The Next Great Adventure

The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow.

“I’ve got to go back, haven’t I?”

“That is up to you.”

“I’ve got a choice?”

“Oh yes.” Dumbledore smiled at him. “We are in King's Cross, you say?  I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to…let’s say…board a train.”

“And where would it take me?”

“On,” said Dumbledore simply.

Silence again.

“Voldemort’s got the Elder Wand.”

“True.  Voldemort has the Elder Wand.”

“But you want me to go back?”

“I think,” said Dumbledore, “that if you choose to return, there is a chance that he may be finished for good.  I cannot promise it.  But I know this, Harry, that you have less to fear from returning here than he does.”

Harry glanced again at the raw-looking thing that trembled and choked in the shadow beneath the distant chair.

“Do not pity the dead, Harry.  Pity the living, and above all, pity those who live without love.  By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart.  If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say good-bye for the present.”

Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would be too hard – though not nearly as hard as walking into the forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here.  He found that he did not want to leave.  If he did, he’d only be heading back to pain and the fear of more loss. Hadn’t he done enough for the souls and families of others?  He stood up, and Dumbledore did the same, and they looked for a long moment into each other’s faces.

“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry as he boarded the train.  “Is this real?  Or has this been happening inside my head?”

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even as the whistle blew and the engine whirred as the train slowly ground to a start.

“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

******

He was lying on his back on a lumpy mattress.  The musty smell of the room filled his nostrils.  He could no longer feel the ache from the Killing Curse or the Cruciatus Curse.  Harry bolted upright and suddenly realized where he was.  This was certainly not the Forbidden Forest.  Dumbledore had said that if he wanted to move on, he could simply board a train.  What had gone wrong?  Harry was not a religious man - after all, the Dursley’s had never deigned to have him accompany them to the chapel on Sundays - but for a moment he considered whether Voldemort’s soul had damned him.

If this was Hell, he reasoned, he would be in his cupboard rather than Dudley’s second bedroom.  Even when Uncle Vernon had installed bars on the window and locked him inside indefinitely, Harry had secretly preferred it to the misery of the dark, dusty cupboard.

He peeled off the thin, scratchy comforter and padded barefoot across the wooden floor to his window and gazed out at Privet Drive.  It was just as he remembered. He could see Arabella Figg on her early morning walk with Tibbles in her arms and Mrs. Johnson weeding her front garden.  A soft hooting noise pulled his gaze away from the neighborhood.  Harry’s eyes filled with tears as he caught sight of Hedwig, alive in her cage.  She ruffled her feathers and cocked her head to the side curiously.  Harry slid two fingers through the bars and stroked his owl.  She nipped at his fingers affectionately. Merlin, he had missed her.

Harry froze when he heard his aunt’s footsteps coming up the stairs, passing right by his bedroom, and down the hall to Dudley’s bedroom, where she knocked twice and gently woke her son. He chose not to wonder why he’d been left alone, and continued looking around the room.  The loose floorboard was empty, devoid of any sweets sent by Mrs. Weasley or his friends.  On the wall were his drawings and a sheet of paper with numbers.  He didn’t remember that one.  Harry walked closer to the wall where it hung to inspect it closer and his heart jumped to his throat when he realized what it said.

August 1991

He forced himself to start breathing as he stared at the makeshift calendar he had used to tick off the days until his first year at Hogwarts.  Today, apparently, was August 2, 1991.  How could he be back in 1991?

Dumbledore had simply said that the train would take him on.  Harry was the one who had assumed that meant onward to the Afterlife.  Why couldn’t the man ever be straightforward with his plans or explanations?  Especially after they had spoken at great length about his own past and the plans he had kept from Harry. 

Dumbledore had also once told him that death was the next great adventure. Is that what this was?  A second chance at his life?  Harry wracked his brain for anything Hermione had told him about time travel.  Anything that could explain how he’d arrived here and what he should do. There was one month left until Hogwarts, and if he remembered correctly the Dursley’s had left him well enough alone after meeting Hagrid.  That gave Harry one month to figure out what he should do.

Harry crept down the hall and into Dudley’s now empty bedroom. He opened the desk drawer and snatched the first notebook he saw.  It’s not as though Dudley would notice it missing, Harry reasoned.  He returned to his room, unhindered.  Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Harry began to write as much as he could remember about the battle, the horcrux hunt, and all his years at Hogwarts.  With luck, this would help him to come up with a plan.

******

The rest of the month passed slowly.  It was surprisingly depressing to be left to his own devices by the family that was either too frightened to be in the same room as him or too ashamed to be related to a wizard to look at him.  He filled the time by skimming his first-year textbooks to refresh his memory on this year’s coursework and writing in his notebook as memories from years’ past returned to him.  

After remembering Hermione’s warning in third year about bad things happening to wizards who meddle with time, Harry decided it would be best to leave things as they had been for the moment.  As such, on the last day of August, he approached Uncle Vernon during his television show to secure a ride to King’s Cross Station to board the Hogwarts Express.  He later congratulated himself for managing to tamp down his anger at the snide comments of his relatives and maintain a blank expression while they mocked the platform number.  His aunt had been there, for Merlin’s sake.  He’d seen it in Snape’s memories.

The journey to the station was no less bleak than it had been the first time, but he endured the mocking.  Soon, he would be at Hogwarts.  Soon, he would be home.  The Dursley's departed and Harry wheeled his cart around aimlessly while he waited for the Weasleys to arrive.  Finally, he heard Mrs. Weasley’s voice from behind him.

“– packed with Muggles, of course –”

As he did the first time, Harry swung his cart around and followed the six Weasleys through the crowded station.  Mrs. Weasley glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of him. Harry supposed that this must have happened the first time around, as she continued without comment and did not look back a second time.  They stopped before the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

“Now, what’s the platform number?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Nine and three-quarters.” Ginny piped up from beside her mother.  Harry couldn’t help but to stare at his young ex-girlfriend.  She looked so innocent and utterly free from the trauma she had endured at the hands of Tom Riddle’s Diary.

He waited as Percy and the twins disappeared through the barrier, before approaching Mrs. Weasley to ask how to access the platform.  His heart ached as the twins joked at their mother’s expense and later helped him with his trunk. 

“Blimey!” said Fred, after George had pointed out Harry’s scar. “Are you – ”

Unlike when he was eleven, Harry was quite used to people noticing his scar.  He smiled politely at the twins and nodded. “Harry Potter?” he finished for them. “Yes, I am.”

The twins gawked at him.  It was disconcerting for the two of them to look at him the same way as the rest of his adoring public.  Luckily, they were soon called away by Mrs. Weasley.

Harry settled into his compartment and closed the window.  There was no need for eavesdropping this time around.  He already knew everything he needed to about his best friend’s family.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and waited to introduce himself to his very best friends.