I knew it was a good idea to do this sequel. I've already had several readers asking me to have their children...er...update as fast as I can. So I'm making this effort and letting you all have this one a little early. Just keep in mind that the update day isn't changing, so Chapter 3 will be up the Friday after this one (nine days).
As of right now, I'd like to clear the air on a couple questions that were asked in reviews. I won't be responding to reviews individually (unless I find exceptional reason to), so instead I'm just going to answer some major points that were brought up.
One: I'm not giving anything away about the ending. I have yet to decide whether to make it in Ahn Na Blue's style, a nice happy ending, or my own personal flavor (those of you who read my trilogy will know that it's a little bit of both).
Two: I had a few people complain about continuity involving the time loop. Trust me when I say I've got it figured out. Please don't try and tell me how it should work. All will be revealed in time.
Three: The most popular question I've been asked is 'how did Bellatrix make a potion to return the memories of someone (in this case Voldemort)?'. Yet again, all will be revealed in time, although I suspect the answer to this one won't be closer until the end. It's not that tough of an answer though, you'll find all the pieces of the puzzle in Chapter 1 alone if you wanna hunt for them.
Four: Who remembers what happened? You will find out the answer to that in this chapter and the next one.
That being said, read this one! Enjoy and review.
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Chapter 2: The Return of Harry Potter
Harry collapsed to the floor of his apartment in a heap, trying to stem the flow of vomit threatening to make its way up his throat. Knowing that he wasn't going to be successful, he crawled to his toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out all the memories and images that were flooding into the forefront of his mind.
"Give it back - it's mine!"
"Yours? Who'd be writing to you?"
The letters...
"My name's Ron by the way, Ron Weasley."
Ron...
"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore...
"You're dead, Harry Potter. Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."
Riddle...the Chamber...
...Fawkes.
Thinking of Fawkes brought a whole new slew of memories into his mind, each of them as painful as the next...but one stood out among all the others.
"Enough! Give the egg to me! It's mine!"
Harry gently shifted Hermione from his lap, and stood, looking down at the egg in his hand, and seeing his face swirl in the mists, and Voldemort's face as well.
"It's mine!" Voldemort hissed again.
"No," Harry said simply, facing him. "It's ours."
And then he smashed the egg against the stone floor. He heard a great wind, felt a great pressure building inside of his head. He could hear Voldemort screaming in agony, and heard Hermione shout, "Harry, I love you!"
Immediately Harry's eyes snapped open and he shuddered as he suddenly remembered the girl who had been haunting his dreams.
Hermione.
Harry couldn't take it anymore. He had defeated the worst Dark Lord in over a century only to have him rise again, empowered by his own minions. He had gone through hell and back to protect those he loved and cared about. He had given up his life to save Hermione. And now he had nothing.
So Harry Potter did the one thing he hadn't done since he was five years old, when the behavior of his aunt and uncle had forced him into learning how to hide his emotions. He leaned against the cold, tiled wall of his bathroom and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.
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Severus Snape stood in front of a house he had only once before entered. However, knowing that time was of the essence, he did not waste it standing in awe of the magical power that radiated from within the white walls. Instead, he knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" called a voice from inside.
"A friend," Snape replied. The door opened a crack before opening the entire way to let the potions teacher inside.
"Is he here?" Snape asked the man who had opened the door, a middle aged man with greying hair.
"Down the hall."
Snape nodded in thanks and proceeded down the long hallway of the house, magically expanded to be larger on the inside than on the outside. If he had been looking about him, he would have noticed that the candles that should have lit the way to his destination had burned down to their holders and extinguished themselves. Arriving at a large set of oak double doors, he knocked once.
"Come in," a tired voice said. Snape entered and saw the familiar desk, with a high-backed armchair facing away towards the window behind it.
"I bring ill news," Snape said.
"And somehow this does not surprise me," the man in the chair said.
"The Dark Lord has returned."
"Which one?"
"V....Voldemort, sir."
The chair turned slowly around.
"I am sure you remember what this is," Snape said solemnly. He pulled out a roll of parchment with a red ribbon and a wax seal on it, and handed it to the man behind the desk.
"All too well," the man replied, opening the parchment and reading its contents. "The tale I wrote of
those years ago."
"The Dark Lord is back," Snape said again, as the man finished reading the parchment. "The mark on my arm burned white last night for the first time in many years."
"You are sure this is true?"
"Beyond any doubt, sir."
The old man, who looked like time itself had woven its way into every wrinkle and crease on his face, sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"What are we to do now that he has returned?" Snape asked.
The man in the chair sighed again as a beautiful crimson and gold bird fluttered down from the rafters of the room and landed on his shoulder, singing softly.
"I am not sure."
There was a very pregnant pause before the next words came out of Snape's mouth.
"Woe betide the day that Albus Dumbledore does not know what to do."
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Harry woke and groaned, his head and body aching in places he didn't even know existed. He could tell through his closed eyes that it was already light out, and he shielded his face to help block out the morning sun.
Deciding that he was too sore from spending the latter part of the night on the floor to do anything at the present, he shed his clothes and made his way into the shower. Having the hot spray of water beat down on his neck did wonders to relieve the tension that had built up there, and he finally managed to clear his mind enough to realise that he had to take action.
"Where to start, though?" he asked himself out loud. As far as he could remember, he had no wand. Voldemort had it in the battle, and he didn't remember anything after smashing the egg. He didn't have his belongings; they were at Hogwarts.
"Hogwarts!" Harry shouted with sudden inspiration. "Dumbledore's headmaster...he'll know what to do. But how do I get there....?"
His mind raced furiously while he turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Sighing, he sank down onto his bed, not caring that he was still dripping wet. There was nothing for it, he concluded. It was the middle of July, the passageway to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters wouldn't be open until September first, and damned if he was going to wait a month and a half to alert the wizarding world that Voldemort was back.
Then suddenly it struck him. He could floo. The Leaky Cauldron was only a few miles away...or so he remembered anyway. He wasted no time in gathering what little money he had, then exited his flat, ran down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, and promptly sprinted off in what he hoped was the direction of the tiny wizarding pub.
Half an hour later he arrived (albeit extremely out of breath) at an old doorway that blended in so well with its surroundings, he couldn't help but think that no one else could see it.
'But I knew that already...' he thought to himself as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The Leaky Cauldron was still the same as he remembered it from all those years ago. Looking around at the surroundings, he saw that it was still as dark and shabby as it had always been. There were a few patrons scattered about, and smiling at the fact that he was back among familiar territory, he walked up to Tom the bartender.
"What'll it be?" Tom asked, not looking up from the glass he was polishing.
"Erm...nothing actually," Harry replied. "I was wondering if I could use your floo, Tom." The barkeep looked up and squinted at Harry, a very strange look coming over the man's face.
"Do I know you?" he asked confusedly.
"Uh....I'm Harry, sir. Harry Potter."
"Don't know anyone by the name of Potter," Tom said offhandedly, as he resumed polishing the glass. That sentence alone took Harry by surprise.
"You...you don't recognize me?" he asked.
"Should I?" Tom countered.
"Well what about my father...James Potter?"
"Hmm." Tom looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Name rings a bell...poor bloke that got murdered by some insane muggle years back....he was your father?" Harry's jaw dropped and he nodded dumbly. "Right sorry 'bout that. I don't normally let patrons use the floo, but you seem like a good one. Go right in through the back. Floo powder's on the mantle."
"Thank you," Harry said graciously, though still reeling from the news that, instead of everyone ogling at his return, no one seemed to know who he was.
He walked into the back and wasted no one time going over to the fireplace and grabbing a handful of floo powder. Not entirely sure if he could floo directly into Hogwarts, he stepped into the alcove and shouted 'The Three Broomsticks' while dropping the powder to his feet. Instantly the room whirled out of view and Harry felt the familiar spinning that he hadn't experienced in years. Just when he thought he was going to be sick, the spinning stopped and he fell forward out of the fireplace onto a cleanly polished floor.
"Oi! I just cleaned that!" a familiar female voice shouted at him.
"Madam Rosemerta," Harry said, standing up and brushing himself off. "I'm sorry."
"Well don't be sorry, clean it up," she said placing her hands on her hips.
"I...er...don't have my wand," he said sheepishly.
"Don't have your wand?" she asked with a skeptical look. "How do you plan on getting anywhere in the wizarding world without your wand?"
"I...I um...I don't know."
"Well, I suppose I'll have to make do then," she said with a heavy sigh. "Go on and get out of here before I start to get frustrated."
Harry, knowing that Madam Rosemerta could be comparable to Mrs. Weasley when angry, high-tailed it out of the Three Broomsticks and found himself standing on the main street of Hogsmeade, the great castle of Hogwarts looming in the near distance.
Not missing a beat, he promptly began walking towards the castle, and by the time he reached the great doors at the entrance, he was at a dead sprint. Not bothering to slow down, he ran the familiar route to the stone gargoyle and stopped in front of it as he realised he didn't know the password.
"Erm.....Fizzing Whizbee?" he asked hopefully. The gargoyle remained motionless. "Lemon drop. Cockroach Cluster. Ton-Tongue Toffee."
"What on earth are you doing?" a voice from behind him asked. Harry turned and saw the familiar figure of Nearly Headless Nick floating towards him. Figuring that the ghost probably didn't remember him either, he decided to keep his true purpose quiet.
"Trying to see the headmaster," he said. "I don't know the password."
"Bit odd for that kind of thing during the Summer Holiday," the ghost said thoughtfully. "But the password is 'Hogwarts, A History'."
"Oh..." Harry said, slightly surprised at the password. "Thank you."
"Not a problem," the ghost said as he turned away. "Oh, but make sure you have a good excuse for coming. She doesn't like to be disturbed during her afternoon work sessions."
"She?" Harry asked.
"The headmistress," Nick replied as he floated away down the hall lazily. Curiosity edging its way into the forefront of Harry's mind, he turned back to the gargoyle and spoke, "Hogwarts, A History," only to have the massive statue leap aside for him.
He ascended the stairs to the office slowly, stopping outside of the oak door when he heard two familiar female voices conversing inside.
"I'm...not sure about this," one said....and Harry thought for sure he knew that voice too well.
"If you don't want the position, I will understand," another voice, older and more mature, said. "Though I have to admit, you are my first choice for the job."
"May I think about it?" the first person asked.
"Of course," the second said. "Though I would ask you make your decision within a few days' time; if you turn down the offer, I will have to find a suitable alternate."
"Thank you for the opportunity, regardless of what I decide."
Harry heard the scraping of chairs and decided to knock on the door so it didn't seem that he was eavesdropping.
"Come in," the older voice said. He opened the door with a smile on his face, fully prepared to ask where he might be able to find Albus Dumbledore (since it was clear to him that he was no longer the headmaster), when he saw the person who was on her way out of the office.
It was Hermione.
It took all of his will power not to grab her and simply hold her against him, but he found his heart nearly breaking when all she did was smile politely at him on her way out of the office. He vaguely registered the sound of the door closing, but his mind was elsewhere.
'She doesn't know who I am...'
"Can I help you?" the older voice asked. Harry's head snapped up and he found himself looking into the familiar face of his old Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagal.
"Profes - Headmistress," he revised.
"Yes," she said with a slight hint of impatience. "Can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find Albus Dumbledore." McGonagal's eyes narrowed at him appraisingly.
"And who are you?" she asked.
"Harry Potter," he replied, praying that someone would remember at least his name.
"I've never heard of you in my life," she said, looking down at pieces of parchment on her desk. "Albus is an old man who retired from the position of headmaster to enjoy some peace in the remainder of his life. I will not violate his trust by letting a complete stranger know where he is."
"But -"
"No 'buts' Mister Potter," she interrupted.
"It's urgent," Harry said quickly. The headmistress looked up at him.
"Oh really?" she asked skeptically. "So tell me, what is it that is so urgent, that you must come here to Hogwarts in the middle of the holiday, to ask me where Albus Dumbledore is?"
"A Dark Lord has risen," he said.
McGonagal let out a derisive snort.
"I'm sure," she said. "A new Dark Lord rises, yet no one except you knows about it. A likely story."
"Professor, please -"
"It is Headmistress," she corrected. "And I have already told you, I will not betray Albus' secret by letting someone who has apparently no connection to him know where he resides. Now, if you have no further business, please leave my office."
Harry wanted to protest, but he knew it was no use, partially because he knew that if he were in McGonagal's position, he wouldn't tell him either. Sighing, he turned to leave when a knock came at the door. He froze as the headmaster told the person to come in, hoping that it was Hermione again, but was disappointed (and taken aback) when he saw Severus Snape, his old potions master come through the door.
"Minerva, I've just come to inquire about whether you've filled the Defense...." he trailed off as he saw who was standing there.
"Professor?" Harry asked, praying that Snape remembered who he was.
"This is a private conversation," he said with distaste. "Perhaps you could leave?" Harry's hope dropped through the floor and he resignedly shuffled out of the office, closing the door behind him. Sighing, he sat on the top step wondering what to do when he heard Snape talking.
"What did he want?" he asked.
"He was requesting to see Albus," Minerva said. "He told me a new Dark Lord had risen." There was a considerable silence at these words before Harry heard Snape speak again.
"He is correct," Snape said.
"What?" Minvera said, taken aback.
"It is true," Snape replied. "But how could he have known about such a thing?"
"Go and get him," the headmaster said. "Quickly, before he leaves the grounds." Harry heard the quick sound of someone walking briskly before the door was flung open, revealing Snape.
"So you haven't left yet," he said. "Come back in here." A small ray of hope blossoming in Harry's chest, he followed his old potions master back into the office.
"I'm told that, in fact, a new Dark Lord has risen," McGonagal said from behind her desk. "How do you know about this?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Harry said.
"Try me," McGonagal replied.
So Harry told them. He told them everything from his life at the Dursley's, to his years at Hogwarts, to Fawkes and the egg, right up to the final battle with Voldemort that had taken place in the very office where he was now standing.
"Sounds a bit stretched, doesn't it?" he asked once he had finished.
McGonagal was looking at Snape, however, whose mouth was hanging open. "What?" Harry asked curiously.
"Minerva, I believe that Albus should be informed of this," Snape said after a moment. "I do not know who this is...but his story does match the one Albus recorded years ago."
"I know not of any story," Minerva replied.
"That is because I am the one he gave it to," Snape said. "And it fits perfectly with what this boy has just told us."
"Is there any way of proving who this really is?"
Snape gazed at Harry thoughtfully for a moment.
"Yes," he replied. "Potter, come with me. If that is your name." He walked out of the office and Harry followed him with the headmistress close on his heels. The Potions Master led them all the way down to his office in the dungeons of the school, and once inside walked over to a very old cabinet.
"When the castle was cleaned out after all the students left for summer holiday three years ago, this was discovered in a boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower," he said, opening the doors. Inside, there was a dusty old trunk, with a broomstick standing in the corner behind it. "Dumbledore entrusted it to me, along with his account of the story. He believed that these were possessions of the one who had defeated the Dark Lord."
"You?" McGonagal asked, looking at Harry. "You defeated a Dark Lord? You can't be more than twenty." Harry said nothing, he merely stared at his old possessions and raised his arm at them.
"Accio Firebolt," he said. The broomstick instantly flew from the cabinet into his hand, and drawing a large breath, he blew all the dust off the handle. The letters were slightly faded, but he could still make out the word 'Firebolt' engraved in gold letters on the end. He walked over to the trunk and opened it, finding a familiar piece of parchment sitting on the top of the contents. Smiling slightly, he took it out and placed it on the ground next to his trunk before going through the rest of the things.
"Are you going to tell us what you're doing?" Snape asked, once Harry had removed all the contents of his trunk and placed them in various spots on the floor of the office.
"Where's my wand?" Harry asked.
" I have no idea," Snape replied. "If it's not in there, I don't know where it is."
Sighing, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated exceptionally hard on the piece of wood that he remembered to be his wand.
"Accio wand," he muttered, barely uttering a sound. A moment later there was a snap at the door, the sound of something hard bouncing off the glass. Running to the door, Harry opened it and found his wand laying on the floor in front of it. He picked it up and for the first time in years, felt the familiar magic course through his body. Turning back to Snape he smiled.
"Tell me," he said. "Who is James Potter?" Snape's face turned green at the mention of his old tormentor.
"What does he mean to you?" the potions teacher spat.
"He was my father," Harry replied. "Before Voldemort killed him."
"He and his family, including his son, were murdered by an insane muggle nineteen years ago," Snape replied.
"He was murdered, but it wasn't by any muggle," Harry replied, picking up the parchment next to the trunk. "Voldemort killed him, and tried to kill me but failed. And now he's back."
Both Snape and McGonagal looked as if they wanted to restrain him and call St. Mungo's to have him taken away.
"You want proof?" he asked. "Fine." Holding the tip of his wand to the parchment, he spoke, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Snape's eyes flared as the names of the Marauders presented themselves and the map showed itself. A moment later, the map had finished drawing itself and Harry pointed at the section that showed the dungeons. Snape's and McGonagal's eyes widened as one of the dots indeed read 'Harry Potter'. "Perhaps now you could take me to Professor Dumbledore." Snape and McGonagal shared a glance before turning to Harry.
"Very well," the headmistress said. "Come with me."
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There it is, and up two days early as well. Updates will now resume on Fridays, so you'll have to wait until the 13th for chapter 3. It's actually being fairly difficult to write, so the extra two days might do me some good. Ta ta for now!