Ghost of My Former Self

Harry was thoroughly confused. From the story he remembered, Ron mentioned that Tom Marvolo Riddle—the boy who would become Voldemort—had an award here for Special Services to the school. Yet, the award in question was not here. Would he lie? Would Ron lie to me about that award? At the moment, it seemed plausible. Ron already turned on him; it was because of Ron that he was even here in the first place. Ron turned on him and it seemed as if he could no longer trust the boy he once considered his best friend. So, maybe he was lying; maybe Ron was desperately seeking the attention he craved at home and saw fit to lie to him and Hermione about the award Riddle received for saving the school.

But, the problem was that this explanation still didn’t explain where his and Ron’s awards were, the ones received for Special Services to the school for preventing the Heir of Slytherin from attacking the muggleborns. In fact, that was the same thing that Voldemort received his award for when he framed Hagrid. And, Dumbledore even said they would be given awards for what happened down in the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore would never lie to him, not about something like this. Where then were the awards?

Given everything that happened thus far, it was clear to Harry that another meeting with Dumbledore was necessary. Dumbledore was sure to have the answers he was looking for. No one else seemed willing to help him; Malfoy clearly thought he was crazy; Ron was teacher’s pet; Hermione wouldn’t even go near him; and his sister seemed to be no help at all. All his sister was doing was getting in the way. And, it could not be more irritating.

As he scrubbed each trophy until it shone, Harry could think of nothing save the mysterious disappearance of these awards. Where could they have disappeared to? Upon diligently scrubbing half the awards in the room, Harry heard footsteps headed straight for him. The sponge fell from his hand and splashed into the bucket of soapy water just as Filch and Mrs. Norris walked in. “I don’t see you working. Shall I assign you more work?”

Harry retrieved the sponge and shook his head. “No, sir. You just spooked me. I thought you were someone else. There’s no need for you to give me more to clean,” Harry insisted.

Filch began grumbling something before turning to the cat. “Come, Mrs. Norris. Maybe we can find some misbehaving children out of bed, just waiting to be caught in the act,” he murmured.

Once Filch was gone along with the yellow-eyed cat, Harry returned to his cleaning. The sooner the job was done, the sooner Harry could return to Gryffindor Tower and deal with the fact that Ron lied to him. Maybe there was a reason for what happened. If Harry could get Ron to act civilly towards him, he might be able to understand why Ron felt the need to lie to him. Then, there was also the odd disappearance of his and Ron’s awards, awards that Dumbledore swore they would receive. No thanks to Lockhart and Lucius Malfoy, Harry and Ron were able to ensure that the basilisk was destroyed and the school remained open.

An hour and a half went by before Harry was permitted to return to Gryffindor Tower; he was under order to go directly there, with no detours. Harry, to his own surprise, followed that order knowing that Malfoy wished to continue their conversation from before. Upon giving the password, Harry entered the Gryffindor Common Room only to find Ron hunched over what looked like an Arithmancy book. “How was detention, Potter?” he asked, not bothering to look up.

“Dreadful,” Harry grumbled.

“Good!” Ron exclaimed. “Serves you right for not doing your work.”

Harry glared at the red-head angrily. After all that happened earlier in the week, Ron had the gall to lecture him about following the rules. Since when did Ron Weasley care about the rules and rigidly follow them like Hermione always wanted to. “And, who are you to tell me what I’m allowed to do?” he asked. “You’re not the boss of me. And, if I recall, it was you who stated that you’d never want to be friends with me because of my association with Malfoy. So, unless you intend on becoming my friend, I suggest that you mind your own business.” After that, Harry stormed away, not caring what Ron had to say next.

“Potter!” Ron yelled. “Get back here!”

Harry ignored him and went to his room. After what he did, Ron didn’t deserve to speak to Harry. Ron didn’t care about what Harry was dealing with. Neither did anyone else, but Ron was different. Thanks to Malfoy’s influence, Ron turned on him and cared only for himself. Flopping down on his four post bed, Harry smothered his face in a pillow. I need to find out what’s going on. There must be some explanation as to why those awards simply aren’t there.

∞

A bright pinkish hue from the sunrise peeked through the curtains to the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory. That was what woke Harry up the following morning. Thankfully, he remembered it to be Sunday, so Harry had the chance to come up with some answers, to understand why everything he remembered about his life became so altered. It was a terrible thing waking up in a world you knew nothing about. And, that was exactly how Harry felt, lost and confused as he was at the beginning of first year when the magic world was all new to him. He would not allow it to occur again. So, he resolved to speak with Dumbledore the first chance he got. When first he spoke of these strange occurrences to Dumbledore, he seemed quite willing to provide answers. But, the disappearance of the scar side-tracked him and a lot of the questions Harry had were left unanswered.

It was without a shadow of a doubt that Harry was sure he’d find the answers he searched for in his next meeting with Dumbledore. The Headmaster knew more than he was letting on and Harry knew it. All he had to do was seek the answers. Harry pulled himself out of bed and prepared himself for the day; he’d try to speak with Dumbledore about the matter immediately following breakfast.

Taking great care to avoid Ron as he went through the Gryffindor common room, Harry headed down to the Great Hall. During much of breakfast, Harry would cast a glance up at the staff table, keeping an eye on the Headmaster so he could speak with him. After what he realized last night, Harry was positively sure of the fact that he could not wait to speak with someone about the abnormalities he was seeing this past week. It might even get worse if left unattended as everyone else was doing. And, that was not something that Harry wanted to see happen. Since first entering Hogwarts five years, Harry spent year after year dealing with the effects of Voldemort’s plans. He would not allow it to happen again. This time, Harry was going to do something about it before anything else could happen.

Most of breakfast was peaceful, as no one bothered to speak with Harry. He wanted seclusion and that was usually what he got. Though he hoped it would continue, Harry found that he got no such thing. “Harry, what’s with you?” Seamus asked. “You seem so different these days.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Seamus,” Harry intoned.

“You sure, Harry?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Seamus shrugged. “Okay,” he said, turning back to the Dean.

That was close, Harry thought, returning to his breakfast. He could not have anyone find out what was going on, not after that first day. Memories of that first day came flooding back to Harry, when he was confused about the fact that Neville was in Hufflepuff and Hermione in Ravenclaw. Seeing them in a house other than Gryffindor confused the hell out of him and Harry was not about to let that happen again. He was going to make sure that didn’t happen again.

Breakfast ended a short time later and Harry made a beeline for the Headmaster’s office. So as to avoid Malfoy and the impending lecture he’d get from him, Harry decided to do this now. If he waited any longer than he was, Harry would only spend the entire day worrying about what was happening. And, it wasn’t like he had anything more to do that day. So, Harry hurried off to Headmaster’s office to find out why the life he was living was one he knew nothing about. Before he could get there, however, Malfoy stepped in his path. “Harry, we didn’t finish our talk from last night,” he stated. “Now, you have some explaining to do.”

“About what?” Harry asked.

Malfoy crossed his arms. “We went over this last night. Why are you looking for someone I know you’re not friends with? I know for a fact that you barely tolerate each other and yet here I find out that you’re looking for her. I can only wonder what that reason is.”

“I’m not sure who you mean,” Harry stated.

“Granger!” Malfoy yelled. “From the first day you met her, you pulled me aside and told me that there was absolutely no way that you would learn to get along with Hermione Granger. If this is the case, why is that I find you going out to try and speak with her, for whatever reason?”

Harry stood there shell-shocked. He knew there was something going on, but he never suspected that both his friends would have led very different lives if he never became friends with them. And, the worst part of this whole situation was that he had no idea why. For the time being, he was utterly clueless as to the reason behind his friends’ sudden change in attitude. Some things had not changed all that much—Seamus and Dean—while his two closest friends seemed to have stopped speaking to him completely. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Draco. I’m utterly clueless,” Harry explained.

“Sure you are,” Malfoy muttered. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

It was no surprise that Malfoy wasn’t going to believe him. After the way Harry was acting towards him, why would he? Sure he hadn’t been acting like himself, but that was only because he had no idea as to what was occurring around him. Not like he could tell anyone about that, for no one would ever believe him. Dumbledore seemed to, but no one else ever would. Anyone else he told his story would only think him crazy. He had already spent a week in this crazy messed-up world and he was no closer to uncovering the reason for any of it. “Why not go ask Dumbledore?” Harry asked. “I’m sure he could tell you.”

“Dumbledore?” Malfoy asked. “What would he know?”

“He knows what’s going on,” Harry explained.

“I really don’t see how Dumbledore would know why you’re acting so strange,” Malfoy argued. “The teachers—that old fool especially—barely pay attention to anything going on in the school; they only care when something happens. I doubt any of them would ever know why you’ve been acting so weird; and that goes especially for Dumbledore. Now, why don’t we deal with this on our own and move on with our lives? I am not in any mood to go around asking teachers if they know why you’ve been acting so strange all week.”

Harry shook his head. “No way! I came to speak with Dumbledore about this. He knows what’s going on and would be willing to tell me. He probably would have told me sooner if he could, but I think there was something stopping him. So, I’m going to find out. And, if you want to know what’s going on as well, you might want to come with me. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Malfoy asked.

“Not really,” Harry insisted.

“Fine. Whatever,” Malfoy groaned.

Harry led Malfoy over to the stone gargoyle. “Black licorice,” Harry said. He guessed that the password would not be changed, not for the next few days. Based on past experiences, the password would only ever change every third week. And, he was quite sure of the fact that it would not be done yet.

“And, how do you know the password?” Malfoy asked.

“Because I’ve been here within the past week,” Harry explained. “I told you before that I came here a little while ago asking Dumbledore for answers. I got some, but not all. After a week of confusion, I am not about to go another week without answer. Now, come on, Draco.”

Rapping softly on the door to the Headmaster’s office after leading Malfoy upstairs, Harry began shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Nervous?” Malfoy taunted. “What could you have to be nervous about?”

“Everything!” Harry retorted. “You don’t know what’s it’s like to wake up in a world you have no idea about to find that your worst enemy is now your best friend. So, keep quiet, Malfoy!”

“Haven’t I told you about calling me by my last name?” Malfoy shouted, pounding his fist against the wall. “I don’t want to hear that word uttered from your mouth in my presence. Not ever!”

“Why not?” Harry inquired.

“You have your secrets; I have mine,” Malfoy shot back. “And, whereas you may be willing to talk about your problems, I most definitely am not. Now, if you want me to learn about what you find so strange about this world, I suggest that you lead the way, Harry.”

The door to the Headmaster’s office swung open and the two teens were instantly swept into the room. “Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy. To what do I owe this visit?” Dumbledore queried.

“I need some answers,” Harry stated.

“And you, Mr. Malfoy?” the Headmaster asked.

“I need proof of what my friend is claiming,” Malfoy stated.

Dumbledore nodded. “What do you need to know?”

“Everything,” Harry said.

“Such as?” he inquired.

Harry took a deep breath and began to list off some of the strange things that he had been during the past week. “When I was last in here I told you that I woke up to a world I knew nothing about. Thanks to friends who don’t believe me,” Harry shot a look at Malfoy, “I am still clueless as to how this world is different from my own. Would you to explain? I must know how the world I currently am in is different from my own. I need answers.”

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, a sliver of a smile peeking through. “Well, where shall we start?” he asked, looking back at forth between Harry and Draco. “What do you think is the most important thing that must be explained?”

“Sir, I need to know what happened to the timeline.” Harry inquired. “Before waking up in this world, I was sitting with Hermione and Ron in the Gryffindor common room. I went to bed and the next thing I know, I’m here. I’ve been trying to understand what happened, but with no help whatsoever from the people who claim to care about me; I am left dealing with this on my own. And, anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I am not good with things of that nature; Hermione was always there to help me through it; so was Ron.”

“Tell me, Harry, the night before you came here; was there anything unusual about that night, something you might have said on that night that you’ve never mentioned on any other occasion?”

Harry thought back on that night, the night before everything in his world changed. He had been sitting in the Gryffindor common room talking—or rather ranting—to Ron and Hermione about everything that was wrong with his life: Voldemort, Malfoy’s odd behavior, and the Ministry. But, when his scar started burning, that was when Harry adjourned to his bedroom. “That night,” Harry remembered, “it was the last night my scar hurt. It was on that night that my scar disappeared.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Harry, my boy, I think I know what happened.”