A/N: Ok, I honestly don't even have an excuse to possibly explain how long this update look and can only express my sincerest gratitude for everyone who has hung around this long.

I am still looking for a beta, so anyone interested, shoot me a message. I don't bite, I promise!

Anyway, I won't make y'all wait any longer. Here is the next chapter, and always, please let know what you think — good, bad and everything in between.

Enjoy!

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Harry awoke to a silent room, disoriented and more than a little confused. He pressed a groggy hand to his head as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts.

Different dimension.

Voldemort.

Battle.

Damn.

Memories returned in quick succession, prompting the teen to muffle a groan into his pillow.

Only him.

Only him would get not only himself, but nearly everyone else that he cared about, dragged into a different dimension where they were expected to defeat one of the evilest villains ever to exist.

"Ugh!" He exclaimed, punching the bed beside him for good measure.

God damn it all.

And then, his allotment of self pity expired and he sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and began his day. Or his evening, or whatever title was appropiate for the current time of day.

Shower. His day definitely needed to begin with a shower.

Exiting the room with a habitual glance to make sure the corridor was deserted, Harry quietly made his way to the nearest bathroom and stripped before practically leaping into the shower, where he stood in blissful comfort as the searing water pounded his aching and knotted muscles.

There he remained, letting the water cascade over him with no concept of time. Only the cooling of the water prompted him to get out where he pulled back on his clothes with a grimace of distaste; freshening charms could only do so much,

Still, they were better than nothing, and it was a much more optimistic Harry that left the restroom than the one that entered, only to almost run straight into Luna.

The young girl was standing right in front of the door, her glazed eyes pointed slightly to left of Harry, her characteristic smile ghosting across her features. Her dazed expression and slight swaying used to unnerve Harry in their oddness, but they had long since become a reassuring sight that some things were still the same. Or at least the same as they had been since that first battle.

Pulling himself away from that train of thought with the harsh accuracy of long practice, Harry focused his own gaze on Luna and asked "What are you doing here Luna? Did you need something?"

"Hearts and stomachs grumble, to the kitchen we shall rumble."

"Okay then." Harry agreed with a nod, and taking Luna's arm in a gentle grasp to prevent her from accidentally wandering off, began the long - and potentially hazardous - trek to the kitchens.

As they descended, Harry looked around with interest, comparing this house with his own version back in his own world with far more enthusiasm than he had been able to muster previously. Without the presence of so many people that he had seen die, his heart felt much lighter, and he was at last able to enjoy some of the more academic opportunities that the dimension hopping afforded him.

Just thinking of the texts that had been lost in his own world that might still be intact here… He wasn't even that huge of a scholar and it had him feeling something akin to weak in the knees and Harry made a mental note to check in with Hermione at the next opportunity. There was no doubt in his mind that the witch had already begun to process of tracking down some of the more notable and important books.

Harry's steps slowed as he neared the kitchen and he heard the soft timbre of voices floating through the open door. In the spirit of long habit, Harry gently untangled his grasp from Luna's and cautiously padded his way to entrance, wand drawn, curses ready on his lips.

Only to have Luna sail right past him, a bright smile and jubilant melody easily casting aside all that Harry's stealth had intended to accomplish.

If Harry didn't love Luna he probably would have hit her.

As it was, he fought valiantly against the urge to hex the blonde, his hand stayed only by the knowledge that entrances such as those were part of made Luna, Luna and if he were to take that away… Well, it just would make things wrong. It would make him wrong.

And so with yet another weary sigh that he was already heartily sick of expressing, Harry trailed after Luna into the crowd of people. His wand stayed ready in his hand though, and his eyes remained alert, immediately taking in those around him.

He loved Luna, his sister in all but blood, but he did not trust her not to walk headfirst into danger without even realizing it. He had even seen her do it.

In some ways it was terrifying, the way she could march straight through a battle without nary a blink or a flicker in her serene expression.

Terrifying and dangerous.

So Harry followed and assessed.

And then stopped following, as he struggled to assess. His brain stuttered to grinding halt as he tried to figure out what the bloody hell was going on.

"What the-"

No.

Nope.

No bloody way.

It was too early.

He hadn't had his coffee yet.

Nope. He was not doing this.

He was not talking to himself.

It was not going to happen.

Harry turned on his heel and left right then and there, not caring that his alternate dimension self was left at the table, more than a little confused and probably slightly offended if the expression of his face was anything to go by.

Harry could understand the other boy's confusion, could sympathize with it really, but it didn't slow his steps in the slightest. He just continued to march out of the room, up the stairs and back to his bedroom, all the while cursing Luna under his breath.

"Hearts and stomachs grumble my ass…"

And then his day was completed as he walked full force into none other than his alternate dimensional godfather. A man who seemed far too concerned with Harry than could possibly be healthy for Harry's emotional state.

"I apologize Mr. Black."

There. That was formal, straight to the point, respectful. It was also nothing like he would talk to his Sirius. Becuase this was not his godfather. It wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn-

"Please. It's Sirius. Mr. Black makes me sound like a old man."

Damn. Damn. Damn. He sounded just like his Sirius and Harry was sure if he were able to muster the strength to look up, the man would look just like his Sirius's, those clear blue eyes dancing an invite to share in his mirth.

Really, what the bloody hell did he do to piss off the fates so badly that they felt the need to put him in this situation? Trapped between the living promise of everything that should've been and never could be both in the form of himself, raised in the life he had always wanted, and by the man that should have raised him. A rock and hard place in terms of the hazards to his heart, each one uniquely capable of pounding it to dust with in their own special way.

What the bloody hell did he do?

"You ok kid?"

No.

Nope.

No bloody way.

It was too early.

He hadn't had his coffee yet.

Nope. He was not doing this.

He was not talking to his dead godfather.

It was not going to happen.

And so as abruptly as he had left the kitchen moments before, Harry once more turned on his heel, marching down the stairs he had just stormed up only the make a sharp left away from the kitchen and into the room Harry knew only as the "tapestry room."

A rather apt name in his humble opinion, called so due to the age worn family tree that was plastered against the long side of the room, the branches twisting and twining as it depicted the complicated bloodlines of the Noble House of Black. It also conveniently provided a soft backrest as Harry sunk to floor, his head cradled on his knees.

"Kid?"

Bloody hell. Why? Why did nothing ever go his way?

It was too early for this.

"You sure you're all right?"

Harry didn't bother to look up, even at the second question, refusing to acknowledge the man's presence in the hopes that maybe he might take the hint and leave.

A desperate hope that was crushed as he heard footsteps coming closer, heralding Sirius's apparently inevitable approach.

"I'm fine." Harry forced the words through clenched teeth as he raised his burning gaze to meet that horribly familiar gaze. It was like interacting with someone under polyjuice yet so much worse. Becuase a part of Harry knew that this was his godfather, or at least a version of him.

A living, breathing version of the godfather that wasn't his and could never be.

Bloody hell he hated his life.

"No offense, but you aren't looking so hot."

"You're one to judge," Harry snapped, his voice filled with rage that was as much grief as it was anger, as he desperately tried to get the man to go away.

It was too early for this.

But it seemed his godfather was stubborn in all dimensions for his comment didn't even make the man break stride and Harry could only watch with a vague sense of despair as he slide down the wall until he was resting beside Harry.

Not touching, but close. Too close. Harry could actually feel himself start to vibrate with the tension.

Why did this crap always happen to him?

"Look, I just wanted to ask…"

"Harry?"

Harry had never been so happy to here Hermione's snapping tone as he was in that moment.

Before Sirius's mouth had so much as clicked shut, Harry was up and moving, grateful for the escape Hermione's call offered.

Or at least he was grateful until he realized her call came from the kitchen.

"Wait, kid!"

Shit.

Why did this universe seem out to get him? Honestly, a conversation with his godfather he had seen murdered before his eyes, or eating breakfast with his alter-dimensional self. Those were the choices he was left with apparently.

A glance over his shoulder showed Sirius heading towards him and Harry made his decision.

Himself he could handle. A living Sirius on the other hand…

So into the kitchen he strode, trying to arrange his features into a more casual expression than the resigned despair that was working its way through his body.

"You called?" He said as he poked his head through the doorway. Maybe he could just check in with Hermione and then leave, handily avoiding both terrible situations.

But alas- as always- luck was against him.

For Hermione stood near the stove, and from the second he began to speak, she was been glaring at him. And then she pointed to the table where a serving of breakfast worthy of Molly Weasley herself sat, apparently waiting for him, one eyebrow raised as if daring him to turn up the food.

Unable to go against the combined wishes of his best friend and his stomach, Harry sulked over the table where he sat down with a distinct lack of grace.

He would eat, but he wouldn't enjoy it. Couldn't enjoy it. Not with himself staring at him like that.

Honestly. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes at the shocked expression currently plastered across the other Harry's face as he picked up his fork and began to eat, trying to ignore the looks he could feel the other Harry giving him.

He tried. He really did.

Only his other self would not stop staring.

He just continued to sit there, watching.

Looking.

Staring.

Harry honestly did his best to keep his head down, to keep his attention on his food. After all, it wasn't like stares were anything new. But there was just something wrong when you can feel yourself staring at you.

Something that was distinctly creepy.

Something that was definitely not good for his appetite.

"Would you just stop that? Don't you know what your own face looks like?" Harry snapped, unable to take it any longer.

So much for his good mood.

Harry could actually hear the other Harry's teeth clack together, he shut his mouth so fast.

At least he turned away.

And than Sirius entered, already asking a question and Harry had to resist the urge to bang his head on the table.

Honestly, couldn't a bloke just enjoy some breakfast in peace?

"Look, kid, what do you have against answering a single bloody question?"

Harry gave into temptation and rested his forehead on the worn grain of the table as his godfa- as Sirius collapsed into a chair beside him.

"I'm not asking for your darkest secrets here, I just want to get to know you. I just want to figure out what the hell happened in your own world that made you so goddamn different from my godson!"

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Harry's head beat a steady rhythm against the table in the silence that had fallen in the wake of Sirius's tirade.

Thump.

Thu-

Hermione's hand rested on his forehead halting him mid-thump, her brown eyes holding a rebuke and Harry found himself blushing even as he sent his friend a sheepish grin in repentance.

OK, so perhaps that hadn't been the most mature of responses, but it wasn't as if there was a guidebook for this kind of situation. How to interact with dead alter-dimensional family members…

Suppressing a snort, Harry refocused on the present and as he took in the expectant expressions around him found himself sighing; again.

Really, it was too early for this.

And yet here he was, staring into a far too lively gaze of someone he himself had made funeral arrangement for.

What the bloody hell did he do deserve this?

"Well?" Sirius prompted impatiently, his body aquiver with the child-like energy Harry remembered so well from his own world.

That same child-like energy that had gotten him killed.

Creepy or painful, those were the options left to him as Harry glanced around the kitchen.

His alter-dimensional self or his dead godfather. A terrible set of choices to be sure.

And so Harry gave in to the anticipatory expressions mirrored on both of the men's faces. Might as well get this over with. Maybe he would actually be able to finish his breakfast eventually.

"Well what?" Harry asked, resignation weighing down his words as they dripped reluctantly from his lips.

"Well, what was your world like? Was I your godfather too? What house are you in? Do you play Quidditch? How did you learn to fight like that?"

The questions poured from Sirius with the air of a dam breaking, the words tripping over each other as they rushed to be heard.

Too many questions and all at once Harry found himself overwhelmed, too exhausted and simply too done to muster the strength to answer.

And still, Sirius was sitting there, literally squirming in his chair, the other Harry not any more restrained as he once more returned to his favorite pastime staring, awaiting an answer; an explanation.

Honestly, all he wanted to do was finished breakfast. Was that really too much to ask?

Harry's forehead made contact with the table once again with an altogether too satisfying thump.

Screw maturity.

It was too early for this.