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The many Deaths of Harry Potter by ShayneT

Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Harry P., Hermione G., Words: 242k+, Favs: 6k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Mar 2, 2017 Updated: Jun 15, 2017 3,851Chapter 50: Wrongness

The counterattack that everyone had feared happening didn't happen for another two weeks. Harry woke to find everyone already talking about the attacks that had been made on several Ministry outposts over the night.

The Daily Prophet showed pictures of buildings burning, of bodies on the ground on Diagon alley. The number of dead was unknown, but the important thing was that in the midst of it, Azkaban was attacked and the prisoners released.

The most deadly of the former Death Eaters were out, and the third task was suddenly on no one's minds at all.

Over the next two days the rolls of the dead trickled in. Only twenty Ministry employees had been killed, most of them aurors working in Azkaban. Most of the dead in the pictures were passers by or people who were in Ministry offices with business there. Another sixty had been killed there.

In the space of an evening, all the goodwill that Scrimgeour had gathered had vanished. No one felt like celebrating, and everyone was suddenly gloomy.

Harry, strangely felt almost at home in this new world. Suddenly everyone was thinking like he was, and the things he'd been saying for years were finally coming true.

His confusion over his strange, physical feelings for Fleur cleared up. He'd been a fool to even contemplate feelings like that. Instead, he had to redouble his focus on what was important. Voldemort was coming, and if he'd allowed himself to forget that he'd been a fool.

If he sometimes found himself looking in Fleur's direction, it wasn't a sign of regret. It was simply the acknowledgment of a fellow champion.

After all, he wasn't a normal teenage boy. He didn't have the luxury of falling in love or of having a girlfriend. That part of his life would have to wait until everything was over.

As he began to ignore Fleur, Hermione began to become more friendly toward him again. A little of their former easiness together began to creep back into their interactions, although it still wasn't what it had been.

Over the two weeks following, there were no follow up attacks. It was thought that Voldemort was consolidating his ranks, gathering his new soldiers and readying them for battle.

The general consensus was that a massive attack was coming. The only question was when.

There was even talk of delaying or canceling the third task; however, the champions were all magically bound and it was decided that the third task had to go forward. The consequences of breaking the contract were too grave for them not to go forward.

The sounds from the crowd were different now than they had been during the second task. The excited chattering and murmuring was gone. During the second task there had been a feeling of anticipation that was entirely absent now.

The stands were beginning to fill, and there was only a low, anxious murmuring. People were worried, and Harry suspected that everyone was hoping the task would be over with as soon as possible so that they could return to the safety of their homes.

All this despite the fact that there were twice as many aurors patrolling as there had been during the last task. There were enough that Harry had to wonder where they'd found them all. He worried a little that they'd pulled too many from other tasks, leaving the Ministry undefended.

The stands were half empty even as the task was about to begin. Many people had decided to stay home rather than risk an attack that many people were beginning to assume was coming.

Ludo Bagman stared at the crowd, then sighed out loud. Harry suspected that he wanted to wait, hoping that more people were going to arrive, but no one wanted that.

The sooner this was over and done with, the sooner everyone could go home.

At least the stands had been magically elevated so that the crowds could see what was happening in the maze. A one way wall of mist had been erected so that the audience couldn't give the champions suggestions or advice, and the sounds of the crowd were magically muffled as Harry stepped out onto what had once been the Quidditch pitch.

Now it was covered in twenty foot hedges with no way to see what was inside.

Considering that Hagrid was supplying the monsters, Harry suspected that he'd have an edge in dealing with them. However, he didn't actually want to win.

Harry would have simply sat by the entrance in his invisibility cloak waiting for Krum to find the trophy if the entire school wasn't watching. He'd gotten enough anger from his fellow students over his last stunt that he decided that he needed to at least look like he was trying.

He had to find a way to throw the contest while looking as though he was doing his very best.

Trying to anticipate how his winning the contest would benefit Voldemort had been maddening. Harry's best guess was that the winning cup was booby trapped to kill him the moment he touched it.

He wasn't sure if it would kill the first person to touch it, or only Harry. In any case Harry had no intention of actually touching the thing. He'd leave that to Krum.

Or maybe he'd simply "accidentally" destroy the cup and no one would win. It would infuriate Scrimgeour, but a tie was almost as historic as an actual win, and there wasn't as much of a chance that Krum's body would end up making Hermione cry.

McGonagall was standing next to Bagman. "We will be watching from places where we can reach you. If you wish to be rescued, simply send up red sparks."

At least they were learning from past mistakes. No longer would the people who were needed to rescue the hapless be trapped behind magical shields, unable to reach the very people they had to help.

Harry nodded.

"Is everyone ready?" Bagman asked.

Harry looked at the others, who reluctantly nodded. He smiled at Fleur who looked away.

Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen...the third and final task of the Triwizard tournament is about to begin. Harry Potter will go first, as he is in first place. Viktor Krum will follow behind, and Fleur Delacour will be allowed to enter the maze last."

"On your mark, Harry...get ready...get set...go!"

Harry stepped into the shadowy expanse of the maze. He didn't run; first because he suspected that there would be traps, and monsters waiting, and second because reaching the center too quickly would make it clear he was trying not to win.

Everyone would understand his being paranoid; it was part of his public persona. If he lost because he was too cautious people would just attribute that to his personality.

Harry moved forward fifty yards; the interior of the maze had been magically expanded. Normally this would have been a third of the entire size of the pitch but he could tell he hadn't gone nearly that far.

Everyone was probably expecting some creative way of wining this; cutting his way to the center maybe using some spell, or finding a way to leap over the maze or simply walk across the top of it. Harry had considered these things and decided against them.

For one thing, the Weasley wall walking boots didn't work on hedge walls. For another he was trying not to win.

The sound of the whistle letting Krum into the maze told him that the time advantage for being first in the first two tasks wasn't particularly long. What was the point then?

"Point me," he whispered, holding his wand in his hand. It spun like a compass pointing toward the center of the maze. He had to go northwest.

As he turned a corner he stumbled; Hagrid's blast ended skrewts were now ten foot long, and their upper hides were spell resistant. He'd suspected that they would be used for the Tournament; why else would the school tolerate his growing them?

Their undersides were vulnerable.

"Bombarda!" he yelled, pointing his wand at the earth underneath the Skrewt.

The blast was strong enough to flip the skrewt over but not enough to kill it. Harry rushed closer to it and cast a full body bind on it's unprotected underside before rushing by it. The spell wouldn't last long, not against a monster that size, which would mean that the monster would serve as an impediment to whoever came after.

While he didn't mean for it to work, it had to look like something he would do to those watching.

Right...left...right again...the disadvantage to a maze was that it might take forever to find the right route. He was already tired of the endless foliage, the never ending green.

He stopped as he saw a nasty pinkish mist ahead of him.

Glancing around, Harry saw a rock, which he transfigured into a Hedgehog. The hedgehog wasn't a very good one; it still largely looked like a rock. However, it walked and it had skin, which was good enough.

Sending it in to the mist, Harry heard it scream as massive blisters rose on its skin. He returned it to stone before it had time to be in too much pain.

He grimaced. Was this a legitimate part of the trial or was it a trap by Voldemort?

He turned and blasted a hole in the foliage beside him. Moving through the wall, he saw that the pink mist hadn't followed and didn't extend through the wall. However, as he moved through the hole the foliage regrew behind him leaving the wall unblemished.

Harry checked with the point me spell, and then altered his course. Without that spell he'd have been lost here forever, at least until he decided to blow his way out. He really needed to convince Sirius to teach him apparition, not that it would work on Hogwarts grounds.

Ten minutes passed, and Harry heard Fleur scream. He froze, but a moment later saw red sparks flying up. Aurors on brooms were already in the air, and a moment later he saw Fleur being flown away, massive blisters covering her body.

Apparently she'd encountered some of that red mist. Harry wasn't sure of what method would help against it. The bubble headed charm only covered the head.

He hoped she wasn't in too much pain, but that meant that the victory was going to have to be given to Krum, which irritated him. Why he wasn't sure. He'd thought Krum seemed decent enough earlier in the year, but now he found him grating.

As he turned yet another corner, he felt the world spin. Suddenly the sky was below him and the earth was above him. Fortunately he'd had experience with the Twins wall walking shoes; he moved confidently down the pathway even though he was running on top of the bushes.

The world spun again and he fell, bruising his palm.

He grabbed his wand, thankful that it hadn't been damaged and he continued on.

He realized that he was getting close when even through the shielding he heard the sounds of the crowd. He wondered if he needed to start slowing, giving Krum a chance to get ahead of him.

Turning a corner, he saw a sphinx.

She began to speak, but Harry was already moving forward. "STUPEFY, STUPEFY, IMPEDIMENTA."

He was already moving past the Sphinx before it occurred to him to wonder what it had been trying to say. Probably some kind of riddle. Sphinxes were mad for riddles.

A moment later he stumbled into the clearing with the cup. Harry stumbled to a stop. Krum wasn't here yet, and there was no reason not to take the cup, from the sound of the screaming crowd.

"Potter!"

Turning, Harry saw Krum coming from behind him. He had apparently bypassed the stunned Sphinx without any problem.

Krum said, "What are you to Herm-on-ninny? She talks of you all the time."

"This is hardly the place for that," Harry said. He gestured upward at where the crowd presumably was. "We've got a game to win."

An ugly expression crossed Krum's face and he lifted his wand. Harry immediately snapped out with a shielding spell.

He waved his wand, but cast nonverbally. It took Harry a moment to realize what it was.

Accio...damn.

As the Triwizard cup slammed into the back of Harry's head, he felt the distinctive feeling of a portkey activating.

Harry woke, and it took him an uncomfortably long time for him to figure out where he was or what was going on. His thinking felt foggy and the back of his head hurt. His head ached and his vision was blurry. He was seeing two of everything.

Trying to move his arms Harry realized that ropes were tied around them. He was tied against something; a quick look around showed that he was in a graveyard, so it was probably a gravestone. For some reason his arm hurt; looking over he could see a splotch of red blood staining his arm.

A man stood in front of him. His face was lined and wrinkled, but Harry had the sense that he was younger than his face would seem to present. His tongue slipped in and out of his mouth, and Harry wondered if he was an animagi with a frog form.

He seemed occupied with a large cauldron in front of Harry.

"Have to get this right," he was muttering. "Important to get the Master as perfect as possible."

The man seemed completely focused on the task in front of him, something that Harry hoped to use to his advantage.

He focused on a spot near the man and began to wandlessly and wordlessly transfigure the dirt. For a moment he thought that nothing was happening, but then he saw a little smoke rising from the dirt. He'd managed to change a few grains of dirt into a silvery liquid. The smoke fizzled after a moment, and Harry focused on creating more and more of the liquid metal.

"Whas going on?" Harry asked. He slurred his words more than he had to because looking weak I this case would only help keep him alive.

As he did so, he continued to change the dirt a little at a time. It was difficult work; he was sweating heavily. Fortunately the transmuted particles was concealed by the smoke from the fire under the cauldron.

The man didn't look at him. Instead he just whistled a jaunty little tune as he prepared ingredients.

"Bartemius," a whispered voice came from nearby. "My most faithful servant. Is it ready?"

There was something on a the ground; it looked like a pile of rags but something was moving inside of it. Harry grimaced, dreading seeing what was within.

Finally seeming to pay attention, the man turned and smiled. "Tonight you will be restored, Master, and your reign will begin."

Harry continued to transfigure piece after piece of dirt, even as the man turned and bent down.

A snake, larger than any that Harry had ever seen slithered through the grass toward them. He'd seen that snake before somewhere...it took him a moment to realize that he'd seen it in a dream.

The man turned and bent down, and from the rags he pulled a monstrosity. It was the size of a baby, but it wasn't like any baby Harry had ever seen. Instead it was hairless and slimy, a dark reddish black. It looked a little like a human baby that had been badly transfigured, turned partially into a snake and partially into something else.

It was moving feebly and it was whispering something Harry couldn't hear.

"It will be so, Master," the man said.

Gently he placed the thing into the water. Harry hoped that it would drown, but he doubted that it would be so simple.

Raising his wand, he intoned, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son."

The surface of the grave to which Harry was bound cracked and split. Harry was horrified as dust emerged and flew into the cauldron.

For a moment he was worried that the cracking of the grave would disturb the growing pile of material he was making. Fortunately the dust settled without any problem.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given," the man said. He had an almost maniacal look in his eyes, but even so, he hesitated a moment. "You will revive your master."

A moment later Harry gasped as the man cut off his own hand and dropped it into the water. The man staggered and almost fell into the fire, but he managed to grab his wand and use it to seal the wound. The man's face was slowly bleaching white as he screamed in agony.

He screamed for what seemed like forever, although it could have been only a couple of minutes.

Harry waited for him to come over to him. He knew exactly what he was going to do; it would stop him and prevent Voldemort's resurrection all at once.

Instead, the man simply reached behind the cauldron and pulled out a bloodstained dagger. Harry realized that this was why his arm was bleeding; apparently the man hadn't trusted his own ability to cut Harry after cutting his own hand off.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your enemy."

The man was having to force the words out, as though he was on the verge of unconsciousness. Harry had a momentary hope that he would pass out and fall into the cauldron before the spell was actually complete, but his luck wasn't that good.

Sparks and steam rose from the cauldron. Terrified, Harry redoubled his efforts at transfiguration. Piece after piece. He'd never dared to transfigure this much, not within the castle, but this was Voldemort. Too much was better than not enough.

A tall, skeletally white figure rose from the cauldron.

"Robe me," he commanded the man beside him, who looked as though he was about to fall over.

The man did his best, but he fumbled as he did so. Voldemort stood and he examined his own body. He pulled his wand from his pocket and he gestured with it. Something like molten silver emerged from it, shaping itself into something like a human hand. The man Bartemius screamed as it molded itself to his arm.

"You will be first among all my servants for your loyal service," he said.

He turned to Harry, who was still silently creating more and more of the substance. He walked forward, not noticing as he stepped right through the puddle of liquid metal Harry had just created. He didn't seem to notice even though his feet were bare.

"Your body will be the proof my followers need," Voldemort said. "Proof that I am death incarnate."

Harry scowled. "How did you even get me here?"

He continued to cast, making the pile of metal larger and larger. He had to keep Voldemort talking if he was to have a chance.

Voldemort smirked. "Bartemius imperiused Bagman, and Bagman imperiused the other two champions."

"How'd you know I'd even be selected?"

"If you are to be my opponent, how could you not?"

Harry continued to make the puddle behind Voldemort grow. It had almost reached the fire, which Harry didn't want. That would be a disaster.

Harry scowled. "You think you've won."

Channeling his inner Gryffindor, he hoped Voldmort would continue not to notice what was right behind him.

"I have," Voldemort said, reaching up and grabbing his face. "I am now flesh of your flesh, and your mother's protection no longer burns me."

He reached for his wand. "It's time to end this."

Harry realized this was his only chance. "Accio Cauldron!"

The cauldron was made of heavy stone and filled with water. Harry focused on only pulling the top of the cauldron toward him. It tipped and tottered before it spilled.

Voldemort to his credit had time to turn and see the water spill across the puddle Harry had created.

It was a metal alloy of sodium and potassium, two elements that exploded in water, and Harry had just spent the last five minutes creating a massive amount of it.

How massive became clear a moment later as everything exploded and his entire world was fire.

As Harry died, he felt a sudden sensation of wrongness, a twisting that had never been there before. He'd never been aware of the process of dying; he'd always simply awoken, but now he felt himself being pulled back. It was almost as though something was holding him back, as though he was being twisted between two timelines.

A moment later he woke up screaming.

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The many Deaths of Harry Potter by ShayneT

Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Harry P., Hermione G., Words: 242k+, Favs: 6k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Mar 2, 2017 Updated: Jun 15, 2017 3,851Chapter 51: Looted

Bodies lay on the ground below him, blood pooling them. It took Harry a long moment to realize where he was and what had happened.

His voice was raw and he felt as though he'd been screaming and would never stop. He felt a touch on his shoulder and he whipped around, wand still in his hand only to face Sirius.

"We need to get out of here," Sirius said, "Before the aurors come."

Harry stared at him. Somehow he'd lost an entire school year and it didn't fit the pattern. He should have woken up after defeating the dragon, or maybe after defeating the merpeople, although he suspected they hadn't really been dangerous enough to create a reset point.

Instead he'd lost more time than he ever had before, and he had a sense of impending doom.

Harry nodded finally, and he followed Sirius quickly through the woods. The nausea and confusion from the concussion were gone at least. His mind was clear whereas before it had been all he could do to cast the spells that he'd been working on all term.

His original plan had been to create the flammable alloy, then blast Voldemort or whoever came for him with water from his wand. That would have set off the reaction from a distance. Unfortunately, as concussed as he had been he'd been unable to realize that the alloy was too close and he'd created too much of it.

Fire hurt, in a way the crucio hadn't.

Harry moved swiftly behind Sirius, noting that a year had made a great deal of difference in how he moved. The Sirius he had gotten used to was assured and healthy. This man still had some skittishness to him.

It made Harry wonder. If he'd snapped back all the way to first year, would he even recognize Hermione or Neville? They were completely different people now than they had been when it all began.

They'd seem younger than Colin Creevy's younger brother.

Harry couldn't help but worry about what had changed. Something was different, and that wasn't something he could be comfortable with.

It was possible that the spell that had created his resets had broken, in which case he was now living his final life.

There was no way to know whether that was true until he died and didn't come back.

On the good side, Voldemort would have lost his body. All Harry would have to do was find out where Tom Riddle's father was buried, and he'd be able to eliminate a vital component to the spell.

He decided that the one person he could trust to help him with that was moving through the forest right in front of him.

"There's nothing left," Sirius said, staring at the gravestone.

The gravestone was cracked, and whatever had been inside was gone. This was entirely wrong; the last time they'd waited almost an entire year before breaking into the tomb for the bones of Tom Riddle's father.

Things only changed when Harry changed them. That was the one thing he'd been certain of for the last years of his life. People did what they did, and nothing changed until Harry exerted his influence on it.

Harry glanced at Sirius. He'd convinced Sirius that he'd learned of a spell by which Voldemort could be resurrected using the bones of his nearest living relative. It had taken Sirius two days to find the gravesite and another to bring Harry here by night.

"This isn't right," Harry said. "They shouldn't be moving so fast."

"Does the spell have to be cast by the full moon or something?" Sirius asked. He was staring at the grave. He'd been performing spells that Harry didn't know, confirming that the grave was completely empty.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know...this just doesn't seem right somehow."

"I'm going to have to tell Dumbledore about this," Sirius said. He looked at Harry. "He'd probably going to have a few questions for you."

Harry nodded grimly. He didn't know what he was going to say, but whatever it was couldn't be worse than whatever had just happened.

The sound of a footstep behind him was Harry's only warning. He turned, grabbing for his wand, but it was already too late.

A dozen figures in black robes were moving out of the mist, and their wands were pointed at Harry.

"Grab onto me," Sirius said, his eyes never leaving the men. His hand was on his wand.

Harry grabbed Sirius's arm, but nothing happened.

"Anti-apparition jinx," Sirius said. He grimaced. "On the count of three dive behind the gravestone. I'll distract them."

"One," he said under his breath, but it was already too late.

Before either of them could move, green light lashed out, hitting him both.

The strange twisting sensation happened again, although this time not as intensely. Harry was aware of being pulled backward.

The bodies of Death Eaters lay before him. Harry stared down at them and shuddered. Voldemort had known he was coming and he'd prepared for it. That shouldn't have happened unless Sirius's questions had alerted Voldemort's people.

Someone that Sirius had talked to had to work for Voldemort.

That was the simplest explanation. Harry had convinced Sirius to go digging for information and that had led to Voldemort learning what he was looking for. It fit everything he knew about the resets much better than some strange theory that things had changed.

Harry felt a sudden surge of relief. He understood this and he could work with it.

That meant that Harry had to go to Little Hangleton on his own this time, before Voldemort had a chance to be alerted and move his father's bones.

He'd have to ditch Sirius; there wasn't any time to explain to him what was happening. Even though Sirius was more open-minded than any of the other adult wizards harry had known, he'd still had questions.

"We need to go," Sirius said. "The aurors are coming."

Harry nodded and they began to move through the forest again. If he managed to get the bone before Voldemort, he'd be able to stop the entire plot before it started. Voldemort might not even know it was impossible for months until he had someone check on the gravesite.

He'd be careful though; if he was wrong and something else was happening, it was entirely possible that Voldemort would still have people waiting.

As they reached the part of the forest outside the anti-appariton wards, Harry decided again that he really needed to learn to apparate on his own.

Sirius grabbed him and a moment later Harry felt like he was being pulled through a toothpaste tube. They ended up on the front step of his house and they slipped inside.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Sirius asked. "I know it's never an easy thing to kill a man, much less several."

Harry was confused for a moment, then realized that Sirius was talking about his killing the Death Eaters.

"They were coming for us," Harry said. "There wasn't any choice."

He'd had this conversation with Sirius the first time, and it had lasted longer than he liked then. Now he felt a certain sense of urgency. Getting to the bones either wasn't time sensitive, or it was, and for the moment he wasn't certain which.

"You were right to do it," Sirius said. He shook his head. "I don't think I could have done something like that at your age."

Harry sighed. If he let this conversation go on, it could last for a couple of hours, time he might not be able to afford to lose.

"It might be better if I go home," Harry said. "And make sure that my aunt and uncle stay inside. There may be other attacks and I'd hate for them to be hurt while I'm off enjoying myself."

Sirius stared at him for a moment before saying, "All right, but we will have this talk later."

The fact that Harry literally knew how it was going to go wasn't encouraging. Still, it was a little heartwarming to know that Sirius of all people actually cared enough about him to lecture him.

Sirius stood.

"I can go myself," Harry said. "I think I just proved that."

Sirius was apparently alert enough to know that Harry wasn't being honest with him. He stared at him for a long moment.

"I'd feel better if I went with you," Sirius said.

Harry considered his options for a long moment. He could simply allow Sirius to escort him across from Arabella Figg's house and end up having to try to sneak back across to get into her Floo terminal. However, she'd lock her door, and because of the Trace he'd be unable to get back inside.

He could try to summon the Knight bus, but that would leave a record of where he lived unless he left himself vulnerable by finding other ways to get across town, none of which would be easy at this hour of night.

"We need to make a side trip," Harry said.

Sirius watched him without speaking.

"There's a ritual that can resurrect Voldemort," Harry said. "Part of it involves the bones from his father, which are in a graveyard in Little Hangleton."

"How do you know this?" Sirius asked.

Harry hesitated. Whatever he said now could have serious consequences for his future. Was there a lie that he could make Sirius believe?

Finally he said, "I sometimes have glimpses into the future. It's not always reliable, but when it is, I know I have to follow through."

"Most Seers don't remember what they see," Sirius said. "And true prophecies are impossible to see."

"What I see can be changed," Harry said stubbornly. "Sometimes."

Sirius was quiet for a long moment. "You haven't told any of this to Dumbledore?"

"He works for the Ministry...I've heard about what the Unspeakables do to people who have unique abilities."

"Dumbledore wouldn't turn you in," Sirius said, looking shocked. "He's pinned his hopes on you and the hopes of an entire generation."

"Still," Harry said. "We need to go."

Sirius nodded.

"If you want to go graverobbing, let's go. It'll be like old times with your dad."

Harry moved to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of floo powder. "I don't suppose you have a broom? if you don't it's going to be a long walk."

Sirius shook his head. "I mostly apparate."

"You should teach me sometime," Harry said. "I don't care what the Ministry says, it's something I need to know."

Sirius didn't hesitate. "I'd be happy to. I'd be happier knowing you could get away if more than six Death Eaters come after you."

Harry threw the floo powder into the fire.

"Let's go," he said.

By the time they arrived, the grave had already been looted.

"The Triwizard Tournament!" Dumbledore said.

Harry scowled. He'd been in a foul mood for days ever since coming across Tom Riddle's father's recently opened grave. They'd only missed it by minutes; the dust was still settling from where the grave had been cracked open.

Sirius had insisted that he had to tell Dumbledore, and Harry knew there would be questions. It was only a matter of time before he had a discussion with the Headmaster that he really didn't want to have.

The excitement of the children around him wasn't something Harry could share. He couldn't help but feel that he was being railroaded, forced to do something he didn't want to do.

The fact that he was going to have to repeat another year wasn't helping any either. He'd enjoyed the previous year, at least the parts that didn't involve terror and the risk of death.

Going through the same classes was becoming less and less tolerable. He was growing tired of it all, and part of him couldn't help but wish it was all over.

The weirdest thing had been seeing Hermione on the train. The hesitance that had dogged his relationship with her over the past few months was completely gone. To this Hermione the Yule ball had never happened.

It was the only good thing about this reset.

He'd had most of a year of training with Moody, but the man looked at him as though he'd never seen him before. Harry hadn't ever really been able to get the man's trust, but he'd felt that they were kindred spirits.

The only question was how much Voldmort knew. Had he really come back with Harry, or was he simply having visions from Harry's life. The second case would be bad enough, while the first would be a disaster.

Voldemort had all the advantages; power, troops and the advantage that every attacker had in that he knew when he was planning to attack while the defender had to try not to be surprised.

If only Harry had been given a little more time; he was good enough to kill several Death Eaters if he had the advantage of surprise or of one of his tricks, but he doubted that he'd be able to stand up against any of the more powerful members of Voldemort's circle.

As Dumbledore ended his speech, a Slytherin prefect came to Harry as everyone was rising to their feet, ready to head back to their quarters.. The First years were being gathered together as a group by the Slytherin head boy.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you," he said quietly. "The password to his office is Chocolate Cockroach."

Harry nodded grimly.

Every step toward the Headmaster's office felt heavier than the last. Harry hated the fact that he was having to deal with this, but there wasn't any choice. He'd considered obliviating Sirius, but the man had been watching him too closely and it would be a gross violation of the trust that was beginning to grow between them.

"Chocolate cockroach," Harry said to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. He slipped through the passageway, and a moment later he found himself facing Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," Harry said.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "Take a seat."

Harry sat reluctantly and shook his head when the Headmaster offered him a piece of candy. He suspected that if it wasn't for wizarding medicine the man would have lost his teeth long before, even if he wasn't over one hundred years old.

"Sirius has given me some disturbing news," Dumbledore said. "As well as an intriguing claim about an ability of yours that you haven't chosen to share."

Harry stared at the table in front of him. "It's not a claim."

He'd read enough about legilimency to know better than to look the man in the eye. He suspected that both Dumbledore and Snape could read minds; he'd asked Moody about it and the man had been conspicuously taciturn about it.

"It seems a little fantastic...it's unlike the usual abilities we see in seers."

"Why don't you test me?" Harry asked.

If it wasn't for the fact that there had been an opened grave he'd have claimed he was lying about his ability. Now he needed to convince a man with ten times the life experience he had that he was telling the truth. The only way to do that was to include as much truth as possible into the lie.

"What can you tell me about the future?" Dumbledore asked.

"I can tell you that the three tasks for the Triwizard tournament will involve dragons, mermen and a maze," Harry said. "There will be a Yule ball."

"Exceptional," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"You're planning a major offensive against the Death Eaters," Harry said. "Planning to attack maybe forty of them. It will happen somewhere around the time of the second task."

"And how will this work out?"

"Well," Harry said. "But there will be retaliation."

"I would imagine so," Dumbledore said.

"The dementors will defect afterwards and Azkaban will be emptied while the Death Eaters use attacks on the Ministry as a distraction."

Dumbledore suddenly became very still. "Are you sure about this?"

"But the thing is, the visions I have of the future aren't set in stone...they can be changed."

It was important for Harry to emphasize that. True prophecies couldn't be changed, and Harry had noticed a sort of resigned acceptance about them from wizards who had studied them. The last thing he wanted Dumbledore to believe was that it was hopeless.

"You've done this?"

Harry nodded. "A few times, although there were some things I wasn't able to change."

Colin and Adrian flashed across his minds eye, along with a flash of regret. It was easier now with the passage of time to accept that they were gone, but part of him couldn't help but hope for another anomalous reset, one that would take him back farther than the others.

"And you've had dreams from Voldemort's perspective?"

Now it was Harry's turn to stop moving. He hadn't told Sirius about the dreams he had occasionally. He hadn't told anyone, unless he spoke in his sleep and Malfoy or one of the others had been listening.

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

"There is a link between you and Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "One that leaves you both vulnerable to seeing inside the minds of the other."

The sudden horror on Harry's face must have communicated itself to Dumbledore because he rushed to explain that "I am not certain that he knows about this; if he does he learned about it only recently."

Harry nodded. It would explain the sudden changes in Voldemort's activities, and it was a much more palatable explanation than what he feared deep in his soul was more likely to be true.

"Why is this connection there?" he asked.

Dumbledore hesitated. "I would prefer not to answer that question until you have mastered Occlumency. Professor Snape is an expert in the field."

"Professor Moody is even better, I suspect," Harry said. "And if professor Snape is actually your spy, teaching me occlumency wouldn't endear him to Voldemort."

Dumbledore nodded. "Tell me about this ritual you foresaw him using. Perhaps we can find another way to forestall his ascension."

For a moment Harry almost felt optimistic. Although there were unsettling developments with Voldemort, at least now he had Dumbledore and his people more on his side than they had been before.

If they believed he was actually a seer, they'd listen to him, and that would give him the power to steer things in a way that a boy his apparent age normally would never have.

Chapter 575 - hhhg

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