Chapter Text
Zoe stood before Dumbledore in his office, the walls lined with artifacts and books that whispered of wisdom and ancient secrets. She took a deep breath, the gravity of her revelation hanging heavily between them. "Professor, I ask that you hear me out fully before you respond," she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
Dumbledore nodded, his expression serene but attentive, an encouraging sign for Zoe to continue. "Two years ago, I died," she said simply, letting the weight of those words sink in. "And then, in what I can only describe as a moment between breaths, I woke up here in this world—a world where characters from a children's book series I read in my previous life are real. A world distinctly different from my own, which had no magic at all."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly, his gaze sharpening not with disbelief but with an intense curiosity. Zoe could see him processing her words, categorizing them in a mind that had contemplated many unlikely and extraordinary things.
"I understand how this sounds," Zoe hastened to add, seeing the slight tilt of Dumbledore's head. "When I first arrived, I lied to Rosmerta, to Auror Bryce... I told them I remembered nothing. It seemed safer, more rational than claiming to be from another universe where this—all of this," she gestured around the magical office, "is just fiction."
Dumbledore continued to watch her, his fingers steepled in front of him, the strange look still playing at the edges of his expression.
Zoe felt the weight of his gaze but found her resolve strengthening as she spoke. "I grew up reading about Harry Potter, about you... all of it in books. These were bedtime stories my parents read to me. Stories of bravery, of battles between good and evil, of a boy who lived."
Dumbledore’s demeanor shifted subtly; the intensity of his focus increased as Zoe detailed the contents of the Harry Potter books. The room seemed to grow smaller around them, the air charged with a mix of electricity and the old wizard's slowly rising astonishment.
Zoe paused, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before delivering the crux of her revelation. "But, Professor, things here are not as they were in the books. There are similarities, yes, but also differences so vast they cannot be ignored. I thought the knowledge I carried would help defeat Voldemort before he could start a second war. That I could prevent so much suffering. But now, I see things are not unfolding as they did in the stories from my world."
Zoe spent hours detailing the world of the Harry Potter books to Dumbledore, her narrative encompassing the breadth of the epic saga she had known as mere fiction in her previous life. She described the rise and fall of Voldemort, the pivotal battles, the heroic sacrifices, and the dark art of Horcruxes—how Voldemort had split his soul to attain immortality. With each character and event, she highlighted the discrepancies between the books and the reality she now faced, key figures like Regulus Black, who were long dead in her stories, were alive here, altering the fabric of the narrative she had known.
As Zoe elaborated on the Horcrux locations she had visited—locations now devoid of any dark magic or ominous wards—Dumbledore listened intently, interjecting only to ask clarifying questions or to request more detail about specific events or characters. She expressed her astonishment upon discovering that the Riddle family, whom Voldemort had supposedly killed to create one of his Horcruxes, was still alive and well, which starkly contrasted with the story she knew. Prompting Dumbledore to probe deeper into her knowledge. Throughout their conversation, Dumbledore had the foresight to keep a steady supply of tea at hand, which helped ease the intensity of their discussion.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, the initial shock settling into a thoughtful silence. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrests as he considered her words.
"My dear," he finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying a weight that filled the room, "this is indeed a fascinating tale. What you describe suggests possibilities I had never dared consider regarding the nature of our reality. But tell me, why come forward with this now? What changed?"
Zoe nodded, understanding the gravity of what she was about to reveal and the trust she was placing in Dumbledore. “Now, I must ask you again to let me speak without interruption, please,” she said, her voice tinged with nervousness.
Dumbledore gave a reassuring nod, his expression serious yet open.
“The thing is, the Harry Potter books are incredibly famous in my world. Nearly everyone has heard of them, if not read them. There are movies, a musical, even theme parks dedicated to this world. And as you can imagine, with such widespread familiarity comes a lot of fan speculation—debates about character motivations, moral alignments...” Zoe paused, chuckling slightly despite the tension. "And, well, opinions on your character varied widely. So when I arrived here, I wasn’t sure what to expect from you. I didn’t know you. While I still can't claim to truly know you, my experiences thus far have led me to see you in a profoundly positive light."
She took a deep breath before continuing, “So, in the stories about Harry, I knew about his childhood—how and where he lived. When I arrived, I just wanted to see for myself. But then...” Zoe’s voice faltered as she remembered the sight that had greeted her at Privet Drive. “I saw how he was being treated. And just then, a house across the street went up for sale—it felt like a sign.”
Dumbledore’s gaze was intense, his full attention on her.
“I couldn’t just walk away. So, I intervened discreetly at first—babysitting, providing meals. Gradually, I had Harry at my house more and more. The people who were supposed to care for him were ill-suited—they detested him, a child, for no fault of his own.”
Dumbledore sighed deeply, a sad smile touching his lips. “I think I understand,” he said softly.
Zoe hurried on, cutting off whatever he was about to say next. “And then... the wards, they moved to our house the moment Harry called it his home.”
Dumbledore visibly started at this news, his expression shifting to one of surprised contemplation. After a moment, he sighed again, heavily. “Zoe, I cannot fault you for acting out of kindness, nor can I overlook the good intentions that clearly guided your actions. My own decisions placed Harry with the Dursleys, believing it would keep him safe. Yet, it deprived him of warmth, of basic needs, of love...”
He paused, then looked directly at Zoe. “Would you be willing to share your memories of the day the wards changed? After reviewing them, I propose we visit your home together to assess the situation firsthand.”
“And the Dursleys?” he inquired gently.
“They left the country, sir,” Zoe replied, a hint of pride in her voice. She felt a sense of accomplishment in ensuring Harry's safety and happiness, free from the neglect and cruelty of his previous guardians.
Dumbledore let out a small, weary chuckle, the sound tinged with relief and a touch of humor. “Very well done, Zoe. Let us proceed carefully, but know that your actions speak to a heart as brave and kind as any I have known.” His acknowledgment warmed Zoe, reassuring her that despite the uncertainties of this new world, she was on the right path.
Dumbledore guided Zoe through the process of extracting memories, a delicate and precise magic that required intense concentration. "Focus deeply on that exact moment," he instructed gently, "and replay it in your mind without ceasing until I tell you it's enough."
Zoe nodded, closing her eyes and summoning the vivid memory of the day the wards shifted to her home. She concentrated fiercely, mentally walking through each detail as Dumbledore skillfully extracted the silvery strands of thought from the edges of her mind. Once collected, he deposited the glistening memories into the Pensieve, a shallow stone basin etched with ancient runes.
"Shall we?" Dumbledore gestured towards the Pensieve, his eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and encouragement.
Zoe, equally eager and nervous about revisiting the memory outside her own mind, nodded, and together they leaned forward, their faces touching the cool surface of the memory liquid.
The world around them shifted dramatically as they were immersed into Zoe's memories. Dumbledore observed everything: the way Zoe interacted with Harry, her comforting presence, and the tangible aura of love and protection that seemed to envelop them both. But what truly caught his attention were the wards.
As they walked through the memory, Dumbledore could see the wards as Zoe did—a rare ability not known to many. The wards glowed vibrantly, interwoven with complex patterns that pulsed with protective magic. "You have a unique gift," Dumbledore remarked, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and wonder. "Seeing magic and wards in this manner is exceptional. It explains much about your rapid understanding of magic, particularly in the fields of Runes, Warding, and Arithmancy."
Zoe listened, her mind racing as she processed his words. It was a revelation to her that her perception was unusual, a trait that had always felt so natural to her that she'd never questioned it.
As they continued to explore the memory, Dumbledore's respect for Zoe deepened. He could feel her intense emotions, the protective fervor with which she enveloped Harry. It reminded him of the profound connections some wizards and witches could forge—connections that transcended the usual boundaries of magical interaction. He witnessed not just her magical abilities but also her profound emotional connection to Harry. It was evident in every interaction, every gesture.
"Some wizards," Dumbledore mused as they watched a particularly tender moment between Zoe and Harry, "carry their emotions in such a way that it enhances their magic. It’s a powerful gift.”
He was thinking of Severus, that despite his strong shields, could never fully conceal his deepest affections. It is reminiscent of how Severus’s emotions for Lily permeated his own memories, unmistakable and unshieldable. He could never fully shield his feelings for Lily from Voldemort. Zoe too, seem to have this intense emotive clarity, makes memories potent and vivid.
As they continued to observe the memory, Dumbledore’s initial caution transformed into a genuine admiration and a burgeoning trust. By the time they emerged from the Pensieve, his demeanor toward Zoe had shifted perceptibly, now viewing her not just as a foreign entity with useful knowledge, but as a valuable and integral ally in the challenges that lay ahead.
Emerging from the Pensieve, Dumbledore looked at Zoe with a new understanding and appreciation. "Your actions, driven by such profound care and integrity, speak volumes. You are indeed a remarkable witch, Zoe. Not just for your talents, which are exceptional, but for your heart, which is even more so."
Zoe felt a weight lift slightly—acknowledgment from Dumbledore meant more than she could have anticipated. His words not only offered validation but also a promise of trust and support as they navigated the complexities of their shared reality.
As the cool evening air nipped gently at them, Dumbledore and Zoe materialized near Privet Drive under the cover of night. The street was quiet, the familiar silhouette of the house casting long shadows under the streetlights. Dumbledore’s first task was to assess the wards; he extended his senses, and his eyebrows rose in amazement. “These wards are indeed formidable,” he commented, his voice a mix of surprise and admiration.
Dumbledore murmured, his voice tinged with awe, "they are far stronger than I anticipated. It seems, Miss Maximoff, that you are not only Harry’s legal guardian but also his guardian in every magical sense. It's evident that Lily’s magic resonated with your actions, choosing you as a protector in her stead. And, with James incapacitated..."
Zoe felt a rush of pride and responsibility surge through her, grounding her further in her decision to protect Harry at all costs. But caught off-guard, Zoe stuttered for a moment “Wait, what do you mean by James being incapacitated? You mean, James and Lily Potter didn’t die in 1981?”
Dumbledore paused, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Oh dear, your story was quite lengthy and filled with incredible details. I promise to discuss some of the more glaring differences between your knowledge and our reality soon . But first, let me address your immediate concern.” He glanced towards the upstairs windows, where Harry was likely fast asleep, his gaze softening. “In our world, Voldemort did not kill James Potter. Voldemort values talented individuals and believes he can persuade almost anyone to his cause, given enough time. But he needed James out of the way temporarily. James is alive, Zoe.”
Zoe’s mind reeled, the room spinning slightly as she absorbed this monumental revelation. “But...but how? And Lily? What happened to her?”
Dumbledore sighed, the weight of years evident in his eyes. “Lily and Regulus Black worked together for over a year trying to trap Voldemort. The Tom Riddle you know from your books is not the same Voldemort we contend with here. They planned to use Samhain to create a magical prison, but Voldemort acted first, using the same day to attack, knowing Potter’s location somehow. It's suspected that he intercepted their plans. When he arrived, there wasn’t enough time to set the trap, so Lily moved to a more desperate measure to destroy his body, but he proved more formidable than expected. Voldemort in this reality did not split his soul through Horcruxes. What Lily did that night...she sacrificed herself to stop him, not by magic known to most but through a ritual that obliterated Voldemort’s physical form."
The mention of no Horcruxes, a completely different strategy by Voldemort, and James being alive but incapacitated at St. Mungo’s was almost too much for Zoe to process. She wiped away a tear, her heart aching for the child upstairs who believed both his parents were gone. “And Harry?” she managed to choke out. “Was he there that night?”
Dumbledore smiled gently, a twinkle of reassurance in his eyes. "My dear, Harry was not in the house that night. We attempted to steer the narrative afterward, but the press latched onto the tale of a baby defeating Voldemort. No matter how we tried to correct it, the story of the 'Boy Who Lived' took hold."
He continued, his tone somber, "Lily died along with Voldemort's body because of a ritual they were both part of on Samhain. She knew the risks involved."
Tears welled up in Zoe's eyes as the gravity of Dumbledore’s revelations sank in. She felt overwhelmed, the emotional toll of the day making her knees weak.
"So James is alive," she whispered, almost to herself.
"Yes, he’s been at St. Mungo’s in a long-term care ward since the attack. No one quite understands his condition. It seems Voldemort used a rare and powerful curse that we haven’t been able to reverse or fully comprehend."
Dumbledore paused as he considered his next words carefully. "And about Sirius—yes, he is Harry’s godfather, and once he is cleared by our healers post-Azkaban, perhaps they could indeed have a relationship. Would you be amenable to Sirius meeting Harry, once all checks are complete?"
Zoe paused, weighing her words with the significance of what they implied. "Well, I do have a spare bedroom, and he could stay here... with Harry. In the stories I read, Harry really cared for him."
Dumbledore's gaze grew thoughtful, tinged with a subtle sadness. "In your extraordinary story, dear Harry because of my oversight, longed to belong to someone and to be loved. Here, he is loved and cared for by you. While I have no doubt that he will come to love Sirius, we must not see their potential relationship through the lens of your books. Each person's path in this world must unfold in its own way."
Zoe, slightly puzzled, pressed further, "Do you not think he should stay here? Although... he might prefer to stay with his brother, of course."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, "Your generosity is heartwarming, Zoe. But considering Sirius has been in Azkaban for eight years, we must tread carefully. If he is indeed well, staying here with you and Harry could be beneficial. But let's ensure he is fully recovered and assess his situation once he is freed."
With a final nod, Dumbledore prepared to depart. "For now, let's both take the time we need to process today's revelations. We will speak again soon, Zoe. Good night."
Left alone with her thoughts, Zoe watched Dumbledore's silhouette blend into the shadows of the street. Tonight had changed everything once again, and the path forward was as uncertain as ever. But in her heart, she knew one thing for certain: she would do whatever it took to keep Harry safe, loved, and thriving. No matter what this world held in contrast to her books, that commitment was unwavering.