Dyslexia: Language disability that affects my grammar and spelling, read at your risk.
Disclaimer: JKR owns her ideas and copyright.
AN: Harry remembers the mirror Sirius gave him in the fifth book and realizes Voldemort is in his mind. Fed up with his circumstances he takes matters into his own and hands with an unforeseen fallout. Marauders age, No time Paradox. Hedwig forever. I needed a break from What We Lost, but I thought I would try another Andromeda/Harry. Hoping to make this more actiony and less angst, well first two chapters will have angst because we are coming off of book 5.
WARNING: I am rearranging the Black sisters' ages again. Andromeda is two years older than Sirius but is only a year ahead in school. Narcissa and Regulus are in the same year and Bellatrix is three years ahead in school than Sirius. If you have a problem with redeeming and/or humanizing Slytherins: pick another story.
Beta: Endless thanks to Basium1!
Chapter 1 - History of Magic
Sirius was being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. Sirius was being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. It was the only thing he could think.
"You can't leave the test until you are done, my dear boy," the instructor said.
"I'm done," he said and ran out of the room. He needed to get to Sirius, he needed to know if Sirius was okay. He-
He remembered the mirror. He ran to Gryffindor Tower and found the mirror he had hidden in his trunk.
"Sirius!" Harry called disparately through the mirror and was relieved beyond measure when he 'picked up' on his end in under thirty seconds.
"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" Sirius asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, he could still hear the vision of Sirius screaming in his mind.
"You don't look fine, why did you call? What do you need?"
Harry hesitated. Sure he should trust Sirius but he had yelled at him the last time he had spoken to him. Harry was not taking occlumency lessons. "It was just the test I got out of, I forgot everything and… well I know I failed it."
Sirius visibly relaxed, "Oh… well, that is a normal issue. I always feel like when I hear from you it is because of something bad happening."
Harry forced a laugh, "I did do poorly."
"You are starting to worry like Moony then. What subject was it?"
"History of Magic."
Sirius laughed, "What are you worried about then? No one was ever defined by their grade in History of Magic. You weren't planning on taking it into the NEWT level, were you?"
"No," Harry said, "it wasn't a requirement to become an Auror."
"Then it's over now, pass or fail it doesn't matter. Why don't you take a nap? You look tired, and don't forget to practice your Occlumency."
"Yeah, alright, thanks, Sirius," Harry said.
"Anytime kid, I'm always here for you."
Always, Harry thought a little bitterly, who is the liar now?
The mirror went blank and Harry stayed slumped against the side of his bed. The images of Sirius being tortured were still rolling around in his mind.
Voldemort was in his mind and despite his 'lessons' Harry had not a clue as to how to block the Dark Lord from his mind.
Hermione would tell him to practice, but he would like to see how she dealt with a constant headache.
What would Hermione do?
Aside from master Occlumency, she would probably go to the library. But if the answer was in the library surely the professors would have found the solution by now.
Hermione would tell him the answer was Occlumency and to do as Dumbledore told him to do.
Dumbledore could go turn himself.
Harry was beyond angry with the man who meant the world to him who hadn't bothered to make eye contact since the whole Nagini and Mr. Weasley incident. His head hurt and he wanted to make Dumbledore hurt because as much as everyone claimed to care for him, to keep him safe even if it meant being told nothing, and him staying with the Dursleys, Voldemort had already won.
Voldemort had killed Cedric. No one believed that the Dark Lord was back, and now the evil parasite was inside of Harry.
Dumbledore knew more than he was telling and Harry would love nothing more than to go up to his office and demand answers. But Dumbledore wasn't there.
And then a very bad, very expel worthy idea came to him. Dumbledore wasn't at the school but Dumbledore's office was and maybe Umbridge couldn't get into the old wizard's office but maybe there was a way Harry could.
Pulling the Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk. He left the mirror behind him, and exited Gryffindor Tower under the cloak and made his way to Quidditch Pitch and Madam Hooch's shed. Harry didn't even bother with an unlocking charm, he found a large rock and pounded the handle off. He removed one of the school brooms and repaired the lock with a flick of his wand. He flew to the Headmaster's office.
Hedwig must have spotted him somehow from her own tower and flew alongside him.
Harry thought there would be something to stop him from him entering through one of the upper windows. But there wasn't even the brush of a ward. It just went to show that you could have all the power in the world and still be forgetful.
The portraits on the wall harassed him about why he was here and eventually Harry yelled at them to shut up. "I am here to find a way to get the Dark Lord out of my head!" he shouted.
"Occlumency!" one headmaster yelled back at him.
Harry snarled at him, "That has only made things worse, it opens me up more to him. I am defenseless! I need help and nobody seems willing to do that so I am going to help myself to whatever knowledge I can get my hands on!"
There were some protests but after about an hour they left him alone. Harry searched Dumbledore's desk for note's and most of them in a shorthand that Harry had no way to decipher.
At one point he knocked over the side table of seemingly precious objects. Harry was too frustrated to be sorry. His head was pounding and instead of a vision, there was a voice growing in his mind.
Another layer of thought was shadowing his own enough so that when he found a book about the Dark Arts in a small shelf he had 'accidentally' -violently, pushed over there was a ring of familiarity to it. He had been in the office for hours at this point, with only Hedwig for company.
Secrets of the Darkest Art, Harry read the book and was too tired to be horrified, -disgusted? yes, but not stricken with terror. At least until he reread the description of a Horcrux and had the lightning realization that Tom Riddle's Diary sounded an awful lot like that description.
Harry wasn't sure if it was the whispering in his mind or the chill down his back or maybe he was finally cracking but Harry had two terrible trains of thought.
What if a person could make more than one Horcrux?
And what if a person could be a Horcrux?
Harry touched the scar on his forehead, it throbbed with pain, and suddenly he didn't think he was mistaken. Yes, his sanity had probably cracked, but maybe to beat a madman, you had to be a madman?
Harry checked the bookshelves, searching for a way to remove curse scars. He really didn't want to have to stab his own forehead with Basilisk fang, it seemed a little extreme and besides, Fawkes wasn't around to save him.
Harry sighed, "Hedwig, how do I get myself out of this?"
Hedwig hooted and flew to a corner of the room Harry had yet to trash. Standing on a cabinet marked with three rune symbols.
Runes, as Hermione had explained to him, were just a part of an ancient wizarding language and that the symbols themselves had no power on there own. This 'word' on the cabinet she had taught both him and Ron. It read simply, 'danger.'
Harry being Harry, ignored the warning and opened the cabinet. Dumbledore being Dumbledore didn't properly defend the opening of such a cabinet from someone like Harry.
Inside the cabinet was a little mirror that had a little not in swirling cursive that read:
One way mirror, do not touch with bare skin. This mirror gives you the power of existence, your 'mirrored' self cannot be rewritten no matter the outcome but you can never return to where you were.
In Dumbledore's handwriting there was a second note, maximum of twenty, would be destroyed by duplicate self.
Harry had no idea what this meant. He went to shut the doors but Hedwig hopped to his shoulder and bit his ear.
She hooted at him indignantly and Harry sighed. He looked at his tired reflection, Hedwig glaring reproachfully at him meeting his eyes in the mirror. He reached into the cabinet and the moment his fingers touched the glass it shattered, the shards sticking into his hand.
When he woke it was in a rather familiar place to a rather familiar face - that is, a familiar face that was twenty years younger than when Harry had last seen the medi-witch.
KEYNOTE: I am not going to have Harry agonize over how to get back to his time, I don't care if you think that is unrealistic I just get bored with that line of thought. Again there is No Time Paradox.
AN: I screwed up the last two times I tried this idea. Third time's the charm? Please share your thoughts and reactions with me, if you are interested?