around her daughter. "Where have you been? We've been worried sick - we thought you'd been kidnapped." She stepped back and surveyed Harry and Remus suspiciously, just as two police officers stepped into the hall.

"Mum - I can explain everything," said Hermione quickly, but the police woman was already reaching for her radio.

Remus had his wand pointed at them both before anyone could even blink. "Obliviate!" he cried, and a bright white light filled the room. Now the officers had plenty of time to blink.

"W-what happened?" said one of them, rubbing his head.

"You were called out on a false alarm," said Remus quickly, "sorry to have troubled you."

"But-" said the other, looking at her notes. Hermione, picking up on what was happening, accidentally-on-purpose bumped into to her, making the clipboard fall.

"Oh I'm so sorry," she said, stealthily detaching the top sheet detailing her parent's report of her disappearance, and crumpling it up in her hand. She closed the pad and gave it back.

"Sorry to have troubled you," said Remus once again, and steered them to the door.

Hermione's father didn't look to happy about this. "Now wait just a minute-" he began, as Remus hastily shut the door on the officers' heals.

"I apologise for this Mr Granger," said Harry tiredly, "but I promise we can explain everything."

And that they did.

They sat in the front room, all five of them, and talked for almost two hours, about Hermione being a witch, about Hogwarts, and about what had happened last night. The Grangers didn't believe much of it until Remus kindly gave them a demonstration by making Mrs Granger's collection of china plates dance around in mid air.

Harry listened to most of it, letting Remus and Hermione do all the talking. His mind wandered, thinking about the last day or so. It was only about this time yesterday, perhaps a bit later, he'd woken up in a bed that wasn't his, in a world that wasn't his, with a mother that hadn't been his for just over fourteen years. He thought about Sirius, in this world and his own. He thought about his family, and Ron. He thought about Seamus. He had to look down into his lap so as the others wouldn't see his eyes getting itchy and red once more. He felt empty, totally lacking in any idea of what he should do. He wanted to go home because that's what he knew, but he desperately didn't want to leave his parents, his sister, his godfather, or even poor Hermione, suddenly flung into this terrifying new world. But he wanted Ron, he wanted Seamus, he wanted Hogwarts. He wanted to be home.

Remus brought his mind back round by standing up; Harry followed suit. The Grangers needed time to think about what they'd been told, to talk to Hermione in private. Harry and Remus apologised once more, then said their goodbyes.

Harry hugged Hermione tightly. "I'll see you soon," he promised.

She looked at him. "What are you going to do about..." she let the sentence trail. Harry shook his head.

"I'll think of something, don't worry about it now." He smiled and hugged her again. She really was a great friend.

***

When Harry and Remus fell through the fireplace at Godric's Hollow it was gone three in the afternoon and Lily was stood waiting for them. She wrapped her arms around Harry and told Remus that James was in Sarah's room. He went up to join him.

Sirius appeared quietly from the kitchen. "Harry," he said, "could I talk to you?" Harry nodded and Lily let go of him, following Remus up the stairs, past the wall with all the smiling photographs. Harry and Sirius walked into the kitchen, where Sirius sat down, indicating for Harry to join him. He looked concerned.

"How are you doing Harry," asked his Godfather sympathetically. If it had been almost anybody else, Harry would have most likely snapped 'how do you think I'm doing?!', but because it was Sirius he just lent on the table, head in his hands.

"I'm doing alright - really," he said, looking determinedly at the grain running along in the wood of the table. Sirius rubbed his back and stroked his hair.

"You're amazing Harry," he said softly. Harry said nothing. Sirius took his hand away and fingered something in his hands; Harry had only just noticed it, but he was holding what looked like a letter.

Sirius exhaled slowly. "Harry," he started, "do you remember what you asked me to do, before you left for Germany?" Harry looked at his Godfather. He had actually forgot, with all the talk of Voldemort and Seamus, that he had asked Sirius to search through his parents' collection of books to see if there was anything at all about parallel universes or alternate realities. He nodded, so Sirius carried on. "Well, I can't say I wasn't a little put out by it, but I did it anyway." He looked down at the letter in his hand again and thought for a moment. "I didn't have much luck to be honest - I wasn't even too sure what I was looking for, but then - something happened."

Sirius looked at Harry. "I didn't want to say before, you had so much to think of, all those questions about You-Know-Who, and...Seamus. But, I think it's important, very important.

"I was in here," he began, indicating the kitchen, "looking through what little books I had, when...something happened," he repeated again. "The ground started shaking, and it was as if, all of a sudden, I was seeing double; two of everything, except I wasn't just seeing it, there really was two of everything, I held my hand out in front of me (an action he now repeated) and it was if I was out of sync or something." He shook his head. "Anyway, I looked up, and this was sitting on the table." He held up the letter and looked at it. "The only thing was, there was definitely only one of them; two tables, but one letter. But then, it was like somebody snapped an elastic band, and the two images shot back together - leaving this here."

He continued to look thoughtfully at the letter. "I was the only one who noticed anything - your parents were upstairs with Moony and you said not to trouble them with anything else, something I readily agreed with." Sirius leant back in the chair, dropping the letter on the table. "At first I thought it was something to do with You-Know-Who, so I did all sorts of charms on it to deactivate any curses it might have held, but it didn't have anything like that. Because I blasted it with so much magic though, it just sort of fell open - couldn't cope I suppose." He rubbed his chin. "I read the letter Harry - I'm really sorry, I know it has your name on the front and everything, but it was open anyway, and I was worried."

He pushed the cream parchment over to Harry, who looked at it, but did not take it. Sirius sighed. "I think I know why you wanted me to find out about parallel universes for you," he said simply.

Harry was no longer feeling tired; quite the opposite. His eyes were clear and wide, his back straight and tense, his fingers tingling as he reached forward and rested his hand on the think cream parchment. He looked purposefully at Sirius, then gently picked the letter off the table. He slid his index finger along the lip of the envelope and he pulled the contents out; two sheets of paper with bright green ink scrawled tightly over all four sides. Harry let a shaky breath escape his lips, and, swallowing hard, began to read.

'Dear Harry,

I hope this letter reaches you intact, or at all for that matter.'

Harry's grip on the parchment tightened involuntarily. He knew this writing; it was Hermione's. His Hermione's.

'We have talked at length with Professor Dumbledore about your disappearance, and have been researching in the Restricted Section of the library; we had to borrow your Invisibility Cloak for this task, we hope that was-?

-Tell him about the book!

I'm getting to that Ron!'

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. He could almost hear his friends voices in his head; they were obviously using Hermione's Quick Quotes Quill Harry had brought her for her birthday to write down what they were saying.

'The book we found was "The Boundaries of The Universe" by Estella Linyar, and it talked about something called a 'dimensional hotspot.' We believe (and professor Dumbledore agrees) that you opened a type of...

Door

I was going to say gateway between the delicate fabrics of the space-time continuum Ron, but whatever works for you.

Stop nagging and get on with it!

Oh honestly! Right, Harry, from what we can tell form 'Hogwarts; A History,' the History classroom, or more specifically, the space just outside the window, is one of these so-called 'hotspots', a link between two 'dimensions.'

It's all mental if you ask me.

Thank you Ron. When you broke the window you somehow activated the portal and travelled through it, though we're not entirely sure how as it would have required an incredible amount of focused energy. Dumbledore has repaired the window, but he cast a number of charms on the area, and from what he can tell, your passage has somehow weakened the gateway, enabling us to send this letter through to wherever it is you have ended up.'

Harry looked up at Sirius in disbelief. "Keep reading," was all he said.

'It is our hope that this letter will create a sort of 'thread' and pull you back into this reality.

'That's if he gets it at all - I mean, who knows where he could have wondered off to by now.

That's not helpful Ron.

But it's true! How do we know where he is...or even what kind of world he's got himself in?

Well, that's the thing Harry; this is our only hope. If you find this letter, you just have to perform a simple activation charm on it to release the spell Dumbledore put on it. Now the window's back together, you should return to this spot instantaneously.

We hope.'

Harry felt his stomach clench; he could get home as easy as that?

"Just like the Wizard of Oz, hey Harry?" He looked at Sirius, but remained silent, not really too sure what to say. Sirius smiled and carried on. "I knew there was something different about you Harry, as soon as I saw you I knew something was wrong - I just couldn't put my finger on it."

He stood up and walked slowly towards the window; he watched the leaves blowing about in the fierce autumn breezes for a moment before continuing. "That's how you knew about Peter, isn't it? It's what you meant about 'they're supposed to be dead', why you went to fight You-Know-You." He turned and looked at Harry. "You know things you shouldn't, seen things, had experiences that set you apart. Harry; you're not who you seem - are you?"

Harry looked at the letter, still only half read in his hands. "I'm from a different reality," he said quietly.

Sirius nodded. "I studied something when I took my N.E.W.T.s about these 'hotspots' here; your friend said it's mentioned in Hogwarts; A History, so I guess that's where I saw it. But it was theoretical Harry, never once was there a mention, a reference to it actually happening!"

"It was an accident," said Harry by way of an explanation.

Sirius looked thoughtful for a while. "Harry," he said carefully, "it really would have taken a tremendous amount of energy to activate that portal." Harry nodded, but didn't look up from the letter. He wanted to continue reading, to find out what the rest of the letter said, but he was having trouble concentrating.

"There's more in that letter," said Sirius, almost as if he were reading Harry's thoughts, " and I think I might have an idea as to how you did it. Opened the gateway." Harry looked up at him; Sirius sighed. "Don't get me wrong," he said, "I don't think your life here is all peaches and cream, but from what I've read, things seem a Hell of a lot worse for you over there." He paused for a second. "For both of us it seems."

"What do you mean?" said Harry, a note of urgency creeping into his voice. Sirius didn't say anything; he just reached over the table, flipped the letter over and pointed to a passage about halfway down.

'We've got to tell him about Sirius.

Yes I know Ron...okay, Harry, there was more in the paper today. The Ministry is going to perform the Dementor's kiss on Monday morning. They aren't even giving Sirius a re-trail.'

Harry gasped audibly and felt like a sheet of ice had just descended in his stomach. He kept reading without needing to be told be Sirius.

'That's not the worst of it though!

No - it's not I'm afraid. They've got Lupin in as well now; he's being questioned on charges of aiding and abetting a wanted criminal, and he's facing a life sentence in Azkaban.

It's awful - we wouldn't even know about it if my dad hadn't gone to see him last week.

We don't know what to do Harry.'

Harry felt sick; really sick. He stumbled off his chair, head spinning, and threw up in the sink. "Harry?" said Sirius gingerly. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jumper and took in a shuddery breath of air.

"Oh God," he whispered, leaning over the counter.

"Harry," said Sirius once again, "what did he - I do? Is this real?" Harry was only able to nod in response to the second question. After a moment or two, he answered the first.

"Nothing."

Sirius folded his arms and stared at the ground; he looked deeply troubled but thoughtful. "I've been thinking about this for - well hours Harry - lets say that letter bothered me just a bit." He walked to the other side of the room, and Harry looked at him, back leaning against the counter. "Okay...here's what I think.

"I think, as we've discussed...you're from another reality. I think, in this reality, You-Know-Who was after your family, just like here. But, from what you said in the living room before, there was one important difference; James and Lily chose Peter to be their Secret Keeper, not me. When he betrayed them, everyone assumed it would have been me that they had chosen, so now I'm on trail for helping You-Know-You in their - their murder, and so is Moony for helping me." He looked at Harry. "How am I doing?" he asked quietly.

But Harry's face crumpled. He balled his fists together and shoved himself off the counter. "Oh God - no Sirius! It's so much worse than that!" he cried. He started pacing the room, head spinning, and found himself spilling the entire sorry story to Sirius, desperate for commiseration, for someone to understand and help him.

"Wormtail didn't hand my parents over last week, last month - it was fourteen years ago! My parents knew Voldemort was after them, so they did make you their Secret Keeper, my dad wouldn't trust anyone else, not even Dumbledore, but you knew Voldemort would guess it was you so you convinced them to switch to Wormtail, thinking no-one would think it was him, and you could act as a diversion. No one else knew, not even Remus. You went to check on him at Hallowe'en - he'd vanished, so you came here - and found my parents dead, and me bloodstained and crying in the ruins-"

"Oh my God...what - how?" cried Sirius, interrupting him, horror in his voice, "how did you live? What happened to You-Know-Who?"

"My mother sacrificed herself to try and save me," replied Harry, tears welling in his eyes, walking back to the other side of the kitchen. "It cancelled out the killing curse, rebounded on him, it's how I survived last night." He rubbed frustrated hands through his dirty hair.

"Hagrid was there too though - at the house," he carried on, "he had orders from Dumbledore to take me straight to him, and wouldn't let you have me."

Sirius pressed his fingers into his temples. "Oh God," he whispered.

"So you tracked Wormtail down on a crowded muggle street to confront him...to kill him for what he'd done. But before you had a chance he yelled to everyone how you had betrayed my mum and dad and then blew the street apart - killing twelve muggles and letting him fake his own death by fleeing down the sewer with all the other rats.

"You had no witnesses - you were charged with killing all of them as well as being a traitor, and they sent you to Azkaban without a trial!"

"What! cried Sirius.

"Bartemius Crouch Senior wanted to be Minister of Magic, so he made you an example, ironic - as his own son was discovered to be a Death Eater not two weeks later." Harry crossed the room again. "So you were stuck in that prison for years whilst Wormtail lived cosily as a pet rat with the Weasleys of all people. Then one day, two years ago, you saw them, and Wormtail, in the paper, so you escaped-"

"I what?! From - Azkaban?!"

Harry nodded. "As a dog. Then you travelled to Hogwarts to find him. It took you a whole year, but eventually you and Remus were able to tell me, Ron and Hermione everything, show Wormtail for what he really was one night in the Shrieking Shack. But then he escaped before we could prove it to anyone; you've been on the run ever since, and Wormtail has helped Voldemort back to full strength."

Harry crossed the room once more. "And now, Voldemort's terrorising the world again, recruiting old and new followers, killing muggles and wizards. But that's not it!" He grabbed up the letter and shook it at Sirius. "The Ministry's recaptured you! There going to suck out your soul without even asking you what happened!"

He slammed the parchment back on the table and fell into his chair, head in his hands. Sirius was stunned, his eyes wide and fixed on Harry. "I just - I can't believe it," he said hoarsely.

"Yeah, well, it's true," said Harry thickly, rubbing his sleeve into his eyes. "That's why I was able to open that portal; I knew there was nothing I could do and I couldn't cope!" Sirius took in a sharp breath between his teeth, walked over to him, yanked out the chair beside him, and sat down.

"Don't go back Harry - stay here."

"W-what?" asked Harry, looking up at him. Sirius took his hand.

"You don't have to go back to that - that nightmare, you've got a loving family here, stay here."

Harry looked at his Godfather. That was so like him; thinking with his heart, not his head, not considering the consequences. Harry sighed, oddly a little calmer than before; perhaps he just felt better for talking to someone, for having the prospect of help and comfort. And perhaps a resolution.

"I have to go back - don't you see?" he said, "it's my home - I don't belong here, there's another Harry out there somewhere who does, and I can't take his place -take his family."

Sirius looked down at their hands. "I know," he said, "but I can't bear the thought of you being there-"

"And I can't bear the thought of you being in Azkaban even one more day, but that's just the way it is. It's not fair, but nothing is: Seamus was a decent boy and he died, all those other people too - my parents, they died just because some maniac wanted to rule the world his way. Nothing's fair I think, but there's nothing we can do about it."

They sat in silence for a while. "But there are things we can do, Harry." He looked up at his Godfather. "You've proved it; you've faced You-Know-Who twice now-"

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "Try five times now."

Sirius looked at him stunned for a moment, before deciding not to question that and carry on with what he was saying. "My point is," he said gently," is that you've already changed things. You've changed this world Harry; you alone, and it's going to be a better place because of it. Think of how many live you've saved by stopping him; you did that, just one person, and you've made such a difference." Harry bit his lip. "I think you're right Harry; you've got to go back. But you've got to promise me this one thing; never, for as long as you live, ever give up." He squeezed Harry's hand. "You're my best friend's son, Harry Potter, but I swear to God, I don't think anyone loves you more than I do. You're the best of all of us; you're brave and resourceful, you put everyone else before you and you never give up. You're everything I wish I could be, and I want you to keep going, for me - but...you owe it to yourself."

Harry looked Sirius in the eye; they both had a symmetrical tear running down their cheeks.

"I believe in you Harry. Don't give up on me now."

***

Harry stood outside Sarah's bedroom. He took a deep breath and knocked. "Come in," came his dad's voice from the other side. Harry did as he was told and pushed open the wooden door covered in fluttering carved butterflies, and stepped into Sarah's bedroom.

She was propped up against her pillows, a mug with snitches on in her hands. James and Lily were sitting beside her on the left, Remus was on the right. They all looked up as he came in.

"Hi Harry," said his mother, "pull up a chair." But Harry didn't move. It took a moment to get his voice working, but he knew what he wanted to say, and he wanted to say it fast and get out.

"I...I just wanted to say - I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, but I love you, very much, and I'll never forget you, not for as long as I live. Sirius will explain everything, but this has meant the world to me, and I know your son is very lucky to have you for a family." He swallowed as tears welled in his eyes again. "Goodbye," he said, and turned on his heals, pulling the door shut behind him. He ignored their startled cries as he locked the door; it would give him a moment or two at least.

He bolted down the stairs, not thinking about his mother, his father, his sister, or how he would never, ever see them again. Sirius was waiting for him in the kitchen; he handed him the letter. "Just point your wand and say 'Abbercium', okay?" Harry nodded. Sirius hugged him tightly as Sarah's door banged open upstairs and the sound of running feet met their ears.

"Tell Hermione what happened, okay," Harry told his Godfather quickly, "a-and the others, find the others who weren't called to Hogwarts - tell them the truth." Sirius nodded and hugged him one last time.

Harry ran and stood in the middle of the room, closing his eyes. "Goodbye," he whispered for the last time. He pointed his wand at the parchment and uttered the spell.

The room exploded with light and thunder roared above him. Sirius jumped back, hands over his ears, as the others reached the kitchen doorway. Harry lurched forward; a distinct feeling of watching himself do so as he hurtled through the barrier, back to his own world.

And then, once more, the world was black.

***

Harry opened his eyes to darkness. After a few moments though, moonlight through the window enabled him to see where he was. He was back in the History of Magic classroom, shattered glass from the once again broken window lying all around him. He put his hand on his aching forehead and caught a glimpse of the time; 5:17. He'd barely been out for an hour this time. He propped himself up and looked at his clothes; the same ones he had been Wednesday night when he'd vanished from this world.

And so he was home.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry dropped back down again onto the glass, curled into a ball, and began to shake. He grieved. He grieved for parents he never even knew, a sister who would never be born. He grieved for Seamus and his family, for Parvati, Hermione...Draco. He grieved for the fate of Sirius and Remus.

He lay like that for a long while, so many thoughts racing through his head it made him dizzy. He gradually relaxed his cramped position, until eventually rolling onto his back, making the glass crunch. His eyes were stinging and his breath was still shuddering, but he was feeling slightly calmer once more. He ran his hands through his now clean hair and stared at the ceiling.

The conversation he'd had with Sirius was replaying over and over in his head. He didn't want to give up, he really didn't, but what could he do? Maybe he would ask Dumbledore for help.

Harry thought of the advice Dumbledore had given him in the past, thought of his transformation last year when he had confronted the Moody impostor. He believed in Sirius. He always seemed to know the right thing to do. Harry thought about the Mirror of Erised; how he had asked Dumbledore what he saw when he looked at his reflection, wondered if he was one of those perfect people he had talked about and would see himself as he was, and he then thought what he himself might have seen if he'd looked in the mirror last night.

Harry sighed once more. Looking in that mirror had been the closest thing Harry thought he would ever get to seeing his parents again. But the last couple of days...well, what could he say?

The advice Dumbledore had given to Harry on that specific night four years ago swam into his thoughts. Those words had stuck with Harry so clearly ever since, but for the first real time, he thought long and hard about what they really meant.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams Harry, and forget to live." Those had been his exact words. Harry frowned and sat up.

Sirius was right. He had changed the world, and he had seen things he never should have seen. He was special. If Fudge didn't want to do anything to help Sirius, well Harry was just going to have to do it himself.

He stood, a freshness filling in his mind, clearing it properly for the first time since Wednesday morning. He brushed the broken shards of glass of his clothes before repairing the window with a quick flick of his wand. He grabbed the handle of the door, heaved it open, and stepped out into the castle corridor. His mind made up, he began walking quickly towards the Gryffindor common room.

As it was almost six o'clock, most people should have been down in the Great Hall having dinner; but it wasn't long before Harry ran into someone he knew all too well.

"Potter!" came a contemptuous voice from behind him. Harry turned round, and was faced with Draco Malfoy striding arrogantly up towards him.

Harry raised his eyebrows. His first thought was just how much smaller he looked. His hair was immaculate, and his face was pinched. A smirk curled round his lips. "Well if it isn't old Scarhead," he spat out, his voice clipped and shrill, "thought you'd be hiding out until at least Sunday, or have you decided you want me to knock you off your broom after all?"

Harry just stared at him, incredulous to just how different he was to the Draco that he had known these last twenty four hours or so. Malfoy leaned in, staring at him. "The Quidditch match on Saturday, Potter, I asked you if you were scared? "

But Harry just tilted his head to the side, looking at the Slytherin boy before him, and felt a smile creep onto in face. "What?" demanded Malfoy, his hand flying up to his hair. "What are you laughing at?" But Harry's smile just broadened, and he chuckled softly to himself. "Potter, I swear-"

Harry interrupted him. He took a step closer to him, making the blond boy jump and step back against the wall. Their faces were quite close together; for this world anyway. Harry folded his arms.

"What the Hell are you playing at Potter?!" cried Malfoy, furious. But Harry just laughed again.

"I see right through you Draco," he said, using his Christian name for the first, and perhaps last time. "You're all for show, and the sad thing is, you don't even know it yourself. But I do, I know who you really are; I see right through you."

Harry allowed himself the slightest of grins as he stepped forward once more, so Malfoy was only a few inches away from his face. Malfoy, alarmed, backed fully against the wall, a mixture of fury and confusion alight in his eyes.

"In fact," Harry carried on, "I can see through you so easily, I'm going to bet you're wearing pink underwear right now."

All the colour drained from Malfoy's already pale face, before quickly changing to the shade of the afore mentioned underwear. He spluttered and looked as if his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Harry gave him half a knowing smile, then turned his back on him, continuing up the corridor to the common room, leaving Malfoy to his embarrassment and anger behind him.

***

The fat lady was startled when Harry hurried up to her. "Where on Earth have you been?" she cried, but Harry ignored her. He told her the password ("cauldron cakes") and jumped inside. He ran through the common room, heading towards his own bedroom. He almost didn't notice the people sitting there.

A group of second years were huddled by the fireplace, talking, reading, and doing their homework. As Harry went past them, Dennis Creevey gasped. "Harry!" he cried, making the others jump round in their chairs. Harry flew past them though without even looking round. As he took the stairs two at a time they all slammed back their chairs and ran after him. Harry banged open his bedroom door and pulled his trunk from under his bed; yanking the lid open, it only took a couple of seconds to find what he was looking for. His father's Invisibility Cloak.

Just as he flung it over his head, two of the second years, Dennis and another boy Harry didn't know, came pelting into the room. Harry stood quietly up as the boys looked around the empty room, confused. Natalie McDonald charged in after them; Harry knew her as she was the new reserve chaser for Gryffindor's Quidditch team. "Where is he?" she panted.

"I dunno," said Dennis, "he definitely came in here, and that's his trunk opened over there."

"Was it really him?" squeaked another girl beside Natalie. Dennis nodded.

"Definitely," he said resolutely.

"I think we need to get Dumbledore," said Natalie. The others agreed and ran back down the stairs. Harry watched them go.

He readjusted the cloak on his shoulders, closed his trunk, and hurried over to the door. He had wanted the cloak precisely for that reason. He knew everyone would have been really worried about him, and all they would want now was answers to their questions, to fuss over him. And Harry was quite happy for them to do that, he knew they needed to, but he had things to do first.

He ran back through the common room and pushed the portrait of the fat lady open hastily, making her jump. He raced along the corridors and down the stairs, taking all the short-cuts he knew to the Great Hall; he wanted to get there before the second years.

One of the doors was ajar when he reached it; just enough for him to peer in and see the tables. His heart caught in his mouth as his eyes found the Gryffindor table. Ron, with his shinning red hair, was sitting next to Hermione, who looked like she hadn't eaten or slept since Harry's departure two days ago. Seamus was opposite them, very much alive, and talking with Dean Thomas. Ginny and the twins were sitting by Ron, looking just as sick with worry as he did, and a little further down Harry could see Parvati sitting with her best friend Lavender Brown. They were all here; they were alive and they were okay.

The sound of running feet pounding on the stone enabled Harry to step out of the way just in time. The second years hurtled themselves at the doors just as Harry moved away from it. The doors flew fully open on their hinges and banged into the wall, making everyone in the hall stop talking and turn round in surprise.

Natalie McDonald, who was in the lead, was the first to recover her breath and speak. She leant on her knees for a second, before straightening and addressing the teacher's table. "Professor Dumbledore!" she cried as the headmaster rose to his feet, "we've just seen Harry Potter!"

The hall erupted with noise. Ron and Hermione knocked over their chairs unceremoniously in the effort to reach the second years as quickly as possible. As Ron grabbed Natalie by the shoulders, Dumbledore fired a blue explosion out of his wand, calling for silence. Everybody stopped moving. Ron and Hermione were both crouched in front of the young chaser.

"What do mean," said Ron, trying to remain calm, "where did you see him?"

"In the common room, just now," said Natalie loud enough so everyone could here. "We all saw him, I swear Professor, but then he disappeared"

Dumbledore didn't need convincing. Orders were quickly given to search the castle, but Harry didn't stay long enough to find out the particulars; he had already stayed too long.

He turned and headed towards the dungeons. It was as freezing as ever down there, but Harry didn't let that slow him down. He kept running until he was in front of Snape's huge potion cupboard; he soon unlocked the doors and started rummaging round for what he wanted. He found the first item almost instantly, but the second, the one he needed most, didn't seem to be there. Frustrated, he moved up to the top shelves, desperate to find what he wanted before someone came; he may have been invisible, but it wouldn't take a genius to question why glass bottles were floating round seemingly of their own accord.

Finally, in the very corner of the second to highest shelf, he found the tiny phial tucked away at the back. Relieved, he picked the other item off the floor, closed and sealed the cupboard doors, and put both items into his pocket.

As he did, however, he realised there was already something else in it. Frowning, he reached over with his other hand and pulled the mysterious item out. It was a photograph.

Harry gasped and almost dropped what he had just taken from Snape's cupboard. In his hand was the photo he had taken from the stairway in his home; from the other reality. He watched in amazement as his family smiled and waved at him, and almost forgot what he was doing. Only the sound of Snape's footsteps stopped him wondering how on Earth the photo had found it's way home with him. But then he remembered (as he pressed into the wall and slipped past his potions master) how suspiciously familiar his wand had looked back in his bedroom yesterday.

***

Even though he was invisible, Harry had a very hard time getting to his next location unnoticed, as so many people kept almost running into him; it would have be awful to get caught now when he was so close.

Eventually he made it to McGonagall's office. He opened the door slowly, and when he was convinced there was no one inside, he darted in and locked the door. He stood in front of the fireplace and fished the small bag of glittery purple Floo Powder from his pocket and poured some out. This was actually the third fireplace he had tried to travel from in the last half hour; the one in the old History of Magic classroom had been impossible to reach due to the large amount of people searching around for clues of his arrival, and the Gryffindor common room had no longer been empty, but packed with students waiting for news.

Harry pulled his dad's cloak off and stuffed it into his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he threw a handful of the powder into the grate and stepped in. "The Minister of Magic!" he cried, and was whisked away in a swirl of green flame.

***

The fireplace Harry was flung out of was very grand and made of white marble. He managed to keep his balance as he stumbled into a short corridor (also made of white marble) with a red carpet laid out in front of him. Waist high gold posts, connected with a thick red chord, ran along either side of him until the end of the corridor, where there stood a very tidy desk. There were sleepy portraits of previous Ministers hanging from the wall.

A young Ministry official was sitting at the desk looking startled at Harry's arrival. He recovered himself quickly though; he stood and came round the desk as Harry walked on the carpet towards him. "Just what do you think you're doing young man?" cried the official, "not only is this office closed for the weekend, but this entrance is reserved for foreign dignitaries and-"

"Let me guess," interrupted Harry, "visitors from Hogwarts?"

The man looked extremely agitated; he had his hair slicked black and obviously thought himself very important. "Teachers from Hogwarts, not students," he said. He slowed as Harry came closer to him. "Hey - wait a second," he said startled, "aren't you-"

"Is the Minister in?" asked Harry, not waiting for the official to say his name.

The man regained his composure. "As I said, the office is clo-"

"Is he in?" cried Harry. He really couldn't be bothered with this. The official folded his arms as they both came to a halt and faced each other.

"You need an appointment to see The Minister of Magic, funnily enough, and I'm not sure he would wish to be associating himself with you anyway, Mr Potter."

Harry fixed him with a stony glare. "Been reading the Daily Prophet have we?" he said scathingly. "If you want my advice, I wouldn't bother; you might work out the truth of what's going on these days a bit quicker and do us all a favour."

"You are a deranged, trouble-making liar," snapped Mr immaculate-hair, "and there is no way by Merlin's beard you are getting to see the Minister."

Harry moved forward, close to the official, making him lean back. "Stop me," was all he said. He strode past him and turned right at the end of the corridor.

"Oi! Stop right there!" he yelled. Harry kept walking. "I mean it!"

Harry turned to face him. "I will curse you if I have to," he threatened, playing up the man's impression of him from the Prophet. He raised his wand. "Either I am mad and deranged, or I really did take on Voldemort and win last summer. Take your pick; in any case, your odds aren't looking good."

The official stopped walking; he was looking distinctly ruffled now. "I'm getting security!" he called out to him.

"Fine," snapped Harry, "all I want is to talk to Fudge, but if it makes you feel better, go right ahead." He turned on his heals and walked towards the big, white doors with golden handles; the Minister's office.

He grasped the handles and pulled the doors towards him. He stepped into the dimly lit office and locked the doors behind him. He was in a large room, nicely decorated, with a large mahogany desk standing in front of him. Cornelius Fudge was sitting at that desk.

He looked up from his reading at the sound of his door opening. "And what, may I ask, is the meaning of this?" he said curtly as the doors closed.

"Good evening Minister," said Harry pleasantly and walked over to the desk.

"Oh - eh - Mr Potter-" he said, a little high pitched, and hastily shuffled his papers out of site. "This is most inappropriate, you - I must ask you to leave at once."

"Not until you hear what I have to say." Harry stopped in front of the Minister, looking him directly in the eye. Fudge gritted his teeth, then made a sudden movement across his desk, reaching towards a small misty emerald globe. Harry had his wand pointed at his chest though before he could get much further. "Please don't call anyone in here," he said calmly, "I only want to talk to you."

Fudge looked contemptuously at him. "Security will undoubtedly be on their way anyway," he snapped.

"Undoubtedly," said Harry. There was silence for a moment.

"Oh fine," cried Fudge and drew his hand sharply back from the globe, "what is it you wish to say; you have five minutes."

Harry smiled. "More than enough time." He lifted his wand away from Fudge and held it carefully between his fingers. He turned round, casually looking about. "Well, isn't this nice Fudge?" he asked, humouring himself, mimicking Draco's words from earlier.

"You are wasting my time boy. There is no reason for me to sit here and listen once again to your ridiculous claims about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or insinuating respectable members of our community, so just-"

"I wanted to talk about Sirius Black, actually." All trace of humour was gone from Harry's voice.

Fudge raised his eyebrows. "Black is a murderer."

"He is my Godfather," replied Harry.

Fudge's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I have always questioned your participation in Black's escape from Hogwarts School," he said, "I seem to remember then you tried to tell us all some tall tail about Black, I flattered you it was some sort of residual effect from a curse of Black's, but - perhaps not."

Harry's expression was fixed; he let Fudge's statement hang in the air until it became uncomfortable. "Are you scared of what I have to say, Minister?"

"Of course not," said Fudge quickly, "Black is a wanted criminal, who murdered thirteen people, not to mention betrayed your parents Mr Potter. Or did no one tell you that?" he added cruelly.

Harry laughed at him. "Of course I've been told that, it's just not true."

"Black was sentenced to Azkaban fourteen years ago, Mr Potter," cried Fudge, getting more and more agitated, "there is no question of his guilt."

"Ahh," said Harry in mock surprise, "was that why there was never any trial?"

Fudge sucked his breath through his teeth. "He was convicted, Mr Potter, of murder. He is now being held for escaping from his punishment for that crime, and will serve justice accordingly. We do not have the time to review-"

"But there was never a trial!" yelled Harry.

"The facts are right in front of us, Mr Potter, whether you like them or not. I can't imagine what your problem is quite frankly; he is responsible for the death of your parents."

Harry stared at the man in front of him disbelievingly. "What facts," he whispered, "did you even ask him what happened?"

"You expect him to tell the truth do you Mr Potter? He is a murderer, plain and simple."

Harry could take it any more. "Good GOD!" he exploded, hands thrown open in front of him. "It makes it so much easier for you doesn't it? You execute Sirius and all your problems are solved - well that's just bullshit! Get your goddamn head out of the goddamn sand and take a look around! Voldemort has returned because Peter Pettigrew helped him to, Pettigrew was the one who betrayed my parents and framed Sirius."

Fudge looked furious. "I have had enough of this nonsense Potter," he said after a moment, "your five minutes are up."

He reached once more for the emerald globe, but this time Harry shot his own hand out, and caught Fudge's easily with his Seeker instinct. "You may be scared of the truth Minister," he said, looking down into his eyes, "but I am not." Using his other hand, Harry reached into his pocket and found the tiny phial of Veritaserum he had taken from Snape's cupboard.

As the guards began banging and yelling from the other side of the Minister's locked door, Harry turned Fudge's hand over, and placed the truth potion into his open palm.

"Now, are you going to prove Sirius' innocence, or shall I?"

The End

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