Chapter - 5 : Wrath Part - 5

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"You did very well Tilly. Better than I was hoping for, really. Thank you very much."

The elf choked out something even higher pitched than normal, obviously emotional, before popping away. Harry stared at the empty spot of floor.

He was alone again. Come to think of it, that was decidedly odd. How often was the Hospital Wing unattended?

Quietly, he left through the double doors to wander the empty halls of the castle once more. Moving hurt a little, but it was nothing he wasn't used to.

Ruthlessly he quashed the surge of memories of bloodied stone and sounds of screaming. They were the main reason he had been adamant about not returning to school. He didn't want to walk past the places where the bodies had lain; didn't want to see the forest where he had willingly walked to his death.

Quashing the memories, however, forced him to confront his current predicament

What the hell had happened to him? He remembered some sort of sucking thundercloud at the Grangers that tried to eat Teddy and then pain. Lots and lots of pain. Shuddering, he tried to remember anything but that. It was in vain: there was nothing until he woke up.

Madam Pomfrey hadn't exactly been a font of information, knowing only that he'd been brought in-

He stopped dead in his tracks.

What in the name of Merlin? She'd said he'd been brought in by Professor Dumbledore. Someone who Harry viscerally remembered being murdered in front of him years ago. Had he heard her wrong? He must have, but then there was the frightening fact that she hadn't recognised him. At all. And her mention of a Miss Potter, someone who he was quite sure didn't exist.

"Tilly," he called out, voice unsteady and leaning heavily against the wall. The elf appeared in seconds. "Can you find me a recent newspaper?"

Pop. The sound of heavy, somewhat panicked breathing. Pop.

"Yesterday's paper, Master Harry."

With jerky movements Harry accepted it and clenched his teeth as he searched the front page for the date.

June 25th, 1996.

Harry felt as if someone had drenched him in ice water.

Time-travel.

He was back in the hellish summer after Sirius died. There, the Prophet was nattering on about the Chosen One and... the Girl-Who-Lived?

In a daze Harry read through the article, and then several more, detailing how Iris Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived was the only one who could save them from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The information he was reading just didn't add up and he felt like his brain was stuttering, because this didn't make any sense! What the hell had happened to him?

Finally getting his feet under him again, Harry determinedly strode to the Great Hall. Regardless how empty the castle seemed, there had to be someone there. Someone with answers.

He was right: the corridors were empty, but there were people in the Great Hall. As soon as he opened the door the entire Order of the Phoenix as he remembered them stood and pointed their wands at him.

Harry just stared.

He was seeing dead people. Vance, Diggle and Moody. Dumbledore. Remus. Tonks.

Bloody buggering fuck, he was standing right in front of little Teddy's parents. And judging by the distrustful looks and pointed wands, none of them recognised him.

Dumbledore, ever the diplomat, broke the tense silence first. "Ah, it seems our mystery visitor is awake. Won't you please join us?"

For the first time Harry realised that everybody was sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table, with Dumbledore in one of his extravagantly decorated conjured armchairs at the head.

Still, these people made him uneasy. It wasn't just the pointed wands, which they were slowly lowering at Dumbledore's urging; it was that there were dead people among them and how it was immediately obvious that they didn't know him. Despite the familiarity of their faces he didn't know these people either.

So instead of taking the seat next to Dumbledore that the old man was gesturing at Harry sat at the Hufflepuff table where he could keep them all in sight.

They didn't like that. Dumbledore simply looked disappointed. Moody he could see tensing up for a rant on how he was dangerous. Time to nip that in the bud.

"What's going on?" His voice was loud, and somewhat raspy since it was his first time raising his voice since he woke up. It caused everyone to quiet down and tense.

Dumbledore, however, looked unruffled. "An excellent question, and one I would be more than happy to answer. However, first introductions are perhaps in order. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry stared at him. He had some very mixed feelings towards this man, and the fact that he remembered touching his broken body at the foot of the Astronomy Tower didn't help any.

"I know," he said finally. "I'm Harry." He was not throwing the Potter name out there with so many questions swimming in his head. "Now, what's going on?"

Instead of taking offence at his curt tone Dumbledore looked delighted. "You've heard of me? Excellent."

He shifted as if making sure he was comfortable, steepled his fingers, and took a deep breath. To Harry's utter and complete bewilderment, he then started giving a summary of the first war with Voldemort. How the Ministry had been on the verge of collapse until Iris Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, had saved them all. Fast-forward thirteen years and how Voldemort used some Dark ritual to get him a new body. And how, only weeks ago, the man had been exposed in a running battle in the bowels of the Ministry building.

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30+Advanced Chapters there.

(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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