Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEFIANCE OF THE HERO

Chapter 2 - Familiar, Yet Different

Human beings are perhaps never more frightening than when they are convinced beyond doubt that they are right.

~~Laurens Van der Post

Magic, thought Harry bitterly, what is the point?

He sat silently in the wooden armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk as the headmaster himself watched him intently. Faint, thin beams of sunlight streamed in reproachfully, as if it sensed the tense atmosphere in the room. The dozens of previous headmasters in their portraits on the walls looked on with a mild, but concerned, curiosity, and Fawkes, the brilliant phoenix, did not lift his gaze from Harry. Which unnerved Harry slightly, but he wouldn't let it show.

Most of his thoughts were on the events that had transpired in the hospital wing only half an hour ago. His mother and father, James and Lily Potter, had looked at him with what Harry supposed was fear, before excusing themselves out of the room at Dumbledores request. James had to practically carry Lily out.

Since then Dumbledore had guided Harry to his office, he had to go slow as his leg was still healing, and now they sat on opposite sides of the desk, their gazes piercing each other unwaveringly. Harry was still reeling from the blow of what had happened though.

I've travelled to another world! he thought with an excited, fearful feeling in his stomach. And I don't know if I can get back....

It was an impossible notion, but entirely accepted now that it had happened. Harry had seen a lot of impossible events in his life, and this one had to top the list, but he would face it as well as he could. It would probably take awhile for it to fully sink in, but he didn't intend to be in this world that long. He knew the incantation that could open the hole in space, and as soon as his injuries healed he was gone.

Tempus ac Capacitas

Voldemort had used that, and this was Harry's reward for stopping him. He was trapped in a familiar, yet vastly different world. Though he thought, I'll be home soon enough... and I can have a word with that Guardian for sending me here.

But there was still one thing that Harry had learnt about this world in the short time he had been here. He was dead. The Harry Potter of this world had died somehow. This made Harry wonder whether or not Voldemort had met the same fate. He couldn't feel any pain or connection through his scar. He hadn't had a twitch out of it since arriving.

I wonder if the other Harry killed him and then died himself? pondered Harry as Dumbledore continued to stare at him unflinching. Harry's mind was still doing a mile a minute though as he tried to make sense of this strange but familiar world and learn what he could from what little information he had gathered.

My scar may not be reacting, Harry thought, because we are not connected like in my world. The other Harry didn't survive Avada Kedavra or have his blood used in the resurrection. Harry frowned and moved uncomfortably in his seat, for the first time he removed his gaze from Dumbledore's. Perhaps he was never destroyed fifteen years ago. That would help explain why James and Lily Potter didn't die.

"Lemon drop, Harry?" asked Dumbledore warily after a moment, offering the small paper bag to Harry.

"No thanks," Harry declined and returned his gaze to the headmaster.

"As you wish," shrugged Dumbledore and returned the bag to his desk draw.

Silence fell between them again and only Fawkes alleviated the situation by singing softly. "Why am I here?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in what Harry recognised as a sign of thought. "Perhaps it would be best if we knew where you came from," Dumbledore suggested.

Harry clicked his tongue. "I came from here," he said with a shrug. "Hogwarts... has always been my home."

"You're dead, Harry," Dumbledore said emotionlessly, quickly. "You died nearly six years ago in Diagon Alley."

Harry shook his head slowly, and looked around helplessly. The shock was setting in. "I'm not your Harry..." he said, "I'm-"

"A traveller from another world?" Dumbledore asked solemnly.

Harry nodded and looked up at the portraits as they began to whisper furiously. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, as his shoulder throbbed with pain. "I didn't choose to come here," he said earnestly, and rubbed his shoulder.

Dumbledore blinked and his gaze turned to one of concern. "Madam Pomfrey could not heal your shoulder completely," he said. "There is some old magic at work in the wound that prevented magical healing. Tell me, what happened?"

Harry laughed harshly and took a deep breath. "Dodged a few curses, duelled a few enemies, stabbed by a magical sword... pretty average day up until that point."

"Who stabbed you, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, who was gripping the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Harry leaned back with a sigh and stared into the past. "It was-"

The door to the headmaster's office was flung open quickly, and with a sense of urgency. A tall figure ran into the room, his black robes billowing out behind him and his hair clinging to his face from perspiration. He had just run the length of the castle and now swept into the room nervously.

"DUMBLEDORE!" the figure cried. "I just heard-"

"Calm down, Sirius," Dumbledore said, raising his hands. "What did you just hear?"

Sirius Black stood panting just inside the doorway of the study, and he gasped as his eyes fell on the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. He couldn't see the boy's face in the chair, but the black hair was evidence enough.

"I heard that... that..." he was lost for words.

Dumbledore's eyes flicked from Sirius's and then back to Harry's. He was startled to see faint tears forming in the deep emerald green eyes of this young boy, who had so far shown little emotion. His gaze was unblinking and he did not turn around to look at Sirius.

"Leave us, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly, an unmistakable tone in his voice. This was an order.

Biting his tongue, Sirius looked at the back of this boy again, before slowly edging his way out of the room, closing the door as he left.

For a long moment neither Harry nor Dumbledore spoke as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. The headmaster saw his bottom lip trembling and was, for once, at a loss as to what to do. He remained silent.

"That was a voice I never expected to hear again," Harry whispered.

"Sirius Black is..." began Dumbledore.

Harry removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. "Dead in my world," he eventually said.

****

Fifteen minutes later

"From what I saw he could be," Sirius said, as James and Lily sat huddled together on a small bench up on the balcony of their room. Their children, Melissa and Michael, stood nearby. They had remained silent so far.

"But how?" asked James, a tear falling down his cheek as Lily shivered. "I... watched him die."

Sirius was pacing the room, an expression of deep thought upon his face. "Perhaps he... maybe... what if..?" he struggled to explain it and then threw his arms out in frustration. "I just don't see why anybody would fake this!"

"Or how they would do it," offered Melissa.

"Exactly," Sirius pointed at her. "Whoever he is, he is not using polyjuice."

"And there is no magical shielding on him either," Lily whispered. "I did the test myself after removing his broken dragon armour. He is not disguising his true appearance. What we saw is what he really looks like."

"So Harry is alive then!" Michael stated, and was met with cold silence. He was too trusting at his age. He was only in second year.

"Everyone is talking about Ha- his appearance," said Melissa. "It's all over the school. Many people saw him appear. They are saying he looks a lot like you, Dad."

James let Lily go and stood up. He began pacing next to Sirius. "I don't think this boy came to hurt us," he began, "and I don't know why he looks like our Harry... But we all know what will happen if Harry's name is linked with this boy."

Lily, Melissa, Michael and Sirius all looked up at James as he said this. "Voldemort..." Sirius whispered. "Aw shit! There is no way we can keep this from him."

"We have to try," Lily said quickly. "We can-"

"Lily," Sirius said sadly. "If he doesn't already know about this, he will soon. You know as well as any of us that Hogwarts is home to many Death Eaters in training. Draco Malfoy will jump at the chance to please his father."

****

"You have to tell me, Harry. How can we trust you if you hide behind a veil of secrecy?"

Harry sighed with frustration and fatigue. "I told you, Dumbledore," he said tiredly. "I didn't choose to come here, and I'll leave as soon as I can."

Dumbledore shook his head as he assessed all of the scars he could see on the visible parts of Harry's body. On his arms and up to the most recent one on his shoulder, covered by his white polo shirt. Madam Pomfrey had said there was a long one on his back and a jagged, rough one on his leg. Complete with the small scars on his cheek, one on his left palm and the strangest one upon his forehead, Dumbledore could conclude that Harry had not had an easy life.

"How do you intend to leave?" he asked in an offhanded way, as if the question had no real significance. It was really what Dumbledore desired to know above all else right now.

Harry faltered and took a moment to answer. "I can... open a -er- door," he managed. "I don't think it will be easy, but I can find a way home."

Dumbledore didn't know what to make of that. "Why did you come here at all?" he asked, lacing his hands together.

Harry shrugged and thought of what had brought him here. "I didn't choose-" Suddenly, and viciously, pure pain assaulted his mind.

The pain in his shoulder was now freezing his very flesh and bones. He felt it clawing at his heart, straining to get an icy grip over him. His scar was almost the exact opposite, scorchingly hot. Despite himself Harry found himself thinking about what he did want, what he had always wanted. His thoughts strayed from his own world and he thought of Sirius, and his parents. He thought of James and Lily Potter.

A thought was all it took....

"Destiny has a strange way of forging power, Harry," the Guardian said quietly as he began to lose complete consciousness. "I see what you want, and what you have always wanted. You have chosen wisely... that world is in need of a hero."

"...What...?" Harry said with a harsh scratch to his voice, his eyes flickering between life and death.

"Farewell, Harry Potter," the Guardian said with a sense of finality. "I hope we meet again, under better circumstances, and you can tell me your story."

Harry cried out in his chair and the whites of his eyes turned the deepest crimson as they became bloodshot. His arms flew around wildly as deep, unrelenting pain in his scar ripped into his skull and stopped all coherent thought. He thought he saw a deep red light before the darkness took him.

Dumbledore leapt up from his chair and drew his wand. He had watched Harry's eyes turn from white to red and it had truly scared him. Not much had had that effect on him in the latter part of his life, and he hadn't been this scared since he had learnt of their Harry's death six years ago. "HARRY!" he called.

But Harry was gone. He had fallen once again into unconsciousness.

****

"What happened, Dumbledore?" asked James. "He's barely breathing."

James and Dumbledore stood over Harry's bed in the infirmary once again. After his collapse, Dumbledore had levitated Harry back to the Hospital and Madam Pomfrey had set to work on him.

"I am not sure, James," Albus said with a frown. "I asked him how he had arrived here, and then suddenly that scar on his forehead, the lightning bolt, began to glow a deep red and his eyes turned the same colour. He passed out."

James walked over to Harry and placed his hand over the scar on his forehead. He could feel the intense heat emanating from it. "Did you find out who he is?" James asked, dreading the answer no matter what it was.

Dumbledore sighed and placed a hand on James's shoulder. "This boy, James, is Harry Potter."

James gave a hollow laugh that turned to desperate tears as he fell onto the bed behind him. "I watched him die, Albus," he said through the tears. "I saw that bastard kill him without hesitation and there was nothing I could do."

"You did everything you could have, James," Dumbledore said. "You did everything that was expected of you and more."

"Then why did I still lose?" he whispered hopelessly.

Dumbledore sat down next to him slowly and placed his hand once again on his shoulder. "You gave this world something it was lacking, James. Your losses, and your defiance, gave the world hope that there were those still willing to fight Voldemort."

"I gave up after Harry was killed," he replied sadly, and a little remorsefully.

"Did you?" Dumbledore pondered. "You're still with us, James, and that is what the world sees, and why we are still fighting today."

James sighed and rubbed his eyes in a manner that was familiar to Dumbledore. He had just watched Harry do the same thing up in his office. "Albus," James said after a moment, "if this is... Harry... then-"

"Fate may have given us another chance to end this war," Dumbledore said ominously. "But you must know one thing, James," he continued, staring strongly into James' hazel eyes, "he is not the Harry you lost. He is not even of this world."

****

One hour later

Sirius stood silently at the head of his Transfiguration room and once again demonstrated his Animagus ability to the eager class. His sixth year Gryffindors watched with amazement and hope filled looks in their eyes, as the Slytherins watched with disapproval and scorn.

"Right," said Sirius after he had reverted to his human form. "How do you think I managed that?" he asked the class at large and, as usual, only one hand shot up instantly. "Ms. Granger?"

Hermione Granger smiled inwardly as she sensed house points on their way. "You are, as you were last year and the year before, a competent Animagus, Professor," she said and Sirius smiled. "Through study and intense practice you managed to alter your appearance into an animal that best describes your personality," Sirius smiled even wider as he realised what was coming. "A mangy dog," she finished and the Gryffindor's laughed, as did one or two Slytherins.

"Excellent," said Sirius happily. "Ten points to my intelligent Gryffindor's. Now," he continued, turning back to the class at large, "I didn't become an Animagus overnight, it took at least a week if I remember correctly." More laughs. "So for now I want you to read and revise chapter twelve and thirteen, before we attempt to delve any further into this branch of Transfiguration. Silently please."

As the class pulled out their textbooks, Sirius walked around his desk and sat down. He remembered back twenty years ago, when Minerva McGonagall had taught him Transfiguration in this chair. She would still be teaching it now if it hadn't been for that attack four years ago. Damn you, Voldemort he thought and rubbed his eyes as they glazed over with familiar tears.

So many lost, so many forgotten. There has been so much blood spilt of a generation that couldn't, and didn't deserve it. And it was all for one man in the end. Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. He has power and he uses it bitterly, and there is nothing they could do about it. Try as we might Sirius thought, he is winning.

Sirius sighed and looked up to his class as he heard muttered whispers being shared throughout the room. "I asked for silence," he said calmly, shooting a disappointed glance at Neville Longbottom, who was talking the loudest to his little group of friends.

"Please sir," said Neville. "Perhaps you know something. We heard that something happened yesterday out on the grounds."

Sirius bit his tongue. "What did you hear?" he asked, his gaze momentarily flicking to Draco Malfoy, who sat three benches to the back on his left hand side.

"Just that the... air... split open," Neville began. "Or something like that... and a boy appeared. Everyone is talking about it."

Sirius shrugged. "It was probably nothing. Some accidental magic maybe?" he tried to sound offhanded but he definitely saw Malfoy sit up straighter.

"I heard," began Ron Weasley and Sirius turned to look at him, 'I heard that this bloke who appeared, it was Professor Potter."

"Didn't you lot just have Defence Against the Dark Arts with him?" asked Sirius with a frown.

"Nope," Seamus Finnegan answered. "He wasn't there; we had an hour and a half of Snape."

Sirius winced. "Ooh I'm sorry... but I assure you that James, Professor Potter, is fine. Saw him this morning." That should do it thought Sirius. Narrowly avoided-

"I heard that it was Professor Potter's son," Ron said loudly. "Harry Potter."

Sirius looked back up sharply. Shit! Shit! Shit! he thought, as he saw Draco Malfoy staring at Ron with a smirk. "I thought it was well known," Sirius began carefully, "that James' son, Harry Potter, died six years ago. Murdered by Voldemort."

That shut them up quickly. Everyone fell silent at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, and Sirius inwardly sighed. Too much had been said. "Enough of this now," he said kindly at the pale faces before him. "Just read the chapters for today and you can spend the rest of the lesson how you like."

****

Harry opened his eyes slowly and took in the world around him once again. Impossible memories flooded his mind and he hoped and prayed it was all a dream. He knew it wasn't, but it was nice for a moment to think that it was possible.

Automatically, as he had done it so many times before, Harry reached over and picked up his glasses... James Potter's glasses from the bedside table and placed them over his eyes. The room came into focus and he sighed as he spotted Albus Dumbledore standing over his bed.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore. "Tell me, how do you feel? You do not look too well."

Harry coughed and sat up in his bed. "However I look..." he managed. "I feel a hell of a lot worse."

Dumbledore smiled. "You suffered some sort of fit back in my office, and that scar on your forehead turned deep crimson, as did your eyes..."

"Did they?" he coughed, and swivelled his legs so they were hanging off the bed. "Well that's new."

Dumbledore frowned. "I advise you to take this more seriously, Harry. You could have died."

Harry sighed and offered Dumbledore a hollow laugh. "No I couldn't," he said. "If this world is anything like my own, we both know there is only one way I'm going to die."

And either must die at the hand of the other....

"How did you receive that scar?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring Harry's statement and motioning to the lightning bolt on his forehead that had caused him so much pain.

Harry took a deep breath and looked up and out of the infirmary window. "Sacrifice," he answered evasively and then stood up. He swayed on his feet slightly and Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder for support. That wasn't a good idea though as Harry winced in pain as the deep, healing gash in his shoulder was disturbed.

"I apologise," the headmaster said quickly.

"Don't worry about it," Harry waved him away and walked over to the bathroom, leaving Dumbledore standing alone in the infirmary.

Harry entered the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. It was true, he didn't look well. I suppose that is to be expected he thought, rubbing his scar, which was cold and unresponsive again. I'd be more concerned if I looked fine after what I've been through these past few days.

Removing his glasses, Harry turned on the tap and threw some cold water onto his face. Now that he was alone, he decided to check how strong his magic was. He had refrained from showing anyone in this world how strong magically he was, even without a wand, as he knew they would fear it and he would not be trusted. But that didn't matter if no one was around.

He remembered standing with Ginny back in his world, just as the gateway was destroying the forest around them, and before he made his sacrifice. He could not even manage a simple summoning charm at that point, his magic reserves low after surviving Avada Kedavra again, so he wanted to make sure they were back to normal.

'Accio towel," he whispered, raising his palm. The white bath towel flew through the air and Harry caught it deftly, drying his face with it. After replacing his glasses, Harry tried some harder magic. He transfigured the towel in his hands into a small blue bird, which flew out of the open window.

Confident that his skills were still up to scratch, Harry felt around in his mind for his Animagus connection to the griffin. He knew better than to transform in this small bathroom, but he wanted to make sure it was still there. Sure enough, a moment of searching and he felt the griffin, just waiting for him to transform. Harry smiled with relief and exited the bathroom.

"Everything okay?" asked Dumbledore, as he emerged back into the infirmary.

"Fine," Harry shrugged. "Didn't think I looked that bad though!"

Harry was heartened to see the familiar twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. "Perhaps we should return to my office. You still need to explain one or two things to me."

Harry nodded but then once again swayed on his feet. He had just felt really dizzy and had almost fallen to his knees. "Actually," he said, holding his head against the spinning room. "Can we do it here, and maybe get something to eat."

Dumbledore nodded and once again appeared concerned. "Of course, Harry. You must be famished. It looks as though you haven't eaten in days."

Harry sat down on the end of one of the beds as Dumbledore conjured a table and chairs. "What is the date, by the way?" he asked. "I've been trying to figure it out and I think it must be the 23^rd of March, am I right?"

"Close," said Dumbledore, now conjuring some sandwiches as he and Harry sat down at the small table. "It is the 27^th of March. You arrived here early on the morning of the 25^th."

Harry frowned. "But that means..." I was in the Stream for four days! It felt like half an hour.

"Yes?" urged Dumbledore as Harry tore into one of the chicken sandwiches.

Harry shook his head and swallowed. "Nothing... Just lost a few days somewhere."

"A rather odd thing to lose," Dumbledore smiled. "Tea?"

"Please," Harry replied, and Dumbledore conjured a teapot and cups. Picking up another sandwich, Harry felt the dizziness from his hunger disappearing. He sighed with relief.

"Now, Harry," began Dumbledore, "I think it best you explain exactly how you arrived here."

Harry took a slow sip of his tea as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Well," he whispered, "what you first have to understand is that I didn't choose to come to this world... sort of didn't choose to anyway."

"I'm sorry?" replied Dumbledore.

"I was tricked into coming here really. I only had to think about my parents and I was thrown into this world."

"James and Lily Potter," said Dumbledore.

Harry smiled sadly. "Yes... Anyway, I entered this Stream," he continued.

"A stream?" frowned Dumbledore. "A stream brought you to another world."

Harry nodded but then understood Dumbledore's confusion. "Oh! Not like a river, you see. It was more like a... a... nothingness. If that makes any sense?"

"None whatsoever," smiled Dumbledore. "But I sense some great magic was involved."

Harry took a deep breath. "Oh yes, very great magic," he said, thinking back to the rip in the air that could have destroyed Hogwarts, his world. "Very great magic," he repeated in a whisper.

Dumbledore nodded. "And do you intend to return to your world?" he asked seriously, staring deep into Harry's eyes.

Harry stared unflinchingly back. "Yes," he said without any hesitation but then frowned deeply.

"What is it?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry blinked and then looked back up to the headmaster. "I... The date I left... was the Vernal Equinox. Oh dear..."

"Is that a problem?"

Harry shrugged and picked up a third sandwich. "Maybe," he said quietly. "I think the magic that brought me here, can only be used on the vernal equinox."

Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair. "The next equinox is not until the 20^th of March 1998. Just under one full year, Harry."

Harry nodded and ran a nervous hand through his hair. One year he thought I could be stuck here a year!

"There is, of course," Dumbledore offered, "the Autumnal equinox in the Southern hemisphere. That is basically the same event, and is, this year, the 22^nd of September."

Harry shook his head in confusion. "I don't know," he said quietly as a siren sounded around the castle that signalled the end of the period, and the beginning of lunch. "I simply do not know if that'll work."

"We will help you, Harry," smiled Dumbledore warmly. "But you must understand, a traveller from another world is unheard of, and I do not think that it will be kept quiet for long."

"I can look after myself," Harry said, a bit too strongly.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment. "Something you said earlier," he began carefully, "suggested to me that you may know of a certain... prophecy. Do you, Harry?"

"Oh I know all about that," Harry sighed. "Either must die at the hand of the other? Is that what you're talking about?"

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Is Lord Voldemort alive in your world, Harry?"

Harry sat up in his chair and his hand flew up to his scar instinctively. "He was when I left," he said quickly. "Which means I can't spend a year here waiting for the goddamn equinox!"

Dumbledore sighed and Harry saw sadness reflected in his eyes. "You may have to-"

Suddenly, the doors to the infirmary were thrown open loudly, and a tall man with long, black billowing robes entered the room. Harry took one look at him and sighed, and Dumbledore was already standing to greet the man.

"Severus," said Dumbledore quickly.

"Headmaster," whispered Snape. "I just heard..." Snape stopped talking as his gaze fell on Harry. He drew his wand quickly, just as four more figures ran into the room.

"Why isn't this impostor restrained?" Snape spat quickly, pointing his wand between Harry's eyes. For his part, Harry simply sat there and continued to eat his sandwich.

"Severus, he is not-" Dumbledore began, but was cut off as another voice joined the throng.

"YOU!" shouted a female voice, and Harry looked past Snape to see a girl standing there. She had long, wavy red hair and looked to be about fifteen, maybe fourteen, her eyes were hazel and Harry caught his breath at the sight of her. This could only be... "WHO ARE YOU?" screamed the girl, her own wand now drawn on him.

"Melissa," cried a third voice, Lily Potter. She ran forward and grasped her daughter's arm, lowering the wand, all the while staring at Harry with tears of fear and confusion in her eyes.

"If everyone-" Dumbledore tried again, but this time another child ran ahead.

"YOU'RE MAKING MUM CRY!" screamed this young boy, who had scruffy red hair and blue eyes, but the resemblance was unmistakable. He raised another wand at Harry, who had finally put down his chicken sandwich. "WHO ARE YOU? EVERYONE IS CRYING AND ARGUING BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"Michael!" shouted James Potter, the final person to enter the infirmary. "Lower that wand."

"NO! Keep it raised, boy," spat Snape, never taking his gaze from Harry. "He could be a Death Eater!"

"Shut up, Snape," offered James as Harry stood, staring at each person in the room individually. "He's not-"

"All of you," began Dumbledore softly, but with an unmistakable air of annoyance in his voice. "Calm down."

Snape ignored Dumbledore and took a step closer to Harry, who was watching them all with what looked like a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Who are you?" Snape said, and everyone in the room fell silent.

Harry looked deep into Snape's eyes and scowled. Some things obviously never change... He then looked down to the tip of the wand in the potion master's hand. "Don't you," Harry began with a hard, powerful edge to his voice that all in the room took notice of, "point a wand at me!"

"I..." Snape began, but hesitated when he felt the raw power emanating from the boy in front of him. He took a wise step back, but didn't lower his wand.

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to the young girl and boy who had run into the room. "You two," he began carefully, slowly, and with a shake to his voice. "Melissa and Michael was it?" They both nodded. "My name is Harry," he continued and then smiled. "You can lower your wand, Michael."

Michael seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Harry could see the conflicting emotions in his eyes. After a moment though, he lowered his wand. "You're my brother, Harry?' questioned Michael. "I only just remember you."

Harry sighed and shook his head ever so slightly. "I -er-"

"Harry," whispered a small voice and Harry looked up into the eyes of his mother. Into the emerald green eyes of Lily Potter. "Are you..."

The next few seconds were like a dream to Harry, as Lily Potter took a few nervous steps towards him and around the table he stood behind. A thousand and one conflicting emotions surged through him quickly and Harry took a deep shuddering breath as he watched Lily bring her hand slowly up to his face.

He could see the emotion in her eyes as, after a long moment where everyone in the room held their breath, Lily slowly touched Harry's right cheek with her hand. At first Harry shied away from her touch, and his eyes instantly filled with fifteen years worth of tears. But after a moment he relented, and leaned forward a little.

"You are real..." whispered Lily. "You are Harry Potter."

"I am," whispered Harry. "I am..."

Harry didn't notice it, but James Potter had moved over to him as well, and it wasn't until he turned to meet those hazel eyes that he let a single tear fall from his own eye. Oh God... he thought. Is this real?

It felt as if days were compressed into a single second, and Harry didn't remember it happening, but soon his mother's arms were around him and she was crying into his shoulder, which hurt him slightly but he could handle the pain. James placed a comforting arm on both his wife's and son's back and began to cry himself.

Dumbledore smiled slightly and motioned for Snape to finally lower his wand. Melissa and Michael stood uncertainly to his left as they watched their parents and... brother... cry tears of happiness. There had been a lot of tears shed in grief and sorrow in the short years of their lives, it was foreign to them to see such ones of joy and happiness.

After two long minutes, the three of them finally separated and Harry wiped his eyes. "How is this possible?" whispered Lily a moment later, looking at Harry and holding his arms tightly as if he could disappear at any moment.

"It's magic," said James simply, wiping his own eyes.

Harry smiled and sniffed slightly. "You should know," he began, "that I'm..."

"Not from this world," James finished. "We know, Harry, we know."

Harry frowned. "And I'm not really your..."

Lily's eyes turned serious for a moment, she swallowed and took a deep breath. "You are Harry Potter," she said strongly. "You are our son. Even if you're from another world, you're still our son."

Harry smiled. It was only a small smile, but it was filled with hope. He turned to his father, to James Potter.

James wasn't sure if he was dreaming. He had spent so many years mourning his murdered son, mourning Harry Potter. But there he was in front of him, standing tall with battle scars and an infinite sadness in his eyes. Which were so familiar to Lily's and yet profoundly different. Harry's eyes seemed haunted, dead even.

"I know we're not exactly your real parents, Harry," James whispered. "And I'm sure the James and Lily Potter in your world are worried about you, but we would really like to get to know you better."

Lily nodded and Harry let fall another tear at what his father had said. "Losing you," Lily said," losing our Harry, it must have made us different to the parents you know," she continued, "but we'll do our best to make you welcome... for however long you're here."

Harry didn't think he could handle explaining the terrible events that had occurred in his world, the events that had claimed the lives of the parents he should have had. "Thank you," he whispered.

Lily laughed through her tears and slowly brushed Harry's hair away from his forehead, and in so doing revealed the lightning bolt shaped scar. "How did you get this?" she asked quietly, and raised her hand to touch it.

Harry stepped back quickly and grabbed her wrist. He shuddered and let her go a moment later. "Sorry," he whispered quickly. "I don't like people touching that scar."

Lily nodded and enveloped Harry in another hug. "That's a curse scar though, isn't it?" she asked.

Harry nodded and covered it up again with his fringe. As he did so, Michael moved up to stand quietly behind his father and Melissa had moved closer as well, standing on the other side of the wooden table. Harry noticed briefly that Dumbledore was having whispered conversation with Snape at the entrance to the infirmary.

"Hello, Harry," whispered Michael from behind his father.

Harry looked down to him and smiled slightly. "Hi," he replied. "Nice to meet you."

Michael smiled as well and stepped out from behind James, who was frowning in thought now. "Nice to meet you...." James repeated Harry under his breath. "Isn't Michael your brother in your world, Harry?" he asked with concern.

Harry looked back up to his father and then to the other three members of his... family.

"No..." he began slowly. "My parents... you were unable to have any more children after me," he answered evasively.

Lily and James nodded, as Harry turned to look at Melissa across the table. "Hello," he said quietly.

Melissa stared at Harry for a good minute before her lips turned upwards in the faintest hint of a smile. "Hi, Harry," she said quietly. "Em... how are you?"

Harry truly laughed for the first time since arriving in this world. "Well I've been better," he smiled, flexing his shoulder and wincing at the jolt of pain that shot through it.

"Melissa was the one that found you two mornings ago," Lily said, dabbing at the tears in here eyes. "She levitated you up here."

Harry nodded. "I... think I remember," he said, struggling to recall his first memories outside of the Stream. "In any case, thank you," he replied sincerely to Melissa.

Lily smiled as all her children bonded again after they had been ripped apart six years ago. It was good to see them all laughing and smiling sincerely. She watched James scruff up Harry's hair and saw the happiness in her eldest son's eyes as this happened. Her gaze once again fell on that scar cut into his skin between his fringe though, and her happiness turned into concern.

From what little Lily knew of curse scars, she knew that a scar like that could only be caused by a serious dark curse, and none came to mind that could create scars such as that. She sensed, as only a mother could, that Harry was hiding deep, and terrible secrets in his past, and that it all came back to that scar. She bit her lip and hugged him again, but she knew better than to push him too far right now about that scar.

If he has secrets she thought, he must have reasons.

Harry smiled and accepted another hug from his mother. It felt so good, so needed. He couldn't believe it was happening. He kept expecting to wake up at any moment and find that he had been dreaming, and his real reality was a lot crueler. But it didn't happen, and this world felt real, if a little unfamiliar.

Still though, all of this seemed unbelievable. It was happening, his family was right there, real, alive, warm and accepting, but he was having a hard time realising the enormity of what had actually happened.

It was as impossible... as... he thought, but couldn't think of anything as most of the impossible things he could think of had already happened. "I don't know how long I'm going to be here," he said slowly. "I... just don't... I'm?"

"Its okay, Harry," managed James. "We'll figure everything out."

****