Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

Chapter 7 - Hero or Villain?

I have not yet begun to fight (as his ship was sinking, 23 September 1779)

~~John Paul Jones

Harry did not sleep for very long. Roughly four hours after sleep had taken him he opened his sore green eyes to see an equal emerald pair shining down upon him.

"Hello..." whispered Lily warmly, brushing some hair out of his face kindly.

Coughing, Harry pulled himself up against the frame of the bed and winced as his shoulder pained him and protested against the movement. It took him a minute to get his bearings as memories of that morning came flooding back to him. Death Eaters... Voldemort... Grínoú... Dumbledore!

"How's Dumbledore?" he managed, placing a hand on his forehead.

Lily took a deep breath. "He'll live," she said. "It'll take a few days for him to heal though."

Harry nodded. "How many Death Eaters did we get?"

Lily had been setting a bandage around his pierced and shattered arm when he had awoken, and she continued with that now. "Forty three," she replied. "Twenty escaped and many were killed."

"He only attacked with a fraction of his force though, didn't he?"

Lily sighed and nodded resolutely. "Voldemort... still has about four hundred servants." She then looked into his eyes, having finished setting his arm. "Although I doubt he'll be eager to attack you again."

Harry laughed but it turned into a cough. He could feel the bandages and salve on his chest, healing his cracked and bruised ribs. "Let's not talk about him anymore..." he managed, as Lily replaced his glasses.

"It's all everyone is talking about," she whispered. "Everyone is still in utter disbelief, Harry. You duelled Voldemort and won! There have been people from the Ministry trying to get in here to see you, thank you. Many of the Aurors also want to meet you."

"How'd you keep the Ministry out?" he asked.

A small smile played at the corners of his mother's mouth. "Well... it was James and Sirius really," she began. "Sirius was the -er- guard dog for the infirmary and James kept sending them off to different places around the castle."

Smiling slightly, Harry nodded and then had a good look around the hospital wing. There were a few Aurors in about half of the beds and it looked as if several of the healers from St. Mungo's had been called in. Lily noticed what he was looking at.

"The other injured Aurors are at St. Mungo's. This was all we could handle," she said sadly, motioning to the full beds.

Harry coughed again, and then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He shook his head of dizziness and stood up slowly. Lily reached out to steady him, and Harry thanked her.

"I healed all of the wounds on your legs," she said. "You should be right now, but you might want to rest awhile longer."

"No... I'll be fine. Thanks," he replied. "I just need to go have a shower."

Lily bit her bottom lip. "You're going to have to go to Gryffindor tower then. The healers are in and out of the bathrooms in here."

Harry nodded. "I'll see you all later then," he said, flexing his sore right arm.

"Be careful, Harry," Lily said, her eyes glistening. "There are many suspect people from the Ministry here. Some of them could be Death Eaters."

Harry heeded her warning and then headed over to the infirmary doors. As soon as he walked outside it took everyone in the corridor a few moments to take in his face and match it with the description, and the few photographs they had seen of the awesome duel that morning, to recognise Harry.

A dozen flashes exploded in Harry's face and he stepped back from the sea of approaching reporters and Ministry personnel. To his left, Sirius barked loudly as Padfoot and bared his teeth but that didn't seem to deter them for long.

"MR. POTTER!" one shouted, his camera flashing incessantly.

"HAR-"

"MR. POT-"

"YOU!"

"HARRY!"

They were drowning one another out as Harry sighed and took a few steps back, but he knew it would probably be best if he answered a few questions. He knew that it would help restore the fight in a people that had long since tired of the war, but even though they were all here to talk to him, he could not get a word in edgewise.

Harry removed his wand from within the pocket of his ruined and bloody robes and muttered a silencing charm, "Silencio!" he said, casting it in a big net over the entire group surging upon him.

It was quite amusing to watch them mouth a few words, before realisation sunk in. None of them could mutter the counter charm though, as they were all silenced and many of their looks of excitement turned to disgruntled ones. The flashes of the cameras weren't silenced though, and Harry saw little white spots before his eyes. He ignored that.

"Good evening," he said to the silenced crowd. "Sorry about the silencing charm, but I couldn't understand any of you."

The crowd stopped approaching him and looked at themselves in silence. Harry saw that the first two rows had to be reporters and their cameraman, whilst the rest were either Ministry personnel or Aurors.

"Now," continued Harry. "I know you probably have many questions, and I will allow you to ask them in a moment, but first there are a few... guidelines I would like you to follow." Harry stared at the group, and watched as many of them nodded eagerly. All the while the cameras flashed.

"One," said Harry. "When I remove the silencing charm, I want you to ask questions from right to left. That is, we start with you and work our way across," he pointed to a young reporter who smiled unbelievingly at the fact that she was going to get to ask the first question. "Two," Harry continued. "Can we stop all these flashes," he said, raising a hand against the cameras. They stopped instantly and then the group waited expectantly for Harry to remove the charm.

Nodding to the first reporter, Harry waved his hand and the silencing charm was taken off the entire group. True to their word, the lot of them remained silent. "And you are?" asked Harry.

"Felice Garnet, Daily Prophet," the small blonde witch smiled ecstatically at him.

Harry smiled back as Padfoot came to rest at his side. Harry reached down and scratched behind his ears, inwardly smiling. "You have a question?" he asked.

"Mr. Potter," she said and every reporter there had a Quick-Quotes quill poised and ready to receive his response. "Who are you?" she asked bemusedly.

Harry shrugged. "I'm Harry Potter," he replied.

"Yes," continued Felice, "but Harry Potter was reported dead six years ago, after an attack by You-Know-Who on Diagon Alley, there were many witnesses. If you are he, can you please tell us what happened there?"

Padfoot growled next to him but Harry patted him reassuringly. "Well if Harry Potter was killed six years ago, then I guess I shouldn't be here now."

There were many smiles from the crowd at this but Harry could tell they were not satisfied on that issue. "Anything else?" he asked Felice.

"Indeed," she replied. "How did it feel to duel You-Know-Who?"

"It hurt," Harry shrugged, brandishing his broken arm for them all to see. "And call him Voldemort," he added and then frowned at all the gasps of fear this elicited from the crowd. Some of the more theatrical ones grasped their chests in fear.

"But where did you learn all of that magic?" Felice continued. "Why are you so powerful?

Harry laughed sadly. "I wish I knew," he replied. "The magic I've been studying for the past six years, preparing for war. The power... well I guess someone had to have it."

Flashes erupted again as Harry smiled and the Quick-Quotes quills were doing a mile a minute along the long rolls of parchment in the reporter's hands.

"Is it true you disabled You-Know-Who's inner circle on your own?" Felice continued.

Harry coughed. "Where did you hear that?" he asked.

She smiled brilliantly at him. "That is only one of the many rumours surrounding you, Mr. Potter."

"Really," Harry said. "Well I suppose that one is true. They were a bunch of morons anyway."

All of them looked on at Harry in disbelief and some in awe, but beside that they all looked at him with some measure of respect. "Why did you choose to fight, Mr. Potter?" Felice then asked. "What possessed you to stand against You Know Who?"

Harry blinked. "Because no one else would," he said quietly. "If it wasn't for Dumbledore you people would have lost this war a long time ago. I felt it was time you won it."

"What about the reports stating that you used dark magic in the fight this morning?" interrupted a voice that Harry had come to despise over they years. He turned to face it. "Rita Skeeter," the voice said. "Daily Prophet."

"I know," Harry replied tiredly. "I believe Miss. Garnet was speaking," he said and turned back to Felice.

"The public have the right to know about this, Mr. Potter," Rita continued, smiling infuriatingly. "Please answer the question."

Harry took a deep breath and counted backwards from five before turning to face Rita again. "I used what magic was necessary," he answered her, his face set in a stony glare that they all took a step back from. "I never used the Unforgivable curses, even though they were fired at me countless times, and I don't see why this has any relevance..."

"Well," began Rita. "You have an impressive power within you, Mr. Potter," she said, and Harry fell into a mock bow. "And the Wizarding world has been at war for twenty years against a Dark Lord with impressive power."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, although he had begun to guess.

"We have a right to know that even if you do defeat You-Know-Who, Mr. Potter, are you just simply going to replace him?"

Everyone in the corridor was completely silent, even as Harry broke out into a deep laughter. "You really are scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren't you, Rita?" he replied. "Thank you everyone," he continued. "No more questions."

Harry turned and began to walk away as the flashes from the cameras erupted again and the entire procession spoke at once. Harry waved his hand and produced a magical barrier, covering the height and width of the hall in between himself and the reporters.

They could not pass through this blue barrier and Harry smiled a final time, waved and then walked around the corner with Padfoot in tow. He heard several dispelling charms being fired pointlessly by the reporters and then their growls of frustration as they began to argue amongst themselves about how best to bring down the barrier.

In the blink of an eye, Padfoot the dog transformed into Sirius the man, and began laughing heartily. "Never seen anyone deal with Skeeter like that, Harry," he said smiling. "I can't wait to see what she writes about you in the Prophet tomorrow."

Harry shrugged and took a deep breath, wincing as his cracked ribs protested the expansion of his lungs. "Probably nothing I haven't heard before, but I think she just said what a majority of them were thinking."

Sirius frowned. "What? That you'll kill Voldemort only to take his place?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not even going to be here come the equinox. Shouldn't they just be happy someone is finally standing up to Riddle?"

Sirius sighed and he and Harry came to a stop at the moving staircases on the fourth floor. "They don't understand you, Harry. You're different, and people are always afraid of what's different."

Harry stared despondently up towards the bright sky visible through the windows several floors up in the roof of the staircase tower. "Thanks, Sirius," he said. "I'll see you later."

Sirius said his goodbyes and headed down the stairs, as Harry took the next one up. It didn't take him long to negotiate the familiar, but deserted, corridors and come in time to Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady in her portrait opened graciously as Harry spoke the password. Steeling himself, Harry entered the Gryffindor common room and prepared himself for whatever was coming.

He could hear discussion and laughter from within, and he found it hard to believe that they could laugh when Voldemort and his army had been on their doorstep only a few short hours ago. There was a group of third years leaning against the wall in the small corridor between the portrait hole and the actual common room and they paled in absolute confusion as Harry past them.

As soon as he entered the common room, it was as if he emitted a wave of silence, or another silencing charm, as at that very moment a pin could have been heard dropping a mile away. The large grandfather clock chimed six times as the hour fell, but that was all that broke the silence.

Harry stood there for only a few moments before casting his glance towards the stairs, shaking his arm slightly because it had begun to feel numb. It ached slightly as any broken and shattered arm should, but Harry shrugged it away. Pain he could handle, idleness he couldn't. Already, as he walked up the stairs towards the showers and the whispers broke out in the common room, he was planning his next move.

Voldemort was beaten back. Harry knew he was more than a capable adversary for the Voldemort of this world. He was stronger, faster, and had a tonne of luck and magic up his sleeve. So he was holding all the cards in this world bar one. The Dark Lord still commanded an awesome force, although his inner circle was gone... for now.

Harry undressed slowly, pulling down a golden and red towel from the rack as he went. He was careful as he removed his robes and then his shirt, revealing his bandaged ribs. Looking at himself in the mirror, he shook his head sadly at the growing number of scars he had been collecting since he was a year old.

"You've been through the wars, son," said the mirror loudly.

"Don't I know it," sighed Harry, turning and walking over to the shower cubicles.

The hot spray washed away all of the day's sweat and pain. Harry felt reenergised just after spending a few minutes under the warm flow of water. His bandages were soaked but he could dry them magically later.

What now? thought Harry, leaning against the cubicle wall, the water spraying him lazily. Where do I go from here? He knew the reporters and everyone else wouldn't leave him alone, could he turn that to his advantage...? There were also other problems he didn't know the answers to. How many Aurors did the Ministry have, could any be spared from other international Ministries?

But that led to yet more problems.

Back in his world, after Dumbledore had petitioned the International Confederation for aid and Aurors from around the world, those countries that did offer resources and Aurors, had also given Voldemort more supporters. The Dark Wizards in several of the magical communities around the world had flocked to their Dark Lord as their countries became involved.

Shaking his head and resolving to think about it later, Harry turned off the spray and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and drying himself. A few minutes later he wrapped the towel around his waist and waved his fully functional left arm over the wet bandages, which dried instantly.

He then looked at his bloodied, tattered and torn clothes, which lay in a heap near the mirror. A few cleaning spells and a transfiguration charm later, Harry pulled a clean t-shirt over his head, buttoning up his repaired pair of jeans as well.

He cleaned his glasses and repaired a hairline crack in the lens, before running a hand through his towel dry hair. His arm was still aching from the healing potions and salves that were working their magic, but he at least now felt refreshed.

The common room was almost empty as Harry entered it again. Only a few stragglers and those who weren't hungry had not gone down to dinner in the Great Hall. Harry himself was hungry, and he set off towards the portrait hole.

"HARRY!" shouted a familiar voice from near the fireplace.

Harry turned and saw his younger brother, Michael, sitting with a group of second years in the armchairs. Smiling and nodding in acknowledgement, Harry turned around again but walked straight into...

"Ginny!" he managed, catching her before she fell. Harry lifted her back to her feet and saw the confusion and awe within her eyes.

"How- How did you know my name?" she asked.

Harry just stared at her for a moment, familiar feelings from his own world surfacing. "I -er- your... brother, Ron... he told me," he managed finally.

Ginny nodded, but Harry could see the confusion and intelligence still in her eyes. She was curious. "Are you going down to the Great Hall?" she then asked warmly, smiling encouragingly.

"I am," nodded Harry, and fell into step next to Ginny as they exited the common room.

"You were unbelievable today... Harry," she said quietly, as they strolled down the corridor.

Harry shrugged. "You saw me?"

Ginny nodded and then smiled shyly. "Ron recorded your duel with You-Know-Who on his omnioculars. It's all anyone is talking about."

"I'll bet," said Harry as they reached the moving staircases.

Ginny and Harry fell into silence as they descended the stairs. It lasted until they reached the ground floor. "Where did you get all that power?" she asked seriously, her fiery red eyes piercing his emerald green ones.

"Not entirely sure," Harry answered, again with a shrug. "I heard once that strength and courage increase by every experience in which a person faces their fears. Well I've done a lot of that, but I always thought there was something more. I have a different type of magic than most."

Ginny nodded. "What are you going to do now?" she asked. "Now that you fought You Know Who and won!?"

Harry smile sadly as they reached the Great Hall, and twirled his wand between his fingers absent mindedly. "I haven't even begun to fight," he whispered, entering the Hall.

****

OUR SAVIOUR IS BORN

Felice Garnet

Throughout most of our lives a dark threat has been
ever growing, following our footsteps, destroying any
chance our children had of growing up in a world of peace,
and prosperity. The Dark War that has robbed us of our
youth, slain us of all innocence, and threatened to destroy
our way of life, was deemed hopeless and unending.

Yet and amazing thing happened yesterday.

After breaking the wards and attacking Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry early yesterday morning, He
Who Must Not Be Named proceeded to engage his Death
Eaters against a handful of Ministry Aurors, whilst Albus
Dumbledore duelled the Dark Lord himself. Whether it has
been the weight of the past twenty years or the frailties of
old age, Albus Dumbledore lost this duel, and all hope seemed
to die like a flame in the wind.

A spark of that flame refused to die though, refused to accept
the path fate had lain out for our world that day. Harry Potter, long
believed dead, challenged He Who Must Not Be Named to a
duel that tore the earth from the ground, and created waves of
power so strong that it knocked Aurors and Death Eaters alike
off of their feet.

Albus Dumbledore was spared by this boy's courage, but the fight
had only just begun. Harry Potter, a boy of only sixteen years,
managed to hold his own against the most powerful and terrible
wizard of our age. An epic duel that saw many old magic's, long
thought impossible, spring to life in the battle for the fate of our
world.

Not everything is known about what happened between You Know
Who and Potter, but rumours are abound about this enigmatic
young wizard, who managed to best He Who Must Not Be Named
through sheer power, causing him to flee.

Potter did not escape without injury though, and spent the afternoon
recuperating in the Hogwart's Hospital wing. He was seen briefly
though, and this reporter did manage to ask him a few important
questions pertaining to his miraculous victory over the Dark.
When questioned on his decision to fight, Mr. Potter responded
simply; "Because no one else would."

Not much is known about Harry Potter, other than that he has
risen undoubtedly to the prime position on You Know Who's
dreaded list, replacing Albus Dumbledore and his father, James
Potter. Whoever he is, the world today owes its thanks to a small
boy who saved us all yesterday.

It may be safe to say that we are entering the final years of this
war, maybe even months. And the torch of the light has been passed
from Albus Dumbledore to Harry Potter. No one can be certain of
what the following days are going to hold, but for once we can say
that they may hold hope.

Harry's eyes scanned the morning edition of the Prophet and he smiled at some of the things Felice Garnet had said about him. He was seated at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, but today was going to be a busy day. He had big plans, the least of all going to see Dumbledore. Not many were seated near him though, but it was no longer out of fear of the consequences. They didn't know what to say to him, and Harry would cross those bridges later. Turning the page, he saw another story about him.

HERO OR VILLIAN, THE TRUTH OF HARRY POTTER

Rita Skeeter

By now most of our magical community is aware of the devastating
attack on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday
morning. Dark magic was heavy in the air and grounds of the
school, from more than one force. Death Eaters and Aurors clashed,
many falling on either side.

Both sides however, were held at wand point as He Who Must Not Be
Named duelled with Albus Dumbledore. For reasons unknown, Albus
Dumbledore was fighting a losing battle, and his death seemed imminent.

And yet it was not to be. A mysterious stranger, cloaked in black that matched
the Death Eaters, stepped forward to challenge the Dark Lord.

Harry Potter, born July 31^st 1980, reported to have been killed six years ago
at the hands of the very wizard he beat into submission yesterday, faced You
Know Who without showing any sign of fear or doubt. Some may see this as
strange, as many adult wizards cannot look upon the Dark Lord for long
without feeling understandably afraid.

Much is still unknown about the apparent duel between Potter and You
Know Who, but sources close to Potter say he used some fairly dark magic
against the Dark Lord, raising worries and questions that this duel may have
been a sign of things to come. Harry Potter has power, that much is clear,
but whether he has a right to use it in darkness should not be a choice that
he should be allowed to make freely.

We are at war now because You Know Who ran unchecked in the early years.
Can we learn from our past mistakes, and collar Potter before he usurps
the Dark Lord, and claims that mantle for his own.

"You bitch..." breathed Harry, crushing the paper in his hands and tearing it in two. He was definitely going to give Rita Skeeter a piece of his mind next time he ran into her. Cloaked as a Death Eater... collar Potter before he usurps the Dark Lord! He wondered briefly if she was an unregistered Animagus in this world, fluttering around unchecked as a beetle. Wouldn't be surprised he thought quietly, and began to chew on his bacon roll, wishing pain upon Rita Skeeter.

"Harry..." a voice said nervously to his right.

Harry turned and saw that Ron had moved up the bench to sit next to him, and that everyone had taken notice of this, silence spread through the Hall like wildfire. "Yes?"

Ron was very self conscious of the entire Hall listening in on his brief conversation with Harry Potter, who was an unspoken hero to almost all of the students in the school. His fame had skyrocketed instantly as soon as he challenged Voldemort yesterday.

"Do you... do you still wanna play some Quidditch this weekend?" Ron asked weakly.

Harry's thoughts instantly flew to the Nimbus broom he had cast aside near Hagrid's cabin, and then to the fact that Ron had been ignoring him for the most part this last week, out of fear that Malfoy will tell his father who he associated with. Harry had read in the Prophet that Voldemort's entire inner circle was being held in separate Ministry holding cells.

Harry smiled. "Sure... why not?" he said.

Ron smiled and then for a moment forgot himself and slapped Harry on the back. "Excellent," he said. "What was it you said you played, Seeker?" Harry was smiling slightly as he nodded. "Well our Seeker won't be here next year so it would probably be good to start scouting for fresh blood now."

Harry blinked and turned away. He wouldn't be here next year, if the equinox in November proved to be useful. "We'll see what happens," he said, turning to Ron. "I may not be here next year, as I've got more than one demon to take care of... but we'll just see."

Ron nodded and scratched the back of his neck. "Why... why did you fight him yesterday, Harry?" he then asked quietly, unable to put into words the fear he had felt upon seeing the Dark Lord, and yet Harry had duelled him.

"You shouldn't fear him," Harry replied. "He's nothing more than a murderer. I fought because it was the right thing to do, the right choice to make. The easy choice would have been to walk away. Remember that for the future, Ron, because I had a friend once who was just like you, and he knew how to make the right choice."

****

"Harry!" smiled Dumbledore, sitting up in his hospital bed. "How wonderful to see you."

"Hello, Professor," Harry said, unable to keep the smile of his face at the unrelenting cheerfulness the headmaster seemed to exude. "How are you?"

"Thanks to you, Harry, I am alive," he replied, coughing slightly. "And from a certain recording that Sirius showed me this morning, you are lucky to be here as well."

"Was that on a pair of omnioculars, by any chance?" Harry asked, levitating a chair over so he could sit down next to Dumbledore.

"Indeed," Dumbledore answered. "Never in all my long years have I seen such a display of power, Harry. You have been keeping many things hidden from us."

Harry stretched his arm out to keep the circulation going as he felt it once again going numb. "I told you not to doubt me; that I could handle Voldemort."

"And you were right," agreed Dumbledore, sipping a clear potion from a vial in front of him. "A replenishing potion," he said. "Poppy has me taking them on the hour. Apparently I came to within an inch of death."

Harry chuckled at the mirth he saw in the headmaster's eyes. "I know how that feels," he said.

"Harry?" a voice called from the Matron's office.

Harry looked up and saw his mother standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the glow of some potion being brewed behind her. "Hello," said Harry as Lily walked over to him and Dumbledore.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, looking pointedly at Harry's outstretched arm.

"Everything's fine," Harry said. "I just came to see Professor Dumbledore. My arm feels a bit numb though."

"Pierced by a silver arrow, if the recording was accurate," said Dumbledore.

"It was," Lily said concernedly, muttering some small spells over Harry's exposed arm. It glowed blue for a moment and then green, before settling back to normal. "Nothing is overly wrong with your arm," she said. "I think the numbness must be part of the healing process."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he replied.

Lily smiled. "I have to get back to the potions," she said quietly. "I'll leave you two alone. Don't tire him out, Albus," she said finally, smiling happily.

"Fear not, Lily," Dumbledore said. "I do believe it would take more than the few words of an old man to tire young Harry."

Lily disappeared back into the matron's office and Harry turned back to Dumbledore. "How long you stuck in here for then?" he asked.

"A few days bed rest," Dumbledore replied. "I dare not dispute it. Poppy can be quite a formidable opponent in her wrath."

Harry smiled from experience. He had always argued with the Hogwarts matron over the length of time he was required to stay in this infirmary.

"I believe you have some issues on your mind, Harry," continued Dumbledore. "And we would all sleep better if they were addressed sooner rather than later."

Harry nodded, although he doubted he would ever sleep as well as he had done before the Triwizard tournament again. Too much had been lost in that godforsaken graveyard. "I actually did need to speak to you about some rather... important things," he said.

Dumbledore reached over to his bed side table and picked up his half moon spectacles, placing them on his face. "What can I help you with, Harry?"

Harry sighed and for a brief moment looked out of the window into the spring sky. It was the 5^th of April today, and Harry had been sixteen days out of his own world. He had months ahead of him. "I've been thinking," he began. "In this world, I'm stronger than Voldemort, than anyone. I want to go on the offensive. I promised myself that as long as I was alive I'd fight Riddle, and now I, we, hold an advantage."

"Go on," said Dumbledore seriously. His brow furrowed in thought as he listened to what Harry said next.

"I can end this war now, if only I had a target. I don't think we should wait until Voldemort attacks again and people die needlessly until I find him. We have to find him now, wherever this- this Slytherin Castle is we need to find it or draw him out."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment before speaking. "Yesterday, Harry," he began, his ancient voice full of wisdom. "You showed bravery, courage, and leadership beyond doubt. I do not believe you meant to take control yesterday, but everyone was following you. You hadn't asked them to and nobody knew you well enough for it to have happened, and yet it did."

He paused there and looked at Harry beyond his half-moon spectacles before continuing. "Why are you asking me to do this, Harry? I think if you asked them to, the Aurors would follow you, the Ministry would try and find Slytherin castle, and give you command of the battle."

Harry was silent now. "I... I asked you because you usually tell me what to do in these situations. I wouldn't be here today if you hadn't taken certain steps to protect me as a child, and guided me through Hogwarts in the early years."

Dumbledore blinked and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "That was not me. I failed you in this world, Harry. We all did..."

Harry stretched his tired limbs and lifted his glasses, rubbing his equally tired eyes that seemed to carry permanent black rings around them. "What should I do...?" he eventually asked quietly, almost regretfully.

"There will come a time, Harry," Dumbledore began. "When you will leave our world, and return to your own war. The one you should be fighting now. I fear you may have to carry the weight of that world as you did this one yesterday, and it will be an infinite number of times heavier. Making these decisions for yourself now, will ultimately help you against a much stronger adversary than this world has offered you."

Harry nodded in a brief moment of understanding but something else was gnawing at his mind, making it impossible to think clearly. "You're right about a stronger adversary," he said quietly. "On the... on the last day I spent in my own world, I fought another battle against Voldemort and eight hundred or so Death Eaters. We had about as many Aurors but... hundreds, even thousands died that day."

And what did you do?" asked the headmaster.

"Voldemort had taken my closest friends captive. He was in the forbidden forest, ready to open the doorway that leads to other worlds. He didn't know it would do that though, he thought it would have destroyed Hogwarts... it would have as well, if I hadn't stepped into it. Anyway... before that I was duelling with him, and you have to understand this Voldemort was resurrected, reborn, he looks completely different from the Voldemort of this world."

"How...?" asked Dumbledore, having remained silent so far through Harry's story.

"He used my blood," Harry sighed. "Forcibly taken. That strengthened him because of the power I've got. Blood has something to do with it anyway...."

"And that is why he is more powerful than-"

"One of the reasons," Harry said quickly. "Another is that he -er- received some of my pure magic that day we duelled last, in the Forbidden forest."

"Why did this happen?" Dumbledore then asked.

Harry sighed. "I lost the duel. He stabbed me right through the shoulder with the sword of Gryffindor. I was impaled upon my own weapon."

Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise. "It came out of the Hat?"

Harry nodded. "Anyway, I was dying on the ground of that forest when Gin- when my closest friend ran into the clearing, to help me. Voldemort turned his wand on her of course, and fired the Killing Curse at her."

"I'm sorry..." Dumbledore began.

"Don't be," Harry said, waving away the pity. "Something erupted inside of me as I realised she was about to die, and in an instant I went from lying on the floor to being bathed in silver light, standing in front of the path of Voldemort's killing curse."

"You Apparated?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry shook his head. "No... I simply appeared where I was needed, right in front of the curse. I was glowing with silver light though, and the curse hit me in the chest, ripping away the protection of the pure magic... I think... it may have been something else." He didn't say Love Magic. "Anyway, the curse dissipated on my chest and tore some pure magic from me, which hit Voldemort."

"I would have said that was impossible," Dumbledore whispered. "But I see the truth in your eyes. Go on..."

Harry nodded. "He fled after the pure magic had eaten into him, joining him. But he had already activated the blood magic portal to destroy Hogwarts."

"And you sacrificed yourself to it," offered Dumbledore, guessing his mind.

Harry nodded. "I couldn't perform even a summoning charm at that point. I'd just lost some of my power to Voldemort and survived the Avada Kedavra curse again. All I could do to save the school, the world, was to abandon it and step into the circle of light."

"And you are understandably worried that Voldemort may destroy the world while you are gone, using the power you did not mean for him to receive."

Harry nodded almost imperceptibly. "It's all I can think about..." he whispered. "I can't get back to my world and I gave Voldemort the power to destroy it."

Dumbledore blinked and sat up further in his bed, looking Harry directly in his eyes. "I have nothing to say that can ease your mind, other than the hope that this magic you gave him would take time to utilise, to control. From what you described a moment ago I think it would be safe to say this transfer of power nearly destroyed Tom?" he said, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"He nearly died," Harry nodded, thinking back to the final moments he had spent inside Voldemort's mind. He was weakened. "He would need to recover... it could take months."

"Hope is your guiding force now, Harry," Dumbledore said, offering a small smile. "Grasp it tightly, and wait for your chance to return home."

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. Now that he had told Dumbledore some of his fears he felt better. Not happy, but the weight of it all seemed to lessen. "What should I do between then and now though?"

"You should do what is right, although I believe you already know your path now and how you are going to spend your remaining months with us," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his glasses.

Harry nodded shakily in agreement. "I don't think I ever told you how much I appreciate your advice," Harry said quietly, his eyes glazing over with tears that would never be shed. "You're right, of course. I have to play Quidditch."

Dumbledore laughed quietly, a chuckle under his breath that turned into a painful cough. "Not everything can be a joke, Harry," Dumbledore then said seriously.

Harry shrugged. "For me it has to be, otherwise I fear I'd go insane." He tried to sound nonchalant but Dumbledore could sense the undeniable truth in his words.

"Rest for a few days," the headmaster said. "Relax, get to know your family better before dealing with the problems of the world."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think I can," he replied. "I'm not really one for family. Although you have helped me decide what to do today, sir," he continued. "I'm going to the Ministry."

Dumbledore sighed and took another sip of his potion, on the hour. "Something tells me they'll come to you first," he said, looking up to the high window.

Harry frowned and followed his gaze, just as an impressive eagle-owl flew in through the open window and landed neatly on his shoulder, an elegantly styled missive attached to its leg.

****