Greater Than, Lesser Be / Part Five, B - END
Greater Than, Lesser Be
Part Five, B
Previously...
**
Dorset. Cloak & Dagger Headquarters. July, 1995.
Harry Potter was not entirely sure why his uncle Remus was escorting him to Cloak & Dagger in the middle of the summer holidays. Especially with the media going bonkers over everything that happened on the night of the Third Task.
Harry sighed. Since that night, Harry Houdini’s disappearance, the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort and his defeat at the hands of Harry Houdini, the capture of Peter Pettigrew and the clearing of his godfather’s name, as well as the capture of the many Death Eaters who flocked to Voldemort’s call… it had been a busy few weeks.
The media hounded Harry and Cedric constantly upon their arrival at Hogwarts the next day, having been the only two Champions alive to see Voldemort’s resurrection and the beginning of Houdini’s fight with the dark wizard. Reporters clamoured for their quotes, their impressions. Their classmates asked them the same questions, interrupting lessons with retelling of the last Blood War.
Harry was tired of it all. He just wanted to go back to his home in Wales and crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head and wish the summer away.
Because every time someone asked him about Houdini, Harry didn’t know what to say. Voldemort died thinking the man he was fighting was James Potter, back from the dead. But Harry saw the scar. He knew that wasn’t true.
It didn’t make sense! It couldn’t be true…
… but who would believe him if he told anyone? If he said that he killed Voldemort, only a version of him that was older, jaded and far more dangerous than he would ever be?
So Harry swallowed his suspicions and kept them secret, locked away deep within him, forgetting he even saw his counterpart’s face that evening.
Until now.
Remus did not speak, solemnly leading him up through twisting corridors until they entered a large boardroom near the CEO office. Houdini’s office. Merlin above, his office.
Remus nodded cordially at one of the youngest men in the room, who was sitting near the head of the table, just left to the empty chair at the head. The one Remus was leading Harry towards.
The young Potter swallowed his fear and the lump that suddenly grew in his throat. Silently, he took the seat at the head of the table, feeling like lightning would strike him down as soon as he sat in it. He remained tense and edgy as Remus sat in the chair to his right.
A quick glance down the table had Harry recalling the names of the Heads of Cloak & Dagger: Remus, Camilla, Yui, Edith, Sebastian, Justine, his godfather Sirius, Piers, and Jonathan on his left.
“Harry…” began Remus, softly. Harry flinched violently, but forced himself to face Remus. “Um, there are some things that we need to take care of today. It… it will be a lot to take in, but you deserve to know these things.”
Harry nodded. Remus took a breath and asked, “Do you have any questions before we start?”
Harry paused, looking at the people in the room. Either they were looking at him hungrily or sadly, like he was an image of someone they knew and missed. They must have known who Houdini was, realised Harry suddenly. His Uncle Remus must have known too, the entire time.
“He was me, wasn’t he?” asked Harry, in a convoluted, roundabout way. His voice was matter-of-fact, sad and simple.
Remus jerked back, startled, but a small smile crept onto his face. Everyone in the room looked at Harry the same way, but his godfather. Perhaps Sirius didn’t know…?
“Yes, Harry. You’re right. Houdini was you,” replied Remus gently.
“What?” barked Sirius from where he was sitting, eyes wide.
Remus turned to face the last Marauder. “Harry Houdini was, in reality, Harry Potter from the future. When he was twenty-seven, Harry learned that he was ingesting a variant of Amortentia, which caused a less severe reaction to the subject of the potion. It allowed for a gradual increase in affection over a long period of time, which could finally result in the subject of the potion being weaned off it after several years. The potion would then retain its potency. It is liquid Imperius.”
“It’s also illegal in every single magical country and state in the world,” inputted Edith, who along with Sebastian studied the potion. “While not as potent as Amortentia, it’s ten times as dangerous because it completely destroys the free will of the subject of the potion. They become a shadow, a shell of themselves.”
“And Harry was drinking this?” asked Sirius, aghast. It seemed as though he was accepting that Houdini was his godson from the future, but Remus was sure he was just trying to rationalise and pick something to focus on first before he would go back to the revelation of his time-travelling godson.
“Yes,” answered Remus, continuing the story. “But that’s not all. When Harry learned of this, he went to confront his wife and mother-in-law. They confirmed it, but Ginny-” Remus glanced at the started Harry Potter-“then revealed something far worse.”
“What was it?” breathed Harry, fascinated, disgusted, and completely taken with the tale.
Remus frowned. “She revealed that Harry discovered the truth about the love potions before. He discovered that he was not the only one of his friends who was doused with the potion and how they were all being used and guided through their spouse for another reason-an ultimate goal of some kind.
“Harry never discovered what that goal was. But he did learn something else-Ginny used a spell on Harry that was supposed to send his soul back into his one-year-old body, without his memories, to relive his life over again.”
Harry gapped openly at the idea of having to go live with the Dursleys. Had Houdini not intervened with Remus, would Harry still be in the cupboard under the stairs? Would he be at Stonewall Secondary, or at Hogwarts? Would he have finally died, succumbing to one of Vernon’s violent beatings?
It didn’t bear thinking about. Those things didn’t happen. Houdini had saved Harry from the Dursleys.
“We came across a similar spell,” inputted Justine, taking up the story from Remus and drawing the attention of those in the boardroom. “While it’s not an exact translation or the same spell, it has enough similarities that we were able to piece things together.”
“How does it work?” asked Harry, turning his full attention to the witch. If someone had used this spell on a version of him before, he wanted to know what to watch out for in the future!
Justine cleared her throat. “We back-tracked it using Harry’s memories and the notes his source gave him before the time jump. Essentially, we think Dumbledore may have come across the spell in the first reality-now, hang on here because this is where it’s going to get tricky: in the first reality, Dumbledore discovered the spell and for whatever reason, he sent Harry back in time to relive his life. From the notes, we can only assume it is because Harry didn’t fall into line with Dumbledore’s ‘grand vision’ because he sent Harry back after Harry was in his sixties.
“Thus began the second reality with Dumbledore retaining his memory of the event. He now knows the spell and knows where to find the spell… whether it is in a book, a scroll, or whatever.
“Harry lost his memory but Dumbledore didn’t. Now, maybe Dumbledore wasn’t sure that he’d live long enough in the second reality, so he told the spell to Snape to use as a last resort. And, according to Harry’s notes, Ginny mentioned that Snape sent Harry back again for a third time when he was sorted into Slytherin.”
Here, Harry Potter made a face. He was proud to be a Gryffindor!
There were some stifled smiles around the table at the sight. Jonathan continued for Justine. “We’re now into the third reality. Snape’s retained his memory of the spell but Dumbledore doesn’t know about it now. He’s also lost some of the vital information, such as where Dumbledore originally found the spell because he didn’t tell Snape. They’re now passing on information verbatim to each other, losing information of what the spell does or how it truly works each time they cast it.
“Some more stuff happens in this reality and instead of Dumbledore or Snape making Harry relive his life, it’s Molly Weasley who’s not happy with how things are going. Maybe Harry and Ginny didn’t get together. Maybe he had an affair with Hermione. Maybe Ginny had an affair. Who the hell knows-we just know that she tried the spell out and sent Harry back into the fourth reality.”
Remus cleared his throat and continued for Jonathan, catching Harry’s attention and speaking clearly, if not softly. “This leads us to the world we knew Harry came from. In the fourth reality, Harry defeated Voldemort at the age of seventeen while camping out with Ron and Hermione and searching for the horcruxes. Many friends and people he cared about died, Sirius and me included.”
Harry was sure he face reflected the horror he felt at the thought of losing his Uncle Moony and godfather.
Remus smiled gently and reached out to touch Harry’s arm. “Dumbledore and Snape were also dead; Molly Weasley remembered the spell and once Harry and Ginny were married, she taught it to Ginny in case anything would happen. Think of it as a precaution. When nothing happened for several years, things settled… until Harry received information from his employer about Ginny and Molly’s use of sanctioned love potions on Harry… and his friends.”
“But why would she do that? Why would Mrs. Weasley do that to me, or Hermione or anyone else? And Ginny?” asked Harry, thinking back to the shy redheaded girl who sat with her friends at the house table. He couldn’t picture the little girl becoming the vixen and bitch Remus was painting.
“Who knows, Harry,” answered Remus patiently. “Harry Houdini never found it out, either. All he knows was that he confronted his wife and mother-in-law, which led to him chasing her out of the house and a duel on their property.”
“And then she cast the spell,” finished Harry quietly, looking down at the wooden tabletop.
“Yes,” agreed Remus, just as quietly. “She did.”
“But how did Harry keep his memories?” asked Sirius, piping up from his seat.
Yui raised a hand to take the question. “Mr. Black, Harry kept his memories because his line of work required him to be knowledgeable in various magical fields for safety purposes. While he did not have to be a master of all his trades, he had to be competent enough in them. Moreover, one of those he needed to know was Runes. On the night of Ginny’s attempt of the spell, Harry changed whatever runes he recognised into something else that made sense to him. The backlash of the spell was to send him into the past, as Ginny intended, but with his memories intact and with his current body.”
The room was silent, allowing the two who didn’t know of Harry Houdini to absorb the information presented. There were still many unanswered questions, but Harry was sure he could wait for another day to have them answered, especially if Remus knew Harry Houdini as well as he was hinting at.
“So what am I doing here, then?” asked Harry, getting back to the original reason.
There was some shuffling as those at the table settled more comfortably into their leather chairs. Remus pulled out a briefcase from the floor beside his chair and opened it. He pulled out several heavy-looking pieces of paper, all cream coloured and thick.
He hesitated, then slid them across to Harry to look at. A single gold ballpoint pen was placed next to Harry’s left hand.
“When Harry created Cloak & Dagger, he knew there was a chance he wouldn’t survive his final plan. It was always to destroy Voldemort,” stated Remus, ensuring that he caught Harry’s eyes as he spoke. “His sole purpose for creating the company was to publicly announce Voldemort’s return so there was no smear campaign against you, like there was when the TriWizard tournament happened in his reality; but also to prevent the multitude of deaths that his reality experienced. He wanted to save you from the same fate he was manipulated into by taking the role of Voldemort’s destroyer.”
Harry stared into Remus’s amber-coloured eyes and saw beyond the words his uncle was speaking; there was a reason why Harry Houdini fought Voldemort to the death that Remus was not saying. Harry would speak to him about it… but another time.
“Harry knew he wouldn’t survive,” said Jonathan quietly as Harry looked hard at the papers in front of him. “But he wanted the company to go on. Remus can’t legally hold a company in his name, being a werewolf, and the rest of us declined.”
“So he left it to you,” whispered Remus. “He left everything of his to you-who better than the same person as himself? The Potter trust ensured you never had to work if you didn’t want to, but… Harry wanted you to have something you could play with and create things with. He wanted you to bring a new era to the wizard world with our non-magical electronics and to help change the world.”
No pressure, thought Harry darkly for a moment, but the thought left him just as quickly as it arrived. Harry had wondered what he wanted to be when he ‘grew up,’ and Hermione was going on about how in their fifth year they would have career counselling…
At one point in his life, Harry thought to be an Auror. Fame and glory from Quidditch never interested him and he wasn’t as interested in Herbology as Neville was, or brain-crunching jobs like Hermione geared towards…
But the possibility of creation? Or to take something and make it new? Images and ideas began flowing into Harry’s brain and suddenly he realised why Harry Houdini did some of the things he did. There was reason to his madness, it seemed-and who knew Harry best than himself, really?
Harry reached forward and gripped the gold pen in his right hand, and began signing.
**
Harry’s wrists still ached from signing the papers hours later as he, Remus, and Sirius left the Cloak & Dagger building, deciding to forgo the apparition point in the basement. Harry would have all the time in the world to discover the nooks and crannies that the previous CEO had created.
They walked through the shiny gates at the edge of the company property, turning off the paved road and walking down the country lane. No cars passed them, leaving them to their thoughts. Harry was sure that Sirius was having trouble dissecting the idea of his time-travelling godson and all he sacrificed for the good of this reality, but Harry was more concerned about Remus. Sirius only knew of Harry Houdini briefly and more in passing-for Remus, Harry Houdini was a friend.
Glancing at his uncle from the corner of his eye, Harry began to wonder. What was Harry Houdini like as a wizard and man? Why did he choose to do the things he did? His life experiences made him stronger-did he not think that Harry could be just as strong as he was? Who were his best friends? What was he afraid of? Was he afraid of anything?
There were more and more questions piling up in Harry’s head and soon he realised other than the public persona that Harry Houdini adopted, Harry knew nothing about his doppelganger.
“What was he like?” blurted out Harry suddenly, the words escaping his mouth and tumbling into the silent air, sharp like staccato notes.
Remus nearly missed a step in their stride, glancing down at his pseudo-nephew with wide eyes. He recovered, frowned a bit and thought.
Harry was sure that Remus would not answer; Harry Houdini’s missing body likely meant the man was dead or else in another reality with no way of returning. Remus would be mourning his friend.
“He was a great man.”
Both Harry and Sirius turned to Remus. The words were spoken softly, kindly. More followed.
“Some people do things because they want the recognition. Others do it because they want the money. Harry… he did those things because he could. Because he realised he was the only one who could do them and he wasn’t afraid of doing it all over again if it meant those he cared about and loved were safe.
“Do you know what the word ‘great’ is defined as? Of someone with exceptional talents or achievements, being remarkable or arising from the idealism of thought or action.” Remus had a faraway look on his face, as he stared down the country road and towards the horizon. Sirius and Harry greedily drank up the serene look on Remus’s face.
Soon, Remus was speaking as though to himself. “Harry… what Harry Houdini, that other version of you… what he did was beyond greatness. He was greater than the average person, and a lesser being for being so selfless. He never once thought about himself, or what he wanted out of life. He thought only of you, of his friends and those he lost.”
Remus shook himself, coming out of whatever mood he was in and glanced down at Harry, walking between him and Sirius, with a smile. “You want to know more about Harry Houdini? Harry, do I have stories to tell you…!”
A smile broke out across Harry’s face; beside him, he saw Sirius begin to smile too. He might never grow up to be the same as Harry Houdini, but he could learn about the man he was and do his best to be someone that Harry would be proud to call Potter.
After all, Harry Houdini was a man of greatness.
Harry Potter could be one, too.
**
Brecon Beacons. November, 2008: 3:23am. 4 hours later.
Harry moaned, a hand reaching up to clutch at his aching head. That last feedback blast had sent him careening away from Voldemort violently, and creating a painful landing on unforgiving ground.
“Moo?”
Harry winced as he opened one eye, then another. Good Merlin, he thought, I’m blind!
It took him a few moments to realise it was night and that was the only reason he couldn’t see properly. A murmured “lumos” had the Elder wand’s tip light up as a soft, pale yellow orb.
The cow in front of him gave another startled “moo” and skipped away, only to forget about Harry completely. It went back to chewing grass.
Stiffly, Harry rose to his feet, wondering why they were so cold… looking down he bit the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing.
Well, that settled things! He thought, wiggling his sock-clad feet. His boots had, once again, been blow off his feet in the blast. If that was any indication… a wicked smile overcame his face.
In socks, Harry strode south, back towards the large country home he could see in the distance. There would be no wards alerting those within of his approach; he was still within the protective wards of the estate. In fact, he would give no warning at all to the occupants of the home.
He stealthily approached, silent and dark, melting into the inky blackness. No moon shone, and his wand’s light was extinguished long before he was in range of the estate.
As Harry crept up to the back, kitchen entrance, he stopped for a moment to peek into the house through one of the dark windows. His wife, Ginny Weasley, sat with her back slightly angled to the window, a hand held mirror in her left hand. A dry cloth tissue was in her right. Harry watched with morbid fascination as Ginny’s face crumpled into its self, her shoulders shaking as she nestled the tissue against her eyes.
Then, she stopped and peeked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were dry and makeup pristine. She was practicing faces for the announcement of Harry’s death.
The Boy-Who-Lived and Man-Who-Conquered smirked, eyes judging the distance of Ginny and the back door. Let the games begin, he thought darkly, and slipped the Elder wand into his waiting hand. The wand purred its satisfaction, as dark as Harry’s thoughts were.
Ginny didn’t know what hit her. One moment she was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at her reflection and trying different expressions and faces for Harry’s very public funeral, and the next moment she was pinned against the far wall with the heavy back door holding her legs down. Her wand was out and ready to do battle, but the damn door wouldn’t budge!
“Oh, Ginny,” began a mocking voice she thought she’d never hear again, causing her look up at the figure in the doorway.
Ginny paled and shivered in fear as she took in Harry Potter’s dark, blood-smeared and dirty face; his hitwizard gear was scorched in places and his robes tattered. Harry looked older, with premature grey at his temples and a few more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Yet, strangely, it was his dirty white socks and emerald eyes that Ginny remembered most in those final moments.
Those emerald eyes burned with hate as they stared into hers; speaking words, she thought she’d never hear again.
“I’m home!”
**
FIN
Part Five, B
Previously...
**
Dorset. Cloak & Dagger Headquarters. July, 1995.
Harry Potter was not entirely sure why his uncle Remus was escorting him to Cloak & Dagger in the middle of the summer holidays. Especially with the media going bonkers over everything that happened on the night of the Third Task.
Harry sighed. Since that night, Harry Houdini’s disappearance, the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort and his defeat at the hands of Harry Houdini, the capture of Peter Pettigrew and the clearing of his godfather’s name, as well as the capture of the many Death Eaters who flocked to Voldemort’s call… it had been a busy few weeks.
The media hounded Harry and Cedric constantly upon their arrival at Hogwarts the next day, having been the only two Champions alive to see Voldemort’s resurrection and the beginning of Houdini’s fight with the dark wizard. Reporters clamoured for their quotes, their impressions. Their classmates asked them the same questions, interrupting lessons with retelling of the last Blood War.
Harry was tired of it all. He just wanted to go back to his home in Wales and crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head and wish the summer away.
Because every time someone asked him about Houdini, Harry didn’t know what to say. Voldemort died thinking the man he was fighting was James Potter, back from the dead. But Harry saw the scar. He knew that wasn’t true.
It didn’t make sense! It couldn’t be true…
… but who would believe him if he told anyone? If he said that he killed Voldemort, only a version of him that was older, jaded and far more dangerous than he would ever be?
So Harry swallowed his suspicions and kept them secret, locked away deep within him, forgetting he even saw his counterpart’s face that evening.
Until now.
Remus did not speak, solemnly leading him up through twisting corridors until they entered a large boardroom near the CEO office. Houdini’s office. Merlin above, his office.
Remus nodded cordially at one of the youngest men in the room, who was sitting near the head of the table, just left to the empty chair at the head. The one Remus was leading Harry towards.
The young Potter swallowed his fear and the lump that suddenly grew in his throat. Silently, he took the seat at the head of the table, feeling like lightning would strike him down as soon as he sat in it. He remained tense and edgy as Remus sat in the chair to his right.
A quick glance down the table had Harry recalling the names of the Heads of Cloak & Dagger: Remus, Camilla, Yui, Edith, Sebastian, Justine, his godfather Sirius, Piers, and Jonathan on his left.
“Harry…” began Remus, softly. Harry flinched violently, but forced himself to face Remus. “Um, there are some things that we need to take care of today. It… it will be a lot to take in, but you deserve to know these things.”
Harry nodded. Remus took a breath and asked, “Do you have any questions before we start?”
Harry paused, looking at the people in the room. Either they were looking at him hungrily or sadly, like he was an image of someone they knew and missed. They must have known who Houdini was, realised Harry suddenly. His Uncle Remus must have known too, the entire time.
“He was me, wasn’t he?” asked Harry, in a convoluted, roundabout way. His voice was matter-of-fact, sad and simple.
Remus jerked back, startled, but a small smile crept onto his face. Everyone in the room looked at Harry the same way, but his godfather. Perhaps Sirius didn’t know…?
“Yes, Harry. You’re right. Houdini was you,” replied Remus gently.
“What?” barked Sirius from where he was sitting, eyes wide.
Remus turned to face the last Marauder. “Harry Houdini was, in reality, Harry Potter from the future. When he was twenty-seven, Harry learned that he was ingesting a variant of Amortentia, which caused a less severe reaction to the subject of the potion. It allowed for a gradual increase in affection over a long period of time, which could finally result in the subject of the potion being weaned off it after several years. The potion would then retain its potency. It is liquid Imperius.”
“It’s also illegal in every single magical country and state in the world,” inputted Edith, who along with Sebastian studied the potion. “While not as potent as Amortentia, it’s ten times as dangerous because it completely destroys the free will of the subject of the potion. They become a shadow, a shell of themselves.”
“And Harry was drinking this?” asked Sirius, aghast. It seemed as though he was accepting that Houdini was his godson from the future, but Remus was sure he was just trying to rationalise and pick something to focus on first before he would go back to the revelation of his time-travelling godson.
“Yes,” answered Remus, continuing the story. “But that’s not all. When Harry learned of this, he went to confront his wife and mother-in-law. They confirmed it, but Ginny-” Remus glanced at the started Harry Potter-“then revealed something far worse.”
“What was it?” breathed Harry, fascinated, disgusted, and completely taken with the tale.
Remus frowned. “She revealed that Harry discovered the truth about the love potions before. He discovered that he was not the only one of his friends who was doused with the potion and how they were all being used and guided through their spouse for another reason-an ultimate goal of some kind.
“Harry never discovered what that goal was. But he did learn something else-Ginny used a spell on Harry that was supposed to send his soul back into his one-year-old body, without his memories, to relive his life over again.”
Harry gapped openly at the idea of having to go live with the Dursleys. Had Houdini not intervened with Remus, would Harry still be in the cupboard under the stairs? Would he be at Stonewall Secondary, or at Hogwarts? Would he have finally died, succumbing to one of Vernon’s violent beatings?
It didn’t bear thinking about. Those things didn’t happen. Houdini had saved Harry from the Dursleys.
“We came across a similar spell,” inputted Justine, taking up the story from Remus and drawing the attention of those in the boardroom. “While it’s not an exact translation or the same spell, it has enough similarities that we were able to piece things together.”
“How does it work?” asked Harry, turning his full attention to the witch. If someone had used this spell on a version of him before, he wanted to know what to watch out for in the future!
Justine cleared her throat. “We back-tracked it using Harry’s memories and the notes his source gave him before the time jump. Essentially, we think Dumbledore may have come across the spell in the first reality-now, hang on here because this is where it’s going to get tricky: in the first reality, Dumbledore discovered the spell and for whatever reason, he sent Harry back in time to relive his life. From the notes, we can only assume it is because Harry didn’t fall into line with Dumbledore’s ‘grand vision’ because he sent Harry back after Harry was in his sixties.
“Thus began the second reality with Dumbledore retaining his memory of the event. He now knows the spell and knows where to find the spell… whether it is in a book, a scroll, or whatever.
“Harry lost his memory but Dumbledore didn’t. Now, maybe Dumbledore wasn’t sure that he’d live long enough in the second reality, so he told the spell to Snape to use as a last resort. And, according to Harry’s notes, Ginny mentioned that Snape sent Harry back again for a third time when he was sorted into Slytherin.”
Here, Harry Potter made a face. He was proud to be a Gryffindor!
There were some stifled smiles around the table at the sight. Jonathan continued for Justine. “We’re now into the third reality. Snape’s retained his memory of the spell but Dumbledore doesn’t know about it now. He’s also lost some of the vital information, such as where Dumbledore originally found the spell because he didn’t tell Snape. They’re now passing on information verbatim to each other, losing information of what the spell does or how it truly works each time they cast it.
“Some more stuff happens in this reality and instead of Dumbledore or Snape making Harry relive his life, it’s Molly Weasley who’s not happy with how things are going. Maybe Harry and Ginny didn’t get together. Maybe he had an affair with Hermione. Maybe Ginny had an affair. Who the hell knows-we just know that she tried the spell out and sent Harry back into the fourth reality.”
Remus cleared his throat and continued for Jonathan, catching Harry’s attention and speaking clearly, if not softly. “This leads us to the world we knew Harry came from. In the fourth reality, Harry defeated Voldemort at the age of seventeen while camping out with Ron and Hermione and searching for the horcruxes. Many friends and people he cared about died, Sirius and me included.”
Harry was sure he face reflected the horror he felt at the thought of losing his Uncle Moony and godfather.
Remus smiled gently and reached out to touch Harry’s arm. “Dumbledore and Snape were also dead; Molly Weasley remembered the spell and once Harry and Ginny were married, she taught it to Ginny in case anything would happen. Think of it as a precaution. When nothing happened for several years, things settled… until Harry received information from his employer about Ginny and Molly’s use of sanctioned love potions on Harry… and his friends.”
“But why would she do that? Why would Mrs. Weasley do that to me, or Hermione or anyone else? And Ginny?” asked Harry, thinking back to the shy redheaded girl who sat with her friends at the house table. He couldn’t picture the little girl becoming the vixen and bitch Remus was painting.
“Who knows, Harry,” answered Remus patiently. “Harry Houdini never found it out, either. All he knows was that he confronted his wife and mother-in-law, which led to him chasing her out of the house and a duel on their property.”
“And then she cast the spell,” finished Harry quietly, looking down at the wooden tabletop.
“Yes,” agreed Remus, just as quietly. “She did.”
“But how did Harry keep his memories?” asked Sirius, piping up from his seat.
Yui raised a hand to take the question. “Mr. Black, Harry kept his memories because his line of work required him to be knowledgeable in various magical fields for safety purposes. While he did not have to be a master of all his trades, he had to be competent enough in them. Moreover, one of those he needed to know was Runes. On the night of Ginny’s attempt of the spell, Harry changed whatever runes he recognised into something else that made sense to him. The backlash of the spell was to send him into the past, as Ginny intended, but with his memories intact and with his current body.”
The room was silent, allowing the two who didn’t know of Harry Houdini to absorb the information presented. There were still many unanswered questions, but Harry was sure he could wait for another day to have them answered, especially if Remus knew Harry Houdini as well as he was hinting at.
“So what am I doing here, then?” asked Harry, getting back to the original reason.
There was some shuffling as those at the table settled more comfortably into their leather chairs. Remus pulled out a briefcase from the floor beside his chair and opened it. He pulled out several heavy-looking pieces of paper, all cream coloured and thick.
He hesitated, then slid them across to Harry to look at. A single gold ballpoint pen was placed next to Harry’s left hand.
“When Harry created Cloak & Dagger, he knew there was a chance he wouldn’t survive his final plan. It was always to destroy Voldemort,” stated Remus, ensuring that he caught Harry’s eyes as he spoke. “His sole purpose for creating the company was to publicly announce Voldemort’s return so there was no smear campaign against you, like there was when the TriWizard tournament happened in his reality; but also to prevent the multitude of deaths that his reality experienced. He wanted to save you from the same fate he was manipulated into by taking the role of Voldemort’s destroyer.”
Harry stared into Remus’s amber-coloured eyes and saw beyond the words his uncle was speaking; there was a reason why Harry Houdini fought Voldemort to the death that Remus was not saying. Harry would speak to him about it… but another time.
“Harry knew he wouldn’t survive,” said Jonathan quietly as Harry looked hard at the papers in front of him. “But he wanted the company to go on. Remus can’t legally hold a company in his name, being a werewolf, and the rest of us declined.”
“So he left it to you,” whispered Remus. “He left everything of his to you-who better than the same person as himself? The Potter trust ensured you never had to work if you didn’t want to, but… Harry wanted you to have something you could play with and create things with. He wanted you to bring a new era to the wizard world with our non-magical electronics and to help change the world.”
No pressure, thought Harry darkly for a moment, but the thought left him just as quickly as it arrived. Harry had wondered what he wanted to be when he ‘grew up,’ and Hermione was going on about how in their fifth year they would have career counselling…
At one point in his life, Harry thought to be an Auror. Fame and glory from Quidditch never interested him and he wasn’t as interested in Herbology as Neville was, or brain-crunching jobs like Hermione geared towards…
But the possibility of creation? Or to take something and make it new? Images and ideas began flowing into Harry’s brain and suddenly he realised why Harry Houdini did some of the things he did. There was reason to his madness, it seemed-and who knew Harry best than himself, really?
Harry reached forward and gripped the gold pen in his right hand, and began signing.
**
Harry’s wrists still ached from signing the papers hours later as he, Remus, and Sirius left the Cloak & Dagger building, deciding to forgo the apparition point in the basement. Harry would have all the time in the world to discover the nooks and crannies that the previous CEO had created.
They walked through the shiny gates at the edge of the company property, turning off the paved road and walking down the country lane. No cars passed them, leaving them to their thoughts. Harry was sure that Sirius was having trouble dissecting the idea of his time-travelling godson and all he sacrificed for the good of this reality, but Harry was more concerned about Remus. Sirius only knew of Harry Houdini briefly and more in passing-for Remus, Harry Houdini was a friend.
Glancing at his uncle from the corner of his eye, Harry began to wonder. What was Harry Houdini like as a wizard and man? Why did he choose to do the things he did? His life experiences made him stronger-did he not think that Harry could be just as strong as he was? Who were his best friends? What was he afraid of? Was he afraid of anything?
There were more and more questions piling up in Harry’s head and soon he realised other than the public persona that Harry Houdini adopted, Harry knew nothing about his doppelganger.
“What was he like?” blurted out Harry suddenly, the words escaping his mouth and tumbling into the silent air, sharp like staccato notes.
Remus nearly missed a step in their stride, glancing down at his pseudo-nephew with wide eyes. He recovered, frowned a bit and thought.
Harry was sure that Remus would not answer; Harry Houdini’s missing body likely meant the man was dead or else in another reality with no way of returning. Remus would be mourning his friend.
“He was a great man.”
Both Harry and Sirius turned to Remus. The words were spoken softly, kindly. More followed.
“Some people do things because they want the recognition. Others do it because they want the money. Harry… he did those things because he could. Because he realised he was the only one who could do them and he wasn’t afraid of doing it all over again if it meant those he cared about and loved were safe.
“Do you know what the word ‘great’ is defined as? Of someone with exceptional talents or achievements, being remarkable or arising from the idealism of thought or action.” Remus had a faraway look on his face, as he stared down the country road and towards the horizon. Sirius and Harry greedily drank up the serene look on Remus’s face.
Soon, Remus was speaking as though to himself. “Harry… what Harry Houdini, that other version of you… what he did was beyond greatness. He was greater than the average person, and a lesser being for being so selfless. He never once thought about himself, or what he wanted out of life. He thought only of you, of his friends and those he lost.”
Remus shook himself, coming out of whatever mood he was in and glanced down at Harry, walking between him and Sirius, with a smile. “You want to know more about Harry Houdini? Harry, do I have stories to tell you…!”
A smile broke out across Harry’s face; beside him, he saw Sirius begin to smile too. He might never grow up to be the same as Harry Houdini, but he could learn about the man he was and do his best to be someone that Harry would be proud to call Potter.
After all, Harry Houdini was a man of greatness.
Harry Potter could be one, too.
**
Brecon Beacons. November, 2008: 3:23am. 4 hours later.
Harry moaned, a hand reaching up to clutch at his aching head. That last feedback blast had sent him careening away from Voldemort violently, and creating a painful landing on unforgiving ground.
“Moo?”
Harry winced as he opened one eye, then another. Good Merlin, he thought, I’m blind!
It took him a few moments to realise it was night and that was the only reason he couldn’t see properly. A murmured “lumos” had the Elder wand’s tip light up as a soft, pale yellow orb.
The cow in front of him gave another startled “moo” and skipped away, only to forget about Harry completely. It went back to chewing grass.
Stiffly, Harry rose to his feet, wondering why they were so cold… looking down he bit the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing.
Well, that settled things! He thought, wiggling his sock-clad feet. His boots had, once again, been blow off his feet in the blast. If that was any indication… a wicked smile overcame his face.
In socks, Harry strode south, back towards the large country home he could see in the distance. There would be no wards alerting those within of his approach; he was still within the protective wards of the estate. In fact, he would give no warning at all to the occupants of the home.
He stealthily approached, silent and dark, melting into the inky blackness. No moon shone, and his wand’s light was extinguished long before he was in range of the estate.
As Harry crept up to the back, kitchen entrance, he stopped for a moment to peek into the house through one of the dark windows. His wife, Ginny Weasley, sat with her back slightly angled to the window, a hand held mirror in her left hand. A dry cloth tissue was in her right. Harry watched with morbid fascination as Ginny’s face crumpled into its self, her shoulders shaking as she nestled the tissue against her eyes.
Then, she stopped and peeked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were dry and makeup pristine. She was practicing faces for the announcement of Harry’s death.
The Boy-Who-Lived and Man-Who-Conquered smirked, eyes judging the distance of Ginny and the back door. Let the games begin, he thought darkly, and slipped the Elder wand into his waiting hand. The wand purred its satisfaction, as dark as Harry’s thoughts were.
Ginny didn’t know what hit her. One moment she was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at her reflection and trying different expressions and faces for Harry’s very public funeral, and the next moment she was pinned against the far wall with the heavy back door holding her legs down. Her wand was out and ready to do battle, but the damn door wouldn’t budge!
“Oh, Ginny,” began a mocking voice she thought she’d never hear again, causing her look up at the figure in the doorway.
Ginny paled and shivered in fear as she took in Harry Potter’s dark, blood-smeared and dirty face; his hitwizard gear was scorched in places and his robes tattered. Harry looked older, with premature grey at his temples and a few more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Yet, strangely, it was his dirty white socks and emerald eyes that Ginny remembered most in those final moments.
Those emerald eyes burned with hate as they stared into hers; speaking words, she thought she’d never hear again.
“I’m home!”
**
FIN