A Phoenix of Ash.

By GrahamTheWordWitch

Disclaimer; I make no claims on the Harry Potter Series, as all rights belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Four: The Worst Words.

Harry had been happily munching away at his breakfast of toast and bacon, sitting at one of the grimy tables at the Cauldron, when he overheard a conversation between two customers. The two women were sat in a booth behind him, so Harry couldn`t see them, but their voices carried across the crowded pub as they spoke.

"Did you hear about The Boy Who Lived starting Hogwarts this year? My own son is his age, do you think that they might be friends? Imagine that! My son, mates with a celebrity!".

Harry sneered with disgust. Didn`t they have anything better to do?

"My Anna won`t start for a few years yet, unfortunately", the other lamented. "Anyway, I heard that he has been training with Dumbledore for two years now. The boy must be something special, if the great Albus Dumbledore would spend that time on him".

What tripe were they talking about now? Harry had never even heard of Albus Dumbledore until he was eleven, let alone be trained by him, which would have been uncharacteristically useful of the old man. The gossip reminded Harry of the time he had found out about the line of dramatic children's books featuring him, as he fought magnificent beasts with naught but his wit and power. What a load of bollocks.

Harry tried to tune out of the conversation but the woman's next words lured him back in.

"Such a sweet young man, he is. I met him once, you know, in the alley. He was with his grandmother at Ollivanders, getting his first wand".

Harry frowned. First of all, he had only been to the Alley once in this life and he had gone unaccompanied. Second of all, he was pretty sure all of his grandparents were dead and buried, so they couldn`t have made an appearance. Harry felt uneasy but maybe someone had been mistaken for him, someone who was with their gran? But his family was too widely known to be mistaken…but then again, he hadn`t been recognised yet.

Something wasn`t right.

"Brilliant manners, I`ve heard. His grandmother did a fantastic job in his parent's place, hm? I wish my son was that well behaved but my dear Harold does spoil him so".

Had the wizarding world been under the impression that he had been raised by a gran of his? Harry shook his head: he vaguely recalled that they had generally thought him to be raised in secret and under protection but no mention was made of a gran.

"Poor Neville, he still faithfully visits his parents in St. Mungo's, doesn`t he?"

The toast dropped from his mouth onto the table with a soft thump.

Neville? They were talking about Neville? Impossible. Not possible. He hadn`t even changed anything before he had turned eleven: he had been the same old Harry! What had changed? Was Neville the Boy Who Lived in this timeline? Harry knew Neville was another candidate for the prophesy but Harry had gone back in time, not into another version of events!

Harry was starting to get the dreadful feeling that he hadn`t just travelled back in time.

Was he in a completely different timeline from his own? What other changes could there possibly be, Harry thought slightly hysterically. Was Snape a vampire? Voldemort a genital disease? Hagrid a variation of the Whomping Willow?

Harry stopped himself with a deep breath. He had to find out if what the women had said was true: was Neville somehow the Boy Who Lived?

How would that even work, Harry mused. Obviously, Nevilles parents were still alive if they were in St. Mungo's. Harrys mother had died for Voldemort to make his accidental Horcrux but if no one had been murdered when Neville was attacked, how could he be a Horcrux? Could Neville be the chosen one without the Horcrux? Wasn`t that the "mark" that the prophecy foretold? Harry had a headache: nothing was ever simple.

A new question formed in Harrys mind: Was this Nevilles fight now? More importantly, was Neville strong enough to lead a war? A petulant part of Harry wondered why Neville had been receiving training from Dumbledore at a young age but Harry hadn`t. He eventually supposed that Nevilles Gran must have had a say in it, whereas Harry had no advocate.

A part of Harry wanted to be relieved that the safety of the wizarding world no longer seemed to be his problem but on the other hand, did he trust it to Neville? Neville had grown to be a brave and confident young man but would he have been able to lead as Harry did? Not that Harry had did a very sterling job, apparently.

Harry paused. What had happened to his own parents, then? They had to be dead, otherwise he would be with them. How did they die though? If Neville was picked as the chosen one by Voldemort, shouldn`t the LeStranges have been the ones to attack Harrys parents? Shouldn't they be the ones insane in St. Mungo's, not Nevilles? Did Voldemort torture Nevilles parents into insanity, or did the LeStranges do it while Voldemort "dealt with" Neville? Harry had so many questions and he hoped that some would be answered at Hogwarts.

Would the old friends he was eager to see again even be there? In this strange world, did they even exist? Harry didn`t know and he wasn`t sure he was looking forward to finding out.

Harry rapped his nails on the table and frowned: first, he had to find a way of confirming what the women had said. But how? Old newspapers? Where would he find them? Did the wizarding world even have newspaper archives? Harry concluded he might be better off with a book: a history book. He recalled that in his original timeline, there had been plenty of history books about what had happened to him as an infant. He recalled Hermione spouting off their names on the first train ride.

Even if none of the books were entirely truthful, it would at least tell him if Neville was famous, rather than himself. That would do for now, as he was sure that Hogwarts had a very large archive of papers in the library he could peruse for further information.

So, a trip to Flourish and Blotts it was then.

The trip only confirmed his suspicions. Neville had survived an attack by Voldemort and had "vanquished" him.

Well shite.

Harry was puzzled as to how this change had happened: what was different this time around? What had made Voldemort choose the Longbottom's and not the Potters?

Harry wasn`t sure how to proceed with his plans. Did he continue his old role as the Boy Who Lived, in the shadows? Did he work to take down Voldemort on his own? Should he wait until he was old enough to be recruited into the order? Taking a back seat would suit Harry, he thought. He really didn`t want to be the one responsible for the lives of others, but could he expect Neville to? A vindictive part of Harry pointed out that the wizarding world of his time- including Neville- had expected that of him without any qualms. Why should he feel guilty for doing the same?

Because you know how it feels to be on the receiving end, a voice filled his head.

Harry sighed. He had no idea what he was going to do, only that he couldn`t leave Neville to bear the beast of a burden on his own.

He`d have Dumbledore though, a traitorous thought appeared.

He shook his head. With the knowledge that Harry had of the future, could he really sit back and let it happen? He already knew the answer. Harry didn`t fancy being on the front lines again, though. Maybe he could help in a different manner. Again, the idea of trying to reason with the dark lord crept across his mind but he dismissed it: how on earth would he ever be able to make that happen?

Harry finally, after long hours of consideration, decided that he needed to see what other changes existed between his own world and this one before he decided what to do. He also needed to gauge how strong Neville had the potential to become, to see if he would be able to bear his burden.

Maybe being the Boy Who Lived had toughened Neville up?

Harry couldn`t stop his mind from swimming with thoughts, even as he tried to sleep. He was all packed up: ready to board the train the next morning. Harry was excited but this anticipation was marred with wariness, as he worried about what his reaction would be to the many faces he had seen pale with death. How could he face them again, knowing that he had failed them once before? When he hadn`t been able to prevent their friends and family from being cut down in their prime?

It took many hours before Harry settled into a pattern of restless sleep: which was blissfully nightmare free despite the negative thoughts that nipped at him.

The heavy thrum of the bustling train station was comforting to Harry in its familiarity. Most of the school children had already boarded but their families still tottered about, waiting to wave their offspring off. He couldn`t help the soft smile that adorned his lips as he took in the sight of the place that he held so much nostalgia for. It had been a few years since Harry had been able to visit platform 9 and ¾ and he regretted that sorely.

His smile reached his eyes as he witnessed a teary goodbye between a father and his daughter, who he recognised as a second year. When he had been younger, he hadn`t been able to bear seeing his peers so obviously loved by their families: he had been so horribly jealous. Now, he felt a contentment to by a bystander- having experienced it on his own from send offs from Molly and Arthur, who had treated him as one of their own.

And who had died for it.

His smile became strained at the thought of the couple who were like parents to Harry- who had died to protect him just as his own parents had.

Maybe he would see them again soon. Maybe it could be as it was.

A sharp note rent the air as the train let out a warning whistle for the passengers to get their asses in gear.

Harry dutifully pushed his trolley as close to the train doors as he could, uttering a few apologies as he narrowly avoided bumping into distracted parents. It took a passing fourth year to help Harry haul his things onto the train but Harry managed to find an empty carriage relatively easily, with the fourth year scouting one out for him in exchange for a few galleons.

As Harry was settling into his seat, a charms book open on his lap, the train made a loud puffing sound as it stared up. With the sound of grinding gears, the station outside his window slowly slipped away amongst cries of farewell and well wishes.

Harry was slightly disappointed to note that he hadn`t seen any gangs of red-heads in the vicinity but tried to nudge away his unease. He wondered if he would be seeing Hermione soon. Last time she had gone door to door looking for Trevor the Toad…but would Neville still have him?

Even if things didn`t happen the same way, he would still see her again at Hogwarts. Harry smirked, Hermione would kill him if she knew he had travelled in time. She had always gone on about its dangers since third year.

Well, he could legitimately say that this misadventure was not his fault…probably. Possibly. Maybe.

Well, at least Ron would have found it hysterical.

Harry settled into a rhythm of reading and gifting brief glances out of the window as the countryside whittled by. He held onto the hope that Hermione or Ron, or even Neville would enter his compartment but none showed.

He had closed the little curtain on the door window for privacy when he entered but now sorely regretted it, as he couldn`t see those who had passed by. A third year had popped their head in at one point- looking for their friend- and the trolley lady asked if he wanted anything but other than that, he was left to his own devices. He considered searching the train for his old friends but reminded himself that he had a whole year to do so. Seven of them, in fact.

He was sure that no matter how much world shifting occurred, Ron would always be a Gryffindor but he could easily see Hermione as being a Raven. Would not meeting him and Ron on the train change her house? Harry couldn`t say but he didn`t really think it was important, since he would talk to her even if she were to be in Slytherin. He wasn`t convinced Ron would though, since Harry recalled how stubborn Ron could be, especially as a child.

Harry sighed. One thing he wasn`t looking forward to was Ron`s pre-adult maturity and "charm". The boy was stubborn to a fault, Harry recalled with exasperation. He didn`t know how Hermione had dealt with it, to be honest.

Harry supposed he would have to get used to teenage temperaments quite quickly, if he wanted to avoid going mad. He would also have to get used to being a child again. He was used to having his orders followed and his words respected like law- he wasn`t sure how he was going to deal with answering to a higher authority. He supposed he would just have to suck it up, but Harry was never a patient man. Many a death eater could attest to that.

Harry only hoped that his knowledge of the coming events would mean that anything thrown his was could be dealt with. Neville threw a spanner into the mix but Harry was nothing if not adaptable and was sure he could manage. To be honest, Harry feared living with school children again much more than he feared Voldemort.

At least he could blow Voldemorts head off.

If he did that to a school mate he doubted he`d be staying at Hogwarts very long. Hermione would be so disappointed.

As Harry was mentally watching himself blow the dark lords head off, the train started to crawl to a rumbling stop. He was pulled from his musings with a sharp jolt from the ground beneath him- which he met with a fierce curse as he nearly toppled from his seat-and he gripped onto the wall.

Fucking hell, it was a school train not The Wild Mouse.

Harry smoothed down his robes with a grumble before making his way off the train- leaving his bags for the elves as was tradition.

Now, to not pull a Potter and fuck everything up. Fun.