Harry Potter in a New Light

By: Pidge

Author's Note: I have no idea what I was thinking. Sorry.

Disclaimer: The characters are Jo Rowling's; they're not mine, just the plot and such. Quoted from books have been cited at the end of this story. Enjoy.

Spoiler Warning: If you have not read all of the books, don't read this, please; I don't want to be the one to ruin Harry Potter for you. If you read, and you haven't finished through book four, don't be mad at me, I warned you, please. *remember what I warned you about!*

--- "You're potion, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more. *1---


"I think he's waking up!" shouted a doctor, running to Harry Potter's hospital bedside. Harry's eyes bolted open. He looked around; he wasn't in the hospital wing anymore. Rather, the room was white; it looked like a standard hospital. Had they taken him somewhere while he was in a deep sleep? How long had be been asleep for? Did the term end? He sat up, and saw Wormtail hovering over him; he pushed him down, forcing some vile liquid down his throat.

He gagged, spitting it all over the white sheets on his bed. "You!" he shouted as loud as he could, "What's going on?" but his vision was going blurry again; the liquid was doing its job. He fell, once more, into his dreamless sleep.


Harry opened his eyes and looked around the room yet again. He was in the hospital wing; it must have been a crazy dream. He scanned the room, it was daylight out and Moody was still in the bed next to him. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill were strewn across the room. He sat up, and instantly had Madame Pomfrey hovering over him.

And then he remembered everything from the day before, he miserably fell back onto his pillow, he wanted to disappear. Cedric was dead, and it was his fault. Voldemort was back, and it was his fault.

---A few weeks later---

Harry slowly slipped back into consciousness after a nice long sleep. The first thing he heard was the noises surrounding him; he heard a steady beep, probably his alarm. He shifted to his side and willed himself to go back to sleep. He also heard Hedwig chirping in her cage, and wondered why she was up so early.

It was still summer vacation and he was stuck at the Dursleys' home. He desperately wanted to go to the Weasleys' house, but Dumbledore had refused to let him go. There had to be some hidden reason, but no matter how much Harry searched, he could not figure it out.

"Doctor, I think he's awake," he heard. Sighing, he opened his eyes, he must not be awake. He was having the same awful dream he had been having over and over again since the awful third task. He would wake up in a hospital, a doctor would say "he's awake" and shove some nasty stuff down his throat, and he would be asleep again. He always woke right back up after the dreams though, so he knew he should just play along, that way he would wake up faster.

He sat up and looked around, this time, it wasn't the usual dream. The air conditioner was making an awful squeaking noise, and there were tubes hooked up to him, and lots of medical machines beeping. The Dursley's were standing in a corner, looking at him wide eyed. There were three doctors around his bed, and none of them held a bottle of liquid in their hands.

"Harry," one of the doctors started timidly. After another glance, Harry realized it was Wormtail.

"Where am I?" Harry insisted.

"You are in the children's ward of the Royal Surrey County Hospital, do you remember that?" He spoke to him as if Harry had the mental capacity of a five year old.

"No, sorry," he said nonchalantly, "Just give me that drink, so I can wake up and start my homework."

"Harry," Uncle Vernon approached his bed, "Do you remember me, your Uncle Vernon?" he asked, nervously.

"Of course," even for the dream Uncle Vernon, he had an unusual calmness. Harry looked over to Dudley, and for the first time he realized he wasn't nearly as WIDE as he was in real life.

"Go on a diet Dudley?" Harry asked, chuckling to himself; he had nothing to loose, it was a dream after all.

"Sure, Harry," Dudley sighed. Aunt Petunia had an arm around her son.

Uncle Vernon turned to the doctor and whispered, "Are you sure we can't just leave him here?" Harry heard.

"I'm sorry sir, it's been long enough, and now that he's cured, we need to free up the space for other patients," the doctor explained, then he turned to Harry. "Harry, we're going to ask you to get up and follow us, now, you might feel a little woozy, but that's understandable," Harry nearly laughed, why would he feel woozy? He quickly pushed the blankets over him and put his feet on the ground. He stood up, but only for a moment, before he crashed to the ground.

"He warned you boy," Uncle Vernon scolded, then, unexpectedly, he held a hand out to help him up. Harry stood up, his head was spinning. The doctor spoke to Uncle Vernon, but Harry was too busy regaining his composure to listen. While looking down, he noticed that he was dressed in a hospital gown, and suddenly felt embarrassed, even if it was a dream.

The next thing Harry knew, he was sitting in a chair in an office, across from some man in a suit. He looked remarkably like Sirius Black.

"Harry Potter," the man scanned his notes.

"Yes?" Harry said uneasily.

"I've been visiting you quite a lot recently," the man spoke; he sounded just like Sirius too.

"Are you Sirius?" Harry went out on a limb, dreams can't hurt can they?

"No, son, tell me, who is this Sirius you speak of," he questioned.  Harry smiled, this was a dream, and he could tell this man anything he wanted.

"Sirius Black, my godfather," the man started scribbling down in his notes. "He was in Azkaban for years, because they thought he-"

"Azkaban?" the man interrupted.

"Yeah, the prison for Wizards," he nodded, practically mocking the Sirius look-alike.

"Oh yes, Wizards, I see," he fiercely scribbled notes down in his book.

"Anyway," he murmured; the man didn't seem phased by anything, he wished he could get a rise out of this dream psychiatrist. "They thought he killed a bunch of muggles, when really it was Peter Pettigrew all along!"

"I see," the man continued to write.

"Muggles?" he looked up, "Pettigrew?" Harry nodded; maybe he was getting to him after all! "One of the medications you were on was called Mug Gel. Pettigrew was your main doctor, it seems as though some of your surroundings seeped into your fantasy world, and boy do you have a vivid imagination, Wizards!" he nearly laughed, but contained himself.

"No, that's real, you're the stuff that's my dream," Harry crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

"Mr. Potter," he began, "can you tell me more about your wizard world?"

"Sure, if you promise not to go to the authorities with any of it," he laughed.

"I promise, anything you say, stays in this room," he sincerely stated.

"Well, okay then, when I was eleven,"

"So it was in real time!" the doctor nearly shouted.

"Real time? Sure," he smirked. "Anyway, when I was eleven, this guy, Hagrid, he's the game keeper at Hogwarts, the school I went to."

"Hagrid, not sure that that is, and yes, wart hog, clever," he chuckled, scribbling in his notebook.

"Anyway, Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, and we went shopping for my school supplies, I got my Owl Hedwig,"

"Diagonally," the man scoffed, then his eyes widened. "Ha! Hedwig! One of our mechanics here, that's classic," the man was outright laughing now. Harry felt a little defensive; he didn't like feeling stupid in his own dreams. Speaking of which, this one was getting pretty long.

"I want to wake up now," he stood up.

"Harry, you are awake," the doctor stood as well. "Sit back down, I'm sorry for laughing, please continue. Why don't you talk about your parents," it never failed, even dream psychiatrists asked about the standard stuff.

"My parents, well, until I was eleven I thought they died in a car crash."

"They did die in a car crash Harry."

"Ha, no, sorry, they were killed by Voldemort."

"Voldemort . . ." the doctor thought, "Voldemort, where in the world would that one come from?" he gazed at Harry. "Well, there was Old Mortimer, he spent a lot of time around you, worked on the operation, he got obsessive, but we fired him when he tried to kill you, I don't think he killed your parents though."

"No, you moron, Lord Voldemort is the darkest Wizard ever, he did try to kill me though, a few times, once when he sucked me into a diary, Ginny had been writing in,"

"Ginny who?"

"Ginny Weasley, she was my best friend Ron's little sister,"

"Weasley," he looked stunned, "we've had nearly everyone in the Weasley family in here at one point or another."

"Hah, funny stuff mate," Harry was taking this whole dream as a joke now, it was getting out of control, he just wanted to wake up.

"Harry, do you mind telling me who's in the Weasley family, other than Ron and Ginny."

"Well, there is their mom, Molly and Dad Arthur."

"We didn't have them in here,"

"Then there are the twins, Fred and George."

"There was a Greg, no Fred or George."

"And Percy."

"Yes, Percy Weasley, he was in here as well, but he left a year ago,"

"And Bill, and Charlie,"

"Nope, none of them, you're mind must have had some crazy fun making up people to add to that bunch, who were your other friends Harry?"

"Well there was Hermione Granger,"

"Hm, well, I know we used to show videos repetitively, and I know we had 'Those Fantastic Flying Fools' playing for a while, if I'm not mistaken Hermione Gingold was in there, but you wouldn't have seen it, that was when you first came in here, you were in the heart of your comma,"

"Comma?" Harry looked confused.

"Yes Harry, you were in a comma for four years, we started giving you a new kind of medicine a few months ago, and we've just finally broken you out of it, it's a wonder you're up and about like this," he explained.

"You mean, I wasn't really a Wizard?" he asked.

"Harry, there are no such thing as Wizards,"

With that, Harry started laughing. "Okay, just give me that drink, and let me wake up, this is a really stupid dream," he continued to laugh.

"Harry, calm down please."

"Okay, explain Quidditch then,"

"What's that?" asked the Psychiatrist.

"A game on brooms, beaters, chasers, keepers, and me, the most important member of the team, the seeker,"

"Brooms? No idea, maybe when people cleaned your room, other than that, no clue. It's quite amusing how you suddenly become a fantastic figure in your imagination, not uncommon though."

Harry stood up, "I'm out of here," he started to walk out of the door, and noticed his forehead, there was a scar there, but it was nothing like how he had remembered it. It used to be in the shape of a lightning bolt, but now it was just a line, and barely visible. He raised his hand to his head.

"You like it?" the doctor asked.

"Like what?" Harry snapped back to the man. "Your scar, the one you got when you were in that car crash with your parents," he tossed a folder down in front of the seat where Harry had been sitting. "We did a little testing, that scar, it's fixed, must have been mighty painful during the operations, but your Uncle said it would be okay if we tested it on you, since you were asleep, and it didn't even wake you up."

"But it was shaped like a lightning bolt, my scar, it was the mark from Voldemort,"

"No, but Old Mortimer, he was one of the men operating on you to fix it," the doctor explained, "Maybe that's where you got the idea that Voldemort was a Dark Wizard who killed your parents."

Harry thought about what the man was saying, he sat down in the chair and opened up the folder. There was a picture, three in fact, one of his mother, one of this father, and one of him, all cut up and such. This was the information about the car accident. There was a picture of a car, smashed all up.

"How did they crash?"

"Your father was drunk," he explained, "right into a tree," he sighed, "Great role model, huh?" he asked.

"My father wasn't drunk," he shouted.

Then he had a sudden flashback,

---"Go on, boy, proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect)"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" said Harry who found himself on his feet.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge. *2---

"This isn't funny anymore, I want to wake up, or go home, or something."

"Well Harry, we can send you home if you'd like."


The rest of the afternoon went by slowly, Harry got into the car with the Dursley's, his eyes had trouble adjusting to the outside, and they drove back to 4 Privet drive. He started to make his way up to his room, when Uncle Vernon yelled at him and asked where he was going. He explained that he was simply going to his room, but he pointed him to the closet under the stairs. "How could you be so stupid to think we'd let you have a room upstairs?" Uncle Vernon scoffed, "even if you have been in the hospital for the past 4 years."

Harry lay down in his bed, it was exactly the way he remembered it, way back from when he was eleven. The things he had taken upstairs with him were now back in this room. At dinner, he started talking about magic, just to see if he could get a rise out of them, but none of the Dursley's were even mildly effected. Harry threatened to turn Dudley into a goat, and Dudley just laughed. "You're funny Harry."

"More like crazy," Uncle Vernon muttered.

Harry sulked back to his room; this was the longest, most ridiculously boring dream he'd ever had. He soon drifted off to sleep.


---"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," said Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. "As a Matter of fact," she added, her voice now trembling slightly, "Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron.

"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," said Hermione in a rush.*3---

Harry started laughing, this conversation was unreal, and he had been here, doing the exact same thing over a month ago. Hermione turned her attention to Harry, she looked extremely uneasy.

"What's wrong with you?" she hissed.

"Hermione, you know dejá vou?" he laughed.

"Of course," she seemed a little put out.

"Well, that's what I'm having right now, in complete overdrive, you're going to tell us that Rita Skeeter is in a jar, and she's an unregistered animagi, and she's been listening to conversations that way. You plan to let her out when we get to London. Am I right?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "H-Harry, h-how did you do that?" she stumbled over her words.

"I told you, dejá vou," he laughed again.

"Harry, that's not dejá vou, that's like time travel," Ron gave Harry an odd look.

Harry suddenly stopped laughing, something was wrong. He looked out of the window; he was on the Hogwarts Express. He was home now, not on the Hogwarts express anymore; maybe he really had Time Traveled.

"I reckon you're right there Ron," he said solemnly.

"What do you mean?"

"Draco is going to walk in here in a minute, you just watch," they sat there in silence for a moment, glaring at the compartment door.

---The door of the compartment slid open.

"Very clever, Potter," said Draco Malfoy. *4---

"Harry," said Ron. Harry, however, was lost in thought. "Harry," repeated Ron. "Harry," Ron and Hermione now said. "Harry," Draco joined in. "I reckon we take him back to the ward," Harry snapped his eyes open. All three of the Dursley's were looming over him.

Startled, he jumped up. What was going on here? Why couldn't he get of this crazy world?

"Are you okay boy?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"No! I'm not okay!" he shouted. "I want to go home!"

"You are home," he explained.

"No! This is some crazy dream land! I need to get out of here," he tried to get out of the cupboard door, but Uncle Vernon pinned him down in the bed.

"Dr. Pettigrew said he might try to do this, Petunia, get me that elixir," she handed Uncle Vernon a bottle, and he forced it down Harry's throat. Harry started coughing and fell back onto his bed, sound asleep.


"Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked, Harry sat up and looked around, he was at the burrow.

"Ron?" he pinched himself, it hurt he wasn't dreaming! "Ron!" he shouted.

"Harry, shut up, everyone's asleep," Ron groaned.

"What's going on?" he heard Fred grumble.

"Sorry, just had a nightmare," Harry sighed, happy to be back in his own world.


The next morning Harry made his way downstairs to find Hermione and Ron playing chess. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Nearly noon, thought you might have been dead there a while," Ron chortled.

"Mornin' Harry," Hermione smiled from her seat.

"God, and I glad to see the two of you," he pulled a chair up next to their game. "I had the absolute worst dream ever, and it was so long," he sighed. "Just a question Ron, how'd I get here anyway?" he asked.

"We picked you up about a week ago," he mumbled, not taking his eyes off of the chess game.

"You mean you don't remember Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"No, I don't, it's all really weird," he sighed.

"What was your dream about?" Hermione asked.

"None of this was real, it was all a dream, and people were telling me I was crazy, it was awful," Ron looked up to Harry.

"Well, it was just a dream, so it's all okay now Harry," he stated.

"Harry?" Fred asked.

"Harry?" George asked.

Harry looked at the two of them, they seemed to be merging into one.

"What's happening to you?" Harry shouted.

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Ron and Hermione eyed him.

"Fred and George," he pointed to the lone boy who was standing there now.

"You mean Greg? Harry, are you sure you're okay?" Hermione put a hand on his forehead. It was cold, freezing cold.


Harry opened his eyes; he was back in the cupboard. There was an icepack resting on his head. He strained his eyes to look at his watch, it was nearly 3:00 in the morning. He stood up and got out of the cupboard, he needed proof, he needed to know what was going on, this was crazy. He hurried to the tele and dialed the cab company.

"I need to get to Kings Cross Station, immediately," he explained.

As soon as the taxi dropped him off at the station, he leaped out and threw a handful of money he had stolen from Uncle Vernon, into the man's hand. He rushed into Kings Cross, hurrying as fast as he could to platform 9 ¾.

He stood in front of the platform between 9 and 10 and ran as fast as he could, straight into the platform. However, it didn't give way, and he splattered to the ground.


"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked again. This time they were in Diagon Alley.

"You guys, there is something really weird going on here," he shook his head. "Like, how did we get here for example?" He was feeling himself getting frantic.

"Harry, I think you need to sit down," Ron and Hermione led him over to a seat.

"What's up with you lately?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, this whole summer, you've been acting nuts," Ron said.

"Hermione, why did you spend the summer at the burrow?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" she looked flustered; Ron gave her an odd look.

"Why? You have a happy home life,"

"Harry, I didn't spend the summer at the Burrow," she explained.

"Yeah, you came and stayed with me about two weeks ago, remember?"

"No Ron," he shook his head, "You're wrong," He felt two hands on his shoulders, trying to stop him from shaking.

"HARRY STOP IT!" Hermione shouted.

"You guys, I think I'm loosing my mind, I don't remember the summer, I've been having these weird dreams, when do we go to Hogwarts?" he asked.

"September 1, the same as always Harry," Ron stared at him. Suddenly Harry felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. "My head!" he shouted.

"What's wrong with your head?" Hermione asked.

"Is it your scar?" Ron asked worriedly.

"No! Owe!" his hands flew to the back of his head.


He opened his eyes; he was lying on the ground in Kings Cross Station, it was light out. He looked to the platform. "What was I thinking?" he asked himself, "The platform's only open on September 1, I'm such a moron!" he shouted. He needed more verifiable proof that he was a Wizard. He hurried to the nearest phone booth. He shut the dingy red doors, and pulled the phone book open. He started to rummage through the book, Hermione would be able to set things straight. Granger, thank the heavens, there was only one Granger in the phone book, what were the chances? He quickly dialed the phone number listed and soon heard.


"Hi, is Hermione in?" he asked.

"Yes, one moment please," he sighed, things were finally going to get better.



"Yes, who's this,"

"Oh thank god Hermione, I need your help,"

"Who is this?"


"Harry who?"

"Harry Potter, from Hogwarts, you know, you're best friend?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know any Harry's, or of any Hogwarts," she said nervously.

"This is Hermione, isn't it, over achieving, straight A, Hermione Granger, who I met when I was eleven years old, isn't it?"

"This is Hermione Granger, and I'm not an over achiever, hmph!"

"Hermione, Hogwarts, remember?"

(AN: If I were Hermione, I SO would have hung up the phone by this point! Sorry, on the with the story)

"Hogwarts? I'm sorry, I can't be of more help, good luck, bye," and with that she hung up. Harry had to admit, it didn't really sound like the real Hermione anyway, her voice was different. He sunk down in the phone booth, his head was throbbing. Maybe it wasn't a dream, maybe he really wasn't a Wizard.


Harry looked across the common room where a distraught Ron Weasley sat, crying.

"Ron!" Harry ran over to him. "What's wrong?"

Ron looked at Harry, pleadingly, "You know what's wrong, Harry," he said, wiping his eyes dry. "Do we really have to talk about this again?" he asked.

"Ron, I honestly don't know, please, what's wrong?"

"HARRY POTTER!" shouted a voice from the other side of the common room, it was Ginny Weasley. She ran over to him and grabbed his arm. "You leave my brother alone, you hear?" she whispered to him.

"Ginny?" she looked older somehow, he lowered his voice, "What happened Ginny?"

"Harry, that's not funny," she said, tears in her eyes; she started to stomp off to the girls' dormitory. Harry grabbed her arm, "Ginny, tell me, I really don't remember, please,"

"Oh, if you insist," she said pulling him up the stairs; she didn't feel comfortable talking to Harry around Ron. As soon as they were out of earshot, she began. "I don't understand why you insist upon hearing this again, but Hermione," she stopped, dropping her head. "Hermione was killed by Voldemort the other night," and she ran into her room, slamming the door. Harry stared after her.

Hermione? He walked back downstairs and plopped down next to Ron who had dried his eyes now. "Ron, I'm sorry," he started.

"No Harry, it's okay, I can't believe it either, I never even got to tell her,"

"Tell her what Ron,"

"Oh, you know Harry,"

"No, I don't, tell her what?"

"Why are you being such a torture, Harry, I didn't tell her I loved her, and you knew that because we had this discussion this morning!"

"You loved Hermione?" Harry asked uneasily. Ron couldn't take being around the stupid version of Harry, he got up without a word, and walked to his bedroom. Suddenly Harry heard a knocking on the common room door, how could someone be knocking though? It continued, and just kept knocking until her realized he was still in the phone booth. He opened his eyes and looked around. It was dark, how long had he been in the phone booth? The knocking ceased, and Harry opened the door.

"Harry Potter, so we meet again," the figure looked down on him. Harry quickly stood up and backed against the phone booth. He was wearing a black trench coat, and Harry couldn't really make out his face, but the voice was very distinct.

"Voldemort," Harry squinted his eyes.

"Yes, it's me Harry, Lord Voldemort, and it is time that we finish this off," he held a long stick out at Harry.

Harry reached into his coat, his wand, it wasn't there. "My wand!" he shouted. "Where's my wand?"

"Unarmed I see. Haven't you realized it yet boy? You're not a Wizard, you don't have magic powers, you never did, and you never will, you're a helpless, scrawny, little fifteen year old boy. I guess this really is the end, you had to know there was only so far you could go son," he cackled.

"Have you been the one giving me these strange dreams?" Harry asked, he needed to bide time.

"Weird dreams son? You mean your coma? Yes, I was feeding your mind with images, so that I could lead you into my trap when came to, and boy did you ever fall for it."

"What about Ron, Hermione, my parents, everyone?" he asked.

"Non of them exist, when are you going to give this charade up boy?" he shouted, moving closer to Harry, he could now see that the long stick was really a gun. Reality was starting to hit.

"Harry Potter, you have come to the end of your days," and with that, he held out his 'wand' and red sparks flew out of the end, and straight into Harry.


Madame Pomfrey's face was in Harry's when he opened his eyes. "Albus!" she shouted. "He's awake!" suddenly Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and many other people stormed into the room.

"Harry!" he felt Hermione and Ron hugging him.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking around frantically. He felt his stomach, hadn't he been shot?

"You killed Voldemort Harry! You did it!"

"Hermione?" he asked, "I thought you were dead,"

"Silly Harry! Why would I be dead" Hermione laughed, Ron joined in, and was soon followed by Harry.

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore stood next to his bed.


"You've defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort, for real this time, and I should know, I am Dumbledore after all," he smiled, a wide grin plastered to his face.

"Was he the one giving me all those strange dreams?" Harry asked, he desperately wanted this to be real, he wanted this more than anything else, ever.

"Yes Harry, Voldemort was trying to confuse you, this is your real home, classes will be starting up soon, and you are here attending Hogwarts for the next two years, Harry."

"We love you Harry," Hermione threw her arms around him again, followed by Ron. He noticed tears in both of their eyes.

Now this had to be real . . .


"Doctor, I say we let him go, he seems happier this way," a woman suggested.

Pettigrew looked at Harry once more, "You're right Bertha, we should just let him stay this way. It's for the best."


So, what did you think? I know, it's weird, sorry. Please don't flame me, I know this isn't what really happens, I love Harry with all my heart! I would never wish this upon him! It's just a 'what if' anyway, thanks for reading...

*1- Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. New York: Scholastic Inc. 2000 (pg 715)

*2- Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. New York: Scholastic Inc. 1999 (pg 28)

*3- Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. New York: Scholastic Inc. 2000 (pg 727)

*4- Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. New York: Scholastic Inc. 2000 (pg 729)