In the summer after Harry’s horrendous Fourth Year, he’s once again stuck back at his dreaded relatives. His dreams are haunted by the events of the Third Task, he’s cut off completely from the Wizarding World, and his friends’ letters aren’t helping.

Finally, on the night of his 15th birthday, he, and all his possessions, are taken away to the past, where Harry finally receives the training he needs.

Meanwhile, the world believes him to be dead.

When he returns, will they even recognize him? And, has Voldemort finally met his match?

Prologue

30 July 1995

In the smallest bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive, a boy of nearly 14 sat staring morosely out of the window into the night.

Harry hadn’t been sleeping well those first few weeks of summer. His nights had been filled with visions of the third Triwizard task - Cedric’s death, the duel that had occurred between himself and Voldemort - they haunted him, and woke him up with his heart racing, covered in sweat and tangled in the bedsheets.

All-in-all, he wasn’t having a good summer.

Luckily, his family had the sense to leave him alone, and weren’t bothering him. He got three meals a day – however meagre they might be – and was allowed use of the bathroom whenever he wanted. He was also allowed to keep his school trunk in his room, and let Hedwig out of her cage to hunt.

From that perspective, it should have been one of the best summers of his life.

But it wasn’t.

Apart from the nightmares that plagued him, he hadn’t received one letter from either of his friends. Or, at least, not any useful ones.

The ones he had received had been full of commiserations; ‘Don’t blame yourself, Harry – it wasn’t your fault’ or ‘Hope the muggles aren’t treating you too bad, mate.’

Harry appreciated the sentiments, really, but they weren’t helpful. He had no idea what was going on with Voldemort, as Dumbledore had taken it upon himself to cancel his Daily Prophet subscription.

He sighed, and continued to gaze into the night, a million thoughts whirling through his mind. It was only a few minutes before his 15th birthday, and Hedwig had yet to return from her hunt.

Little did Harry know how that night would change his life.

At only two minutes before midnight, Hedwig soared in through the window and landed on the desk before him, holding out her leg, to which a letter was attached. Curious, Harry took it and read it, his eyebrows receding into his hairline as he did.

‘Get ready – it’s going to be a bumpy ride!’

Then, just as it turned 12 o’clock, Harry’s room was enveloped in a bright flash of golden light and, when it disappeared, neither he, Hedwig, or any of his possessions were anywhere to be found.

Chapter 1

31 July 1996

One year.

One year since Harry Potter had disappeared without a trace.

The search had been large and nation-wide, but no one had found any leads that could tell them where the Boy-Who-Lived had gone.

Some even speculated whether he was alive at all.

There were others who refused to give up.

When Hermione, Sirius, Remus and the Weasleys had heard the news, they had been shocked and heartbroken. Molly, Ginny and Hermione had burst into tears, and even Ron had looked close to it. The Twins and Mr Weasley had gone pale, as had Remus, but it was Sirius who had had the most severe reaction. He had gone completely bone-white, before falling backwards in a faint.

Dumbledore had been the one to tell them the news, and even he looked deeply worried and upset.

And now, a year later, there was still no sign of him.

Everyone was managing to get by, some just barely.

Sirius had thrown himself into the search for his godson, Remus right alongside him.

Ron, Ginny, Fred and George had gotten into a huge argument with their mother over their being allowed to help. Eventually, she had caved in, knowing that she couldn’t stop them from searching for the boy they all considered their honorary brother.

Hermione, however, had locked herself in the Black Family Library, and had begun to research.

All that they knew of Harry’s disappearance was that his relatives were awoken at midnight by a blinding flash of light. When they entered Harry’s room, there was absolutely no sign that anyone had even been there. The bed was made, the room was relatively tidy and all of Harry’s various belongings were nowhere to be seen.

Even Hedwig had disappeared.

Many people had given up on Harry – the Ministry, even Dumbledore – but there were also those who refused to – Sirius, Remus, the Weasleys and Hermione.

They knew, deep down inside, that no matter how long it may be, what state he might be in, one day, Harry would return to them.

And how right they were.

…::-::…

31 July 1996

In a forgotten side street in Diagon Alley, a young man of 21 appeared out of nowhere, along with a trunk and a snowy-white owl. Checking that no one had seen them, he shrunk the trunk with his wand as the owl flew to his shoulder, nipping him on the ear affectionately. He smiled at her, and gently stroked her feathers, before gesturing upwards. With a soft click of her beak, she took off, flying up into the air. The man watched her until she was out of sight, knowing she would find him when he needed her.

He took a deep breath, calming his nerves, before stepping out into the hustle and bustle of Wizarding Britain’s main shopping district.

With sure steps, he walked towards his destination, weary all the while that there was the slightest possibility of someone recognizing him.

After all, he had only just been 15 when he disappeared, so who would look out for a 21-year-old Harry Potter?

He managed to make his way to Gringotts without incident, and walked through the large doors with their fearsome warning before heading to a teller.

“Good morning,” he greeted, “I would like to be taken to my vault.”

The goblin looked up at him, “Do you have your key?”

“I do,” Harry replied, taking it from his pocket and placing it on the counter before him.

The goblin’s eyes widened as he looked at it, and he seemed to pale, glancing up at Harry once again before dashing off somewhere behind him with a hurried, “One moment please.”

Confused, Harry frowned but waited, absent-mindedly tapping his vault key on the counter as he looked at his surroundings.

After about two minutes, the goblin returned, “This way, please, sir.”

Slipping his key back into his pocket, he followed the goblin along a long corridor, before they reached a set of large, oak doors.

“In here, sir.”

Harry nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“Thank you,” he said, before opening the doors and stepping inside.

He stood in a large office, with a high ceiling and opulent marble floor, but what really caught his attention was the smug looking goblin, whose name was Grimeaxe according to the tag on his desk, sitting before him.

“I’m glad to see that rumors of your death have been greatly exaggerated, Mr Potter,” he smiled.

“How did you…?” Harry asked, surprised that anyone had recognized him.

“Had you died, all of your vaults here at Gringotts would have gone into lockdown. As you are the last of your line, and you have not registered a will with either Gringotts or the Ministry, there was no one to inherit, as I told young Miss Granger when she came to see me.”

“Hermione?” Harry asked, surprised.

Grimeaxe nodded, “Yes, she came to ask what the protocols would be had someone died, so I explained them to her. She, I think, is one of the few who does not believe the rumors.” He shrugged, “But, I assume that that is not why you came to Gringotts this morning?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I came to draw some money from my vault in order to do some shopping, actually. As soon as I presented my key, the teller ran off, I assume to tell you I had arrived, and I was brought here.”

“It was not to claim your Lordship, then? As I understand it, you are now of age.”

“No,” he shook his head again, “I was waiting until my identity was ‘revealed’ before I did that. I do not want to be found out too soon.”

“That will not be a problem,” Grimeaxe assured him, “Gringotts provides a very discreet service. If you were to take up your lordship, we would be under no obligation to reveal your identity to anyone unless you yourself allow it. We are only told to notify the Wizengamot that there is a new Lord Potter, not who that Lord Potter might be.”

Harry was taken aback, “I wasn’t aware of that. In that case, I would like to take up my lordship, if possible.”

Grimeaxe nodded, “Of course. I shall send for the ring. In the meantime, I would like you to go through a list of all your assets.”

He handed Harry a file of papers from his desk. After opening and reading the first few lines, Harry was surprised. While he knew he was wealthy thanks to his inheritance from his parents, he hadn’t known he was that wealthy. The combined contents of his three vaults contained over half a billion galleons, on top of the properties and investments he also owned.

When he looked back up at Grimeaxe, he noticed the goblin watching his surprise in thinly-veiled amusement.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed, “Sorry, I just hadn’t realized…”

“Yes, well, the Potter fortune has grown quite a bit in the last year, for reasons, of which, I’m sure you’re aware,” he gave Harry a knowing look, “However, I believe it is time for you to take up your Lordship.”

He gestured to the ring box sitting before him.

It looked rather unremarkable, Harry thought, for what he knew it held.

Carefully, almost reverently, Harry took the box and opened it, to reveal a gold ring, with a ruby sparkling in the center, engraved with the imperial image of a Griffin.

“What do I do?” Harry asked.

“Just put it on,” Grimeaxe smiled, “Magic will do the rest.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry put on the ring. A moment later, there was a flash of bright light, before it resized to fit his finger.

“Congratulations, Lord Potter. Now, I’ll explain how to get to your properties, and then you are welcome to go to your vaults and complete your shopping.”

…::-::…

Just under an hour later, the new Lord Potter left Gringotts with a bag full of gold and an invisible ring on his finger, feeling slightly breathless, but happy.

His first stop was, of course, Quality Quidditch supplies, where he picked up not only some new seeker gloves but also a new broom – The Firebolt Mark 2. He then went to get some more owl treats for Hedwig, as well as buying a new owl. He had explained to Hedwig previously that it was not to replace her, it was just that she was too recognizable, and ‘Harry Potter’ needed to stay dead for a while longer. So, with that in mind, he purchased a non-descript brown Tawny Owl he named Archie, thinking that it suited him.

He made a few more stops that morning – getting more potion supplies and picking up a few defense books, before deciding to take a risk and heading to the newly-opened Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes.

Stopping outside, he had to admit that Fred and George certainly knew how to attract attention.

The building was bright orange, with bold splashes of purple dotted about.

Finally, after working up the courage, Harry stepped inside.

The shop was extremely busy, he was glad to see, with people looking at the different products for sale. He himself was suitably impressed with the items, noticing a few new ones that seemed to have been created since his disappearance.

It was when he was leaving that he, quite literally, ran into a familiar face.

She was engrossed in the book she was reading, not aware of where she was going, and therefore walked straight into Harry, falling backwards onto the ground with a surprised “Oomph!”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry apologized, giving her his hand to help her up, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Hermione replied, blushing, “but it was really my-”

She stopped abruptly as she looked up at him, her eyes widening in surprise.

‘Those eyes,’ she thought, ‘they’re just like-’

“Well, if you’re okay, I’d better be on my way,” he replied with a smile, “Have a good day.”

And, with that, he was gone, leaving Hermione staring after him in surprise and shock, absolutely certain that she had seen her best friend once again.

Chapter 2

1 August 1996

Harry hadn’t been able to sleep that night.

After seeing Hermione, his heart had been racing, and he just managed to portkey to one of his newly-acquired properties – a flat in the north of London - as he thought back to all the four years he had known her.

It was unbelievable, he thought, that it had only been four years. He felt like he’d known her forever, and she’d become a big part of his life.

He sighed, tiredly. There were many things he needed to do that day, including getting a job.

Yes, that was first on the To-Do list.

…::-::…

Albus Dumbledore was not one to get shocked or surprised easily. Neither was he likely to show much emotion openly.

Therefore, it was a surprise when he openly gasped in shock at the headline of the Daily Prophet.

Breaking News! New Lord has taken up the Potter Seat!

In a surprise announcement yesterday morning, the Wizengamot Offices received notice from Gringotts that the Potter Lordship has been claimed.

Magical folk of Britain will remember that it is exactly a year yesterday that The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, the last member of the Potter line, went missing, and is now presumed dead.

Therefore, it is a huge shock that someone else has claimed the lordship. Is there a family member no one knows of? Or has Harry Potter himself come back from the dead?

Who knows? He has survived the Killing Curse before.

But, if it isn’t Harry Potter, who could it be?

And why is he only making his claim know now?

 Dumbledore stared at the newspaper in shock. Could it be? Could Harry really have returned from the dead? Or was he never dead in the first place? He needed to get to Gringotts and discover what they knew.

Forgoing his breakfast, Dumbledore made his way to his office, speaking the password and heading up the stairs.

He stopped, dead-still in the doorway, however, when he discovered someone already standing before his desk – someone he’d never seen before.

His visitor turned at his entrance and smiled, “Good morning, Headmaster. Read the headlines, I take it?”

Dumbledore looked him over suspiciously.

The man was quite tall, at roughly his own height of 6ft 2, with dark black hair and startling emerald green eyes. But it was the way he held himself that caught Dumbledore’s attention. He stood straight-backed and confidently. He seemed almost… familiar.

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed, “Who are you and why are you here?”

The man smirked, “Well, Headmaster, I’m here because you need a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor for the coming school year. As for who I am? That’s on my application form.”

He gestured to a set of papers on the desk.

Frowning, Dumbledore walked over and picked them up, reading over them curiously.

If what the application form stated was true, the man’s name was Arty Josher Tamper.

‘Curious name,’ he noted absent-mindedly, ‘Very unusual.’

He continued reading. Everything seemed normal, but it was when he got to the credentials that things began to change.

June 1992 – Destroyed Voldemort’s host’s body

June 1993 – Killed Voldemort’s teenaged spirit

June 1994 – Warded off over 100 Dementors with Patronus

June 1995 – Duelled Voldemort and lived

July 4B.C.E. – Completed combat training with Hogwarts’ Founders

Dumbledore looked up at the man (Arty?) in complete bewilderment.

He received a smirk in response, “It’s all in the name, Professor, it’s all in the name.”

‘All in the name? It- it couldn’t be…?’

Taking out a blank piece of parchment and a quill, Dumbledore began to rearrange the letters until he got from Arty Josher Tamper to Harry James Potter.

It was then that he dropped the quill in shock, and looked back up at the young man before him, who was positively grinning, taking in the now familiar green eyes and messy black hair and comparing him to the boy he had last seen a year earlier.

“I think you have some explaining to do, my boy.”

…::-::…

1 September 1996

“I wonder who the new defence professor will be,” Hermione commented.

“I don’t care,” Ron replied, “Anyone’s better than Umbridge.”

He shivered.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I asked the manager at Flourish and Blotts about the books they assigned to us, and he says that they’re currently the best defence textbooks on the market, so I’m hoping they’ll be one of the better teachers we’ve had.”

“Well, we need a good one, don’t we?” Ron replied, “What with You-Know-Who back.”

She nodded silently, her mind once again drifting to Harry and, by extension, the man she had run into at Diagon Alley a few weeks previously. When she’d seen him, it was like seeing Harry again, only a good few years older.

She sighed, knowing that, however much she may want it to be him, it was only a coincidence.

If only she knew…

…::-::…

Soon enough, the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station, and they all clambered into the carriages.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny ended up in a carriage with Neville and Luna. They spoke amicably about their holidays. Hermione, despite her protests about wanting to stay behind and search for Harry, had been taken to Switzerland by her parents, and, in spite of her reservations, had enjoyed it immensely. Ron had helped his brothers in setting up their shop, although he admitted that they still didn’t know where the twins had got the money for it. Ginny had also helped with the shop, as well as spending some time practising on her broom. When Harry had disappeared, she’d been made seeker for Gryffindor, even though she was better as chaser. Neville had worked in his family greenhouse, tending to and experimenting with the various plants they kept there. Luna had gone searching for Crumple Horned Snorklacks with her father, but, much to her disappointment, they hadn't found any.

As they climbed out of the carriages, they went into the entrance hall and on into the Great Hall. The ceiling, as usual, reflected the night sky outside, and lit the hall up with stars.

As she entered, Hermione glanced over the Heads' table, hoping to see who the new DADA professor could be…

...and found herself staring straight into the eyes of the man from Diagon Alley.

Her breath caught in her throat as she held his gaze. She hadn't managed to really get a good look at him the last time, aside from a vague impression of messy black hair and eyes identical to Harry’s. Now, she could see that he was dressed well – in high-quality robes that brought out his eyes. He was young, she realised, probably only a few years older than herself. She wondered why he was there.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

As soon as the sorting was complete, Dumbledore stood up to give his announcements.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts,” he greeted, eyes twinkling, “Second years and above will do well to remember that the Forbidden Forest is exactly that – forbidden. Mr Filch, our caretaker has added new objects to the list of banned items, most of which, I believe, are from the newly-opened Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.” He smiled, “Finally, I’d like to introduce your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor – Professor Arty Tamper.”

Hermione watched as the man from Diagon Alley stood up and waved to the students with a bright smile.

‘Well, at least this year will be interesting,’ she thought.

…::-::…

Harry sighed as he collapsed backwards onto his bed in his new quarters.

It had been an emotionally taxing day – the anxiety as he waited for the train to arrive, pacing up and down in his office as he mentally went over various situations where he could be recognised, going down to the Great Hall and witnessing the Sorting as a Professor for the first time…

… and finally seeing Hermione for the first time since their run-in at Diagon Alley.

It was the first time he’d properly seen her for six years, and it had only truly hit him then how much he’d missed her. Her quiet presence at his side, always there, always comforting him when he needed it and stopping him from stepping too far out of line.

They said that you never truly understood what you’d had until it was gone, and after six years without Hermione, Harry was beginning to realize what that meant.

He’d found himself, as he was looking at her, silently begging that, somehow, she would recognise him, and come to stand by his side once again. Really, if he was being honest with himself, she was the one most likely to work it out.

Harry decided that, if she did, he wouldn’t deny it.

Not a chance.

Not if it meant he’d get to be with her again.

Shaking his head at his own overwhelming problems, he decided it was probably better if he turned in for the night to sleep it off.

He went to sleep that night, dreams filled with visions of bushy brown hair, and chocolate-eyed smiles.

…::-::…

‘Where’s Voldemort when you need him?’ Harry thought, really wishing he could be anywhere else but in his classroom at that moment.

It wasn’t the teaching, certainly not. He enjoyed being able to pass on his vast knowledge of defence spells and techniques to those of whom it could be of use.

The only problem was that his current class consisted of the Sixth Year Slytherins and Gryffindors.

Hermione’s class.

It also didn’t help that she seemed dead-set on staring at him throughout the entire lesson.

It was rather distracting.

Nevertheless, Harry did his best to keep things running smoothly and purposely did not even glance in her direction.

Never. Not once.

It was all for naught, however, when she came to speak to him at the end of class.

“Excuse me? Professor?”

“Yes Miss, Granger, was it?”

She nodded.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Well sir, I was just wondering…” she paused in indecision, before seeming to make up her mind, “Well, it’s your name sir. I’ve never heard it before.”

Harry frowned, “And that’s a problem?”

“No, no, not at all!” she exclaimed, blushing slightly, much to his amusement, “It’s just that, with all our defence professors in the past, Professor Dumbledore, when introducing them, mentioned their previous jobs or accomplishments. And he didn’t do that for you, so I was just a bit curious.”

‘Curious indeed,’ Harry thought, smirking inwardly. She’d probably been in the library looking him up.

Not that she’d find anything, naturally.

Arty Josher Tamper hadn't existed until a month ago.

"Well, the reason the Headmaster didn't mention my previous employment is because I don't have one. You could say I'm a bit of a freelancer. I've spent my time since graduation traveling the globe, receiving various forms of training from defence masters worldwide. I also passed my Defence NEWT with honours and set the record for the highest score recorded for the exam."

He had.

It has just been in the year 8BCE.

But Hermione didn't need to know that.

Not yet, anyway.

Hermione blinked at him, slightly taken aback.

"That's amazing, Professor!" she complimented, sincerely, "Although I'm sorry if I offended you by asking such a personal and inappropriate question."

"It's no problem," Harry assured her with a smile, "From what I've heard about my predecessors, you've had a mediocre defence education at best, so I can understand your need to check whether I'm qualified for the position. Especially if the rumours of last year's professor hold any truth to them."

"Oh, she was horrible!" Hermione exclaimed, "And she didn't even pass her Defence NEWT!"

"Well, I shall do my very best to make up for her shortcomings," Harry replied, amused at the raw passion he heard in his friend's voice, and that she'd spoken to a professor in such a way, "Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

Hermione looked hesitant.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you could tutor me?"

"Tutor you?" he was surprised, "You're top of your class, according to the records I have. What do you need help with?"

"It's not classwork so much," she explained, "It's duelling and more advanced techniques that aren't normally taught until after NEWT level that I'm asking for."

"And why do you need that?"

"Because of Voldemort!" she blurted out, unabashedly, in contrast to her earlier hesitance, "He's out there, and he's killing and torturing people every day while we're sheltered from it. I want you to teach me, because I want to help, not stand on the side-lines while everyone I love suffers and dies! I can't! Not after - after Harry…"

Harry's eyes softened.

'She's doing it for me,' he realised.

He sighed, "Alright. Meet me in my office after dinner this evening. We can discuss exactly what it is you want me to teach you, and we can work out a schedule. Okay?"

Hermione looked shocked that he'd relented so easily, "Y-yes. Of course, Professor, that's brilliant! Thank you so much!"

"My pleasure," he replied, "Now, you'd better be off, or you'll miss lunch. I'll see you this evening."

Hermione thanked him again, before leaving, a light spring in her step that had been noticeably absent when she'd entered the lesson.

Harry, meanwhile, sagged against his desk, realising that keeping his identity hidden from Hermione was going to be a lot harder than he'd thought it would be.

Chapter 3

3 September 1996

Hermione had always enjoyed crossword puzzles.

She'd done them frequently when she was younger, sitting in the waiting room at her parents' practice and reading every magazine she could get her hands on, filling in the crosswords with one of the crayons from the kid's corner.

So, as she sat staring absent-mindedly at the three words on the scrap of paper she'd been given by her defence professor the previous evening, she couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to them, some hidden message that only an experienced crossword solver would notice.

The meeting had gone well.

She'd explained to Professor Tamper what exactly she wanted to know - advanced battle transfiguration and charms, healing spells and potions - even going so far as to bring up the animagus transformation. She'd been shocked to discover that the professor was, in fact, an animagus, although he'd refused to tell her what animal he was (while giving her an amused smirk that, she reflected, she’d found quite sexy).

She shook her head. She really shouldn't think that of her professor.

At the end of their session, Hermione had, on the spur of the moment and for absolutely no logical reason she could think of, asked the professor to write his full name - middle name and all - down for her.

She really did not know what had possessed her to do it. But he had acquiesced…

… which led her back to the piece of paper she held in her hand.

Arty Josher Tamper.

It seemed perfectly normal.

It was perfectly normal.

But something about it bothered Hermione, and the small part of her that still held that childhood dream of being a detective just wouldn't let it be.

So, she continued to stare at it, nibbling on the end of her quill as it hovered above a separate piece of parchment.

Arty Josher Tamper.

What was it?

Then it hit her. 

With the speed of a racing freight train, every thread of thought, every idea, every conspiracy, every rumour surrounding the new defence professor suddenly became a crystal clear image in her mind.

With a ferocity no one in the Hogwarts library had ever seen before, Hermione scribbled down two names - two names that held so much hope, so much joy - and, oh so carefully, it all came together.

Before her eyes, letters joined and rearranged, until the proof of her completely wild, ludicrous idea sat physically before her.

She was stunned.

After all this time…

She checked her watch. It was nearly breakfast.

Hoping desperately that he hadn't gone down to the Great Hall yet, she shoved her belongings into her bag and took off sprinting down the corridors.

…::-::....

Harry had experienced many things in his 21 years of life.

Being slammed into by the force of a speeding bullet wasn't one of them.

Luckily, the projectile wasn't lethal. 

He hoped.

It was also very unexpected, because only a moment before he'd been standing up to make his way down to breakfast.

Instead, he found that a positively hysterical Hermione had attached herself to him, and was speaking so quickly that he couldn't understand a word she was saying.

Sighing mentally, he waved his wand towards the door to close it, and set up some privacy and silencing wards to prevent unwanted ears from listening in.

He had a feeling he'd need them.

Once that was done, he turned his attention back to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, please, I can't understand a word you're saying. It's also very difficult to move when you're squeezing the life out of me."

She immediately stopped talking and let him go, although, judging by the look on her face, he wasn't sure that it was any better.

In contrast to the way she had entered, her face had begun to redden in what he could only assume was righteous fury.

"Don't you dare 'Miss Granger' me, Harry James Potter!" she screeched, "Yes, I know it's you, don't look so surprised! Did you seriously think I wouldn't figure it out? Do you know how much you hurt me, how much you hurt everyone, just up and disappearing like that with absolutely no contact whatsoever?! Everyone thinks you're dead! I cried over you, Harry! How could you?!"

She then burst into tears.

Harry, completely stunned and at a loss for words, didn't know what to do.

Hermione was crying, and he really wanted to comfort her, let her know that he was safe and sound and that nothing had happened to him, but, at the same time, he had a feeling that that would end up with him being slapped - or worse.

Swallowing his fear, he reached towards her and pulled her forwards into his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said, feeling rather tearful himself, "I never intended to hurt you, or anyone else, and I certainly didn’t expect to stay away as long as I did.”

She sniffled in response, and buried herself further into his chest.

He almost chuckled in relief.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation, don’t I?” Harry asked, feeling grateful that it was a Saturday and he didn’t have any classes to teach.

“You had better!” she replied, finally looking up at him, her tears having subsided for the moment, “Or so help me, I’ll kill you myself!”

“I’d better start then.”

He let her go, and gestured to one of the two plush armchairs that stood before his desk.

Hermione seated herself in the one, and did the same in the other opposite her.

They sat like that for a good five minutes, looking over each other and really taking note of the changes that had occurred since they’d last talked.

For Hermione, it had been a year.

For Harry, it had been six.

It was Harry who spoke first.

“I’ll go from the beginning then?”

Hermione nodded.

“Well, in that case, I suppose it starts on the night my parents were murdered. As you know, Wormtail gave their location to Voldemort, who then came and tried to kill me, murdering them in the process. But, in discovering this, we all neglected to ask one very important question; Why was he after me in the first place? For that answer, we have to go back a few months to when Dumbledore was interviewing one Sybil Trelawney for the Divination post at Hogwarts. It took place in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, a very public place, I might add. Anyway, the interview hadn’t gone well, and Dumbledore was about to dismiss her when she suddenly went into a trance-like state and began to recite a prophecy – a true prophecy. It went like this; ‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…’ '”

Harry paused for a moment, watching as the gears whirred in Hermione’s head and her mouth dropped open.

He continued, “There were two babies born at the end of July that year whose parents had defied Voldemort three times – Neville Longbottom and myself. However, Voldemort had a spy listening in on the interview that night. Fortunately, he left before hearing the full prophecy, but he certainly heard enough to relay to his master and put into place a cycle of actions that led to my parents’ deaths and Neville’s parents’ insanity.”

He looked up at Hermione to gauge her reaction. She had tears in her eyes and a hand covering her mouth, upset and in shock.

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing, “And now we come to the summer before 5th year. It went pretty much as expected up until the exact stroke of midnight on my birthday. I’d had a nightmare a few minutes earlier – about the Third Task, you know? Anyway, I was awake, staring miserably out of the window when Hedwig flew in with a letter for me.” He chuckled, “I really didn’t know what it meant at the time, but it made sense a few moments later when, without warning, I was suddenly transported away from my bedroom at Privet Drive along with Hedwig and all of my possessions.”

“What did it say?” Hermione asked, seeming to have overcome her shock in favour of curiosity, “Where did you go? Is that where you’ve been all this time? Why do you look so much older?”

“Hang on, I’m getting there,” Harry said, laughing at her enthusiasm, “The note said, and I quote, ‘Get ready – it’s going to be a bumpy ride!’  Not that it helped. As for where I went, well, I’m not sure you’d really believe me if I told you. But yes, it is where I’ve been all this time and, as for why I look older, well I am older. Physically, and I suppose mentally as well, I’m 21 years old.”

“But how is that possible?” Hermione asked, “Please tell me where you went! You know I’ll take you seriously!”

“Alright,” Harry chuckled, “I went back in time. Or, more accurately, I was taken back in time – by the Founders of Hogwarts.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped, and for once she seemed unable to find the right words.

“The Founders?” she spluttered, “You mean The Hogwarts Founders? Godric Gryffindor? Rowena Ravenclaw? Salazar Slytherin? Helga Huffelpuff? You actually met them?”

Harry smirked, “Well, ‘met’ is a bit too weak of a term. They adopted me, you see.”

“What?!”

He nodded, “The reason they brought me back to their time is rather complicated. You see, they were in possession of a rather special mirror. It was one passed down to them by Merlin, and it allowed them to look into the future. Through it, they saw me, and all the things I’d been through at school. However, they also saw what I didn’t – what our future would be like had they not brought me back to the past. So, knowing that, they took it upon themselves to train me.”

“They taught you?!” Hermione squealed.

“They founded a school didn’t they? Yes, they taught me. Not just transfiguration, potions and the like but also other things I would need to survive and defeat Voldemort - Advanced DADA, Occlumency, Legilimency, Offensive magic and even sword-fighting and the animagus transformation. In total, I spent six years with them. Shortly before I left, they asked me if I was okay with being adopted by them. We'd grown very close in the time we spent together, so of course I said 'yes'."

"That's incredible, Harry!" his friend exclaimed, "Being taught by the Founders themselves must have been amazing! Do you think you could teach me?"

"You asked me to tutor you, didn't you?" he grinned.

"Technically, I asked Professor Tamper to tutor me."

He flapped his hand at her, "Same difference."

Harry's expression suddenly became solemn, and he leaned forwards, "Hermione, if I'm going to teach you, I must ask you to take an oath that you won't reveal anything you learn - including my identity."

Hermione began to protest, but he held up his hand, cutting her off.

"It's not that I don't trust you," he explained, "It's only because an oath will prevent trying to steal the information from you - either by Legilimency or Vitaserum."

Her mouth snapped shut. "Oh, then of course I will. But, I must ask, Harry, why is it so important that your identity stays secret? Why are you hiding?"

Harry leaned back in his seat, "Well, for one thing, I like the anonymity. 'Harry Potter' is always in the spotlight, always noticed, always looked to. 'Arty Tamper', however, can observe silently from the background without being noticed, and can do things and help people without being criticised. Also, it provides a tactical advantage for me over Voldemort. If he thinks I'm dead, he won't be expecting me to kill him, will he?"

Hermione looked thoughtful.

"Alright," she agreed, "I'll do it."

"Brilliant," Harry grinned, standing up, "Do you know how it works?"

"I know the wording," she admitted, moving to stand before him, "but that's all."

"I'll show you."

Harry held his hand out to her. Hermione grasped it firmly.

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, swear to uphold and protect the secrets of Harry James Potter, unless he gives his permission for you to discuss them?"

"I so swear it."

"Then as it is said, so mote it be."

There was a small flash as the path took hold. They smiled at each other.

Harry pulled Hermione into a hug, "I missed you, 'Mione."

"Me too, Harry," she replied, squeezing him tightly, "Me too."

Chapter 4

31 October 1996

It had been almost two months since Hermione had discovered Harry’s secret, and had begun her tutoring sessions with him.

Harry reflected, as he sat at the head table during the Halloween feast, that she had come on rather well since the lessons had started. Not that he’d expected any less from her. Hermione had always been top of their class for a reason.

He caught her eye from across the hall and smiled, receiving one in return.

During their lesson the previous evening, they had discussed their plans for Halloween. Since it was the 15th anniversary of Harry’s parents’ deaths, they had decided that a visit to their graves was in order, as Harry had never had the chance to go before. Also, as Hermione was overage, she was allowed to leave school grounds as long as she had a professor’s permission.

So, as soon as the feast was over, the pair met up in Harry’s office to make the journey to Godric’s Hollow.

They were dressed for the fall chill, in jeans and comfortable sweaters with a cloak draped over their shoulders.

Together, they walked out onto the Hogwarts grounds where, once reaching the boundaries of the wards, Harry disapperated them to the Hollow.

…::-::…

They appeared in an empty street, the wind blowing the autumn leaves in gentle swirls around them.

The village had a peaceful atmosphere, despite the tragedy they knew had occurred there.

Harry and Hermione began their walk to the graveyard beside the old church, taking quiet comfort in the other’s presence.

The rusted gate creaked as Harry opened it, causing a few lone birds to take off in fright. Hermione took his hand in hers as they wandered past the graves, some of which dated back over a thousand years. Some names caught their eyes, such as Dumbledore’s mother and sister, and the Peverells, whom Harry knew to be his ancestors.

Finally, they reached the gravestones they had come to see…

… only to find that someone else was already there, on their knees, head cradled in their hands.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat when he realised who it was, and what they were saying.

“I’ve failed you,” Sirius sobbed over the gravestones of his two best friends, “I failed you and Harry. I never should’ve gone after Peter. I should have taken Harry with me to safety. If I had then-then he wouldn’t be…”

He trailed off as he broke into another round of tears.

Harry’s heart broke at the scene. He couldn’t let his godfather, one of the last few remaining members of his family, blame himself for his supposed death.

“Sirius?” he asked, tentatively.

The animagus didn’t respond. Harry stepped forwards slowly, until he stood directly behind his godfather.

“Sirius?” he repeated, slightly louder

He still failed to get a response.

Sighing, Harry decided on his last resort.

“Sirius?” he repeated, placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

This time, Sirius jumped, standing up, turning around and aiming his wand at Harry’s chest at a frightening speed.

“Who are you?” the marauder demanded, “How did you find me?”

“Sirius, calm down, it’s me!” Harry exclaimed.

Sirius studied him intently.

“James?” he whispered, looking crestfallen.

Harry shook his head sadly, “No, Harry.”

“Harry?” Sirius asked, taking a step back in shock, “But-but you’re dead, you-you can’t…”

“It’s really me, Sirius,” Harry insisted, “I was never dead, I promise you. I’m here, I’m alright. You’re not to blame for anything, Sirius. You haven’t failed anyone. Not me, not my parents. Please, Sirius.”

Harry held his hand out to his godfather. He looked at it questioningly, before taking it in his own.

He looked up at the younger man, “It’s really you?”

Harry smiled, tears in his eyes, “It’s really me, Sirius, I’m here.”

“Oh, Harry,” he cried, pulling him into his arms, “I’m so glad you’re alright! I thought you were dead!”

“I’m pleased to see you too, Sirius,” he replied, “Sorry I had you so worried.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter!” the animagus replied, “So long as you’re alright.”

Hermione watched their reunion with a smile. She knew how withdrawn and sullen Sirius had become after Harry’s disappearance, so to see him so happy gladdened her heart. She knew that, even if it was a risk for Harry to reveal his identity to him, it was the right choice. They couldn’t have let Sirius suffer any longer.

…::-::…

After Sirius had calmed down a bit and Harry had had some time to talk to his parents himself, the three went back to Grimmauld Place so that Harry could explain to Sirius what had happened. 

They snuck up to Sirius’ bedroom, where Harry erected some privacy charms before telling his tale once again.

When he’d finished, Sirius stared at him in shock.

“I can’t believe it!” he said. “Travelling that far back in time? Being adopted by the founders themselves? It’s crazy!”

Harry chuckled, “Well, whether or not you want to believe it, Sirius, it happened and I’m back now, anyway.”

His godfather huffed, “Well, I still don’t think it’s fair - leaving without telling us you’re alive. You could’ve at least left a note.”

“It’s not like it was planned,” Harry replied, “Trust me, I was just as shocked as you were when I disappeared.”

“What I don't understand,” Hermione said, “is why no one else has recognised you, Harry. Sure, you may be older, but you haven’t changed that much.”

Sirius’ brow furrowed, “That’s a good point, actually. How come no one’s recognised you, Harry?”

“Ah, well, that’s a little nifty little trick I learnt,” he smirked, “You see, both of you learnt my identity by me telling you in some form or another. For Hermione, I wrote my name down on paper – an anagram of it, at least – and I told Sirius myself. Now, what does that tell you?”

“It’s like a Fidelius Charm!” Hermione exclaimed, “but I didn’t know it could be used to hide a person’s identity.”

“No, that’s something the Founders thought up,” Harry explained, “Rowena invented the original charm, and they came up with the idea when we were discussing ways to protect my identity. There’s just a slight modification to the spell, so my identity was hidden and not a place. I’m the secret keeper, as well.”

Sirius shook his head, “Unbelievable.”

Harry grinned at him, “Why do you mean? I thought you liked being unpredictable.”

…::-::... 

A few weeks later, Hermione was just leaving Harry’s office after one of their lessons when she was suddenly grabbed by the wrist and dragged into an alcove.

She took her wand and prepared to attack her assailant, but stopped when she saw just who it was.

“Ron!” she cried, “What are you doing?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry!” he apologised, “I just wanted to catch you before you got to the Common Room. I need to talk to you about something.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, Okay, you’ve got my attention. What do you want to talk about?”

Ron took a breath.

“I’m worried about you,” he said, “I’ve hardly seen you these past few weeks. You’ve been spending so much time in the Library or with Professor Tamper…”

He trailed off uncertainly.

“What are you suggesting?” she asked.

“Well he’s not… taking advantage of you, is he?”

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, “Of course he’s not taking advantage of me! How could you even ask that? Honestly, you know I would tell you if anyone did that to me!”

“I’m sorry,” he apologised again, “I was just worried. You’ve been spending so much time with him, and now that Harry’s…”

He stopped, unable to continue. A pained expression flickered across his face, and Hermione realised how much Ron had truly been missing their best friend 

It was heart-breaking.

And it couldn’t continue.

With a sigh, Hermione checked her watch, noting that there was still an hour or so until curfew. Then, she grabbed Ron by the hand and began to drag him with her along the corridor.

“Hermione! Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

She led him back the way she had come, eventually stopping outside the door to Harry’s office.

She knocked twice, briefly, and waited for Harry to respond. Ron shifted nervously beside.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was no longer than a few seconds, Harry’s voice came to them through the solid wooden door.

“Come in.”

Hermione opened the door, and gestured for Ron to go through. He gave her a puzzled look, but did as she’d asked. Once they were both inside, she closed the door behind them and, with a wave of her wand, erected the special privacy wards, as Harry had taught her to.

Harry, who stood in the middle of the room, raised an eyebrow at her in silent question. Hermione looked him straight in the eyes.

“You have to tell him,” she said, bluntly.

Harry’s eyes widened. Ron simply looked confused.

“Tell me what?”

Harry sighed.

“Alright then,” he said, “If you’re sure.”

He then walked over to his desk, pulled a clean scrap of parchment from the left-hand drawer and wrote on it, before handing it silently to Ron.

The younger boy took it with a frown, before looking down and reading over it.

Arty Josher Tamper

Is

Harry James Potter

Ron froze stiff in shock, then read it again. And again, unable to believe his eyes.

He then looked up at Harry, who gave him a small smile.

“Is – is it really you?”

The red-head had gone quite pale, causing his freckles to stand out sharply against his skin.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, it’s me.”

Ron stared at him mutely.

“Look,” Harry said with a sigh, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and that I disappeared for so long – not that it was intentional, but-”

“Stop,” Ron cut him off, “You don’t have to apologise.”

“I… don’t?”

“No,” Ron shook his head, “You don’t. I’ve been thinking, you see, about what would happen when you came back. Knowing what your life’s like, I guessed your leaving wasn’t on purpose and therefore it wasn’t your fault, so you have nothing to apologise for.”

Harry stared at him for a moment in shock, before blinking back into reality and smirking jokingly.

“Ron Weasley, thinking? What has the world come to?”

Ron rolled his eyes and smacked him on the arm playfully.

As Hermione watched the two, she realised that, no matter what may happen, everything would turn out alright in the end.

Chapter 5

29 November 1996

Harry leaned back in his chair, absent-mindedly rubbing his temples in an effort to relieve the tension that plagued him.

Something was going to happen soon, he could sense it. Despite the fact that he had rid himself of his mental connection with Voldemort, he could tell something was in the air.

It had been far too quiet since his return.

Still, even 4 months after Harry’s return, nothing major had occurred, with only a few missing person reports being the only indication that Voldemort was active at all.

It turned out that his fears were indeed justified.

A few days later, while everyone was sitting down to dinner in the Great Hall, a Patronus in the form of a goat, and a deep, gravelly voice relayed a message that echoed through the room, and sent chills up the spine of its occupants.

“Voldemort is attacking Hogsmeade! We need assistance!”

Then, it promptly disappeared.

Pandemonium broke out among the students.

“Everyone please remain calm,” Dumbledore shouted above the din, “and be seated. You are perfectly safe at Hogwarts. No harm will come to you in these halls.”

The students began to sit down again. Harry, however, stood up and headed firmly towards the doors.

Dumbledore stopped him.

“Professor Tamper? Where are you going?”

“To give assistance,” he replied smoothly, his voice low, before turning and making his way into the Entrance Hall, robes billowing impressively behind him.

As soon as he was out of sight of anyone, he apparated into Hogsmeade.

The village was in absolute chaos.

People were running and screaming, doing their best to dodge the spells that shot wildly around the area, the bright flashes lighting up the night and illuminating the bone-white masks of Voldemort’s Death Eaters.

It made Harry’s blood boil.

He immediately began firing off spells, disarming and incapacitating Death Eaters with a startling fury

None of them had a chance.

About five minutes after he’d arrived, there was the tell-tale crack of apparition as more Hogwarts professors arrived to help. By then, half of the Death Eaters had already fallen to Harry’s wand.

…::-::…

Minerva McGonagall watched in shock and awe, as the young man she had recently started working with came face-to-face with the Dark Lord himself.

Arty had just disarmed and stunned yet another Death Eater, when You-Know-Who apparated in use behind him.

The young man whipped around, and stopped still, sending a horrid look in his direction. Voldemort looked at him curiously.

“Who are you?” The snake-faced man asked.

“Arty Tamper,” the younger replied, with a snarl.

A flash of recognition flickered in Voldemort’s eyes, “Ah, yes, the latest of a long line of failed Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. What makes you any better than the rest?”

Minerva’s colleague grinned, “You’ll just have to find out.”

They started duelling, firing spells with a speed and skill she had never even seen before. She was reduced to nothing more than watching with her mouth hanging open.

She was broken out of her stupor, however, when Arty got hit in the shoulder. The force of the spell sent him flying backwards, and he landed with a thud a few metres away from her. She started towards him in order to assist, but he got up again, robes torn, blood flowing freely down his arm and dripping from his finger-tips. He got up, and continued to fight with renewed vigour, forcing Voldemort backwards until he could do nothing but shield the spells that were flung at him.

Minerva could barely believe her eyes, but Arty was winning.

It was precisely at that moment, however, that Voldemort sensed the same thing, and made a hasty retreat, taking all his Death Eaters away with him. A loud ‘crack’ signalled their departure.

The transfiguration professor watched as Arty blinked once before disapparating, and was gone.

…::-::…

Meanwhile, back in the Great Hall, Dumbledore was doing his best to calm the still-panicking students, when Harry apparated back into the middle of the room, and promptly passed out from exhaustion and blood-loss.

Many children screamed.

Madam Pomfrey quickly made her way towards the injured man.

“Out of the way!” She called, “I need to get him to the hospital wing. Miss Granger, step back please!”

After quickly conjuring a stretcher and levitating Harry onto it, she made her way to the Hospital Wing.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, could only stand and watch as their best friend was carted off, their faces pale with worry and fear. The worst thing was that they could not follow. After all, why should they be so concerned for a man who was only their professor?

…::-::…

Back in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was frantically attending to Harry’s wounds. With great care not to worsen anything, she removed the top section of his robes, taking note of the large gash that ran from his collar-bone, around his shoulder and partly onto his back. After cleaning the blood, she carefully waved her wand and watched as the skin mended itself together again. It would leave a scar, she knew, but there was nothing to be done about that. It wouldn’t affect his mobility, at least. Sighing, she administered a blood-replenisher, and left it at that, knowing that he now just needed to sleep it off, and would be back to normal in a few days’ time.

It was then, however, that she was interrupted by a huge hoard of hysterical children, most of whom seemed to be either ashen-faced or in tears.

She promptly turned to her potions cabinet, and took out all the calming-droughts she could find, muttering to herself about selfless idiots who get themselves hurt then traumatise everyone by reappearing and passing-out afterwards.

She quickly made her way to her new wave of patients, failing to notice the two who slipped past her, only catching a glimpse of red and brown in the corner of her vision.

Ron and Hermione used the opportunity to make their way past the fierce matron to check on their friend.

He lay still and pale against the white sheets, almost blending in. It was only the rise and fall of his chest that indicated he was still alive. 

Hermione immediately went to his side and took his hand in her own.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered, “You stupid, selfless idiot.”

Briefly, she felt his hand squeeze her back.

She gasped, then quickly turned to check that Madam Pomfrey hadn’t noticed. She hadn’t.

Hermione turned back to Harry, and saw him open his eyes, before looking up at her.

“What’s wrong, ‘Mione? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She smiled. Only Harry would crack jokes like that when critically injured and looking like death himself.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron grinned, relieved, “Gave us quite a scare, you did.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t visited the hospital wing yet this year, so I thought I’d better organise it.”

“Only you, Harry,” Ron shook his head, “Only you.”

…::-::…

Three days later, Harry was finally allowed to leave the hospital wing. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he did so, glad to finally be away from Madam Pomfrey’s stern watch.

As it was still breakfast, he made his way to the Great Hall, and up to the teachers table. 

Every eye seemed to follow him on his way up. He simply ignored them, and peacefully began his breakfast.

He was interrupted, however, when Professor McGonagall began talking to him.

“I witnessed your duel,” she began, bluntly, “Just where did you learn to fight like that?”

Harry shrugged, “All over, mostly. I travelled for a few years learning from the best teachers all over the world, and blended it with my own style.”

“Amazing,” the professor replied, sincerely.

Harry was stunned. The stern Deputy-Headmistress very seldom gave compliments, so for her to give one to him, she really must have been impressed.

Nonetheless, Harry knew that that wasn’t his main concern. He had now witnessed what Voldemort truly was capable of. Neither of them had held back that fight, and Harry had so very nearly had him, until the coward had run away.

However, he couldn’t let the man roam free for much longer. While he may have seemed insane, Voldemort was highly dangerous.

It was time.

Time for it all to come to an end.

He needed to gather his War-Counsel, make a plan.

At last, the prophecy would come to be.

And Harry would make sure he came out on top.

Chapter 6

9 November 1996

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Sirius sat facing each other in the Drawing Room at Grimmauld Place, quietly contemplating what the best way was to down a Dark Lord.

“What about an ambush?” Sirius suggested, “We know he’s hiding out at Malfoy Manor. Why don’t we just go there?”

Harry shook his head, “That’s not practical, Sirius. For one thing, there are too few of us, and there are sure to be a lot of Death Eaters there all the time. Secondly, how are we supposed to get past the wards?”

Sirius grimaced, “Yeah, okay. Fair point.”

They lapsed into silence once again.

Then, Ron spoke up.

“Why do we have to go to him?” he asked, “We can wait for him to come to us.”

“But Ron, that will take too long!” Hermione protested, “We can’t sit waiting for him for months on end. Who knows what he’ll do in that time?”

“It won’t be that long, Hermione,” her friend replied, “Just think about it. Harry almost beat him last time, yeah? So, Voldemort won’t want that liability. He won’t want there to be someone out there who has the ability to defeat him, so he’ll come after him. He knows Harry’s at Hogwarts because he’s the DADA Professor, so he’ll come for him there. We can prepare for him, and take him down when he arrives.”

“Ron, that’s brilliant!” Harry exclaimed, “We’ll also have home-ground advantage, and I have control of the wards as well.”

“I agree,” Sirius nodded, “We’ll wait for him to come to us. In the meantime, we can start planning.”

They leaned forwards, and put their heads together, starting plans for the Dark Lord’s downfall.

…::-::…

 Three weeks later, what Ron had predicted occurred.

They were seated in the Great Hall for Dinner once again, when there was a large crash from outside that echoed through the castle, rattling the walls, and Harry could feel the wards flicker.

Voldemort had come.

The students began to mutter, some looking quite worried. Harry caught sight of Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, and nodded subtly, giving them the signal to contact Sirius. He watched as they disappeared from sight beneath his invisibility cloak that they had taken to carrying around with them for the past few weeks, and knew they were heading to find a working floo.

Just then, Dumbledore stood up, “Quiet, please.”

The students stopped talking and turned to him, most of them frowning.

The headmaster spoke, “It seems that Lord Voldemort has decided to try and take over Hogwarts,” he stated calmly, ignoring the shrieks issued from the crowd, “For your safety, I ask you all to go to the dungeons now. Professor Snape will lead you down.”

The Potion Master nodded in acknowledgement, and stood up from the table, making his way to the doors. The students began to get up and follow him, sticking together in little clustered groups, faces pale and scrunched in fear.

However, not all of them went.

Harry was surprised to find many of his old classmates had stayed behind – Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown from Gryffindor, Padma Patil and Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff, and Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis from Slytherin.

Dumbledore looked at them curiously, “Why haven’t you followed the others?”

“We want to help,” Neville stated boldly, “We can’t just hide in the dungeons while you’re busy fighting for your lives. I know I could never live with myself if anyone died, and neither could the others.” He paused as they all shook their heads, and Harry noticed Ron and Hermione sneaking back in through the doors and joining the rest. Hermione gave him a small nod. Sirius was on his way.

Just then, the doors swung open once again, and Sirius himself strode in, followed by Remus, Mad-Eye, a pink-haired witch and a tall, dark-skinned man.

“Sorry to barge in,” Sirius said, grinning, “but we heard there was a Dark Lord that needed destroying and came to help.”

Neville’s mouth hung open, “But-but you’re Sirius Black!”

“Indeed,” Sirius turned to him, “And you’re Frank and Alice’s boy. Neville isn’t it?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Sirius is innocent,” Ron spoke up, boldly, “Peter Pettigrew was the real traitor. He was a rat animagus, and escaped that way, framing Sirius for his crimes. Hermione, Harry and I discovered that in Third Year.”

Before anyone could reply, another tremor shook the castle, and Harry felt the wards flicker once more.

He looked to the headmaster, and found him looking back at him. Harry nodded, receiving one in return.

Dumbledore then addressed the room.

“It’s time,” he said simply.

With grim faces, they all followed him out into the Entrance Hall, and then onto the grounds until they reached the gates.

Even in the dark night, it was easy to see Voldemort standing there, surrounded by about twenty other Death Eaters, their masks almost glowing in the moonlight as their leader’s wand slashed viciously as he worked on breaking through the ancient wards. Harry felt them getting weaker, and knew they wouldn’t last much longer.

Just then, Voldemort noticed them standing there, and grinned, looking at Harry directly.

“Mr Tamper,” he greeted, “You’ve recovered I see. Good, good. I look forward to duelling you again, just as soon as I’ve gotten through these pesky wards.” He tilted his head, “Although, if you join me, that won’t even need to happen. I’ll just go away, and no one will get hurt.”

“I’ll never join you,” Harry growled in response.

Voldemort shrugged, “Oh well. Then I guess you won’t be needing these.”

With one final flick of his wand, the wards fell, and Voldemort and his Death Eaters stormed Hogwarts.

What began was a battle that would go down in History.

Spells were flying left and right as, one-by-one, Death Eaters fell to the wands of the light side.

Eventually only Harry and Voldemort were left.

To anyone who was watching, it was clear that only one of them would come out alive. It was a battle to the death. They only hoped Voldemort would lose.

In total, the fight probably lasted no longer than half-an hour, but it seemed to drag on for a lifetime. Harry and Voldemort’s wands were emitting bright flashes of light, illuminating the night. Both were tiring, covered in various wounds and dirt, but Voldemort was fading faster.

Harry knew that that was it. Voldemort was tiring, and it was time for it all to end once and for all.

With that thought in mind, Harry’s wand flicked upwards as he cast a single spell. A sickly, yellow light shot from it at lightning speed, cutting through Voldemort’s shield, striking him in the chest and sending him flying until he landed a few metres away. He didn’t get up again.

Breathing heavily with exertion, Harry stepped slowly towards him until he stood directly above him.

Voldemort was breathing heavily, and it was plain to see that his grasp on life was weak, and wouldn’t last much longer.

Harry looked down on him, the man who had killed his parents, and spoke clearly, so that those who were watching could hear him clearly.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... This prophecy was spoken to Albus Dumbledore 16 years ago. You had a spy listening in, and he heard the prophecy before relaying it to you. Unfortunately for you, he heard only a part of it.”

Harry paused, and briefly looked back at the group behind him. All those except for Dumbledore, Ron and Sirius looked shocked.

He turned back to Voldemort, and continued, “You could have chosen to ignore it, but instead you believed it, believed that a mere baby would be the one to defeat you. And that just wouldn’t do, so you decided that he had to be dealt with. However, there were two babies born at the end of July that year whose parents had defied you three times – Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter. You went after Potter, and everyone knows what happened after that. You were vanquished, he lived, his parents were killed, and you fled as a spirit. Then, in the summer of 1995, you returned, and duelled Potter once again. He escaped, and he hasn’t been seen since July of that year.”

Harry paused yet again, taking a breath.

“How is it, you may ask then, am I able to defeat you, if Harry Potter is the child of the Prophecy? Well you see, my name isn’t truly Arty Josher Tamper. I took a leaf out of your book, Tom and created an anagram. My real name, is Harry James Potter.”

He heard a few shocked gasps from behind him, but ignored those, his sole focus on the reaction of his enemy.

If anything, Voldemort looked even worse.

“I never should have come after you,” he said simply, before his eyes closed, and his chest stilled.

Lord Voldemort was dead.

Harry stood still for a moment, staring at the body, before turning and re-joining the group.

“It’s over,” he said, simply, “Voldemort is gone.”

Epilogue

2 December 2005

“Woah! Did that really happen Dad? Did you really defeat him?”

Harry chuckled at the awe his son’s voice held. At five, James Sirius Potter thought he was ready to be a ‘big boy’, but was happy enough to have his dad tell him bedtime stories. His twin brother, Daniel Remus Potter, certainly didn’t complain either. Little three-year-old Lily Emma Potter, however, listened with rapt attention, soaking in every word, much like her mother.

Their mother crept up behind Harry just then, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning down and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“He did indeed,” Hermione said in reply to James’ question, “I saw it, I was there.”

“You saw it?” Daniel cried, “Was it cool?”

“Very cool,” she responded with a smile, “Your dad was very brave.”

“Like a Gryffindor,” Lily said, softly.

“Like a Gryffindor,” Hermione agreed.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed at the talk about himself, “Right, time for bed, you lot!”

“Aww!”

“But Dad-”

“No ‘buts’,” he said, “It’s late. Come on.”

It took another half-an-hour for the two of them to put their three children into bed. James wanted more stories, but Harry told him firmly that they could save it for another day.

Eventually, all three had dozed off, so Harry and Hermione carefully left their shared room and went out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them.

They stood there in silence for a brief moment, before Harry broke it.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that about me to the kids,” he said.

Hermione smiled at him and shook her head, “They already look up to you as their father, Harry. A little more hero-worship won’t make any difference.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her, but smiled and wrapped her in his arms.

They stood in the dark hallway like that for a while, basking in the feeling of the other’s arm around them, before Hermione spoke.

“You remember everyone’s coming over for lunch tomorrow, right?”

Harry nodded, “Of course I do. I’m hardly likely to forget.”

For the last couple of years, ever since James and Daniel were born, everyone collected at least once a week for lunch. ‘Everyone’ being; Ron and Luna, who had married shortly after Luna’s graduation, and their children - Selene Molly Weasley and Hugo Arthur Weasley, Neville and Susan, who had married, and their children - Franklin Harrison Longbottom and Alice Amelia Longbottom. Ginny and Dean had also married and had a daughter - Cleo Hermione Thomas. Sirius - honorary grandfather to Harry and Hermione’s children - also always attended, most often bringing presents for all the kids and generally spoiling them. He seemed to be a perpetual bachelor. Although he had had a number of girlfriends over the years, none had lasted longer than three months. Remus, who had married Tonks a year after Voldemort’s defeat, also came each week, with their son - Edward ‘Teddy’ Remus Lupin.

Harry thought back to that morning in December nine years ago - the day Voldemort had been finally defeated and his identity had been revealed to the world. He remembered the reaction of those who had been there. Those who had not previously known had been completely shocked, while the others had seemed - at least to Harry - smug. However, as soon as they had recovered, they welcomed him back with open arms. The public, meanwhile, had been fickler, but had eventually gotten over it.

Harry and Hermione had begun dating soon after she graduated from Hogwarts. They probably would have done so sooner had Harry not still been her DADA Professor. As it was, they did not want to get involved while he was still her teacher. They had gotten married a year later, and the twins had come along a year after that. Lily followed two years later. Harry was still the DADA Professor at Hogwarts, flooring home each evening to be with his family. Hermione, meanwhile, was a healer at St Mungo’s, and was quickly rising through the ranks.

Harry shook himself out of his reverie as Hermione sighed contentedly in his arms.

He looked down at her and smiled.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Very,” she replied.

They lapsed into silence once again, before Hermione spoke.

“I have something to tell you,” she said.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Nothing bad I hope?”

Hermione shook her head, and withdrew something from her pocket, holding it out for him to see. Harry took it, and studied it carefully.

It was a pregnancy test.  A positive pregnancy test.

Harry’s head whipped up and he stared at his wife with wide eyes. She was smiling at him mischievously.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

Hermione giggled, “No, Harry, I’m Hermione. Sirius is your godfather.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, before snorting and breaking out into laughter. It only took a moment for Hermione to follow, and soon they were the only things keeping each other up. The situation just seemed so ridiculous!

Eventually they managed to calm down again, taking deep breaths.

Harry looked to his wife again.

“You really are being serious though, right?”

Hermione nodded, smiling, “I am.”

Harry grinned, his whole face lighting up as he picked her up by the waist and spun her around. Hermione laughed until he put her down again and pulled her back into his arms.

“We’re having a baby,” he whispered.

“We are,” she replied, feeling so lucky that her husband was so excited about having a child even after they already had three.

Harry pulled her close and kissed her.

“I love you,” he said, as they pulled apart.

“I love you too,” Hermione replied, before drawing him in for another kiss.

All was well.

The End