Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Her infamous “Potter Luck” landed her in fairly nasty and completely questionable situations before, but this one might just top the list as the most bizarre.
Harry was staring at Dumbledore. An alive Dumbledore. Dressed in impeccable red-orange robes with flying phoenixes on them. He looked just as bewildered as she was.
"Am I dead again, sir?", was the best question she could ask at that moment.
He seemed equal parts startled and confused by the question. During this pause, Harry got the chance to look around.
What the actual fuck.
She was at the Great Hall? Wasn't she at Gringotts just now? She whirled to face Dumbledore again in shock, questions at the tip of her tongue, but a flickering motion of flames grabbed her attention. It was the Goblet of Fire.
The maze.
The grave.
Cedric.
Empty eyes.
Dead.
She looked away from the fire in an effort to compose herself against the assault of those memories. This wasn't the time. Assess the situation, then react.
"- young lady?"
Fake-Dumbledore was speaking to her. She didn't catch what he was saying and it must've shown on her face. He repeated his question, "Is what the goblet stating true, young lady?"
He was staring above her head in wonder, and it made her quickly look up too. A line of fire stemming from the goblet spelled out a sentence.
Henrietta James Potter
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Triwizard Tournament Champion (1994-1995)
She suddenly snapped out of whatever daze she had surrendered to since the start of this situation. What in the ever living fuck was going on? Dumbledore died 2 years ago. She saw him fall. She saw him at the crossroads of life and death. This wasn't a limbo situation. The Great Hall was too vivid, and he looked too surprised to see her.
This was a trap. An illusion.
She readied her magic. Calmness sharpening from the adrenaline building up. A lifetime of fighting, showing its claws, by making any attempt to intimidate and scare her a sign to raise her courage a thousand-fold. It was the one thing they'll never take away from her.
Her wand snapped to her hand in an instant, just raw magic leaving it to send him crashing to the ground. In quick succession, she had a wordless incarcerous to bind him in place, followed by wards snapping up around them to shield, isolate them, and weaken the perceived threat. She flashed her badge at him.
"This is 2nd Class Hit Wizard Potter. You are under arrest for the impersonation of Albus Dumbledore. Surrender willingly to the authorities or I'll be forced to resort to extreme measures."
All hell broke loose.
She could feel the spells crashing on the wards and shouted voices around them. A blurring mix of exclamations asking what the hell she was doing, and who she thought she was. Spells were attacking her on all sides, likely to free their comrade-in-crime, but the wards held strong. Thinking about their numbers, she had no choice but to stun Fake-Dumbledore. She'll ask the questions when his buddies were restrained, and when they were all detained at the Ministry. She sent her magic around like a crashing wave to get a feel for her enemies, and immobilize them. There were 13 of them overall. Seven on the left and six on her right. Hearing the groans, she looked up, and quickly cast stupefy and incarcerous all around them, some wandless magic slipping from her other hand as she tried to cover both sides.
There was a flurry of activity all around her. People were running away screaming, and she could hear more shouts calling for order aside from the people attacking her nearby. The trap must've teleported her to a populated area. She should finish this quickly, and alert the authorities. Who knows what these illusion-wielding Death Eater impersonators were doing.
Power radiating, as she used the version of the spells developed for wide-area and chain casting, she dealt with them the same way she had with Fake-Dumbledore. Wards put in place and the restraints strengthened, she fired the protocol statement for criminals.
"This is 2nd Class Hit Wizard Potter. You are under arrest for being accomplices to his crime."
"Wait, young lady! This- this is a misunderstanding!"
Fake-Dumbledore was wheezing slightly. He was trying to placate her, calling for her to talk it out. This made Harry wary. Hunting down Death Eater remnant groups made her restraining and stun magic particularly strong. To have recovered this quickly, meant this impersonator had a significant amount of power. Harry was not deterred. She faced Death Eaters trying to escape their arrests before. The only difference here was the lack of threats and nasty curses sent her way. She cast her stunner with a bit more magic this time, and was about to call for her Patronus to report to Moody of this strange occurrence, when a particularly strong spell hit the wards. As they shook furiously, Harry cast the strongest kind of protego she knew while readying her stance. This was the leader. The wards shook a final time, and she faced the man.
He was tall, had heterochromatic eyes, with a familiar face. He looked so amused amidst the chaos. And, he was holding a trembling hostage.
"I'd like it very much if you let my husband go, my dear. It seems there has been some great misunderstanding," he spoke while smiling.
"Let the boy go first."
The man was holding a boy at wand point. The boy’s hands trembling, clutching on to the man’s wand arm that was pointed at him.
"Afraid I can't do that, until you drop your wand. Wouldn't want to hurt this young helpless child now would we?"
Harry dropped her wand and raised her arms in a gesture of surrender. This man was powerful, and she wasn't going to let some innocent civilian get caught up in this struggle.
Fake-Dumbledore, who freed himself during the brief moment of distraction, took the dropped wand, and said in a firm voice, "Alright Gellert, drop the act. I do not condone you using Hogwarts students as hostages, even for pretend."
Fake-Grindelwald released the boy willingly, and said, "My, my Albus, meine liebe, I never thought I'd see the day you get defeated. By a young girl too no less?"
Fake-Dumbledore ignored Fake-Grindelwald. He turned to her in a serious manner instead, "Miss Potter, I'd like to discuss your...current circumstances."
Ignoring the fact that these weirdos were impersonating Gellert Fucking Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore in some bewildering Hogwarts Triwizard tournament romance roleplay, the fake-aurors she previously restrained were freed by Fake-Dumbledore too. She didn't have a wand, the hostage was actually an accomplice too, and now she was surrounded. Shit.
"Miss Potter, I have reason to believe that you've come from a different world", Fake-Dumbledore sprouted his nonsense and Harry was just about to lose it.
Just when it couldn't get any worse, a new voice joined in. Turning towards the speaker, she saw the face that haunted her nightmares at 12. Tom Fucking Riddle came strutting towards them. His face no longer took on a bald serpentine form, but a much much older version of the memory from his diary.
She won't wake.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
No.
"Although, this has been quite the show. I do agree with Albus, Miss Potter. Pray, might we all have a cup of tea? Perhaps, a conversation may prove more enlightening, and-"
She never had any talent for occulmency. Snape made sure to ingrain that through her "thick skull". Daily. But potions, especially calming draughts, when taken in large amounts allowed her to replicate the mind art. Take that, Snape.
Since no one was bound or stunned anymore, she could focus all her magic to the shield. Summoning some calming draughts from the hidden pouch in her jacket and spelling its contents to her system discretely, was a practiced motion. It was as easy as breathing now, even without a wand. She’s been doing it for years afterall.
He kept talking, but the potion-induced calmness allowed Harry to be relaxed enough to ignore him for now in favor of truly taking in her surroundings.
She was blocked by aurors. They enclosed her in a circle formation, wands raised while looking at her warily while she looked around. Their uniforms were green, instead of red.
There were Hogwarts students clustered at a distance behind them, but wasn't it summer time? Their Prefect badges gleaming, watching her with avid fascination and interest. And there, through the interstice of the aurors surrounding her, was Hermoine. But Moine wasn't moving to help. Instead, she was just watching on, a gleam of curious interest in her eyes like the other students.
Like she didn't know me.
Dread cut through the fog brought about by the artificial calm. And she couldn't stop herself from calling out her name.
“Moine?”
The girl looked so startled at being recognized. It was such a look of pure surprise that the dread solidified into something realer. Harry wanted to throw up.
Hermione doesn't know me.
Someone taking her arm stopped her thoughts from spiraling. She flinched at the sudden contact, and wrenched herself away from the grip.
The Maybe-Not-So-Fake-Dumbledore was looking at her with concern. Older-Diary-Voldemort just stopped talking, and not a word he uttered registered in her mind. She would never give a damn about what he said anyway. The old man was taking over the conversation now, "Miss Potter, allow us to escort you to the office. I believe we may have some possible answers for you."
Harry took a deep breath and allowed the calm to wash over again. There was no need to feel. Assess the situation, then react.
They were closing in on an escort formation around her, akin to how aurors of her world guarded high profile officials or criminals. Not-So-Fake-Dumbledore and Not-So-Fake-Grindelwald were in front of her. Following their lead, she marched with them for the door, determined to get to the bottom of this.