July One-shot #2: Harry raised by his older self

This was what I originally wrote after the poll that turned into something else completely. If I continue this one, it'll likely have some smut but be mostly plot heavy, and might not even be harem in the end.

...

“Harry, I must reiterate that I believe this to be a foolish endeavor.”

“Upgrading to foolish now, you old goat? Next you'll move up to childish.”

The long suffering sigh from the Headmaster's portrait was so lifelike, Harry once again wondered if portraits were just a little bit more alive than previously thought. It was like Albus Dumbledore was still there in the flesh, paternalistic condescension coming through on every breath.

“This is not a game, Harry. You are dealing in magics that even I struggled to comprehend. I dare say not even Voldemort would have dared wade into these waters.”

Harry snorted as he continued to draw the ritual circle, taking great care to be as precise as possible. “Of course. How could a mediocre wizard like myself even dare think to mess with something that the true titans of magic left alone? You know who's fault it is that I was unprepared for all of this?”

“Harry, we've discussed my failings in depth, and I have acknowledged them, but what you're about to do-”

“This isn't about your failings anymore, old man. This is about options. The world is fucked. Even if I was strong enough to fight the dark fucker, which I'm not, there isn't much out there to save.”

“There are still some-”

“A couple of isolated villages worth of wizards, some muggles here and there and a handful of Death Eaters? Your plan failed spectacularly, old man, and I am not going to pick up the pieces of your bullshit.” Harry applied the finishing touches to the runic circle, tossing the chalk off to the side. “Lets say I miraculously manage to kill him, then what? My reward is living through a barren hellscape the rest of my life and hope that in a few generations, the world can be somewhat livable? No, fuck that, old man. I'm going to be selfish. Either it works, or I die, both are better options than the alternative.”

Dumbledore's portrait deflated, it having dawned that there was nothing to be done to dissuade Harry from his current path.

Harry didn't give a fuck. Dumbledore had played a risky hand, hinging everything on an extremely convoluted gamble that required every little thing to fall into place exactly right, a gamble that fell apart the moment Voldemort used his brain and decided not to engage Harry in a duel in the Great Hall.

The years that followed brought nothing but hardship. Ginny, Hermione and Ron had died early on, and Harry could no longer picture their faces. Voldemort broke the Statute of Secrecy, turning the war from a British affair to a worldwide conflict, and while at first, Harry had thought bringing in other powerful mages to fight Voldemort could only be a good thing, it had the opposite effect.

Law-abiding wizards were strong, but they tended not to push the boundaries of magic. Crazies that spent decades immersing themselves in long-lost magics in a secluded forest, though? They tended to side with Voldemort. Or worse, want to carve out a domain for themselves after pandora's box had been opened.

Harry had done his best. He'd managed to survive as titans clashed, and while he'd improved immensely over the years, time was not on his side. If he'd had a few more decades, perhaps Harry would have been able to match Voldemort and the other powerful mages that came out of the woodworks once the statute was well and truly shattered worldwide, but he didn't have that time.

 Even as he'd hid and bid his time, with Voldemort distracted by much bigger fish, he was still just barely able to match Bellatrix Lestrange, much less the truly overpowered centenarians.

In the end, Voldemort had come out on top in a struggle that destroyed all civilizations, muggle, wizard and creature alike. Everything was in ruins, and Voldemort had become even more powerful than before, as well as even more deranged. 

Harry knew trying to face what had practically become a living weapon of mass destruction would be suicidal. 

Which was why this other option intrigued him so. So what if he fucked up the timeline and destroyed the universe or something by traveling so far back in time? The world was already fucked, none of it mattered.

Harry stepped into the circle, offering Dumbledore the double bird before he slit his wrist and let the blood pour into the runes.

He didn't need to chant, didn't need any incantations or any further spells. He just let the ritual do its work as his vision blurred and he lost consciousness, everything around him glowing brightly. As he felt the cold creep in, Harry realized just how tired he was, and whatever happened, he was just content to be done.

…

Birds chirped. People mowed their lawns, children ran around on the sidewalks. 

Harry hadn't expected to feel so off. After nearly a decade of post-apocalyptic living, nothing unsettled him more than the sheer normalcy of his surroundings as he trudged down Wisteria Lane.

Every step he took, he expected an explosion, every bush contained a horror beyond imagination that was ready to burst out and attack him. And yet, nothing happened.

None of this felt real. It felt like a fever dream. He'd had to pinch himself multiple times, but the stinging wasn't nearly enough of a jolt to assure him that he was, in fact, alive.

“Get it together, Harry.” He muttered under his breath, uncaring of the people that eyed him suspiciously.

He had transfigured some clothing for himself, but had not cared to try and fit in with the muggles around him. To be frank, Harry couldn't recall what normal muggle clothing looked like, and he didn't give a single fuck to try and fit in with these people. They'd all looked at him as a freak when he'd been a child, let them stare at him now.

He had a hand in his pocket, the squeeze he gave his wand filling him with comfort. Maybe he shouldn't have apparated here directly after arriving in the past, maybe he should have given himself a bit more time.

It was too late now. He wasn't going to back off. He'd thought this part through well enough.

Go in, incapacitate the Dursleys, take his younger self and escape for the continent.

It was easy enough. He was definitely one of the three or four most powerful wizards in Britain outside of Dumbledore. And he was himself, so the blood wards would be none the wiser about his presence until it was too late.

Then, while far away from Dumbledore's influence, he could begin plotting. Harry was seven, so he had years to figure out a way to kill Voldemort. He could try and capture him in Albania, he could wait until Quirrell picked him up. He could use Sirius-

Sirius! He'd completely forgotten about his godfather. He would need to figure out a way to break him out of Azkaban. It would be easy work, and he'd have another ally in his struggle-

Harry stopped as he took in his surroundings. He was at a busy crossing. There was an elementary school right in front of him and a row of shops on the other side of the street. There were a few homes off to the side, but he was clearly transitioning out of a residential area.

Where the fuck was he?

He couldn't remember where Privet Drive was.

“Excuse me.” He said, his voice sounding strange to his ears. A mother holding onto her son's hand looked at him with unease.

“...Yes?”

“Do you know where Privet Drive is?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Privet Drive? You're a ways off, I'd suggest you take the number four bus to Wisteria station and then figure it out from there.”

“The… number four bus?” Harry asked, his brain completely scrambled now. Where was the bus stop?

The lady sighed. “Sit at that bus stop right there. The schedule’s on the board.”

“Thank you.” He said.

As he made to leave, the little boy looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Mister, are you a soldier?”

“Huh?” 

“Come along now, Freddy.” The boy's mother pulled him along, walking briskly away as the boy twisted his head to stare at him.

Harry glanced down at himself. Had he dressed like a soldier? Were the boots too much? He'd consciously made sure not to wear anything too long or flowy, but had he messed up regardless?

He shook his head. It didn't matter. He glanced at the bus stop, almost ready to cross over, when a better idea came to his head.

There was another mother and son duo about to get into a car. Without a second thought, Harry cast a confundus charm on both of them as he got into the passenger's seat. 

“Take me to number four Privet Drive.” He told the glassy eyed muggle lady, who simply nodded as she turned the key in the ignition.

It took her about twenty minutes to get there, but once they were on the right street, the memories came flooding back. 

“Stop here.” 

They crawled to a stop several houses down. Harry got off and leaned in through the window. “Go home, have a nice evening, have something nice for supper.” He lightly tapped the roof of the car twice before the woman drove off. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, hand once again wrapping firmly around his wand.

His eyes darted everywhere. He was sure that he wouldn't trip the blood wards, but he wasn't sure what other security methods Dumbledore had in place.

He saw several cats lounging around by one particular yard when it struck him. Arabella Figg! The woman had a floo connection directly to the headmaster's office. 

Harry seethed. There was no one sitting by the window, no old lady watching number four like a hawk. The woman was likely not paying attention, he would be fine.

He wished he'd tried to dress more normally now, though, as he knew he was sticking out like a sore thumb.

In. Out. Over in a few minutes.

He quickened his pace to a brisk walk. Fuck it. He could get this over and done within the blink of an eye. He pulled his wand out of his pocket as he walked up the path to number four.

He didn't bother to knock. He flicked his wand and the door swung open. He didn't even break his stride as he walked in.

“Who in the bloody he-” Another flick and Vernon was tossed aside like a ragdoll. He flew from the dinner table to the stairway and there was a sickening crunch as his head hit the bannister before he tumbled down the stairs. 

Petunia and Dudley screamed as Harry looked at his uncle's twitching form. He hadn't meant to hurt him, he'd just wanted the man incapacitated.

Nothing to it now. He silenced his aunt and cousin and melted their seats into their bodies. He was taken aback by their agonized expressions until he realized what he'd just done.

“Fuck.” He cursed. He couldn't exactly reverse what he'd just done. Where he'd come from, there had never been a need to learn how to heal others.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He should have really taken some time before coming here. Still, it was only his relatives, and when Dumbledore showed up, he would be able to fix Petunia and Dudley. Once they were obliviated, it would be like nothing had happened. 

He turned to the cupboard door. He was surprised that his younger self hadn't come out in all the commotion. He walked over, throwing it open with a thought.

He peered in. There was a school trunk and a broom bunched up on the corner next to a vacuum cleaner and some laundry detergent.

“What?!” Harry threw the vacuum aside, as if he'd find his younger self hiding behind it.

He spun around and looked to Petunia, who looked to be on the verge of passing out, her face chalky white as Dudley's head lolled off to the side next to her.

“Where is he?” He boomed. He went to cancel the silencing charm when he thought better of it.

“Homenum revelio.”

As he tipped his head upward, he saw the burning red light that indicated the presence of a human being, in the room right above the kitchen.

He sprinted up the stairs, skipping over Vernon's twitching body, his eyes vacant and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

He came up on the smallest room at number four, Dudley's toy room, his old room. 

There was a heavy padlock on the door.

Harry ran his hands through his face. When had this happened before?

Third year? Fourth? No, second year. Summer before second year. When Ron and the twins had had to break him out. Summer before the Chamber incident.

He had arrived five years later than intended.

“Fuck!” Harry punched a wall, fist breaking through the drywall as his whole body tensed.

“I can still work with this. I still have time. I its really not that bad. I can grab Pettigrew… or maybe I need him to go free so I can locate Voldemort… goddamit!” He didn't have time for this. He needed a good night's sleep. But first, he had to take Harry away from here.

This time, he tore the door completely off its hinges, sending it crashing through the wall and out into the Dursley's back yard, where it jammed into the tree. The same tree that aunt Marge's dog had once chased him up to.

He could hear Hedwig hooting wildly as he walked in. There, on the bed, looking terrified, was his eleven (or was he twelve already?) year old self. Helpless and wandless, young Harry was shaking. He was such a small, slight little thing. Harry had never truly realized how malnourished he'd been until now.

“W-Who are you?! Are you the danger Dobby was talking about?” Younger Harry said.

Harry shook his head, trying to calm the throbbing headache that had built up in his head. He needed to calm down. He was still in survival mode, in kill or be killed mode, that would not work right now.

“Harry, I know this is hard to believe, but I'm you, from the future.” 

“Me?!” Young Harry yelled in disbelief as Hedwig's screeching began to drive Harry mad. He silenced his old familiar as his younger self took in his features.

He'd suffered no major injuries, he hadn't been disfigured. His hair was shaved at the sides and he no longer wore glasses, but the eyes and the features were all unmistakable.

“N-No way! This has to be a trick!” 

“Harry, I don't have much time. We really need to be going right now.” Harry racked his brain for something that would convince his younger self. His mind was so fuzzy, memories all muddled up.

“The hat almost put us into Slytherin!” He hadn't revealed that to anyone yet, had he? “It said we could do great things. We begged not to go!”

Young Harry's eyes widened. He'd gotten through to him.

“We don't have much time, Harry. We need to leave now, come on!”

His younger self grabbed Hedwig's cage as Harry turned around and ran downstairs. He kicked Vernon's body off to the side and summoned his younger self's trunk and broom from the cupboard. 

“What is- UNCLE VERNON! W-What happened to him?!” 

Harry glanced down at the body and then looked back at young Harry, whose face was turning green as he stared at his uncle's corpse.

“Harry-”

“Who are you? I would never do something like that! Who are you?” Young Harry began backing his way up the steps. 

“Goddamnit Harry, we need to get out of here!” Harry reached out and grabbed his younger self by the arm.

That had been a mistake.

Lighting coursed through them as Hedwig's cage clattered to the floor. The door burst open and the snowy white owl took flight, going upstairs and escaping through the hole Harry had created.

It was like they were being electrocuted. Both Harry's bodies convulsed as they fell down the stair, ending up crumpled up on the floor, older Harry's hand still attached to his counterpart.

It took all of Harry's willpower not to pass out. His younger self wasn't able to do the same, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he lost consciousness.

Finally, whatever happened stopped. Harry let go of his younger self, and then stupidly tried touching him again. To his great relief, nothing happened.

He got back on his feet, letting out a sigh. “Well, I guess its easier this way. I can explain things better later.” 

He grabbed Harry's trunk. He couldn't remember if his wand had been locked in there, but he figured it must have. He wedged the Nimbus into the crook of his armpit and grabbed his younger self's wrist.

He twisted in place, picturing the sandy shores of a beach in northern France he'd visited many times over.

His head exploded in a migraine as the squeezing sensation that had been building up popped like a bubble.

He couldn't do it.

Harry massaged his temple as he tried to calm himself down. He'd apparated across continents many times before, it was something that he'd long since mastered.

Whatever happened with the other Harry must have disrupted his magic somehow. Perhaps if he took a shorter hop.

He twisted once more, picturing King's Cross station this time. He felt his magic strain against what was being asked of it, and once more, it didn't work.

“Fuck!” He cursed.

“Aurors on the scene! Toss your wand now!”

Harry's eyes widened as he looked to the front door, where a pair of figures skulked into the home. 

He didn't even think. Years of well-honed reflexes kicked in. They were still by the doorframe, and with a subtle flick, he would make the entire thing cave in on them.

Except it didn't work. He felt a strain inside his body like he'd pulled a muscle. Seeing the movement, the aurors sent stunners flying his way.

Harry rolled to the side. He tried again, this time something much simpler, casting his own stunner towards them. 

His entire arm burnt as the spell struggled to break past the tip of his wand. When it did, it moved slowly, making it easy for the aurors to evade.

The senior auror of the duo, a bearded man that Harry was sure he'd met before, sent ropes snaking his way. Reflexes still intact, Harry kicked his younger self's trunk into the path of the ropes. The younger auror - Tonks! It was Tonks! - was running around, aiming to get a better angle to properly subdue him.

Harry was magically crippled, but he hadn't survived in the land where titans roamed for nothing. His mind quickly came up with a solution.

He aimed his wand at the kitchen and poured all the power he had into a stunner. Once more he felt his arm burn, and this time when he fired the crimson spell his arm flared up in agony before a rapid numbness settled in. He doubted he'd be able to cast anything else.

Thankfully, it worked. His stunner moved just a little bit faster, and, thinking it was way off course, the older auror let it sail right into the kitchen, where it struck the Dursley's gas stove.

Tonks realized what was happening at the last second, and she managed to shield herself as an explosion burst from the Dursley's kitchen.

The other auror wasn't so lucky. Harry heard him scream, but he'd already turned around, so he didn't see what happened to him. He grabbed the nimbus as his back was sprayed with razor sharp shrapnel. He could barely move his right hand, and when he wrapped it around young Harry, the pain flared up once more. He ignored it. He grit his teeth as he managed to get them both on the broom and he flew off towards the second floor.

A spell zipped by and Harry turned his head wildly. Tonks was running after them, her face a little bruised but none the worse for wear.

“You should tend to your partner!” Harry yelled down.

“You killed him!” She hissed as she tore a hole through the wall and sent wood flying Harry's way.

Harry maneuvered expertly. He'd always been a natural, and he'd had a lot of experience using brooms as a means of escape over the years. He dodged the bigger chunks and let the smaller pieces strike him in the arm, a splinter digging into it as he turned the broom around, laying both his and the other Harry's bodies flat on the broom as they flew out through the new hole Tonks had opened up.

He was out in the sky now, rising quickly. A glance back showed a growing crowd was gathering around number four. The obliviators would have their work cut out for them.

He pushed the broom forward, needing to gain as much distance as he could. Up here, high in the sky, his sense of direction returned, having spent years navigating above the clouds. 

When he finally slowed down a bit, he heard a small gasp as his counterpart came to.

“W-What is going on? Where are we?” Harry looked around frantically. “Is this a dream?”

“Harry, I need you to calm down. I know this is a lot to ask right now, but I need you to trust me!” 

“You?! You killed uncle Vernon! You're crazy, why would I trust you?!” The other Harry spat, the broom dipped downward, Harry felt his own control over it slipping as his younger self seemed to easily overpower it.

“Harry, listen to me! I am you! I know it doesn't make sense to you, but I've been through some shit. Shit that I want to try my hardest for you to avoid! Please, Harry, I need you to trust me, to trust yourself! Just this once!”

The younger Harry's eyes were narrowed, but after a beat, he felt his control over the broom return as the boy bowed his head.

“I'll trust you, for now.”

He let out a breath. 

“But we need to get down. You need to explain yourself.”

Harry grit his teeth. “I'll get us down once we get over the channel.”

“Over the channel? We're not leaving England!”

Harry growled. “We need to! The further away we are from Britain, the safer you'll be.”

“I'm not leaving until you explain what's going on!”

Harry felt his control over the broom slip as his younger self put them into a dive. He tried to wrestle it back, but it was completely useless.

“Alright, fine. Just let me take us somewhere that wont be easily tracked.” 

“Fine.”

With his magic acting the way it was, there was nowhere he could take them where they couldn't be tracked. He couldn't set up a privacy ward, and he wouldn't dare attempt to break into Grimmauld's in these conditions.

On the other hand, his younger self was wandless, and as long as he didn't perform any magic, it would be difficult for the ministry and Dumbledore to track them down. 

Harry saw a thick smattering of trees, instantly recognizing the Forest of Dean. He eased the broom down, disappearing into the canopy.

When they touched down, his younger self jumped off and backed away from him. Harry let the broom fall. Instinctively, he grabbed his wand, but he hissed as his arm burned fiercely and he was forced to drop it.

“Are you really me?”

“I am, Harry, I swear. I am you from the future.”

“Why are you such a psycho?”

Harry snorted bitterly. “You can thank your kindly old headmaster for that.”

“Professor Dumbledore? What does he have to do with this?” 

“Everything, Harry. It's his stupid fucking plans that lead to this. He's been controlling us from the start, he was the one that left us with the Dursleys, by the way. Ms. Figg reports to him, he's using us in a convoluted plot to kill Voldemort, and it doesn't fucking work.”

That seemed to blow his younger self's mind away. “No! No… that… that sounds crazy!”

Harry grimaced as the pain in his wand arm returned with a vengeance, along with the little pinpricks on his back where he'd been struck back at number four.

“He's been manipulating us, Harry. Earlier this year, he didn't explain why Voldemort went after our parents, did he? It's because of a prophecy, Harry, a bloody prophecy. We were prophesied to kill him and he went after us, and now we're the only ones that can kill him.”

That was perhaps a bit too much to put on a child all at once. Harry's eyes darted every which way before they rolled to the back of his head and for the second time, he passed out.

…

Tonks stood watch as the medi-wizard stabilized her partner. Robard's chest was slowly rising and falling now that they'd stabilized him. He was badly burnt, but none of them were magical. One of the healers told her he'd make a full recovery after a few days at St. Mungo's.

The quiet suburb of Privet Drive was a whirlwind of activity. A network of muggle repellent charms had been established around the perimeter of number four. The immediate neighbors bad been put into a dreamless sleep while everyone else got obliviated and sent home.

Next to her, Kingsley put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Chin up, rook, this was a lot for a first assignment. You did all you could do.”

Tonks nodded absently. She was still reeling from all that had happened. This was her first official day as a full blown auror. The training wheels had come off, she'd felt excited to go on patrol. Most of the morning had been standard, doing a couple rounds around Knockturn alley and then dealing with an unruly drunk over in Hogsmeade.

And then they'd gotten called out to the suburbs of London. A case of improper use of underage magic, a second offense, which meant they needed to take the child into the Ministry and confiscate their wand.

And then everything had happened. It had all been such a blur, Tonks had not been aware of the three dead muggles in the home until the far later, when the forensic team came and swept the place.

And then, to top it all off, she'd found out just who's home this was. Harry Potter, she'd failed to save Harry Potter from being kidnapped by a maniac, she'd let the savior of the wizarding world be taken away.

“Auror Tonks.” 

She was startled out of her thoughts by a kindly old voice. She looked up, stiffening as the tall figure of Albus Dumbledore stood before her, the man who only two years ago had been her headmaster.

“P-Professor! I mean… Supreme Mugwump!”

Dumbledore chuckled, a twinkle in his eye as Kingsley looked in with an amused smile. “Headmaster is fine, Auror Tonks. I would like to ask if you could run me through what happened here today, perhaps we could view your memory-”

“What exactly do you think you're doing, Dumbledore?” 

The headmaster's kindly smile did not drop off as Amelia Bones approached, arms crossed as she glared at both him and Kingsley.

“I simply wanted to ask Miss Tonks some questions about what transpired here.”

“You wanted to interrogate my subordinate before I had debriefed her.” Amelia retorted.

“No need to be so hostile, Madam Bones. He is the Chief Warlock.” Kingsley said.

“And Mr. Potter is my student as well.”

“And right now it's summer, and there are a lot of people already asking questions about why there were bars on the windows to Mr. Potter's room.” 

That finally seemed to shake Dumbledore's confidence. “Bars?”

“Yes, bars. We also found a heavily padlocked door in the yard, it raises a lot of questions as to Mr. Potter's home life. Wasn't it you that had taken responsibility for that?” 

Tonks’ head was pinging between the headmaster and her boss, her mind swirling. She had no clue Lady Bones disliked Dumbledore.

“Madam Bones, please, I believe right now we should focus on rescuing Harry.”

Amelia stared at the headmaster. “Auror Tonks, come with me, I will need to view your memory of the incident. Once I have reviewed it, you will of course be free to view it yourself, in your capacity as Chief Warlock.”

Dumbledore gave a short bow. “I shall wait by your office.”

Amelia gave Tonks a curt nod. “Let's go.”

“Yes ma'am.” Tonks said as she walked over to the redhead. Amelia grabbed onto Tonks’ arm, twisting in place and popping away towards the ministry.

Dumbledore was left alone, staring up at what was left of the Dursley home, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

…

Harry's eyes fluttered open. He rolled over on the plush, large bed. It was quite comfortable, and he buried himself into the silk pillowcase.

He almost drifted off to sleep again before the events of the day all came rushing back to him.

He jumped in the bed, eyes darting across the large, opulent room before they fell on his older self.

The older Harry was sitting on a chair by a window. He was shirtless, showing off a muscular build that was littered with old scars and bruises. His torso was bandaged up, as well as the entire length of his right arm, which was tightly wrapped in white gauze. 

“You're up.”

“Where are we?”

“Cornwall.” Older Harry explained. “Rich people have summer homes here. This particular family decided to go somewhere else for the summer I guess. Probably Monaco or something.”

“So we broke into a house?”

His older self snorted. “Harry, are you serious? Listen, things are getting really complicated, so I need you to have your head on straight.”

Harry pushed himself up on the bed. As he did, his older self tossed a wand at him. He quickly reached out for it, it was his same holly and phoenix feather wand, though it wasn't really his wand.

“Just to show I'm not trying to hurt you.” The other Harry explained. “Now listen, this is a long fucking story, and I don't want to have to explain anything twice.”

An hour later, young Harry was still trying to wrap his head around all he'd been told. There was so much all at once. The prophecy, his godfather and scabbers, the fact that he had a piece of Voldemort's bloody soul inside of his head. It was all so much.

And that future his older self talked about, with supremely powerful wizards running around and causing chaos, destroying anything and everything. It terrified him.

He almost didn't know where to begin. “So Voldemort beat all of them?”

Older Harry shrugged. “There were a few that were even more powerful than him. This one maniac had spent a century deep in the Amazon jungle - gods, he was fucking scary - he blotted out the bloody sun and no one was ever able to figure out how to reverse it. This other guy commanded an army of hellbeasts that were immune to practically everything, and this one chinese wizard somehow turned the pacific ocean into a pool of acid that turned all the sea creatures into inferi. It was bad, but Voldemort had something they didn't, the prophecy. None of them could kill him, because only we can do that, and slowly, he managed to overcome them all. Though he came out of it even more insane than ever before.” Harry shook his head. “In the end, he was nothing more than a mindless monster looking to destroy anything that stood in his way.”

Harry shivered. Suddenly, Uncle Vernon's mangled body was the last thing on his mind. He looked over to his counterpart. He could see the pain in his eyes, he knew everything he'd said was true.

“What now?”

“Now, we try to get as far away from Dumbledore as possible. We need time to figure things out.”

Harry frowned. “But what about the chamber? I can't just let Ron's sister die! Or let that monster attack the school!”

Older Harry shook his head. “It sucks, Harry, and I would want nothing more than to take out the diary-” He put a hand up before Harry could protest. “I'm not saying we're not gonna do anything! I'm just saying we need time to regroup. We have until the end of term next year to figure out the chamber thing. Hell, we could leave an anonymous tip to someone… hell, to Dumbledore, and he can take care of the whole thing. As things stand, if we stay here, Dumbledore will find us.”

“But we just need to talk to him. If you tell him everything you told me…”

His older self shook his head. “He's a stubborn old fucker. You don't know him like I do, Harry. I hope you never have to. Dumbledore will obliviate both of us and maybe turn me into a muggle or something as a sign of ‘benevolence’. You don't understand, Harry, those titans of magic, those people who break through a certain threshold, it doesn't matter if they're light or dark, they lose something in the transition. They lose some of their humanity. Dumbledore doesn't see us as people, he tries, or pretends to, but fundamentally, we're closer to ants to him than fellow humans.”

Harry couldn't quite believe that. Even after everything his older self had said, it was hard to reconcile it with the grandfatherly figure that he'd met last year.

“Besides-” his older self said with a frown. “I can't even defend myself right now. Something happened when we touched, and it fucked up my magic. I can barely cast basic spells without my body wanting to tear itself apart.”

“Is it permanent?”

He shrugged. “I hope not. But for now, I'm barely more than a squib.” He nodded towards the wand. “You might as well use that, seeing as we left yours behind. Holly and phoenix feather, should still work the same.”

Harry grabbed the wand, feeling its weight in his hand. It felt the same as his own, but it was more worn, it felt older, and the longer he held it, the more he felt a strange sensation run up his arm.

“Did you do something to it?”

“Do something to it? What are you talking about?”

Harry looked up at his older self. “I-It feels hot, somehow, like it's about to burn up.”

The older Harry got up from the chair, brow furrowing in confusion. “Hot? What else do you feel?” 

Harry shrugged. “A tingling, I guess?”

“Try to use a spell.”

“Won't they track us?”

“I made my wand untraceable. Even if you use it, they won't be able to find us.”

“What spell do I use?” He hadn't exactly put much practice in during first year. He knew about a half dozen spells at best.

His older self's eyes narrowed. “Don't try to use any known spell. Just think of something, anything you want to do, and wave the wand at it.”

Harry hesitated. Everything they'd been taught over the school year was that magic needed precise movements and incantations. Still, he was eager to try, if only so he could then let go of the wand that felt like it was going to boil over and fly from his hand.

He focused on the chair his older self had just vacated. He figured a simple levitation charm would do, though he doubted he'd be able to cast it silently.

Harry flicked his wand, imagining the chair floating up in the air.

The chair shot up like a bullet, crashing through the ceiling and rattling around in the next floor over.

Harry was shocked. This felt like accidental magic, but it wasn't. His conscious intent had been there, it just felt like he'd floored the gas pedal.

The other Harry looked very intrigued, giving him a calculating look. “I think I know where most of my magic went.”