Disclaimer: Harry Potter, not mine. This story is a work of fiction, and any non-HP characters are OCs, and their names and adventures are purely a product of my imagination.

A/N: This is an AU story of Harry's 5th year at Hogwarts. It begins in October. Thank you for reading!

Chapter One:

The Switch

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October 20th, 1995, Hogwarts

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It was over.

He was sure of it; could read it in the fires burning across the castle lawn. Hogwarts had surely fallen.

The wind cut through the grounds with a bitter coldness, shrouding the night with smoke. Blocking out the light of every star. The ground was pockmarked, littered with unmoving forms. Some Death Eaters, whose outlines blurred into the darkness that weighed down the air. Some not.

He heard the sounds of battle around him. Unintelligible shouts. Cries of pain. Flashes of spells momentarily lit up the swirling sky. Like fireworks.

And through it all, Voldemort was, slowly but surely, advancing on Harry.

"Harry Potter," he hissed, his snake-like eyes narrowing in hatred. "You have evaded me for far, far too long."

Harry backed away, his wand shaking slightly in his hand. His scar was burning, the pain of it almost blinding. It was too much to bear, being this close to the safety of Hogwarts, to see the glow of its windows behind him, and yet to feel just as alone as he had that night in the graveyard, with Cedric dead at his feet. He wondered if there was a single safe place left in the world, where Voldemort would not find him.

"I will kill you tonight, Harry Potter. I will destroy you, like I have destroyed the wards protecting you."

"So what are you waiting for?" Harry spat. "Kill me, like you killed Cedric! Go ahead!"

Voldemort smiled coldly.

"I see you are finally tired of running. Very well."

He raised his wand.

Harry closed his eyes; it was true, he couldn't keep running. He couldn't stand to see anyone else die on his behalf. How many sacrifices would it take, for him to stay alive?

"HARRY!"

"Harry, no!"

Ron and Hermione. Their words were muffled, as if coming to him across an insurmountable distance; but their voices flooded him with strength – a reminder that he wasn't altogether alone. His eyes shot open.

Voldemort's lips curled into a sneer as they moved to form the words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's arm moved almost of its own accord as he pointed his wand at Voldemort.

"Protego," he whispered. He didn't have the strength to shout. The pain in his head was blinding him.

The shield spread out around him as he saw the green light shooting in his direction. He didn't know if it would do any good – there was no defending against the Killing Curse. But he had tried… He had tried.

The jet of green light hit his shield with the force of an explosion. Harry felt the pressure of it reaching for him as the spells collided. Everything around him erupted in blinding color, and he was blasted off his feet. The roar of magic around him was so loud that it drowned out the shouts of his friends and the sounds of the battle. The air surrounding him was hot and furious. It whirled around him like a storm.

If his Shield Charm held… if he survived this, would Voldemort be waiting? He wondered again if there was anywhere safe out there, where Voldemort could not go. He was afraid he didn't have the mindset for this battle. Not like this. Suddenly he felt his head hit something hard, and then, mercifully, there was only darkness.

Would he see his mother again?

May 25th, 2006, Muggle London (in a world similar to the one we know)

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"Cut! That's a wrap on Voldemort's entrance!" Carlos Baez called. "Moving on! Let's reset for the fight."

Daniyel Bluelake groaned as the crew started rushing around the set, adjusting lights and moving around the green screen. Trying to stay out of their way, he wandered over to the craft services table, where his costars – Ella Foster and Robert Murphie – were already hanging out, and grabbed a cracker.

It had been a long day; the film production of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was a bit behind schedule, and they had been filming since the crack of dawn to make up time. But now, finally, they were setting up for the last shot of the day. He loved playing Harry Potter, and he loved his work, but currently the only thing keeping him going was the prospect of going home and playing with his dog. He supposed he wasn't the only one who had ever experienced one of those days.

"I'm so exhausted," Ella yawned, echoing his thoughts. "This schedule's brutal."

"Tell me about it," Daniyel said, grabbing a wedge of cheese from the spread on the table.

"At least you two don't have to have to make an appearance at the British American Film Society Gala tonight," Robert informed them in a somewhat resigned tone. "My agent's dragging me along with the hopes of getting me a winter gig. I suspect I'll sleepwalk right through it. I told her my friend Ed wants me to be in his music video, but she doesn't think that's a real job…"

"Sorry about that, mate," Daniyel told him brightly as he reached for the cheese platter again. "I'll think of you fondly."

"Why, what are you doing after this, Dan?" Ella asked.

"Literally nothing at all. Can't wait."

"Yes!" Ella said. "Me too." She turned to the table as well, contemplated a bag of potato chips, and then sighed and picked up a strawberry from the edge of the cheese platter instead, as if it were a significantly inferior choice.

"You're eating the decorations, Ells," Daniyel said, grinning.

"Quiet, you!"

All right, people," Carlos called, his voice ringing across the soundstage, "let's get this done. Places everyone!"

Daniyel shoved one last piece of cheese in his mouth and jogged back into frame where he stepped into position opposite Raymond Steward, who played Voldemort. As he pulled Harry's wand from the pocket of his robes, he lowered his mind back into Harry's mindset: so close to letting go, but not ready to give up just yet. He closed his eyes, visualizing the scene. Voldemort would attack, but Harry would pull himself out of despair, attempt to block the Killing Curse. And then…

"Scene twenty-five, take one!"

"Rolling sound…"

He opened his eyes to see the clap of the slate.

"And… action!"

Daniyel gripped his wand and ran forward, avoiding the fallen Death Eaters on the ground. Raymond advanced on him, and he drew to a halt, raising his wand. His hand shook. Raymond pointed his wand at Daniyel's heart.

"I will kill you tonight, Harry Potter," he hissed. "I will destroy you, like I have destroyed the wards protecting you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniyel could see the jib circling around Raymond, and he knew it was closing in on his face.

"So what are you waiting for?" he shot back. "Kill me, like you killed Cedric! Go ahead!"

Raymond's lips curled into a cold smile.

"I see you are finally tired of running. Very well."

He raised his wand higher and Daniyel closed his eyes. The silence around them was surreal, the crew watching with bated breath.

"Avada Kedavra!" Raymond yelled.

Daniyel opened this mouth, his lips beginning to form the incantation for the Shield Charm, when suddenly a loud boom shook the set, and he saw a flash of light from above him.

He heard screams as everyone around him erupted into panic. For a terrifying moment, he had no idea what was happening. Then he saw, with frozen horror, that a flaming light was tumbling down from the rack above.

"Dan! Dan, MOVE!"

He heard Ella screaming, and he unfroze, forcing his feet into action. He lunged sideways, and the light missed him by inches. The heat from the flames blazed hot against his arm as it fell past him, and the impact of it hitting the ground knocked him off his feet. His head hit the ground hard as he landed, and all the screams around him faded into nothingness.

His last thought before losing consciousness was a realization that this was probably the closest he would ever come to actually being in a story, instead of pretending at one.

When Harry came to, every part of his body was aching. For a while, he didn't want to open his eyes. If pain was the price for living, then he was sure he had significantly overpaid. Perhaps he could get a partial refund.

He became aware of a persistent beeping and a peculiar smell that reminded him strongly of Aunt Petunia's cleaning disinfectant. Confusion permeated his thoughts. Surely, Dumbledore couldn't have shipped him back off to Privet Drive. He opened his eyes.

At first, he thought it was the hospital wing – but Madam Pomfrey's ward had certainly never contained an electric heart-rate monitor. And was that an IV bag he was hooked up to? Harry squinted around in bewilderment. He was clearly in a Muggle hospital. Why on earth had Dumbledore sent him here?

As he stared around the room, the door burst open and Hermione and Ron walked in, looking at him nervously. When Hermione saw he was awake she gave a shriek and raced towards him. Ron looked relieved as well.

"You're awake!" she cried, relief flooding her voice. "How're you feeling?"

"Hermione," Harry croaked. His mouth was exceedingly dry. He licked his lips. "Ron. Where am I?"

They looked at each other, concern evident on their faces.

"They did say he had a concussion," Ron told Hermione. They turned back to him.

"You're at Charing Cross hospital, Dan," Hermione told him. "There was an accident on set. One of the lights exploded and almost hit you on the way down."

Harry stared at them, completely bewildered.

"Hermione, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Er – it's Ella, remember…? We aren't filming anymore."

"Filming?" Harry repeated, staring at them both. His mind felt incredibly foggy, and he wondered if he was missing something. And the looks they kept giving each other, like he was profoundly mad, were incredibly irritating. "Filming what? Are you speaking in some kind of code? Hermione, why am I in a Muggle hospital? Where the hell is Voldemort? What happened after he tried to kill me? Did Dumbledore send me here?"

Ella Foster, the girl he mistook for Hermione, turned to Ron's doppelganger, Robert, her face paling.

"Oh my God, Rob," she whispered, "he thinks he's actually Harry."

"What are you talking about? I am Harry. Who else would I be?"

"Just calm down – er – Harry," Robert said, "everything's fine." He turned to Ella. "Maybe we should go get someone."

"Good idea," she said. She turned back to Harry. "Just try to relax and I'll… I'll go get a nurse. Be right back!"

"Wait!" Harry called desperately. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew he couldn't let this girl, this Hermione who was pretending to be someone else, walk out of the room. She paused. He could sense her nervous energy from all the way across the room.

"Look," Harry said slowly, lowering his voice and trying to infuse it with calmness before this situation escalated any further, "I have a wicked headache, and I'm just a bit confused. Can you just tell me, again, what happened?"

"Right," Ella said, "OK." She walked back toward him.

"We were on set, shooting the scene with Voldemort, and one of the lights caught fire. It almost – er – flattened you," she faltered, her voice cracking slightly, "but it just missed. But you hit your head, and they took you to the hospital. They said you have a concussion, so that's probably why you can't remember… but Harry Potter isn't really real… it's just a story. You play Harry in the movie, but we're all just, you know… Muggles."

Harry's mouth felt incredibly dry again. "And what is this movie called?" he managed to say, his voice sounding much calmer than he felt. "I can't seem to recall."

Robert and Ella looked at each other again.

"Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix," Robert recited.

"Errrr," Harry said, "OK. And what did you say your names were?"

"I'm Ella, and this is Robert..."

"Right," Harry said. "Right… OK. And my name is…?"

"It's Daniyel. Bluelake," Robert said.

Harry wondered briefly if he had actually gone mad, or if Ron and Hermione were simply playing an enormous Fred-and-George sized joke on him.

"That's a bloody stupid name," he said, astounded. Ella let out a nervous giggle.

Harry fumbled with his bed sheets and saw that he was wearing a hospital gown. His robes were nowhere in sight.

"So – er – Ella, Robert," he said, the names rolling strangely off his tongue, "where's my wand?"

"Your… wand?" Robert said blankly.

"All your stuff is over here, Dan," Ella said, giving Robert a side-glance. She held up a transparent plastic bag and he could see his Hogwarts robe rolled up inside. It looked filthy. She handed the bag over. "I don't know if the wand is in here or not, but if you had it on you, it might be…"

Harry dug into the bag and felt around within the soft layers of cloth. Mercifully, his hand closed on the familiar shape of his wand. He pulled it out and looked it over carefully. It looked familiar. It felt familiar. He took a deep breath and pointed it at a pot of flowers on the windowsill. Either he was completely mad, waking up with no memory of his actual life and a dream of being a wizard, or he was in some kind of bizarre alternate world where everyone he saw was a walking parody of the people he knew and loved.

"Accio!" he said, concentrating on the flowers, and doing his best to avoid the alarmed stares the other two were giving him. For a second he was sure it wouldn't work. But the flowers shuddered and then rose into the air and flew toward him. He caught them, then turned to look at the other two, who were gaping at him.

"Holy shit!" Robert said.

Ella dropped her purse.

The three of them stared at each other in shocked silence. Harry put down the flowerpot.

"Right," he said, gaining back just a bit of confidence that he was not completely losing it. "As you can see, I am, most definitely, a wizard – and I assure you, my name is Harry. Now please, can you stop messing around and tell me what's really going on?"

For a second, nobody moved. Ella and Robert continued to stare at him and each other in shock.

Mutely, Ella picked up her purse and dug around inside it. She took out a worn blue book and, after a slight hesitation, offered it to Harry. He took it and looked at the cover. It read: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. There was a drawing on the front of a cartoon character that slightly resembled him, and one that slightly resembled Ron, sitting in a blue Ford Anglia. A white cartoon owl was drawn between them. Slowly, as if about to step off a massive cliff that he could never re-climb, Harry flipped open the book.

"This – this is my life!" he whispered, flipping through the pages. "My second year at Hogwarts!"

Ella nodded. "Not that you aren't clearly real, but there's no Harry Potter here," she said slowly. "There's no magic. It doesn't exist. It's just a book – a fantasy."

"I don't understand how this could've happened," Robert added, still staring at Harry in shock. "One minute Daniyel was here, about to shoot the fight with Voldemort, and then the explosion… the light fell down… and BANG! It's you! Holy shit, mate! You're a real wizard!"

Harry put down the book, thinking furiously. "I was fighting Voldemort. He used the Killing Curse on me, but it didn't exactly connect. Maybe it happened at the same time as your explosion. Maybe–"

"Maybe the explosion and Voldemort's attack caused a rift in the space-time continuum!" Ella cut in, her voice growing louder with nervous excitement. "Maybe, we do all really exist in a multiverse, and somewhere out there, in another dimension, Hogwarts is really real!"

"Bloody hell, this is like a giant Time-Turner accident, minus the Time-Turner," Harry said, trying to wrap his aching mind around it.

"That's all swell," Robert said, "but parallel universes aside, I think you're both forgetting something."

Harry and Ella looked at him in confusion. He threw up his hands.

"Harry, if you're here, then where the bloody hell is Daniyel?!"

The bed that Daniyel found himself in when he awoke was so comfortable that he was a little sorry to come out of his slumber. He lay there for a few moments, enjoying the softness of the sheets, before the memories came rushing back: the fire, the light falling. His eyes flew open in a panic and he bolted upright, staring around wildly.

"Woah, Harry, easy!"

He felt a hand on his shoulder and his eyes alighted on Robert's familiar face. Unfortunately, Robert was actually Ron.

"You OK, mate?" Ron asked, looking at Daniyel with concern.

"Fine, yes, I'm great," Daniyel said, still taking stock of his surroundings. He noticed a bandage on his arm, and felt one on his head as well. Not great then, but fine would do. He saw Ella, who he would soon know only as Hermione, peering at him from behind Ron. Behind her, he could see other beds filling up the room; it all looked strangely familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Am I in hospital?" he asked. "Is everyone else OK?"

"The hospital wing, yeah," Ron replied. "Everyone's fine. George had a broken arm, and Katie got burned pretty bad, but Pomfrey fixed them both right up. And we got a few Death Eaters captured! Fudge may just have to believe us about You-Know-Who now!"

"Sorry," Daniyel muttered, staring around in complete confusion as he rubbed his sore head, "er… what?"

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Why are you calling me Harry? Is this still part of the movie?" Daniyel asked. His mind was exceedingly foggy, and the question sounded stupid, even to his own ears.

"What's a movie?" Ron asked.

"What movie?" Hermione asked.

"What do you mean?" Daniyel said, rubbing his sore head in confusion. He felt like he was missing something. "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Obviously." At this Ron and Hermione both snorted in amusement.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron said, "did you channel Lockhart while you were asleep? What's the Order of the Phoenix?"

"What… the secret group created by Dumbledore. You know… the one outlined in the book… and your script. Did the light hit you on the way down, Rob? What are you talking about?"

"What script?" Hermione said slowly, her face drawn in confusion while Ron stared at Daniyel with complete bewilderment.

"For the movie!" Daniyel cried, exasperated. He must have been out for a really long time, for these two prats to come up with such a stupid joke; they had played some interesting tricks on him before, but this one really took the cake.

Ron and Hermione exchanged an odd glance. Ron mimed hitting his head and Hermione did her best not to smack him. Suddenly the door to the room opened, and Professor Dumbledore strode in and made his way toward them, his robes billowing behind him.

"Professor!" Hermione said quickly.

"Hi, Richmond," Daniyel said, rolling his eyes at Hermione and wondering how far they were going to take this joke. But hell, if the last few years were any indication, Richmond was probably in on it. "You didn't have to come all this way just to visit! Thanks!"

All three of them stared at him.

"Harry, are you quite all right?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, I'm great!" Daniyel said, wondering why everyone kept asking him this. Sure, he had just narrowly escaped being either flattened or burned to death, or both in that order, but at least he wasn't walking around the hospital pretending he was still a Harry Potter character. Did Ella, Robert, and Richmond just have zero boundaries? Scratch that, why was he even asking...

Dumbledore stared at Daniyel for a few more seconds, his blue gaze piercing, and then he turned to Ron and Hermione. Daniyel had the distinct impression of being tabled for later.

"Professor," Hermione began again, but Dumbledore cut her off.

"Miss Granger," he said, "I apologize, but I don't have time for a discussion quite yet. I came by to tell you that we are in the process of re-instating the wards around the castle. Voldemort has managed to escape with the rest of the Death Eaters, but rest assured, he will not be able to return here. I will send Sirius along shortly, and answer any of your questions after. Please keep an eye on Harry until I return."

They nodded silently and Dumbledore hurriedly left the room, his footsteps echoing across the stone floor. As he watched him walk away, Daniyel realized what the room reminded him of: the hospital wing at Hogwarts. He stared around in confusion, trying to figure out what on earth was happening. He almost felt like Carlos was about to jump out from behind the curtain with a camera and yell, "Surprise!" Perhaps he was going for the authentic route.

"Harry–" Hermione began.

"Listen, sorry, this isn't funny anymore, Ells. You guys got me, good one. But we all know my name's not actually Harry, all right?"

Hermione stared at him, her expression quite unreadable. "Ok…" she said slowly. "Then what is it? Your name?"

"What's my – are you serious?"

"Humor us," she said, while Ron looked on in bemusement, as if he couldn't quite believe Hermione was encouraging this.

"Humor you?" Daniyel muttered. "I'm definitely humoring you, all right. It's Daniyel, remember? Your best friend since Reception? Now seriously, can you both please quit with this really lame joke and tell me what's going on? What happened with the light? Why does this hospital look like Hogwarts?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other again. Finally Hermione said, "OK… Daniyel, we believe you. Right, Ron? Ron?" She glanced at Ron, who shrugged wholeheartedly. "I'm not sure what light you mean, but you are at Hogwarts. We've just barely got away from Voldemort. He hit you with the Killing Curse, but you've somehow shielded against it, and the force of it threw you against a tree. Any of this sound familiar?"

"Wow!" Daniyel said sarcastically. "Yes, actually, it does. It's only exactly the scene we were just filming. Very creative, guys. Either that, or I must've hit my head really hard, because I'm dreaming I'm actually Harry Potter."

"Hermione," Ron said, "I think he's gone mental."

"OK listen," Daniyel said, raising his hands in a placating gesture, "let's pretend for one second I'm taking you seriously and we're really at Hogwarts. And none of us are mental. Either way, I'm definitely not Harry. I'm just an actor. I play Harry. Now if you two are actually Hermione and Ron… OK, let's just pretend you are for a second.

"Anyway, there was an accident on set, and now I must've, like, switched places with the real Harry. Which would be entirely brilliant, by the way! Except there's no way I can be at Hogwarts because I'm just a bloody Muggle. But of course, why am I even explaining this to you. I mean, I'm clearly dreaming."

Hermione and Ron gaped at him in disbelief. Even Hermione seemed lost for words.

"But," Daniyel continued, getting carried away in his telenovela, "if I'm here, then I suppose Harry is"– he let out a short laugh that made his head throb painfully –"about to find out he's an actor, playing himself. Oh man, I'd love to see that! Maybe I can just direct this dream back on over to the real world and–"

"Sorry to break it to you, Harry, I mean Daniyel," Hermione cut in, her face pale, "but you're definitely not dreaming."

"And he's also definitely not Harry."

Hermione gasped and spun around. Sirius Black was standing behind them, his wand pointed at Daniyel.

"Who the hell are you," he growled, "and what've you done with my godson?!"

A/N: Hi guys, thank you for reading! TP has been with me for a long time. I originally came up with the concept back in 2002, during the long summer before OotP. I was only a freshman in high school then, and the execution was terrible. The story's stayed with me, though. Last summer I rediscovered it, and I realized I never did the concept justice, so I've decided to give it another go.

So this is TP 2.0!

It's been rewritten almost entirely, leaving only the premise, the beginnings, and some of the plot points the same. It's grown beyond anything I've ever imagined it could be, and I've grown with it. I've looked at it with the critical eye of an adult and tried to solidify its messages, root it more in the realities of the world, and in the realities of what I know about Harry Potter today. I don't know if I can still say this is the same story as the one I wrote back then... but in my heart it still is, I suppose.

I hope you guys enjoy it!

Rina