Backwards Compatible
An Overdue Hello
By Ruskbyte
"Not a bad likeness, I will admit," said Harry Potter, looking his... doppelganger... up and down with an appraising eye. The doppelganger, as he had described himself, stood perfectly still and waited impassively in front of the newly arrived Boy Who Lived, not reacting in the slightest to Harry's scrutiny or comments.
Everyone else, on the other hand, was most definitely reacting to the situation that had so unexpectedly developed in the middle of this year's Sorting. Furious whispers and murmurs broke out amongst some of the less dumbstruck students as they tried to make some manner of sense of what was happening. The teachers were all on their feet, with the exception of Professor Snape - who was still sprawled on the floor where the doppelganger had thrown him earlier.
Dumbledore had come out from behind the staff table and was closely watching the two nearly identical teenage wizards standing near the centre of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione were also on their feet, as was Ginny, the three Gryffindors staring at Harry over the intervening Ravenclaw table. Hermione examined the two boys critically in the near silence following Harry's arrival.
The first, who had only moments ago identified himself as Doppelganger Unit One (whatever that meant) was perhaps the most unassuming figure present. His trousers were faded and scuffed, obviously too wide around the waist and several inches too long in the legs. His shirt was also far too large for his skinny frame and, even from a distance, looked rather tatty under the black school robes. He was short for a sixteen year old and stood slightly hunched over, as if the world was weighing heavily on his shoulders, which only made him seem smaller than he already was. Not the image most people would have conjured up when thinking of a hero.
The other Harry, apparently the real one, stood in stark contrast to his counterpart. His jeans were vibrantly blue and went well with his shirt. At least, as well as anything could go with something that seemed to consist of almost every colour in the rainbow, plus a few extra. He was a good three or four inches taller, but it seemed more by the way he held himself, aided perhaps by the fact that his clothes actually fit him properly for once. His untamed hair was slightly longer than it had been when last Hermione had seen him. With the lines of his face no longer overwhelmed by the thick black frames of his old glasses, Harry looked considerably more in control of the situation than he would have otherwise.
Harry looked up from buttoning his Hawaiian shirt and glanced at the onyx ball hovering by his shoulder. "You can close the Gate now, Father. There's nothing else we need to bring through."
With a sucking sound that was vaguely reminiscent of water draining from a bath, the reflective sphere of shimmering energy that had brought Harry to Hogwarts shrank to a point and disappeared with a wet pop.
"Anything interesting to report, Unit One?" asked Harry, his attention back on the doppelganger now that he had finished straightening his clothes.
"Primary objective was completed successfully," replied the doppelganger, Unit One, his voice as impassive and emotionless as it had been the entire time he had spent as Grimmauld Place.
Harry smirked, a strange sight indeed, and noted, "In other words; nobody found out you're just a badly programmed impostor Father and I left behind to cover my absence during the summer."
The doppelganger nodded, "Correct."
"You didn't give him much of a vocabulary, did you?" Harry asked the black sphere that was now drifting near his right shoulder.
By now most of those present were beginning to realize that the Harry Potter which had made the journey with them on the Hogwarts Express earlier that day, and in some cases the Harry who they had spent the last half of summer with, was actually a fake of some kind. If this was true then it meant that the real Harry had apparently been running about by himself and doing only the gods knew what for the past month or more. This, more than anything else which had transpired over the past few minutes, worried them.
"Secondary objective was completed successfully," Unit One continued after Harry indicated for him to finish his report. Harry sighed fractionally in relief, an action noticed only by those who knew him well, but promptly tensed up as his counterpart added, "One attempted transgression was recorded."
Harry's stance instantly changed. His head dipped lower and his shoulders shifted beneath his colourful shirt. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides, the muscles in his forearms bunching into equally tight knots that were readily visible due to the shirt's short sleeves. These understated movements gave him a decidedly predatory aspect, one entirely unlike anything anyone had ever seen from Harry. In its own way it just as disturbing as the doppelganger's indifference had been.
It was Harry's expression, however, that caused the Great Hall to grow quiet once again. There was something terrifying in the lie of his face. A tiny furrow appeared between his eyebrows as his eyes narrowed and his lips drew themselves into a fine line. He stood perfectly still, but every aspect of his tensed body screamed with restrained energy, a predator coiled and waiting to pounce, as he matched his gaze with that of his substitute. After a long, tense beat, he spoke.
"Who?"
Not even Snape could sound so unequivocally dangerous with a single word.
The silence in the Great Hall was absolute as everyone waited with bated breath to hear what the doppelganger would say. There was hardly any doubt in anyone's mind that, once learning the name of whoever it was that had done whatever it was, Harry would promptly seek the poor fool out and rip him limb from limb with his bare hands. He certainly looked dangerous enough to do just that.
"Draco Malfoy."
If possible, Harry's features became even more forbidding. Those nearest to him, sitting at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, tried to edge away - they would swear later that they had been able to hear Harry's teeth grinding.
"Replay. Now. Verbatim," Harry demanded, his voice now filled with a colossal fury that seemed only a hairsbreadth from being unleashed. It was like listening to a natural disaster that had been given voice to proclaim its arrival. One of the less stout-hearted Hufflepuffs gave up on trying to edge away from Harry and simply climbed out of him seat and backwards over the table behind him, falling into the lap of one of his housemates.
Unit One blinked owlishly and tilted his head back slightly before speaking, his voice an eerie reproduction of Draco Malfoy's. "Well, well, well. Look who we have here."
If their eyes had been closed not a person present would have been able to tell him apart from the real Malfoy. They barely had a chance to grasp the meaning of this when Unit One spoke again, this time in the voice of Neville, "What d'you want, Malfoy?"
His voice then changed again, back to Malfoy, and he said, "Nothing from you, Longbottom."
Harry's grim bearing grew progressively darker as Unit One proceeded to recount, in explicit detail, the entire incident that had occurred earlier on the Hogwarts Express. The simulacrum somehow changed his voice to match that of whoever was speaking, using his own bland tones only when describing the participants' movements or his own words.
Ron turned a spectacular shade of red as Unit One gave voice to the screams, insults and invectives he had hurled at Malfoy during the encounter. There was little doubt in everyone's mind that he would be receiving a Howler from Mrs Weasley once she got word of this, although quite a few people (including some of the teachers) were immensely impressed with his creativity.
"Malfoy then attempted to place a hand on Hermione's left breast," Unit One finished off, his voice returning to normal and not seeming to notice the murderous glint that ignited in Harry's eye upon hearing this.
During the entire recital Harry had been focused exclusively on his double, but now he slowly turned that single-minded attention to one side. Towards the Slytherin table. Those Hufflepuffs seated between Harry and the Slytherins literally scrambled over each other as they hurried to get out of the way. The Boy Who Lived was looking more furious, more dangerous, than anyone or anything they had ever seen. Nobody wanted to be stuck between him and his... prey.
"Where is he?" Harry asked in a voice that demanded an answer.
Had Unit One been a wizard he would have shrugged in reply. Being nothing remotely wizard like, however, the doppelganger simply said, "Unknown. Though existing data suggests that he is currently located in the school's Hospital Wing."
Harry paused in his inspection of the Slytherin table and looked back at Unit One with a raised eyebrow. "The Hospital Wing?"
"Correct."
"What did you do to him?" he asked curiously.
"I broke his wrist."
Harry blinked and looked at Unit One in what seemed like surprise. "You broke his wrist?"
"Correct."
It might have been a play of the torchlight reflected in his eyes and perhaps those listening were imagining things, but Unit One looked and sounded almost satisfied. His eyes were as vacant and indifferent as ever, not a muscle had twitched to alter his blank expression and his voice was as neutral and unmodulated as ever. Still, the doppelganger seemed distinctly pleased with his answer.
Even Harry picked up on this, his incensed demeanour immediately beginning to lighten as he looked at Unit One with a quizzical expression. His lips quirked into a lopsided smile as he regarded his double for several moments, before glancing at the obsidian ball which had now shifted position from his right shoulder to slightly above and behind his left shoulder.
"Did you intentionally program him to dislike the Ferret?" he asked, "Or is Malfoy just so good at being an arrogant arse that even an emotionless drone can get pissed off with him?"
Whatever reply the orb made, only Harry seemed able to hear it, his eyebrows raising in obvious amusement. He shook his head before returning his attention back to the doppelganger. "All right, Unit One, you can stand down now," he ordered calmly, no longer looking in imminent danger of going on a murderous rampage. "Deactivate your tactile fields and disengage the holographic projectors."
"Compliance."
With an odd flicker not unlike a television shorting out, the doppelganger Harry disappeared, his robes, clothes and glasses dropping to the floor a moment later. All that was left, hovering at about head height, was a device that looked vaguely reminiscent of a Muggle video camera which had been crossbred with something straight out of a science fiction movie. It was clearly some sort of mechanical gadget - though how it was able to function at Hogwarts was a complete mystery. Ordinarily any electronic machinery would be rendered inactive by the vast amounts of magic which permeated the school and surrounding area.
The drone, which was clearly Unit One's true appearance, bobbed up and down for a moment before gliding forward and past Harry. He scarcely spared the drone a glance as it went by him and completely ignored it as the air around it shimmered before it, to everyone's further surprise, faded from sight with a soft whispering noise.
Harry for his part, was busy rooting through the now discarded bundle of clothing which was all that remained to show that Unit One had ever existed. He straightened up after a moment, holding up his wand with an air of satisfaction. He half turned and flicked it at the assembled items which had preceded him through the spherical portal which had deposited him in the middle of the hall. The crates, the case labelled as containing nuclear material, the large gas cylinder and the boxes of Mars Bars rose into the air and proceeded to float out the Great Hall, presumably heading to Gryffindor Tower to join the rest of Harry's possessions, which the drone had brought with it on the Hogwarts Express.
After watching the small procession depart Harry grinned happily and turned back to face the front of the hall, sticking his wand casually behind his ear rather than depositing it in a pocket. It was an action which immediately put those who knew her in mind of Luna Lovegood, who had much the same habit. Fortunately Harry was not as yet wearing turnip earrings or a necklace made out of Butterbeer caps.
Several moments of silence passed, in which the students and teacher began glancing between Harry and Dumbledore, waiting for the headmaster to speak. Dumbledore was about to do just that, having cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Harry, however, had been ignoring him the entire time and cut him off by striding down the length of the Ravenclaw table until he was standing before a very relaxed looking blonde witch.
"Norway."
"Pardon?" asked Luna, blinking languidly and looking up at Harry with some confusion. This in itself was something of an accomplishment, as Luna very seldom seemed surprised by anything.
"Norway," Harry repeated, grinning broadly at the dreamy-eyed girl with a mischievous expression that said he knew something she did not. He leaned closer and, with a perfectly straight face and a serious voice, said, "The Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. They live in Norway. Not Sweden. That's why you and your dad couldn't find any over the summer. You were looking in the wrong place."
Luna opened her mouth to make some sort of reply.
There was an expectant pause.
Luna, nothing coming to mind, closed her mouth.
Grinning mischievously again, in a manner not unlike the twins Fred and George, Harry moved past Luna and stepped up onto the table. He was clearly heading towards the Gryffindors, but was going over the Ravenclaw table rather than around it. He had arrived early enough into the Sorting that the feast had not yet begun, thus the house tables were not crowded almost to overflowing with all manner of food. This meant that he did not need to watch his footing and, with two quick steps, was over the table and stepped down on the other side.
"Mister Potter..."
It was like flipping a light switch. At least that was how Hermione, who was not far from where Harry was standing, compared it. It was difficult to describe how quickly he shifted from one stance to the other. One instant Harry seemed unbelievably carefree and playful, not in the least bit bothered by the concerns facing the Wizarding World. The next, after Dumbledore called his name, he was holding himself with the air of an embattled god. Death itself being granted mortal form would probably have been a more appropriate description.
It was even more frightening than his expression when hearing about how Malfoy had harassed her during the train ride. Then, when the Unit One drone had made its report, Hermione would have described Harry as looking righteously angry. Filled with a hatred that had simmered and bubbled just beneath the exterior, barely held down and in place even though Harry was visibly eager to unleash it in all its fury. His expression when facing Dumbledore, however, was almost the complete opposite.
A relentless determination seemed to have settled over Harry, encompassing him completely, as he finished stepping down from the Ravenclaw table. He turned to face Dumbledore, presenting Hermione with a much clearer view of his expression. She could see that her friend was favouring the headmaster with a look of such unadulterated and absolute contempt that she suddenly felt her stomach give a foreboding lurch. An icy resolve was burning quietly but fiercely behind Harry's eyes, the kind that would make him unstoppable in a fight should he or those he cared for be threatened. This was the aspect of someone who could take a life without hesitation or remorse.
It was a look she had never thought she would ever see from Harry.
"We will discuss this later, old man," Harry told the headmaster through clenched teeth, his tone of voice capable of turning Hell itself into a frozen wasteland. Nobody was quite sure if it was just their imaginations, but the Great Hall seemed much colder than it had been a moment earlier.
There was also a venom laced behind the frigidness of his voice, barely detectable but Hermione knew it was there. So did several others, if their reactions were anything to go by - those who knew Harry better than most. Ginny, Neville, most of the older Gryffindors and some of the teachers. Even those who did not know Harry that well were able to pick up on his sudden, but obvious loathing (there was no better word) for Dumbledore. It was shocking to see and even more shocking to hear.
Dumbledore, not to mention everyone else in the Great Hall, was simply too surprised by such a belligerent response too say anything further. He recovered quickly, but it was obvious that he was disturbed by what was happening. Harry did not seem to care, and beyond those tersely spoken words he seemed to completely disregard the headmaster after giving him a quick once over.
From her vantage point Hermione saw Harry rake his eyes over Dumbledore, a man considered by many to be the greatest sorcerer of modern times. It chilled her to see that he weighed up the older wizard's worth with a single glance and clearly found him wanting. Harry turned to where she and Ron were standing, dismissing Dumbledore as being someone completely insignificant and obviously not worth his time.
His eyes were glittering from under his shock of black hair as he stood by the Ravenclaw table, poised with a seemingly relaxed, but at the same time alert, elegance which he had not possessed before the summer. Simply seeing Harry assess Dumbledore with that gaze had sent shivers running up Hermione's spine. Seeing that gaze turn towards her was almost enough to cause her heart to cease beating.
Harry's eyes were such a dark shade of green at the moment that you could almost believe them to be as black as the night. Hermione, who secretly prided herself in knowing Harry better than anyone else, knew how his eyes could grown dark when her friend was angry. She could not recall, however, having ever seen him looking like this. This was something beyond anger. Something that, quite frankly, terrified her.
Yet at the same time it somehow thrilled her. It thrilled her to know that she was seeing Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, her best friend, even more so than Ron, the young man that a part of her yearned to be closer to, seeing him radiating such an air of power and authority that his mere presence was enough to focus every eye on him and him alone. She could only wonder what the sight would be like when the day came that Harry added his magical aura to the mix and completed the effect.
That was perhaps the most amazing thing of all; the realization that Harry was able to project this commanding presence without calling on his magic. Normally when he was angry, magic filled the air around him, making it seem heavy and loaded with potential - like the onset of an approaching thunder storm. All witches and wizards did as much when their emotions were forced into the fore, to greater or lesser degrees. Now, however, Harry was allowing not even a single iota of his magic to leak out. Such control was very rare in such a young wizard.
It was incredible to see.
Then it was gone. As suddenly as it had come the darkness left, leaving behind sparkling emerald eyes that were alight with a passion that Hermione had not seen in what seemed like forever. Not since before the beginning of their fifth-year. Maybe even longer. Yet there was also restraint, an iron willed discipline that prevented any of the emotion in Harry's eyes from reaching his face or body. Those burning eyes flicked between her and Ron as he strode to where they stood, Ginny and Neville standing opposite them on the other side of the table.
"Harry, mate, wha--"
Ron never got to finish asking his question. Harry had just hauled off and slugged him a blow to the jaw that lifted the lanky redhead clear off his feet and into the air. It was a good thing the feast hadn't started yet, or Ron's robes would have been covered in a spray of food as he crashed down on the Gryffindor table. As it was he scattered an impressive array of gold cutlery onto the floor upon impact with the wooden tabletop.
"Ow! What the Hell did you do that for?!" exclaimed Ron after several panic-filled moments in which half of Gryffindor (and possibly the rest of the school) had mild heart attacks. They had been able to accept Harry looking ready to eviscerate Malfoy. They had been able to accept Harry giving Dumbledore the cold shoulder - with spades. They simply could not, however, accept that Harry had just punched one of his best friends in the face for no apparent reason.
"That," Harry told Ron sternly, though his eyes had remained their normal bright green, "is for making Hermione cry."
"What?!" Ron asked incredulously, one hand on his rapidly swelling jaw. He shook his head, no doubt to clear away the Golden Snitches that must have been circling around it after receiving such a blow. "Harry that was nearly six years ago! I apologised already!"
"That wasn't for the troll in the bathroom incident, you git," replied Harry, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. He continued to look at Ron with a severe expression. "It was for when you break up with her!"
"But I haven't even asked her out yet!"
These proclamations caused quite a stir amongst the other students, Hermione in particular. She looked from one boy to the other with wide eyes, scarcely able to believe what she had just heard. Up until this point she had never even considered the idea that Ron might like her in any capacity other than that of a friend. Truth be told she had been fairly convinced that the only reason he was her friend in the first place was because of their mutual friendship with Harry and the fact that he probably got some sort of enjoyment out of their perpetual arguments.
She did note, however, that Harry seemed rather surprised by Ron's shouted protest. He blinked several times and a strange expression crossed his face. Hermione, who still considered herself an expert on all things Harry - even if she was apparently blind to all things Ron, recognised it as the expression he often wore shortly after having made a stupid mistake. She could almost see the thoughts running through his head at that moment. If he were to verbalize them, the first word out of his mouth would probably have been oops.
"Ah," Harry said, a hint of embarrassment tingeing his cheeks. He cleared his throat, a cover which he used to regain his composure. Truth be told, Hermione was fairly certain that she was the only person close enough to see him lose it in the first place; he had hidden it so well. Harry scowled, obviously part of his act, and continued to speak with his original sternness as he wagged a finger at Ron in mock admonishment. "Which is exactly the reason why I'm smacking you now; so you'll know what's in store for you if you do it again, you silly prat."
Reaching down he grabbed Ron's free hand, the one not massaging his bruised jaw, and hauled his friend off the tabletop and onto his feet. Ron almost overbalanced, apparently Harry's sinewy frame was stronger than it looked, but managed not to topple over. Harry made a slight show of brushing off his friend's robes before surprising everyone, Ron especially, by engulfing him in a rib cracking hug that would have turned Mrs Weasley green with envy.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you alive and well, mate," he said in a quiet voice that was only heard by those nearby. "No idea.
"Er... right," replied Ron, wincing as Harry gave one last crushing squeeze before releasing him. He took a step back, giving Ron some space to breath properly once again, and nodded to Ginny and then Neville, who were watching with wide eyes from the other side of the table. Then, he turned his attention to Hermione.
This time, however, his gaze was not as direct as it had been with Ron. Instead Harry approached her slowly, glancing around and about rather than meeting her gaze directly. His smile was a shy and bashful one, which Hermione found strange to witness after his recent displays of authority and command. He looked very much as though he were nervously preparing to ask her out on a date.
She was about to chide herself for indulging in such hopeless fantasy --she knew Harry did not think of her that way-- when Harry finally raised his eyes to hers and held fast. Hermione gasped quietly, barely a whisper of breath, at the sight. He was staring at her with a strange, lost look in his eyes, and in that moment Hermione knew that something terrible had happened. Never before had she seen such raw pain and naked yearning, written clearly in his eyes for all to see, in Harry's expression.
He stood there, not even an arm length away, staring at her for what seemed like an age though was probably only a minute. At first Hermione could only see the anguish glistening in his eyes, but slowly she noticed something beneath that, something in the look he was giving her that was almost as wrenching to see.
It was the kind of look a holy man might get when whichever god he believed in came down from on high to personally deliver his latest set of commandments. It was the look of a man who was seeing something utterly impossible, something he never dared to hope he would ever see again. A miracle. And some part of him simply could not believe it.
Then, before Hermione knew what was happening, Harry was in her arms, clutching as tightly to her as a drowning man clutched to a life preserver. At first startled, Hermione soon returned the hug, realizing as she did that the young wizard in her embrace was trembling. The tremors were barely noticeable, Harry seemed to be holding them back to the point that nobody else would even notice, though it was obviously a struggle for him to do so. Hermione could not fail to feel the shivers wracking his frame, regardless of his efforts.
"Don't! You! Ever! Do! Anything! Like! That! Again! Hermione! Don't! You! Dare!" he exclaimed, sharply biting each word off in an attempt to drive their point home. His voice was raw, gravelled and unbelievably bleak, as though the words were torn from his very soul.
After this vehement proclamation Harry drew back, just enough to stare into Hermione's face, his hands retaining a bruising grip on her upper arms. He looked at her with eyes the colour of a storm-tossed sea, scrutinizing her with disturbing intensity. It was though he were memorizing every line, curve and plane of her face, almost as if he expected her to disappear forever at any given moment.
After perhaps a minute of this silent observation Harry seemed to become aware of just how intently he was studying her and, in literally the blink of his eyes, a mask slid over his face as he buried his emotions behind a cheerful façade. He grinned broadly at her and released his hold on her arms, taking a step back as he told her jokingly, "If you do, I swear before heaven, hell and everything in between that I'll kill myself as well and follow you into the afterlife where I'll beat you senseless with a copy of Hogwarts, A History."
There were a few twitters of amusement from those at the Gryffindor table who heard him clearly. Only Hermione could see that he was being deadly serious, that every word was spoken with total conviction. The moment passed quickly, however, as Harry stepped back and motioned in a gentlemanly fashion for Hermione to resume her seat next to Ron.
"Certainly seems rather lively, doesn't he?" Seamus mentioned further along the table, as Harry sat down beside her, taking the space the doppelganger unit had previously occupied.
"Of course he does," asserted Lavender. "What would he be if he wasn't alive?"
Harry spared her a wry glance and said, "Dead."
Those that heard the short exchange stared at Harry, trying to decide if he was still joking or not. Harry, for his part, lounged back in his seat like the devil at rest. Amidst the sea of black school robes his flamboyantly coloured Hawaiian shirt stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. Where once Harry would have been uncomfortable about being so conspicuous, he now seemed perfectly at ease with the situation - settling back and looking over the gathered witches and wizards with a bemused smirk.
"Well, get on with it!" he announced to all and sundry after nearly a minute, in which absolutely nothing happened. "I'm sure the first-years would like to be Sorted sometime tonight!"
TBC...