Second Chances and First Occasions by Rogan
Summary: ***Honourable Mention in the First Time for Everything Challenge*** After Harry survives his second Killing Curse, he makes a decision that changes things quite drastically. Getting a second chance at some of the events in his life, Harry resolves to do a few things right he did wrong on his first attempt.
Rating: PG
Categories: First Time for Everything Challenge (2019-2), First Time For Everything Challenge (2019-2)
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2019.08.18
Updated: 2019.08.18
Second Chances and First Occasions by Rogan
Chapter 1: The King's Cross Choice and Transfiguration
Author's Notes: [...]
Harry's mind, as he felt Kings Cross station slowly dissolve around him, latched onto yet another thing that Dumbledore had once said to him, years before, in a situation which was oddly similar to the one in which he found himself now. Then too, he had had a choice. He could have stayed where he was, or he could have returned - in that case to an earlier time - in order to save lives.
He and Hermione had chosen to return then, as he already felt himself choosing now to return, and as a result they had saved — or at least prolonged — the life of his godfather and his hippogriff. Sirius, he mused as more and more of the station began to disappear into the shrouding white fog, really should have lived longer. If he could have saved Sirius, would their search for the Horcruxes have been as hard? They would have had an ally, at least. Would it have been possible to prevent the deaths of so many of his fellow students and friends, if he had managed to do things differently?
As he let his mind slowly unfocus and watched the last remnants of Kings Cross station disappear into the white mists around him, the last questions he remembered thinking of before closing his eyes was: When was the turning point? Where could I have prevented all this?
---
"Mr. Potter?"
Startled by the sudden voice, familiar though it might be, Harry abruptly opened his eyes and, to his surprise, noticed that he was not where he expected to be. Where previously he had been surrounded by the hushed sounds of nature, the leaves and soft mosses under his feet had made way for the hard stone of a classroom. His eyes, which seemed reluctant to focus, locked on what appeared to be a large cage containing several blurry, colourful objects which seemed to be creeping around inside it. As they came into somewhat sharper focus, most of them turned out to be guinea-pigs. One which caught his attention, as it was a bit off in terms of the usual colours associated with guinea-pigs, looked as if it was covered in blue and grey feathers. Somehow it made him think of Neville.
The place, he saw as his eyes once again came under his control and stopped their woozy dance, was one he remembered. It was a place familiar to him - very familiar even - but one he had not visited in quite some time. A person was associated with this place, he realized, and at the moment he realized this, his eyes found her just to the right of the cage, standing at her desk. At professor McGonagall’s desk. In the Transfiguration classroom.
How had he gotten to the Transfiguration classroom from the Forbidden Forest? He must have lost a bit of time, or memory, to the Killing Curse. But still, he would have expected to be in the hospital wing after the ordeal he’d gone through in the forest if someone had come and collected him. He would also have expected to feel some of the bumps, bruises, scrapes and aches that had been with him just before the Killing Curse had struck him. Now he felt fine. Better than fine, even. Well, except for the disorientation and possibly a bit of nausea.
His eyes flicked over professor McGonagall. She looked as if she’d cleaned up since the battle. Was it all over? What could possibly have happened?
In a completely uncharacteristic display of empathy, professor McGonagall tilted her head sideways a bit and frowned down at him as she spoke in a soft and curious tone of voice.
“Mr. Potter, are you alright? You look a bit off your colour.”
It was then that another enormous jolt went through him, enough to literally shake him out of his reverie. She was looking down at him. The last time he had spoken to professor McGonagall, he had been a match for the tall witch’s height. There were at least two inches difference in height between them now. Something had changed, and something was terribly wrong. Could this possibly be yet another dream? He had been going back, back to the forest, back to the battle, hadn’t he?
Uncomprehending, he could only gaze up into his teacher's eyes. She, for her part, seemed to have reached some kind of limit, and she abruptly snapped back into her normal, strict persona.
"Now Mr. Potter," she spoke sharply, "there is no need to look so stricken. Finding a partner will not be a problem for you. You are a Triwizard champion, after all, and a Gryffindor to boot."
The Triwizard tournament. A partner for the dance. He was short and in Transfiguration classroom. The castle was fine and — now than he realized this — students were bustling through the corridors, sounding for all the world like there had never been a battle here at all. His face began to hurt and it took a glance at Professor McGonagall's facial expression to make him realize that an enormous, maniacal grin had fixed himself on his face. With a tremendous effort of will, he forced it back into a semblance of normality as his mind raced to comprehend the wonderful, terrible, unimaginable thing that had just happened.
"Harry…" She began, but he cut her off, taking control of the situation before it could get further out of hand.
"I'm sorry, professor," he said, still mentally beating his face back into submission, "I just had a thought about the… err… The tournament. Yes, that was it. Sorry, what were you saying?" He thought he remembered some of this conversation, and desperate hope made his insides clench painfully as he waited for his Transfiguration teacher to respond. When she did, he almost cried in relief.
"The champions and their partners," she said, slowly and clearly, “will be opening the dance at the beginning of the Yule Ball."
He nodded, again exercising considerable willpower to keep from jumping up and down in joyous exultation.
"I understand, professor," he said, allowing himself a genuine smile, "and I know just who to ask. Thank you for telling me."
Seemingly relieved that Harry was behaving normally again, Professor McGonagall nodded brusquely and gestured for him to leave the classroom. Harry took the hint and left. His mind racing, the almost walked right past Ron, who stood waiting for them just outside the door in the corridor. Ron wasted no time before grilling Harry.
"So, what'd she want?"
For years now, he had shared everything with his best friends. The three of them had become as close as they possibly could have. He could trust Ron, he knew, but when he opened his mouth to start sharing the news, enormous glaring alarm bells went off in his head. This was that time. It was the time in which he could under no circumstances speak aloud what he had been about to tell his friend, at least without ensuring that the could not possibly be overheard, even by magical means. Still, he needed his friends, and his allies, to know.
Harry made a decision. The drawing piece and way he had not felt in a long time. He would trust his friends — all of them — to help them make things better. Whatever he did now, no worse could possibly happen than what he had already gone through in the last two years. Sirius, Dumbledore, Snape and all the students and members of the order… All of it could be prevented.
"I need to talk to you and Hermione", said Harry, "in private. There are things I’ve got to tell you both that you're going to find hard to believe, but I'm going to need your help. Lots of it. I also need to go find Ginny, right away."
Ron gave him a searching look, and Harry realize just how much younger he looked than the grief stricken young man he had last seen when he had been on his way out of the castle, such a short time ago.
Only it wasn't a short time ago. It was more than three years from when he was now, and it would never, never happen that way this time around.
"Is it about the second task?" Ron finally asked as he set off towards the next lesson, Harry in tow, "And what do you need my sister for?"
Harry smiled and ignored the first question in favor of the other, more important one.
"I need to ask her to the Yule Ball," he said, "before someone else does."
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