Ghost of My Former Self

Harry Potter was still in shock from the news he received earlier that day. Clenched in his fist was the note that shouldn't exist, the note from his parents. His parents were supposed to be dead. They were killed by Voldemort on Halloween fifteen years ago. Two years ago when Harry and Voldemort dueled in the graveyard, he recalled seeing his parents' spirits being emitted from Voldemort's wand. That was proof enough that the Potters were dead. So then, if this was the case, how was it possible for Lily and James Potter to be alive, to have sent this message to their son.

And, Rachel? How did Rachel exist? She was thirteen, an impossible feat based on the timeline Harry grew up to know so well. There was no way she should exist when his parents died when he was but a year-old. Any sibling he had would have been a newborn when Voldemort came to murder him, and would have suffered through the Dursleys' wrath right alongside him. However, it was clear to Harry that Rachel showed no signs of having suffered the Dursleys' wrath like he did. She seemed happy, hanging out with her friends Annie and Brianna; Rachel seemed oblivious to the world—and the danger—around her.

Nothing here seemed to make an sense. No one acted as they did two days ago. For two days, everyone at Hogwarts acted as if an opaque veil had been cast in front of them. Only Dumbledore seemed aware of the truth, of how odd everyone seemed to be acting; however, he wasn't saying anything about it, not to Harry nor any of the other students. There was an inexplicable bout of craziness that entered Harry's world in the past week, and he did not like it. Not one bit. His parents were alive; he had a younger sister; his most prominent feature—the lightning bolt scar—was now gone; Ron was now the insufferable know-it-all that Hermione one was; and Hermione…well, Hermione was still an insufferable know-it-all, but the Sorting Hat placed her in Ravenclaw, for whatever reason, so she was allowed to be one.

And, worst of all was the fact that he was friends with Draco Malfoy. After their first meeting in Madame Malkin's, Harry knew there to be no possible way that he and Draco Malfoy would ever become friends. As they each got measured for their robes, Malfoy spent a good chunk of time putting down any wizard who wasn't a Pureblood. Without knowing who his companion was, Malfoy insulted Harry for having a Muggle-born witch for a mother. And, for that comment, Harry chose not to become friends with the stuck-up prat named Draco Malfoy. It was never going to happen; so, how did it? How did the biggest rivals in Hogwarts become friends?

Somehow, his enemy became his closest friend, and his best friend was barely speaking to him. It was madness. In the span of eight hours—the night before all of this occurred—Ron’s entire personality shifted. He was no longer the chipper mate whom Harry could always rely on, the kid who would shove everything in his mouth and always have a witty retort handy for when Malfoy appeared. This kid no longer existed; this was no longer the case. It was as if Fabian Prewett's presence influenced Ron's newly-acquired brains, and work ethic. The Ron he knew never cared much for school, preferring to procrastinate with his assignments. That was the position Ron was in the night everything changed, the night Harry's life was seemingly turned upside-down.

But, the bright side was that at least he got to see Ron. Harry barely got to see Hermione the way things were at the moment, her being in Ravenclaw for the moment. With Albus Dumbledore's ingeniously formulated plan to create inter-house unity between the four houses, Gryffindor was often paired with Slytherin for classes. It was a half-baked idea, to say the least, for it was since the days of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin in which the rivalry existed. Nothing would ever change that. Any attempt to change that was a futile effort; but still Dumbledore tried. Gryffindors and Slytherins were paired for classes while Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws attended classes together. This made seeing Hermione, let alone conversing with one of his closest friends a near impossible feat. And, even if he could find a way to speak with Hermione, Harry felt sure she'd turn away. After the outburst in the Great Hall, he knew it would happen.

The note from his parents balled up in his fist, Harry paced the common room a few times before slumping into the nearest chair. He was sick of this, sick of not being able to understand what happened to his life. Answers; that was all he wanted, all he craved. Right now, however, it seemed as if waiting was all he could do. "What is happening in my life? How could my life have become this?" he wondered aloud.

A gruff voice soon filled Harry's ears, a voice he never thought he'd hear ever again. "What are you blathering on about?" Ron asked, peering over at Harry from his place on the couch where he was reading.

Never expecting to hear the voice of his best friend ever again, Harry's head shot up. He smiled briefly at the red-head he once called his friend. Something happened to change the nature of their friendship, and it was unclear as to what it was. There were times where Harry still believed it to be Malfoy’s doing, but there was no way for him to change everything that happened. No spell, no enchantment could be used to bring his parents back to life—that much he knew. Malfoy surprisingly was not responsible for all of this as Harry initially surmised. But, he might still be responsible for Ron’s new personality, and Hermione’s place in Ravenclaw.

"Ron," he said with a smile, "you have no idea as to how good it is to hear your voice. The past few days have been miserable without you and Hermione around. I hate not having you around."

"Sorry, but do I know you?" Ron inquired in confusion.

Harry nodded. "You should. Ron, you’re my best friend. Since the day we met on the train six years ago, we’ve been inseparable. If not for you, I might have died trying to get through the transfigured Wizard Chess mess, and Quirrell would have succeeded in acquiring the Sorcerer’s Stone for Voldemort; Ginny might be locked in the Chamber of Secrets forever; we never would have discovered that Scabbers was Wormtail, or Peter Pettigrew, whichever you prefer; I might never have made it through the Tri-Wizard Tournament, or watched as Voldemort reclaimed his body; Lucius Malfoy would have succeeded in getting the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries," Harry explained, recounting the past five years’ adventures. "Ron, there’s no telling what would have happened if you and I never became friends on our way to Hogwarts."

Dropping the book so that it landed facedown on the floor, Ron scoffed. "You’re obviously delusional. I have no idea who you are, and certainly have no clue what you’re referring to. I’ve never been a part of anything like that, and am most certainly not friends with the likes of you. In fact, aside from books—and my uncle—I have no friends. You must have me confused with some other friend of yours: maybe Malfoy, that slimy git."

"How could you think I’m friends with him? I hate the ferret as much as you do. Ron, you know that!" Harry exclaimed. "There’s no way I could ever be friends with him, not ever!"

"I’d believe that, if you weren’t friends with the boy. Makes things hard to believe," Ron stated.

Harry’s emerald green eyes were wide. He could not comprehend how Ron would think that Harry James Potter could ever be friends with a Malfoy. Nothing in Malfoy’s personality ever indicated that he would ever have any real friends; he was incapable of such a thing. Malfoy cared only for himself; no other person ever mattered to him. "No way, Ron! I could never be friends with a self-serving git like Draco Malfoy."

Ron removed his book from the floor. "Don’t care. And, besides…" Before he was able to finish, the ornate grandfather clock sitting in the corner of Gryffindor common room chimed ten times. Harry gathered up his effects and headed downstairs. It was time for Charms. But, Harry knew that not even Charms could occupy his mind, prevent him from thinking of his current situation. What was worse was attending double Potions after lunch. He was forced to sit beside Malfoy as Snape gave a brief speech about importance of brewing Amortentia—the love potion—correctly.

Harry was most definitely not in the mood to brew Amortentia; he preferred to brew Veritaserum instead. But, with the Ministry’s regulations on truth serum, there was no way for Harry to use the Veritaserum to confirm whether or not Malfoy was responsible for Ron’s and Hermione’s new attitudes. With Harry’s boredom level increasing, he could barely pay attention. His involvement was but a hindrance; so when Snape ordered them to brew Amortentia, Harry allowed Malfoy to do so on his own. Under normal circumstances, Harry never would have trusted Malfoy to do his work. But, he had no choice; his focus was split.

While Malfoy was busy chopping ingredients, Harry’s mind wandered to one of the reasons Harry despised Malfoy so much. If not for Lucius Malfoy wanting the prophecy from the Department on Mysteries, Harry would never have lost his godfather. Sirius Black died to keep Harry safe, and he blamed the entire Malfoy family for that gut-wrenching loss. Sirius was closest thing Harry had to family with his parents gone; with the events at the Ministry, he lost that as well.

"Professor, there’s a student not doing his work." A voice jolted Harry from his mind and he searched around for whom the voice belonged to.

"Who is it, Weasley?" Snape’s voice boomed.

Harry’s stomach dropped, his bottom lip trembled in anticipation of Ron’s answer. Surely, he wouldn’t rat me out, would he? "It’s Potter." Yes he would. Ron truly had changed if he would rat his best friend out to the least-liked teacher in the school.

"Potter!" Snape bellowed. "Detention!"

"What else is new?" Harry mumbled.

"That’s another!" Snape yelled. "Would you care for to make it a third?"

Harry knew better than to answer Snape’s question. If he were to answer the question, he was sure to receive another detention, he could not afford to waste anymore time than he already had. So, Harry kept his mouth shut, and turned back to Malfoy to kept Snape’s wrath at bay. "Good. Now, get to work! Mr. Malfoy should not be doing all of your work for you!"

After Snape moved on, Malfoy elbowed Harry. "What was that about? I thought you were over that whole bout of confusion and spouting out lies."

"I thought I was too," Harry lied.

"Then, what was that display a few moments ago?" Malfoy asked.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with the situation at hand," Harry stated.

"You better!" Malfoy grumbled. "I no longer wish to hear anything out of the ordinary that leads back to you."

As Malfoy went back to chopping ingredients, Harry glared at Ron. How could Ronald Bilius Weasley have become so cruel that he’d turn against his own friend? It was truly unbelievable that things could have gotten this out of hand.