Harry Potter's guide to Living and Dying

Dying by the hands of a stranger had felt like an extremely ironic way to die. 

Of course, Harry didn't particularly care, but he was disgruntled that his death had to be by the hands of some faceless and nameless death eater who had thought that killing him would be some sort of retribution for their pathetic lord. ‘Course, he does not doubt that his beloved friends will avenge him somehow. After the war, Hermione had become rather cold and Ron was a tad bit feral nowadays. If one of them didn't kill the bastard that ended his life, he did not doubt that Ginny or Fred would do it for them. Healing? The fuck was that? He most certainly did not know what healing meant after failing to do so for more than a decade. 

Well, he was sure that his beloved Teddy would at least try to avenge him some way or another. 

Life after the war was—as expected—very dull. The media wanted to screw him, the Ministry was begging for his cooperation, and Hogwarts was as welcoming as ever as he himself helped rebuild the castle as a method of “Healing” — courtesy of Luna and Hermione who thought it would give them some sense of closure. 

Jokes on him, they were kinda right. 

With the curse gone from the position of DADA professor, Harry had snatched that position as fast as his very missed firebolt. No one was surprised and he sure as hell wouldn't allow anyone but him to take the position. Although it did take him a while, having done his best to get masteries on DADA and the Dark Arts after some wandering and running amok in different countries. Obviously, Harry wasn't daft enough to tell everyone of his inevitable mastery on the very thing he was supposedly destined to destroy. 

Fuck everyone who thought that restricting magic was a good idea. Harry still doesn't understand how he was gullible enough to fall for Dumbledore’s tricks, but oh well. People were stupid and Dumbledore was just conveniently manipulative to the point of ruining almost everyone's lives and ending a hell of a lot of them. 

Unsurprisingly, all of them found a position in Hogwarts after they got “better” — note the sarcasm — but he would be damned to think that he actually got better. 

Anyways, Hermione had become McGonagall's successor and became the Transfiguration professor. After all the shit they went through with the Ministry, she decided to say: “fuck them, I am never working for the government.” Stupendous on her part as she actively chucked any ministry influence out of the window to keep Hogwarts away from their grubby hands. 

Strangely enough, Ron had gotten into History of Magic and spent many years studying it. At some point, he had gotten a mastery and degree on it by the time he was twenty-six, very impressive. Well, Binns did manage to get exorcised and no one was keen on taking the position of a ghost. No one but Ron, who had balls of steel after all the shit they went through. And sure as hell did the students’ grades skyrocket after that. He was like the Lupin of History of Magic. (Minnie was so damn happy about that.)

And enough of academia and the shit.

Ron and Hermione had gotten married a few years after the war. But they did postpone on changing Hermione's surname as all three of them just decided that Hermione Granger rather than Hermione Weasley should be written on her diploma (which rightfully did have her maiden name and was proudly hung over the fireplace of their little home in Yorkshire, said house had a Harry room. Rightfully so.)

Meanwhile, Harry had decided to fuck romance and live his life to the fullest (it was still short but at the very least he spent the rest of it defying everything Dumbledore had drilled into him). Travelling the world, visiting a multitude of countries, and often bringing home with gifts of all sorts, and some stories that his friends liked to listen to. Obviously, he'd never forget about his beloved son, Teddy was an angel and oftentimes he'd bring the kid along on his travels through the world. Unfortunately, since starting Hogwarts (for the both of them) they'd be cooped up in the castle rather than frolic in France or Greece.

And every Yule (Yes, yule. They had started celebrating Yule rather than Christmas after Ron had ranted all about the decline of wizarding traditions), Harry often crashed into their house with a bundle of presents for his beloved nieces, nephews, and godchildren in general. 

Albeit, Hermione and Ron were much more adamant in learning of his love life — unfortunately, they received tales of wonderful sex with a variety of pretty, handsome, and a little forbidden. Hermione would blanche while Ron looked begrudgingly impressed with him. 

Sex was good but he never did fall into a romantic relationship. 

Ron was particularly disappointed with that. The redhead was, oddly enough, the one who kept telling Harry to settle down. Find someone to love and marry, raise children—all the bloody sentimental shit that he had expected from Hermione. But then again, dearest ‘Mione was much more cold than her sunshine incarnate of a husband. Ron had thought that Teddy would let him settle down and rest, but nope! Harry had done the opposite and took his son along with him in his adventurous escapades, which prompted dear Minerva to look absolutely stressed when she saw the obvious signs of a growing marauder in the boy when he sat on the stool and waited to be sorted. 

Teddy’s shifting hair from pink to green had been enough warning for Minerva. If not, then it was the chaos of Teddy's amazing scheme of dosing specific meals with potions that turned them into the animal that represented them. Harry was a victim of it and had turned into a jackal (very fitting considering what the bloody animal symbolised). The boy was a different kind of troublesome, but Harry adored him and spoiled him in ways Harry was not. He kept Teddy humble, of course. Remus and Tonks would have risen from the grave, and Andromeda always did scold Harry when he was on the verge of raising an arrogant child. 

At the very least, Harry had Luna, who he had almost adopted as his sister after serving her some adoption papers that boldly stated that she would legally be considered his sister. Angelically, she had signed them. In short: Luna Lovegood was legally Harry Potter's sister and no one could deny him that. Oh how he was ecstatic when he first heard Teddy call her “Dear aunt Luna”. Absolutely adorable. 

He actually wonders what his beloved sister was doing. Did she foresee his death? Did she just let him die after seeing him suffer living after all these years? Majority of his friends encouraged living, but gods did he love Luna for just supporting him and being there. Sometimes, a person didn't need to be told to live. They just needed comfort, support. Harry didn't help and Luna had provided warmth rather than assisting him in a way that made him feel like a burden. 

Luna always did have the best empathy out of all of them. 

Moments after recognising his own death, Harry thought of how nice it was to die on a full moon. He'd had Moony and Sirius watching over him, most importantly, Luna was there. Not physically, but it had been a comfort when the moon was the last thing he saw. 

Ahh… history felt shittier by the day. 

Thankfully, Teddy was already eighteen so he'd be able to inherit every single penny, lordship, and property Harry owned. Well… not all. 

As morbid as he was, he did write a will in advance. 

Nevertheless, death was welcomed as Harry found himself walking through the painted white version of King's cross. He waited, rocking on his heel as he hummed a song from Teddy's favourite artist. Taylor Swift if he recalls. How strange of him to be humming such an upbeat song as he waited for the train to arrive and come pick him up. 

“Ah, there we are.” he chuckled, hearing the loud horn of the Hogwarts express. Seeing how white it was unnerved him, but what comes around goes around. 

"Eheu fugaces labuntur anni." he sighed, but stepped on to the train. Alas, the fleeting years slip by.

What a wonderful way to die…

Or so he thought. 

Fate really was an utter bitch. 

The sound of loud, irritating, and irksome chatter woke him up from his slumber. Was this reincarnation? Fuck. Did Fate and Death damn him to reincarnation? Oh for the love of everything, he wanted to die all over again. Should he end his life? Yeah, that sounded convenient. 

But if he did reincarnate, why the hell did his limbs feel like an adult’s? Why the hell did his body not feel like that of a baby’s?

“Morgana’s tits, Dumbledore has gone too far!” He hears an unfamiliar voice yell, a growl in their tone. It's clearly male from what he hears but in the name of his beloved son, he did not assume genders. 

“My star, calm down…” Another voice whispers. My star? Was that supposed to be Sirius? But Sirius did not sound like that. Not really. The prior voice sounded a bit more… well… Harry wanted to say French but the description didn't really fit. 

Groggily, his eyes slowly open. The light is nothing but a nuisance as he groans and whines, trying to get up but is inevitably pushed down, very gently though. Everything felt sore and be hissed as he tried and failed to move his arm. Now this was a familiar experience. All that time in the hospital wing has made him blasé to everything related to any long-lasting injuries. Although that trip to Greece was absolutely delightful but very painful when a wonderful healer practically broke his bones and made sure they healed in the correct way. 

As his eyes are ripped open, he looks at the unfamiliar room with a grimace. Where the hell was he? First of all, he was in a really comfortable bed. Second of all, the room looked spacious and a tad luxurious so to speak. Third, there were two other people in the room. One had Black hair and the other had red hair that could rival the Weasleys.

“Harry? Mon cher fils, are you feeling well?” The first voice asks and Harry tries to settle with the new lighting. His vision was still absolute shite. 

“Where’s his glasses? Oh goodness gracious.” The more feminine voice of the two says, and he heard a contented sound. What feels like glasses are placed on his face, and Harry squints his eyes to distinguish the very good looking man that was standing to his left. He looked a lot like Sirius with the long black hair, pale complexion, sharp and aristocratic features. But he didn't have that roguish look that Sirius often wore. He looked slighter than Sirius did but had some sort of beauty to him that allured a lot of people. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The words escaped his mouth before he could even stop them. This man was pretty in the way Sirius and Draco were. He was obviously a Black but which one? Was this not reincarnation? Why the hell did it seem like he was an adult rather than an infant? Fucking hell, did Death actually botch up reincarnation?

The man — Black as Harry refers to him in his mind — froze. There was this terrified look in his eyes and Harry opted to put that aside for now to turn to the woman who stood to his right. She was also frozen in shock. Her hair was fiery, similar to Ginny's but it was… also very different. He doesn't know what to say about it but the way her hair was coloured did not exactly match the Weasleys. But her vivid green eyes were what made him freeze. He knew those eyes, saw them in the mirror every time he looked at himself. 

“Oh mon Dieu…” Black mutters, wobbling towards a chair as he massages his poor temple. Meanwhile, the lady with red hair took Harry's hand and looked at him with such woeful eyes that made him feel unreasonably guilty. Okay lady, he gets that their eyes are the same but she did not have the right to weaponize them against him. 

Enter another stranger who looked almost exactly like him, sans the eyes. 

“Harry! My baby!” The man yells, practically launching himself towards Harry. The man smothers Harry in this overly affectionate and loving hug, peppering unnecessary kisses onto Harry's very good looking face. But damn did that man look like him. “Oh my baby, my Bambi!” The man continues to dramatically cry out, suffocating Harry with his sunshine-like aura and terrifyingly powerful affection. Disgusting. 

“James… James, calm down…” The woman says, pulling the man away. 

James. James. James. James. James. James. James. 

“But Lily! Our baby's finally awake after a week! A week!” James practically sobs. 

Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily. 

“Reggie? Regulus, our baby's awake! Why do you look so sad?” 

Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. 

Harry stares at the trio, absolutely bewildered. One man was the literal incarnation of the sun with his demeanour and overall appearance. One man was pale-skinned, with jet-black hair that fell in elegant curls that made him look princely. While the woman had a fiery yet gentle demeanour that made her seem both approachable and not. Over all, the entire thing reminded him of himself, Hermione, and Ron… but different. Oh what the hell, everything was different. 

“What's wrong?” James asks, his expression wrinkling even more as worry overtakes his features. Harry finds it absolutely fascinating that someone could worry that much. “Oh for the love of— Harry, Bambi—” What the hell was up with that nickname? Bambi? Seriously? The movie about a deer getting orphaned? “You feel woozy? Need to vomit? I'll get you a bucket.” 

“James,” Lily repeats, sighing this time as she settles a hand on his shoulder. She pulls him away, dragging him to a corner as they whisper hurriedly on what obviously was about Harry. 

On the other hand, Harry turns towards the man who was staring at him like a hawk. He almost flinched, but he saw the obvious look of devastation and fear on Regulus’ face. It looked so horribly similar to Sirius’ that it made him purse his lips and avoid his gaze. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. He stared a dark lord in his eyes and duelled him, but one stranger's pained look was enough to make him relent. What in the absolute fuck was going on? 

“What do you mean he doesn't remember?!” James yells, startling them all and yet it didn't seem to surprise them. The man rushed back to Harry's side, taking his face and pulling them close. Well this was awkward. 

“What's your name?”

“Harry Potter?” 

“When's your birthday?” 

“Uhmm… July 31?”

James narrowed his eyes. 

“Who are your parents?” 

Oh now this was going to be hard. He was sure that his parents were James and Lily but something felt off. Like they weren't the only names he should be saying. If Death actually screwed up with not chucking him to the afterlife and reincarnating without memories (the whole process of fuckery he had expected), then he most likely was tossed into some alternate universe with everything completely different. 

Yeaahhhhh… no.

He wasn't going to hurt that pretty man's feelings by just saying Lily and James’ names. Harry was sure that he wasn't some sort of uncle but actually a parent. 

“Er…” he awkwardly faltered, using his amazing acting skills once and for all. He knew that befriending those theatre actors from France was a good idea. Damn they were brutal when they kept saying: “Destroy yourself and build yourself back together. Acting is the art of destroying yourself and creating something new!” That's bullshit. Oddly useful though and he was sure they would have been sorted into Slytherin if they had attended Hogwarts. 

Feigning forgetfulness was absolutely easy. Harry's memory—before the war—was almost comparable to a goldfish. His therapist had firmly stated that his atrocious memory stemmed from his blatantly traumatising childhood, in which he barely remembered shit and he could vividly remember other shit. Awful but particularly useful in some instances. Very annoying though with the frequent flashbacks that were randomly triggered… Well, that would do him no good in this new world. Better get a new therapist — was there an alternate version of his therapist in this new world? 

“Dear Merlin…” James bemoans, almost flopping down in a cartoonish manner. Very stupid but Harry was digging it. “My baby!” He cried, and Lily helplessly comforted what Harry assumed was her husband.

“The impact must have addled his brain.” Regulus suspects, rising from his chair to inspect Harry further. Strangely enough, Harry welcomed his touch and tilted his head in a way that was practically habit. 

Okay… what the fuck was his relationship with Regulus? And if his memory was correct than this was Regulus Black, the brother of his dogfather who sacrificed himself. Very tragic and Harry was ever so delighted to hear Molly had quite literally disintegrated the bitch named Bellatrix. 

“What impact?”

If Harry had to play the amnesia card then he would use it as much as possible.

Regulus sighs, “Harry, what was the last thing you remember?”

“Uhhhh… a lot of light. Flashes. Pretty sure those were spells…”

Sheesh, I’m screwed… 

“At the very least, he hasn’t forgotten about magic.” Lily hums, before turning to Regulus, “I’m going to call a healer.”

“Narcissa.”

“Obviously,” Lily laughs softly. Wow, she looked pretty. “Who else would I trust with our son? Besides, it wouldn’t do us any good if the youngest head of the Auror Department is the centre of gossip. Circe knows that Rita Skeeter will hound the healer that tends to our darling son. She wouldn’t dare to bother Narcissa.”

“Eh. That and she’s Bellatrix’s ex.” James helpfully added.

Ok… that was… informative. First of all, his family was in a seemingly good relationship with the rest of the Blacks. Rita Skeeter was the ex of Bellatrix fucking Lestrange. That alone was complicated. 

“Good point.” Lily smiles, before hurrying over to Harry and kissing his forehead. Very affectionately. 

My god, why are they so affectionate? He thought, slightly grossed out by it but weirdly welcoming it as well. 

“Listen to your fathers, sweetheart.” Lily sweetly says.

Fathers?! 

“What?”

“Merlin’s balls, he doesn’t even remember us!”

“Majority of his memories seem to have been altered…” Narcissa says, performing various scans that Harry may or may not know. That was a very good experience with Narcissa handling him both gently and roughly, while asking fairly intrusive questions. (Note the sarcasm.)

“He still remembers how to use magic, some names, and his love for quidditch and flying.” Narcissa cites her list of things that Harry remembers, “Along with his owl, Hedwig. In addition, he also remembers some relationships but anything beyond that seems to be a blank slate for him.

“How old am I again?” Harry dumbly asks, tilting his head while Regulus masterfully massages his head and stroked his hair. Fates almighty, that felt amazing. Okay, it’s official, Regulus Black was his favourite parent. Wait… What was Lily’s surname? Potter or Black? Or did they smartly hyphenate all three? That sounds like an absolute hassle.  

“Well, Harry… You are currently twenty-seven years old.”

“How old are the rest of you?”

“One must never ask the age of a lady,” Narcissa reprimands, but smiles in turn. “Lily and James are currently 47, Reggie dearest is 46.”

“How old are you?”

Instead of answering, she just smiled in this mysterious way that scared him.

He was surrounded by what was introduced to him as his family (dear god saying that was strange). One! Lily, James, and Regulus were married, Harry thought that Regulus would be the shared sweetheart, but apparently that was James with how effortlessly the man followed either his wife or husband around like a lost puppy. It was very weird to see but also amusing. Two! The Blacks were his family in biological terms because Regulus had blood adopted him all those years ago. Three! He was the fucking head of the auror department. 

Very bad! Awful! Horrific!

He did not swear to never work for the government for him to work for the bloody government in an alternate reality! Absolutely horribly. This was his fuckening! What was wrong with this world for him to work for the fucking ministry? Blasphemous… He refused to believe that the government had actually managed to make him work for them. 

What was wrong with the world? 

“Uhm… Question,” He awkwardly raised his hand, “Do I like the government?” He was trying very hard to keep his expression unreadable but he struggled strongly on hiding his distaste.

Regulus laughs — Oh my god he looked almost prettier than Lily — and patted his head. “Seems like your hatred for the ministry will never disappear. But no, you actually hate the ministry, but you still work for them. You wanted to be the DADA professor, but Remus isn’t ready to forfeit his position.”

That… made a whole lot of sense. Wait—Lupin was still a professor? AMAZING! 

He was smiling like an idiot; which Narcissa unfortunately interpreted as more brain damage.

“So you settled for becoming an auror. Scrimgeour adored you.” Lily chuckles, sitting at the foot of his bed. 

“And with your ambition—I blame Reggie for that—you rose up the ranks without issue and became head of the entire department by twenty-four.” James proudly states, before pulling Regulus closer by the waist, pressing a gentle kiss to his husband’s cheek.

Ew. Was this what having affectionate parents felt like? He thought, blanching at the sight, to which Lily smiled at. 

“Additionally, Minister Riddle likes to keep you close.”

“Huh?”

Fun fact, the government in this world was even shittier. 

Tom Riddle was only a couple years older than him and was the beloved minister of the entirety of Britain with superb connections in and out of the country. 

Harry wanted to die now.

“Treacle tart?” James offers, placing the plate of the tart between them.

Maybe after he ate the tart.

Everything was absolutely wrong. Dumbledore wasn't the headmaster anymore, thank Merlin for small mercies. All three (damn it was hard for him to think three) of his parents hated him. The man’s prejudice was blatant and apparently he was extremely condescending during his parents’ wedding. Which angered Harry to a certain degree. He really likes Regulus and his weird humour — a kind of humour Harry related to.

“Sweetheart, deep breaths.” Lily instructs, stretching her arms over her head.

His mother was a delightful woman throughout his recovery. Always taking care of him, pampering him just enough and keeping him in line. BUT THE WOMAN WAS INSANE!

Harry has never done yoga. He hated yoga. The stretching was bad for his broken and terribly healed bones. But apparently, his new body was much more healthy (blaming his obviously amazing parents for that). With the greatness of his new body — no wrongly healed bones, his body wasn’t littered with too many scars, they were still there but not the same amount as his last body did. And last but not least, he was fit. Like amazingly fit. The six-pack abs were wondrous to look at. 

“Mother—” He chokes out, struggling amongst the heavy muscles that his blessed new body had. “I think I’m gonna rip my limbs off.”

“Stretch, Harry.” Lily deadpans. 

And thus he stretched and almost cried.

“My prongslet!” Sirius screeched — dramatically might he add.

His ever so dramatic godfather launched himself onto him, and Harry effortlessly caught him. It was muscle memory from the likes of it. 

“He really doesn’t remember me?” Sirius pouts, before ruffling Harry’s hair affectionately. He still wasn’t used to parental affection. 

“Barely a thing. Still hates the government though.” Regulus replies, sipping his coffee as he silently judges what his brother was wearing. 

“Riddle would be devastated.” Sirius snorts, “He would have loved it if you didn’t have your memories. Bet he’d tell you he was your boyfriend.”

“What?”

James snorted, “He’s got that right.”

What?

First things first, he did not expect to be going back to work so quickly. His parents—as difficult it might be for him to adjust—were adamant that work might bring back his memories. Unfortunately for the PBE (the name in which Harry fondly refers to his trio of parents as), there were no such memories unless Fate and Death would kindly bring back the original owner of this strangely healthy body and thrust him into a limbo. 

The afterlife sounded so much better than living again.

Thankfully for him, his return to the ministry — knowing that he worked for the ministry disgusted him — came with a bout of chaos and madness. Coming in the form of what he assumed were the Order of the flaming chicken members. Apparently, Dumbledore went off his rocker in this universe and formed his own cult that was determined to remove all that is dark.

Pretty stupid in his opinion. 

Apparently, the cause of his amnesia was due to a risky and destructive mission against the order. As his subordinates were failing to defeat the order, fucked up with capturing a member too, he was forced to join in on the most recent mission, which lead to his brain injury. To be fair, he had been the one to successfully capture three members of the order of the burning chicken, at the cost of his memory. 

Stepping into the atrium, he was greeted with warm and relieved smiles. Damn, that was weird. Last time he entered the ministry, the blood bastards were hounding him to join the aurora department and now look! He was the fucking head of the damn department in a different universe. 

It felt so weird being there. 

“Boss!” He heard a cheery voice yell, whipping around to see a girl with bright rainbow hair. 

“Tonks?” His jaw dropped. 

The woman's hair turns into a bright bubblegum pink, inciting a squeal from her as she envelops him in a tight hug. Harry awkwardly patted her back, trying to shimmy out of her grasp. 

“Merlin's balls, you remember me? I heard you lost your memory!” Tonks blinks, a hand pressed to her mouth. 

Harry reluctantly smiles at her enthusiasm and loud personality, a bit irked though. 

“Can't remember much.” He admits, “But faces aren't so hard to recognise. Mind you, I'm struggling as is, so be a good cousin and help me with this shit, yeah?” Harry grins just as Tonks smiles ever so brightly. 

His family had debriefed him on other relatives. Apparently, Draco and Tonkd were considered as his cousins in this universe, via Regulus. Ron and Hermione were still his friends — thank god. And Luna was apparently his godsister; also because of Regulus. 

Seriously, why the hell did he end up being related to so many people because of Regulus? Was it because he was a Black? To be fair, the Black family tree was less of a tree and more of a damn bush. 

“Aww! You remember.” She teases, hair morphing from its bubblegum pink shade to light copper. Her eyes shifted from bright blue to silver, hooking her arm around his. “‘Suppose I should. Mum always said to take care of you when we were little. But you don't remember that…” she pouts. 

“Not a hint.” He chuckles, patting her head. He was quite amused that she had decided to change her appearance to one that looked like a child between Lily and Regulus. 

“Bet Luna would cry if she heard. Though, be careful of Draco. Pretty sure he'll take revenge for your pranks while we grew up. But don't take it to heart!” She frantically explains, “You two are peas in a pod. But… well… school rivalry existed and like… you two were stuck to the hip when you grew up… er…” 

Harry blinks, surprised to hear about his closeness to Draco. Draco?! Malfoy?!

“Don't take it to heart. Ron and Draco managed to be friends because of you.” Tonks laughs, playfully punching his arm. “C’mon now, boss. You've got an entire department to run.”

Loathing it, he had Tonks drag her towards the Auror department. Sure, she blabbered throughout the short journey, talking about his reputation in the workplace, his ethics, his code of honour. Apparently, the him of this world wasn't as heroic as the one Dumbledore curated. Well, that was a good thing really. 

Harry Potter; the man who became the head of the Auror Department at such a young age, allowing Scrimgeour to retire early. He was the old man's favourite, not just him, but also Moody. 

As Tonks said: “You and I were trained by Moody! But ‘course, he liked you better. You were more vigilant than me.” 

Okay… so he was trained under Moody and that landed him the position of head of the Aurora department. Well… that sucked. To be fair, he had to consider the fact that Crouch wasn't Moody in this world and would have been better than ever when it came to training Aurors. Maybe this body's reflexes will kick start mid-battle. 

The way to the Auror department was filled with loads of pleasantries. Smiling people who wished him good health, some who mourned his memory loss, and some who implied they were in a relationship (Tonks was quick to pick a fight with those people). But overall, he found it quite strange that everyone was so nice. The complete opposite of his world where the Ministry was a bitch on its own. He hated them but maybe this version was decent enough. 

“Oh! Wait—” Tonks giggles, summoning a blue cloth. “Cover your eyes.”

“If this is a surprise party, I will start firing spells at you.”

“Oh come on! Indulge the guys, alright? The idiots who were on the mission were you kept crying and almost submitted their resignation letters cause they think they're failures.” Tonks whines, pouting at his blatant displeasure of such surprises. 

Harry never liked surprises. He really hated them. It was like remember how Dumbledore sprung the fact he was a horcrux on him with a fucking memory instead of a real life interaction. The bastard. 

Reluctantly, he takes the blindfold and removes his glasses. Tonks gladly takes them from him and grabs his hand, guiding him past the doors where he could hear a lot of whispering from all over. 

“Shut up Ron!” 

“Fuck off! Can't I be sad for him? Who knows if he'll remember me?!” 

“You? Really now, Weasley. He can't forget you.” 

He recognises those voices. Bloody hell. Was that Hermione, Ron, and… Draco Malfoy? What the fuck?

Tonks giggles from beside him and removes the blindfold. In seconds, his eyes are assaulted by light and what feels like confetti being thrown into the air. 

“WELCOME BACK!” 

They yell and all he can do is squint at them. 

“Who the fuck—” he sputters, only seeing blurry blobs of colour. His eyesight was still shitty, a cursed fact considering how even James couldn't get his eyes fixed. In conclusion, someone cursed his bloodline and this was the result. 

“Dora, put his fucking glasses back on.” He hears… Draco? Not completely sure but it's similar to Malfoy’s tone of voice. 

Glasses are slapped on his face and he yells, cursing at Tonks who has assaulted his eyes and nose. The poor thing. His vision clears with the glasses and what he sees is a banner with the words ‘Welcome Back’ painted in red and black. People surrounded him, a cake in front of that was held by none other than Luna. 

“Oh…” He whispers, his gaze softening at her. “That's… that's quite nice.”

The bright atmosphere suddenly became solemn. 

“You don't remember… Do you?” Hermione frowns.

Harry laughs nervously, “Some names and faces, I can remember but…” he trails off, looking from face to face. The more he did, the more he couldn't recognise someone. 

The one person with particular pale blonde hair with equally pale skin marched forward, grabbing his collar. Harry's instincts kicked in and his hand twitched towards his wand, which did not go unnoticed. The man — Draco Malfoy — as he's recognised, faltered upon noticing that subtle action. 

“Do you remember me?” He asks, his voice harsh and yet so gentle. 

Harry answers with as much honesty as he can, “Your name, your face… but the rest? It's nothing but blank.” 

Draco releases his grip on his collar, frowning at him. “I see…”

The atmosphere shifts from its cheer to an awkward one where people struggle to speak to him. His memory was hazy. It made Harry question where the hell the original was and how the hell he'll manage without that person's memory. 

“Sorry—”

“Ehem!”

Their heads turned towards a newcomer barging into the department. 

Harry immediately recognises Barty Crouch jr….who looks exceedingly young compared to the last time he's seen the man. Gods, please don't tell him that Crouch was his age. 

“Potter,” Crouch raises a brow, “The minister is looking for you.”

That simple sentence had Draco gripping Harry's arm, tight and secure. There is concern in their eyes but Harry shrugs it off. “I'm okay.” He says, gently pushing Draco's hand away. 

“Cousin…” he addresses Harry, before glaring at Barty. “He's not well enough to be meeting with too many people. The minister can't just summon him out of nowhere.” He snaps, clearly irked that Harry — who is apparently his cousin now — was being made to work after so much has happened. 

“With all due respect, Healer Malfoy… The Minister is concerned with his employees, especially his most trusted head of department.” Barty smoothly explains, but there is a spark between the two men, an inevitable rivalry that Harry saw between himself and Draco back in his original world. “And Head Aurora Potter is the Minister's most trusted. It's not a surprise he wishes to speak to him.”

“The minister can come here himself to talk to him.” Draco glowers but is pulled back by Hermione and Ron, who whisper something into his ear. 

Nonchalantly, Harry observes this before glancing at Barty, who seemed intrigued by him. Harry returns his gaze by gently rubbing Draco's back, an action he didn't expect to perform but his body has responded without a second thought. 

“I'll be fine.” He assured them all, before approaching Barty. “Barty Crouch, right? Sorry, my memories are still jumbled up.”

Barty nods ever so slowly. “Well… I'll explain to you the basics of everything while we walk…”

Harry appreciates it, albeit, begrudgingly as Barty guides him out the department. He can hear the echoes of sorrowful farewells, like he was being sent to his room. Seriously, what had happened to him and the bloody minister?