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The Many Faces of Harry Potter

Summary:

“Welcome to the first Interdimensional Harry Potter Meeting!”

Harry wakes to find himself surrounded by seven other, very different Harry Potters. He’s about to learn more about himself than he ever wanted to know.

Premise: I’ve read many stories in which Harry’s life takes a turn at some point along the way and he becomes a completely different kind of person. This story explores several of those while focusing on Harry as he was in canon at the culmination of the 1st book. What if JK’s Harry Potter were to discover prior to 2nd year exactly what his own potential could truly be? What if he had found unconditional acceptance and support to guide him on paths he’d never imagined? What if, at the tender age of 12, he had discovered unrestricted access to a deep well of information Dumbledore had never meant for him to have? I give you The Harry Potter Self-Help Group…

WARNING: This is a Work In Progress. It is not finished, nor may it ever be finished. It is presently at around 35,000 words. I will post what I have written and add more if/when I write it. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Notes:

I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from this work of fiction.

(See the end of the work for more notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1: The First Interdimensional Harry Potter Meeting

Chapter Text

1 August 1992

Harry woke to the sound of many overlapping voices.  He sat up cautiously, fixing his glasses to his nose, and gaped at what he saw.  First, he was in a room that he’d never seen before.  It was big, made of stone, round with stained glass windows and torches on the walls.

“What the hell?” he breathed as he focused on the other occupants of the room, scampering to his feet as he did.  There were seven other people in the room.  They were all boys his age, but upon closer examination…

“Welcome!” called one of the boys.  He was one of the tallest of the bunch, with black hair all the way down his back.  He didn’t wear glasses.  He was wearing fancy black robes.  Actually, he was the only one not in some kind of pajamas.  Once everyone stopped talking and looked at him, he smiled warmly.

Harry’s jaw dropped when he finally recognized the boy.  With long hair, no glasses, and just the way he held himself – plus he was too tall – it was easy to miss at first, but there was no doubt now that Harry was really looking at him.  That boy was… him!

“Welcome, everyone, to the first Interdimensional Harry Potter meeting.”

Harry stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before the shuffling and muttering around him finally drew his eyes to the other occupants in the room.  He realized now that they were all Harry Potter.

“Interdimensional?” one Harry Potter inquired.  He was wearing nice but simple blue pajamas.  “Are you suggesting that each of us is from a different dimension?”

“Five points to Ravenclaw!” the host Harry congratulated.

Ravenclaw?

The boy who’d been awarded points blushed and looked a little self-conscious.

“Now, before we get into explanations, let’s get settled.”  The host gestured to eight chairs placed in a circle in the center of the room, and sat down in one of them himself.

After a little confusion, everyone managed to find a seat.  “Now, first,” the host smiled, “we’re all, obviously, Harry Potter, each from a different dimension, as our Ravenclaw member postulated.  We’re all the same person, though we’ve grown up in different ways, and that has shaped our personalities to be somewhat different.  I’d like to request that we don’t judge each other based on upbringing.  Fair enough?”

He waited a moment while everyone cautiously nodded agreement.

“Splendid.  So, I’ll go first.  My birth parents were killed by Lord Voldemort when I was fifteen months old.  I believe that’s the same for all of us?”

Harry nodded, glancing around to see that everyone else did as well.

“At that point, I was taken in by Lord Voldemort.  He raised me.”

Harry gaped along with most of the others.  Raised by Voldemort?!

The host chuckled, “I see that most of you are alarmed.  I understand there are some mixed feelings about Voldemort in this room.  But to me, he’s my father, and he’s always been a good one.”

“But he killed our parents!” a boy in red silk pajamas argued.

The host shrugged, “It’s a war, gentlemen.  Our parents and my father were on opposite sides.  People die.  That’s just what happens.  In my world, Voldemort has striven for the last eleven years to make that up to me.  Now, please remember that we agreed not to judge each other. 

“Anyway, quick version of my life.  I was raised by Voldemort, as I said.  I’ve never really had much for friends, since most everyone is too afraid of me or my father.  The only real friend I have is Draco Malfoy, though Teddy Nott is something like a friend now.  When I was eleven, I started Hogwarts.  You probably won’t be surprised to learn that I was sorted into Slytherin.

“As to how we’re all here…  Last summer, I got really into studying dimensional theory.  My aunt Bella, who’s the closest thing to a mother that I have, was the one who got me interested in it.  For my last birthday, I asked my father if he could show me what other Harry Potter’s are like.  He, of course, granted my wish.  He always gives me what I want,” he smiled in a fond way that made Harry’s heart ache a bit.  He’d never had anyone like that.  It was disturbing to think the boy was talking about Voldemort, but…  If the man really loved him…  And Voldemort had to be as different in that other world as Harry Potter was because Harry was sure that the Voldemort in his own world wasn’t even capable of love.

“I was astounded when I’d seen each of you and how incredibly different your lives have gone.  How very different we all were.  After a month of watching you in the mirror, I realized that none of us have easy lives.  Even me, though my father has done his best by me.  There are those such as Dumbledore who would take it all away from me if he could – and he has tried several times already in my life.  I’ve even been kidnapped by him once.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.  Dumbledore?  He kidnapped him?

“Maybe you’d be better off with him,” the red pajama’d boy sneered.

The host shot him a chillingly cold glare and he cringed.  Harry was incredibly impressed that someone who looked so much like him could look that scary.

“As I was saying,” the host said after a moment.  “I decided that we should be helping each other.  After discussing it with Father, he came up with this,” he lifted his hands to illustrate that he was talking about the room.  “This is an extra-dimensional pocket.  With a little practice, you should all be able to bring yourselves here at will when you go to sleep at night.  It’s a place where we can learn – I’ll show you the library and practice arena later.  We can study and train together.  I wanted to bring tutors, but the nature of this place only allows Harry Potters to enter,” he shrugged.

Harry’s mind was reeling!  This was like… a top secret Harry Potter hideout or something!  It was really cool.  If a bit weird.  But that was magic.

“Most importantly though,” the host went on, “we can talk to each other.  We can share information that the various authority figures in our assorted worlds may not wish us to know.  We can be smarter, faster, stronger, and better informed.  I have seen too many Harry Potters in various universes that are already dead.”

Harry felt a chill at that.

“That’s right,” the host nodded.  “I tried to bring some of us from every house, but every Hufflepuff I could find was already dead.  So, we’ve got two Ravenclaws,” he pointed to the one in blue pajamas that had first understood what interdimensional meant, and another boy next to him who was wearing black and blue sleep pants and no shirt.  “Three Gryffindors,” he pointed to the boy in the red silk pajamas, and another boy in…  Actually, he was wearing the exact same ratty, oversized shirt and sweats that Harry was wearing.  And then, of course, Harry himself.  “And three Slytherins.”  That was the host, a boy in black silk pajamas, and a boy in emerald sleep pants. 

“I’m going to see if I can find a few more to pull in, but you’re what I could manage to start.  Now, why don’t we go around and we can each explain what happened between All Hallows Eve 1981, and the present.  You first,” he nodded to the blue pajama’d Ravenclaw.  Like the host, he didn’t wear glasses.  “We’ll call you Raven.”

The boy smiled slightly at the nickname.  “All right.  Well, I grew up with Augusta and Neville Longbottom, since Alice, my godmother, was,” he grimaced faintly, “tortured into insanity at the end of the war.  Obviously, I was sorted into Ravenclaw with my godbrother, Neville.”

“Neville’s a Ravenclaw?” the red pajama’d Gryffindor gaped.

“Of course,” Raven blinked. 

Harry’s mind was still stuck on the godbrother part.  Was that true in his world?  It seemed like it couldn’t be because he’d been sent to the Dursleys, but if everything else had happened the same up to and including their parents’ murder, then…

“Please, go on,” the host encouraged.  “Why don’t you tell us what kind of childhood you had, and how your first year at Hogwarts went?”

Raven nodded.  “Growing up at Longbottom Manor was great.  Augusta was really supportive of Neville and me.  We had tutors for our basic instruction and introduction to magic.  Neville and I spent most of our time between the library and greenhouses.  The greenhouses are more his thing and the library’s more mine, but…” he shrugged.  “Anyway, first year was pretty good, expect for the troll that got into the school on Halloween.  Killed a muggleborn Gryffindor – Granger.”

“Hermione’s dead?” Harry gasped, and it was echoed by a couple others.

Raven frowned at them, “Yeah.  It was pretty shocking.  She was in one of the bathrooms when the troll found her, I guess…  I didn’t hear too much about it.  Anyway, just after Christmas, I figured out that Voldemort,” he glanced at the host apologetically, “he was possessing Quirrell, so I told Flitwick, and we told Dumbledore.  I guess the headmaster confronted him about it.  Voldemort’s spirit fled and Quirrell died.”  He shrugged, “That’s pretty much all.”

“Thank you, Raven,” the host smiled, then looked at the next Ravenclaw.  “How about we call you Claws?”

The Harry Potter in black and blue sleep pants nodded gravely.  “I don’t know how you managed to get with the Longbottoms,” he frowned at Raven, “but I was raised with the Dursleys, my muggle aunt and uncle.”

Harry grimaced in sympathy.

“Some of you know what I’m talking about,” he smirked sardonically – it was an odd look on his face.  He was one of them that wore glasses – the same ones that Harry himself wore.  “Well, they beat it into my head pretty early that I wasn’t to do better than my cousin Dudley in anything.”

Raven gaped in shock, but Claw ignored him.  “So, I figured, if they wanted me to be stupid, the best thing to do would be the opposite.  Oh, I pretended, of course, to avoid the beatings, but learning became my obsession.  Not surprisingly, I was sorted Ravenclaw when I went to Hogwarts.  I’m top of my class.  My only friend in my own house is Morag McDougal, but I’m friends with Draco and Blaise Zabini, too.  My greatest enemy at Hogwarts is Ron Weasley and his little hangers on, Finnegan and Thomas.

“Granger wasn’t killed in my world.  I don’t know why, but she was in her common room on Halloween, not the bathroom.  The troll didn’t actually hurt anyone.  I don’t really care for Dumbledore, but when I figured out who Quirrell really was – before Christmas,” he smirked at Raven, “I too went to Flitwick and Dumbledore.  They took care of him the same way, I guess.”

“Interesting,” the host smiled.  “Next…” he looked at Harry, “Let’s call you, Gryffin, yes?”

Harry nodded.  It was an acceptable nickname, and not surprising, though he wasn’t sure how they’d get two more nicknames out of the house name for the other two.

He told his story self-consciously following the two Ravenclaws.  He felt really dumb in comparison, and he hadn’t done anything cool like defying the Dursleys by learning a bunch behind their back or anything.  He did feel a little better when he came to the part about the troll.

“You killed it?” Raven asked in disbelief.

“No,” Harry said quickly.  “Just knocked it out.  But Ron and I saved Hermione’s life.”

Claw sneered at him, “I can’t believe you hang out with that idiot.”

“He’s not an idiot!” Harry defended hotly.

“Please,” Claw said disdainfully, “You only like him because he befriended you on the train.  You could be so much more if you didn’t tie yourself to that moron.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” the host interrupted pleasantly.  “Remember, we’re not judging each other.  We’re here to help each other.  You’ve made your point about Weasley, Claw.  Gryffin, please go on.”

Harry glared at Claw a moment more, then focused on the others again.  “Um, we didn’t figure Quirrell out as fast.  I was pretty distracted by Quidditch and stuff.”

“You play Quidditch?” Raven asked in surprise.  “As a first year?”

Harry smiled, feeling a little better.  He explained briefly about the little fight with Malfoy that had ended with him getting on the team.  Several of the others seemed mildly impressed.  “We knew that someone was trying to steal the Stone, but we kind of thought it was Snape,” he blushed a little at remembering their mistake.  “Anyway, we figured out when it was going to be stolen, so we followed him down after it.”

“Wait, what stone now?” the Gryffindor that was dressed like Harry inquired.

“The Philosopher’s Stone,” Harry explained about how Dumbledore had rescued the stone from Gringotts right before someone tried to steal it, and then hid it in the school.

“Sounds more like he was setting it up as bait than trying to protect it,” the Slytherin in emerald pants noted expressionlessly.

“I agree,” the other Slytherin nodded.  “There are a lot of ways he could have hidden it more effectively if he’d actually wanted to.”

“Or at least he could have let it seem like the stone was down there, then hidden it in his office,” the first Slytherin agreed.

They were a little creepy really.  But then, they were Slytherins.  Even if they were him.  That was weird.  He tried not to think on it too much.  Nor about how close he’d come to being in Slytherin, too.

“So you went after Quirrell who you thought was Snape?” the host prompted.

Harry nodded and quickly went through what they had to do to get to it and what happened when he found Quirrell.

The host shook his head, “It’s hard to imagine father trying to kill me,” he muttered, then shrugged, “Anyway, we can talk more about that later.  Let’s move on to…  Ryff?”

The Gryffindor dressed like Harry nodded, “Yeah, whatever.  I also grew up with the Dursleys.  They were typically horrible, but I dealt with it.  I was sorted Gryffindor, of course.  My best friends are Hermione and Neville.  Draco and I aren’t really friends, but we’re certainly not enemies.  When Weasel started bullying Hermione, I realized what a berk he really was.  I went and apologized to Draco for being such a jerk on the train.  We’re on pretty cordial terms now.

“Like Gryffin here, I saved Hermione from the troll, though I did it with Neville instead of the weasel.  It was really good for Neville, facing down the troll.  He got a lot more confident after that.  He even keeps his nerve in Potions now. 

“I didn’t know anything about Quirrell.  After hearing what you all had to say about it, I think the same thing probably happened in my world, but Dumbledore must have taken care of it.  All I know is that Quirrell vanished at the end of the year,” he shrugged.

“All right,” the host moved on, looking to the boy in red pajamas. 

“You can call me Flame,” he smirked, “That’s my Marauder nickname.”

“What’s a Marauder?” Claw asked with a faint grimace like he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know the answer.

“James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were the Marauders when they went to Hogwarts,” Flames explained.  “They each had a nickname after their animagus form.  They were Prongs, Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail respectively.  I was raised by my godfather, Sirius Black.  And let me just say, I feel really sorry for any of you raised by the Dursleys.  I’ve never met them, but Sirius does not think highly of them,” he chuckled.

Harry wondered if this Sirius had the gift for understatement or if that was Flames.  He also wondered if he had godparents.  Sirius Black and Alice Longbottom…  He was going to have to try to figure that out.  Surely Dumbledore would know.  Or maybe Mr. Weasley?

“So yeah, I was sorted Gryffindor, of course, following in the footsteps of my godfather and my parents.  I grew up with pranks as a way of life, so I do a lot of them.  I’m friends with pretty much everyone in Gryffindor, though Ron, Dean, and Seamus are the closest.  Draco Malfoy and his Slytherin posse are my arch enemies.  I’m also on the Quidditch team, by the way.  Sirius came to the tryouts personally with my new Nibus 2000 and insisted that I be allowed to try.  Um…  Let’s see.  I saved Granger by myself on Halloween, and she’s been really clingy ever since.  Can’t really take a hint, you know?”

Harry glared at Flames, but kept his mouth shut since they weren’t supposed to pick on each other.  Flames just seemed like such a… jerk.  Like a Gryffindor Draco Malfoy, and that was a disturbing thought, not least because the boy was Harry Potter.

“I didn’t know anything about Quirrell either, though, like Ryff, I figure all that was probably going on when I wasn’t paying attention.  It’s kind of funny, though.  After hearing what Gryffin said about Voldemort being stuck on the back of Quirrell’s head,” he snickered.  “I once pulled a prank that made his turban keep slipping.  He really panicked about it.  I guess now I know why.  Oh, and I lit it on fire once,” he chortled.  “Fire’s kind of my thing,” he winked at Harry.

“You said the Marauder nicknames were based on animagus forms,” the host noted, “Would I be correct in assuming that you are an animagus?”

Flames smirked in a self-satisfied manner, “That’s right.”

“What?!” Claw and Raven asked simultaneously, then glared at each other briefly.  Despite the fact that they were from the same House, they seemed to have vastly opposing personalities.

“You’re already an animagus?” Claw demanded.

“Sure am,” Flames chuckled.

“What form?” Raven inquired.

“All of our animagus forms will be the same,” the host provided.  “Unlike patronii, which are based on your temperament and personality and even life experiences, animagus forms are more about who you are, which is why they can’t ever change throughout your life – unlike patronii.  Our form is a Hungarian Horntail.”

“Impossible!” Raven asserted immediately.  “There hasn’t been an animagus with a magical creature form since the time of the Founders.”

The host chuckled, “Well, we’re hardly normal, are we?  I’m not sure if you’re all aware, but we are immensely powerful, if you know how to channel it.  We are, in fact, every bit as powerful as Lord Voldemort.”

“Are you sure that applies to all of us?” Ryff wondered with a combination of doubt and hope.

“Absolutely,” the host nodded.  “Like an animagus form, our magical cores are not affected by anything we may have been through in our lives.  Trust me, we are all extremely magically powerful.  Now, let’s move on.”

“Keeping with the house nicknames, I guess that makes me Slyther?” the boy in black silk pajamas reasoned, just one brow raised in a way that Harry wondered if he could pull off.  He thought it looked cool and he’d like to try it on Malfoy.

“Sounds good,” the host smiled.

“Great.  Well, I was sent to the Dursleys as well, but I don’t remember them.  I was only there two days before Aunt Bella rescued me.  I grew up with Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange until I was eight.  That’s when we finally managed to track down Lord Voldemort.  About six months after we got him back into his body, he named me his heir.  We’re probably not as close as you seem to be with him,” he said to the host, “but he’s trained me a lot.  We still live with Bella and Rody.  Well, they live with us, I guess.  All the Inner Circle takes turns training me in all kinds of things.  I haven’t quite managed the animagus transformation yet, but I’m close.  Should have it within another month or two.

“I also go to Hogwarts, though no one there knows that I’m Voldemort’s heir.  Except for the children of the Death Eaters, and they’re magically bound the keep the secret.  Uncle Severus put me on the Quidditch team because he knew how good I was, but there was no troll in my first year.  Or any Quirrell.” He shrugged.  “By best friends are Draco and Theo, both of whom I’ve known as long as I can remember.”

“And that just leaves…” the host looked at the last boy in the green pants. 

“You can call me John,” the last Harry said with a dark smirk.  “It’s one of my many aliases.  I grew up with the Dursleys as well.  At least, until I was eight.  Now, I don’t normally tell people this, but I don’t suppose any of you will tell tales to anyone who matters in my world.  I was eight when the Dursleys finally pushed me passed my limit.  I killed them in their sleep and burned down the house.”

Harry – and several of the others – gaped in disbelief.  The other two Slytherins and Claw looked rather impressed.  Ryff just looked disturbingly thoughtful – like he might be considering the merits of doing the same thing.  It was rather chilling to think more than half of the Harry Potters in the room would be capable of cold-blooded murder.  Granted, it was the Dursleys, but still

“I’ve been on my own since then.  Dumbledore tried this summer to stick me with the Weasleys, of all people.  I escaped the first night.  I live mostly in the muggle world when I’m not at school, as I did before I found out about the magical one.  I’m very good at disappearing when I want to, and I’m working on modifying an aging potion to use next summer.  No doubt Dumbledore’s going to be positively stalking me after this latest disappearance.”  He shrugged, “I’m not worried.

“Anyway, I’m obviously Slytherin.  I don’t have any friends because I don’t need any.  Stupid, clingy little kids walking around with their chests bloody puffed out blowing smoke about the importance of their fucking fathers,” he scoffed.  “There was a troll on Halloween in my world.  Granger got killed.  I figured out what was going on with Quirrell in November.  I confronted him about it right after Christmas – told him that I knew he was possessed by Voldemort and that I wished him luck on whatever he was doing.  Really, I don’t care either way, but I’d rather not be Voldemort’s enemy as I expect he would find a way to get his body back eventually no matter what I did.  We came to an arrangement in which I helped him to overcome the obstacles and retrieve the stone in exchange for a promise of neutrality between us.  We got the stone in March and I haven’t seen either of them since.”

Harry found himself looking around at the other faces in disbelief.  It was incredible to think that they were all him.  Had circumstances gone differently, had he made different choices, Harry could have ended up just like any of them – even the creepy “John” who seemed to think so little of murder or friends and had been on his own since he was eight.

It was also disturbing to think about everyone who wasn’t in the room.  Those Hufflepuffs that the host had mentioned who’d already died.  A different choice here or there and Harry could have been like them, too.

And suddenly, he didn’t care if some of them were Voldemort’s heirs or cold-blooded killers or stuck-up prats.  He completely agreed with the host.  He was going to take advantage of this, and he was going to learn everything he could about everything he could.  He wasn’t going to get killed because he didn’t know better.

“Great!” the host smiled warmly.  “Now that we all know each other a little bit, I think we better understand my purpose in drawing you here.  However, if any of you would like to opt out, tell me now and I won’t call you again.”

He waited a moment, but no one spoke up.

“Good.  As I said, this place will be open to everyone day and night – whenever you’re sleeping – but I would like to hold a meeting like this for the whole group once a week.  Shall we say, Saturday night?”

Nods came all around.

“Now, of course you can’t take anything out of here, but the library contains every book that any of us have ever read.  Considering we have two Ravenclaws and two who grew up with the Riddle and Lestrange libraries, that’s a good amount.  There’s also the practice arena.  We can work magic here exactly as in our own worlds.  I would like to hold classes on a weekly basis as well.  If anyone has a particular skill or talent that can be imparted, I would ask that you take the time to do so.  I will be offering animagus lessons every Friday night, starting at midnight.

“Oh, in case you didn’t realize, time here moves at the same rate as in our worlds, but as your bodies are resting while you are here, you will not suffer for lack of sleep by spending the entire night here, even if you do it every night.  This isn’t the same as being conscious in your mind through the night.  It’s more like Astral Projection, but because this place is keyed to our very souls, it’s natural for us to be here and not magically draining like astral projection would be normally. 

“As I realize that several of you probably know very little of the Dark Arts, I’d also like to offer a class for that.  Would you be willing to teach it, Slyther?”

The other boy considered it a moment, then nodded.  “Wednesday night?”

I’m not learning Dark Arts,” Flames said with supreme distaste.

“That’s your prerogative,” the host said patiently.  “No one’s going to force you to do something that you don’t want to.  For anyone that isn’t pathologically opposed to the idea, I highly suggest that you attend at least the first lesson.  I’m sure Slyther can give you an unbiased explanation of the theory behind Dark Arts in general, and explain the many variations of it.  Before you immediately decide against it, you should know that it is not inherently evil or even immoral, and that it will not damage your soul as some light wizards would like the world to believe.  It is just a different way to call on magic.  You won’t be expected to participate if you attend the lessons.  Even learning the theory alone could potentially save your life if you find yourself battling a dark wizard, which at least one of you already has,” he nodded to Harry.

“Okay, moving on.  Does anyone else have any particular skill to impart?  It doesn’t have to be unique; if it would benefit even two of the others, it would be worth it.”

“I can cast a patronus,” Raven suggested.

“Who else can cast a patronus?” the host posed, raising his own hand.

No one else raised their hand.

“Okay,” the hose said, “for anyone who doesn’t know, the patronus is a conjured creation of emotion and spirit, non-corporeal in form.  It takes a form based on who you are in heart, something beyond personality and straight to the core of your being.  It can change, but it doesn’t happen often.  It is used to drive off dementors and lethifolds, both highly dangerous, but fairly rare.  Trust me, if you ever run into either, you will be grateful for learning the difficult spell.  Beyond the defensive application, it can also be used to pass messages, and is secure for the fact that no two people have identical patronii, so you can verify the identity of the sender.  If anyone is interested in learning that, lessons will be…”

“Thursday night?” Raven shrugged.

“Thursday night.  Anyone else?”

“I don’t know if anyone’s interested,” John put in carelessly, “but I could teach about the muggle world and how to disappear there.”

“That sounds highly practical,” the host said approvingly.  “Anyone interested?”

Harry hesitated a moment before raising his hand.  He was muggle raised, but the Dursleys had kept him so secluded from the world at large that he didn’t think he’d last a week alone in the muggle world.  Considering the way his life seemed to go, that might come in handy.  Particularly if Dumbledore turned out to be as dangerous as the Slytherins seemed to think.  Harry didn’t know the man well enough to judge.  He’d thought him to be pretty nice, but…  He was oddly inclined to trust these other versions of himself, if not necessarily agree with their perspectives.  It was enough that he would be cautious of the man from now on.

The host raised his hand, as did Raven, Claw, Slyther, and Flames.  After a moment, Ryff raised his hand as well.

“Monday night,” John said succinctly.

Harry hated it that he had no special skills to contribute.  Though they were all, supposedly, just as intelligent and powerful, he couldn’t help but feel like an idiot in this group.  Well, at least he felt superior to that prat, Flames, but even Flames had him outmatched when it came to magic.  He was an animagus!  At 11!

Harry decided then that he was going to attend every one of those classes – though he wouldn’t participate in the Dark Arts stuff if he had any doubt about it being evil or wrong.  After what the host had said, maybe it wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be.

Then again, maybe the host was as evil as John.  Either way, he’d listen to the theory and decide for himself.  Hearing about all the decisions that these other Harry Potters had made that had shaped their lives and the lives of those around them, Harry was really starting to like the idea of making his own choices instead of just listening to what everyone else told him.

“Anyone else have a special skill?” the host prompted.

“I can cast the disillusionment charm,” Claw offered.

“Good,” the host looked impressed.  “For anyone who doesn’t know that charm, it basically makes the recipient something like a very, very skilled chameleon.  It changes the color of your body and clothes very rapidly to match your surroundings.  Or rather, it creates an illusion of that effect to anyone looking at you.  It’s not as good as the Invisibility Cloak that I think we all have…?”  He glanced around and got no dissent, so he nodded.  “But it is very useful for using when you don’t have the cloak or if you need to take someone with you and would rather not squish under the cloak with them.  There’s a lot of practical applications.  Is anyone interested?”

Harry raised his hand along with everyone except the host and Slyther, who must have already known it.

“Tuesday?”

Claw nodded.

“All right, if you will all turn your attention to the wall there,” he pointed behind Harry, who turned with everyone else to find a notice board with several parchments hanging on it.  “There will be a nightly schedule posted there at all times, so if you want to offer a new lesson, you can write it into an open slot.  If anyone wants to sign up for a lesson you can put your name down for it, though we won’t be really strict about attendance.  It’s completely voluntary, but if you’re serious about learning something, you should try to show up to every lesson so you don’t fall behind or hold back the class.  Also, it will be good for the prospective teachers to know if anyone is interested or if they shouldn’t bother.

“If you have any questions to pose to the group, you can put them on the board.  If you would check it every time you come and answer any questions you could, that would be helpful between our monthly meetings.  Try to remember, everyone, that there is as much opportunity to receive help in this group as to give it.  We are here for our own benefit as much as anyone else’s.  Give the best you can and you will receive in return.

“Now, if you’ll all stand, I’ll give you a tour and then we can each go our own way.”

The next hour was spent with the host, who said to call him Riddle, as his surname was Potter-Riddle, showing them around what turned out to be a rather large sort of building.  A hall leading away from the meeting room opened into the library, which he said would automatically expand as any of them read a new book.  Harry could hardly believe that the eight of them had read so many books.  There had to be more than a thousand in that library, and they were only just barely twelve years old!

Riddle showed them how to navigate the library, and pointed out the rooms on the second floor level that overlooked the library and were connected by a balcony.  There were eight in total, a private office and sitting area for each of them, apparently – which was, admittedly, pretty cool.

A corridor off the side of the library led to the training arena, which was a massive room.  One side was set up for practical magic training with targets and plenty of room to cast spells.  The other side was lined with blackboards, tables, and extra chairs.  Presumably for the theoretical portion of the lessons.

“Now, as I said, you can’t take anything out of this place, but you can write things down and keep them here.  This room is stocked with plenty of parchment, quills, and ink, as are your personal offices.  There are also blank journals for your personal records.

“Oh, before I forget, I’ll also be teaching Occlumency on Sunday nights.  That is the study of organizing your mind.  It is an extremely powerful art that requires a lot of willpower and mental discipline, but virtually no applied magic.  If you have not already mastered this skill, I implore you to learn it.  It is one of the most valuable things you will ever learn.  It helps with memory retention, cognition, concentration, and it helps to control your emotions.  Additionally, and this is what it’s famous for, it allows you to prevent anyone from entering your mind and reading your thoughts or accessing your memories.  If you didn’t know, Dumbledore, Severus Snape, and Voldemort are all master Legilimens – that’s the mind art of entering someone else’s mind.  If you don’t know Occlumency, I am willing to bet at least one of these individuals have read your thoughts at one point.”

Harry shivered at the idea of Snape in his mind.  Or Voldemort.  Would Dumbledore do that…?  It was scary that he wasn’t sure.  He would definitely be learning this.

“Additionally, if you become skilled enough in Occlumency, you will be able to reach this place while you are awake and still retaining cognition of your world.  Which would be dead useful if you’re taking a test and want to take a peek at the text…” he waggled his eyebrows and Harry laughed along with some of the others.

This was decidedly strange, but Harry had gotten used to strange things since entering the magical world.  It was altogether a strange sort of place.

The next room they were shown was cavernous – like the size of a Quidditch pitch – and completely empty.

“This room is just for practicing our animagus forms.  As anyone who knows anything about a Hungarian Horntail will know, they’re quite large, though ours are still young adolescent in size.  You’ll have to practice in your own worlds if you want real flight experience, but this area is large enough to get off the ground and move around some in order to learn the basics.

“Now, since our bodies aren’t actually here, there’s no need for food or bathroom facilities.  If you have those needs, you’ll have to leave here to attend to them.  All right, I think that’s all I have to say for now.  You can leave if you wish, or you may want to stay and explore or get to know each other.

“I hope that you all take advantage of this opportunity.  Whatever you decide to do with your lives, I would like Harry Potter to be someone to be reckoned with in every dimension we can reach.”  With a parting nod, he headed for back into the library.

Harry found his office first.  It was larger than he’d expected, with an impressive marble-top desk, extra chairs in front of the desk for visitors, and walls lined with bookshelves.  He quickly found that the only books in his office at the moment were those he’d personally read.  It was… depressingly sparse. 

After sitting behind the desk for a few minutes, Harry found one of the blank journals and a quill that seemed to be self-inking.  He wasn’t generally that big on writing, but if he had ever had a reason to write in a journal, this seemed to be it.  And if he was being honest with himself, he could use the practice.  He’d never quite figured out the trick to writing with a quill.

The first thing he did was write a short entry about each of the other versions of himself that he’d met here.  He wrote down the small physical differences that he’d noticed.  Like the fact that Raven, Flames, Slyther, and Riddle didn’t wear glasses.  Only the versions of himself that had been raised in the wizarding world didn’t wear glasses.  Was there a magical way to fix eyesight?  He made a note to ask one of the others about it, or even Hermione when he got back to school.  If it was possible, he wanted to do it.  Even if it was expensive, he could afford it.

When he was done with that, he decided to go to the library.  He’d never been much for reading if he didn’t have to, but honestly, he’d never really tried it.  The Dursleys’ rule to be dumber than Dudley – an impossibility, by the way – had made him completely apathetic when it came to his primary school.  He didn’t see the point in bothering to learn what he wasn’t allowed to apply.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to start acting like a Ravenclaw, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to do some extra reading.  Maybe he wouldn’t feel like such an idiot compared to the others, at least. 

It was pretty bad when you felt like an idiot compared to yourself.  It really did seem like he was way below his potential.  Well, that was going to change.  He could be as good as any of them.  For once in his life, he couldn’t write off his inferiority as the simple fact that he was inferior.  There was no reason that he couldn’t be as good as any of the others at anything and everything.