Once they had finished laughing at the Dursleys' expense, a look came over Mal's face, and by now, Harry knew what it meant.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything you told me thus far, but in specific, I was just wondering about the Dursley's finances and, by extension yours."

"What? Why?" Harry couldn't fathom a reason why she would be concerned about that of all things—considering the problems that had been brought to light up to this point.

But he knew her well enough to know that she was bringing this up because she sensed a problem and not because she cared about the amount in his finances.

"Think about it." Mal urged him patiently as she had once before, proving Harry right about her line of thinking. "Do the Dursleys seem like the type of people who can afford a specialist to remove a pig's tail? And still, be able to pay the bill from two failed visits? Because I can't see medical insurance accepting that claim, nor do I see Vernon and Petunia trying to go through their insurance due to the situation's sensitivity. Plus, I'm pretty sure the procedure would be an elective surgery, and insurance doesn't cover that."

"We seem to have veered off-topic." Harry mused good-naturedly. Understand something about the US medical system now. Her frustration with it amused him.

"Right, sorry." Mal shook her head. "What I'm getting at is they would have to pay out of pocket, and I don't think the quote on quote "middle-class family" could afford that kind recklessness."

"When you put it that way." Harry muttered as he got up and started pacing. It helped him think.

Could the Dursleys afford that?

On Vernon's middle-class salary that he often boasted?

Come to think of it, all of Dudley's presents.

Both on his birthdays and because he wanted something.

All of their eating out.

The new appliances, especially when Dudley broke the old ones in fits of anger.

All the new furniture every so often because Dudley and Vernon's weight wore them out quickly.

Not to mention the monthly expenses. Such as electric, gas, cable, etc.

Their grocery bill alone could probably feed an entire first-year group at Hogwarts, which was bought weekly.

Harry paused as realization dawned on him. "No. Even with credit cards added to what was supposed to be Vernon's salary, there's no way they could have lived as reckless and carelessly as they seem to." He looked back at Mal, who had more knowledge about his world than he did at times, which had him very grateful. "So how did they do it?"

Mal, who had been silent and patient, waiting for Harry to come to his conclusions, took a careful breath. "Well, I suspect, along with Vernon plausibly embezzling from his beloved Grunnings and lying on his taxes on occasion, that Dumbledore may have been paying them off as well."

Harry froze. "What?"

By now, Mal was well aware that Harry's anger was not directed at her. "Unless Dumbledore regulated the task to a devoted follower, like Amos Diggory, along with being your regent to the Potter seat on the Wizengamot, and your guardian too, he would be entitled to compensation, as well withdrawing funds dedicated to your "upkeep." And because he's such a well-known public figure for the light, the goblins would be laughed at, at the very least, if they so much as suggested that they had to verify every withdrawal that Dumbledore made and its final destination. But I don't know how much control Dumbledore has. That would determine how much he can take from you. But given what you said, I'm almost positive that he paid the Dursleys something."

Harry began packing again in earnest. His hands were sparking with lightning as he did. "Oh, if that's the case, if they, if he, did do this, I will get every cent back if I have to draw their blood to do it!"

He didn't have to say it; Mal knew it wasn't about the money itself; it was the principle of the matter. They had stolen from him, abused him, caused his death, and had gotten away with it thus far in his lives.

If the goblins are anything like the fanfictions made them out to be, they'll love and respect Harry for his actions. Mal thought. He'd most assuredly gain them as allies if he reacts that way when he's alive.

"So was Dumbledore's plan for Riddle to kill you, then he'd kill Riddle?" Mal asked after allowing Harry to pace for a time. "At least after the Horcruxes were destroyed? Which that whole arc was terribly done, I might add."

Harry stopped and gave her a cheeky grin. "That's getting ahead of the story now, isn't it?"

Mal pouted, and Harry laughed before swallowing yet another urge to kiss her.

Seated, with her in his lap and arms wrapped around her once more, Harry continued with his tale.

~==(oIo)==~

Gabriel felt like a huge weight had been lifted from him.

The afterlife rules were simple, at least in the case of souls with contracts and receiving information ahead of time that was meant to be learned in their mortal life. They only needed to know what the end game was, but the angels couldn't tell their charges most of the crucial details. It wasn't as if they were going to remember it anyway. But if even a fragment of information got through, it could change the final goal for the worse.

Such was the case with Harry's accounts with the Goblins and his inheritance. But now Mal had mentioned it, and it was the one legal loophole that rule had. Now that Mal had mentioned it to Harry, Gabriel could talk about it with Harry until they were blue in the face. Meaning he could now add a section to the contract that would allow Harry to get in contact with Gringotts faster and thus gain control of his finances sooner. Much sooner than he ever had before.

So now, if they failed in getting Harry to go back with his memories, this course of action might have just saved Harry and allow him to save that world. Gabriel could kiss Mal. She had been an enormous help to him. But watching the couple on the screen, Gabriel knew if he pressed his lips to hers, that wouldn't go over so well.

~==(oIo)==~

As determined as he was to prove his aunt and uncle wrong, Harry began feeling discouraged as soon as he found there was no Platform 9 ¾. Though, as with Diagon Alley, he assumed that the platform was hidden in much the same fashion. All he had to do was figure out the trick to opening it. Knowing the magicals, it was probably something super simple, but it was somewhat difficult to find it with all of the muggles around him.

It was during his speculation that he heard Molly Weasley for the first time. She was complaining about muggles and asking for the platform number from a ten-year-old Ginny. With Ron, the twins, and Percy following closely behind.

"I'm sorry! I have to stop you there for a moment!" Mal spat as she turned and glared at him before getting up to pace as he had. "And you didn't question that at all!?"

"No." Harry admitted, unphased by her ire. "Molly and her children were all smiles and nice. I had precious little of that in my life so far. So no, I never questioned her motives in that moment or her future intentions." He shrugged. "Hagrid had also mentioned the redheaded Weasley clan as nice people and a light family. So I saw no problem at that moment."

"Oh, of all the nasty dirty underhanded tricks to pull!"

Harry merely sat back and watched her pace until she felt she could talk again.

Which admittedly was several minutes.

"Okay, before we get into the part that upset me, I want to start this out by saying my problems are with Molly's narrow-minded beliefs and her greed. Not her occupation or lifestyles."

"Could you be a bit more specific?" Harry, pretty sure that he already knew what she was getting at, but asked for clarification.

"Well, for starters, in Molly's mind, she's the perfect mother figure, her word, her opinion is as sought after and as golden as anything Dumbledore says. Whether people ask for it or not, she will give you her opinion, and you will listen." Mal said as she pace. Harry had to concede she was spot on with that assessment. "Now, don't get me wrong, despite how I was raised, I have nothing against housewives or stay-at-home mothers. In fact, I would love to stay home and raise my children. Some fathers choose to stay home and let their wives work. I think that's fine as well. Let them be if that's what they want and they are happy doing it.

"No, my issues with Molly stems from the fact that she firmly believes women are to stay at home and look after the house and children. Respectable men work for the Ministry, come home to a hot meal, and that's it. She constantly criticizes Bill and Charlie for not being married to a respectable witch and for their career choices because she doesn't see their jobs as what a respectable wizard would do. It also takes them out of Britain and thus away from her. That's one of the reasons she's so hard on the twins. Molly's determined that she will not "fail" with them. Backtracking a bit, she actively looks down on women who work at their careers rather than "settle down" and get married. She purposely groomed Ginny from a young age to be a demur little housewife to Harry Potter. Ginny rebelled against the housewife bit but dived headfirst into her obsession with Harry Potter."

Again, Harry found nothing he could argue about or against in her words.

"My point is, Molly was clearly laying a trap for you, and you walked right into it."

"I'm not arguing with you." Harry chuckled. "I realize now that it was a trap. Molly did attend the school herself, had two children by that point, graduate from there, had three attending, one starting and one yet to start. Plus, they were magical raised and purebloods. There was no reason for them to be on the muggle side of the barrier except to ensnare me."

Mal sighed and sagged with relief. "At least you're aware of that."

He held his arms out to her. "Come back now?"

She curled up in his lap again. "Do you think it was on Dumbledore's orders alone, or am I right in the fact that Molly had greedy plans of her own?"

"I'm pretty sure it was both." Harry ran his fingers over the top of her head. "You also have to remember at that moment, I was just a naive child; I was smart for sure, but only Hagrid had been nice to me thus far, and he mentioned the Weasley's to boot. How often do young children in our situations question when kindness is shown to them?"

Mal leaned against him, and he didn't like the heartbroken look on her face.

"So, are you ready for the story to continue?"

She nodded, "The redheaded hypocritical gold diggers helped you onto the platform."

He chuckled and rested his chin on her head.

After getting on the platform, he separated from the Weasleys' and saw the train for the first time. He was awestruck by it. It was a thing of beauty. Still, it was nearly time to leave, so he didn't get much of a chance to marvel at it. He got aboard, chose a compartment, then sat down.

Then, a bit later, the boy he'd met while Molly was kind to him, Ron, showed up. Saying that iconic line, “Do you mind, everywhere else is full?”

Seeing her gritted teeth, he tapped at her jawline, "What's the matter now?"

"He lied!" She seethed.

"I know." He assured her. "I'm not as dimwitted as people think I am. I did figure that out."

She gave him a skeptical look, "And pray tell, when did you figure it out?"

He flushed a little. "That's not important."

"It was after you arrived here, wasn't it?"

He didn't meet her eyes, and she laughed.

"Anyway!" He said forcefully, stopping her laugh.

Ron joined in him the compartment, and it was the start of a very long, in every sense of the word, friendship. Harry found himself clinging to his first-ever friend. Not that Ron seemed to mind; in fact, he encouraged it. Which even Harry had to admit, looking back, that it was creepy.

"Not that I have anything against same-sex couples, mind you." Harry added. "And I could see Ron swinging that way, but I don't."

He also met the bushy-haired Hermione during the ride, and he'd met Hagrid, so Harry thought he'd seen the winner of the bushiest hair, but he'd been wrong. Hermione's hair was wild. His first overall impression of Hermione was that she was bossy, a know it all, and she had to be right all the time. Anyone who contradicted her was simply wrong and didn't know what they were saying. She absolutely hated to be proven wrong.

"In all honesty, that's just her personality." Harry rested his cheek on Mal's head. "Her books were the be all or end all of her knowledge. Even when her books proved wrong, she kept looking till she found one that agreed with her logic. She suppressed her true nature throughout most of our childhood, but once we were adults, well, that's a story for later."

Harry laid back and found himself grinning, lost in bittersweet memories. Whatever happened in the future, those moments were like having a real childhood. And Harry cherished them.

The first ride on the Hogwarts Express was his first official train ride, and it was one for the books. There was laughter, sweets, and being goofballs with a friend. At that moment, the plots, the manipulations, and the darkness that the future held; all of it was unknown. At that moment, there just friendship that was akin to brotherhood.

Still, as fun as all of that was, it was nothing when it came to seeing Hogwarts for the first time. Again, he compared it to the cosmos' view because seeing that castle all lit up as the first years crossed the lake was phenomenal.

As Mal would have guessed, it was all very life-changing. Seeing the black lake glittering around them from the combination of the moonlight and the castle all aglow.

Harry spoke at length of how he was so full of hope, full of life, and eager to learn everything that he could. He was determined to be the best wizard he could be, to make his parents proud.

"Did you know going in what you wanted to have as a career someday?"

"Actually, no, but I did eventually make a choice that was different than what the canon verse chose for me." Harry grinned at Mal's eager anticipation. "The experience with Ollivander stuck out in my mind, and later with the Weighing of the Wands ceremony during the Tournament, I started to get a clue of what I wanted to do. It wasn't until my original wand no longer worked for me that I realized what I wanted; to be a wandsmith."

"So that wand really did choose you because of the Horcrux?"

"Yeah, after the Horcrux was gone and Voldemort was defeated, my wand didn't work right anymore, and I eventually had to go get a different one. I left the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's grave. After I snapped the wanker clean in half. The movies got that right."

Mal couldn't help but give a heartfelt laugh. "I can see it now, Potter Wands, you have the materials set up on shelves and have people's magic choose the right ones for them from the ingredients, and then you make the wands from each person's ingredients rather than have only premade wands in stock. I'm sure you'll have some, but I always thought that the best focus tools are the ones that a person's magic chooses."

With a heartfelt grin, Harry nuzzled his nose against her own, "Yup."

"I think if you had done that, rather than go to Ollivander, you never would have ended up with the brother wand." Mal mused.

"Most definitely not." Harry agreed with her. "But wand shops rarely do things that way anymore."

Harry made many promises to himself upon seeing, then entering, Hogwarts, but all of them were broken rather quickly and stayed that way.

Mal nuzzled her face against his chest, "It wasn't your fault."

"No," he agreed softly. "It wasn't. I found out here that I was dosed to the gills with loyalty potions from a few different angles. The thing about those potions, until you're flushed from them, you don't believe you've been potioned. And depending on how long you've been potioned, it's almost impossible to rid yourself of them entirely."

"When did the potioning begin?"

"My first night there." Harry's voice devoid of emotion. "The opening feast; keyed to Dumbledore and Ron. So despite all of the mistrust, suspicions, and eventual anger and hatred for them, this is why it never surfaced. At least until the Horcrux Hunt, anyway. Even then, I couldn't bring myself to hate them. It's also the reason why I put up with Ron as much as I did and forgave him whenever he was a huge arsehole and didn't deserve it."

"I take it, from what you said before, that Hermione wasn't much better?"

He shook his head.

"And people say Mad-Eye was paranoid." She said. "Sounds like Dumbledore was more so. He obviously wasn't taking chances as far as his precious weapon was concerned."

Harry nodded his head in agreement.

"What about Hermione? Was she potioned at all?"

"That will actually be explained in one of my later lives." Harry grumbled.

She knew not to push him and knew that their storytelling would eventually reach whatever happened with Hermione. Though, with what little was said on the matter thus far, Mal could sense that it was nothing good.

The walls of Hogwarts were a beautiful ancient stone gray. The outside tinted several different shades due to centuries of weather like the old castle's people came to see scattered around Europe. Inside the castle, sections were darker and, in places, dustier since they hadn't been cleaned properly or used in at least a century or so. Where the stone ended, wood or marble structures began. Depending on where in the castle you were, it was a different type of wood. Most of the school was the universal polished medium brown wood with marble or simple metal fixtures.

However, depending on the Hogwarts house, the colors changed.

For Gryffindor's domain, the wood took on a reddish hue with gold fixtures.

For Ravenclaw's domain, the wood took on a more blueish hue with bronze fixtures.

Hufflepuff's domain took on a lighter color of wood, almost pale gold with black metal fixtures.

For Slytherin's domain, the wood was all black with silver fixtures.

It was an exciting prospect and not something he learned until he was a bit older. But it helped paint the picture of Hogwarts for Mal. Having seen the movies, which Harry admitted got pretty darn close to what it looked like, her imagination made the necessary changes as Harry spoke of the beloved Hogwarts.

The Great Hall glowed and glittered in the light of the floating candles and roaring fire near the back of the Great Hall. Everything was decorated for the opening feast. The Hogwarts Houses presented their banners and their colors brightly and vividly in celebration of the sorting. Leaving no doubt where the first years were supposed to go, once they had been told their house.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"I'm glad to say I wasn't the only one stunned into silence." Harry chuckled at the memory of being an awestruck little boy. "Even Draco could only gape at the things he was seeing."

In truth, it was only Hermione who was still talking, rapidly at that. Her quick words were whole paragraphs in a single breath. She was quoting several passages from the book Hogwarts A History. Her favorite book, and she'd read it at least a few dozen times before she even started Hogwarts. Living by its words as if it was a code of ethics. No one bothered listening to her, though; they were all too busy staring around them and marveling at what would be their home for the majority of the year for the next seven years.

"She did eventually notice that no one was paying her any mind, and she was not happy about." Harry admitted with a frown. "She let that displeasure be known when it kept happening in the future."

"Sounds like Hermione." Mal sighed. "Even in the canon, she was like that, I thought she toned down as the years went on, but she still had her slip-ups every now in then. While she wasn't my favorite character, I still liked her. Even felt a bit of a kinship with her from time to time."

"Really?"

Mal nodded. "Course that was when I was reading fanfictions, not the actual books. Some fanfictions paint her in a better light. She was an only child to parents who worked a lot and weren't all that affectionate in some stories. In others, she was an intelligent only child, who was bullied mercilessly during Primary School."

"And the other fanfictions?" He asked, genuinely curious now. He was used to Hermione being a fan favorite and was worried that Mal would begin defending Hermione's later actions.

"They make her downright villainous." Mal admitted unabashed. "In one story that I read, she has a hand in the entire muggle race dying, although she was trying to help them."

Harry had to think about that for a moment before he huffed. "In a different world, certain choices made, I could see it. Hermione doing something she thought would help, or that she thought was right, but ultimately having it backfire horribly on her."

Pretty much the story of my last life, actually. Harry thought.

Harry was relieved, though. Mal had been exposed to various Hermiones, and all of them were from different walks of life. He was well aware there were many different Hermione's from other worlds similar to his own. He knew that many variants of Hermione were good people. However, the Hermione from his world wasn't. The fact that Mal seemed aware of this, and didn't question, instead waited to hear the story from him, relieved Harry more than even he was willing to admit.

The sorting went pretty much as it did in canon; the students called before him, going where the Hat had said, most without complaint. The Hat had argued viciously with Hermione; apparently, it wanted her in Ravenclaw, where she would be around others with similar mindsets as her own, and she would have made friends. Eventually, anyway. Her mentality, habits, personality, Hell, most everything about her screamed Ravenclaw. Put her in that house, and not even Malfoy would have bullied or put her down for long. She would have thrived and eventually ruled that house.

However, she argued for Gryffindor where the great Albus Dumbledore and Harry said that with sarcasm and venom had been sorted. Where her idol, Professor McGonagall, was Head of House. Where she was confident that Harry Potter would be sorted as well.

"And doesn't that just reek of plots." Mal muttered before continuing with greater volume, "If Hermione had been in Ravenclaw, would she have bullied Luna?"

"Considering Hermione had a hand in bullying her already, while in Gryffindor, most assuredly." Harry affirmed. "But if she had been in Ravenclaw, she might have been a ring leader."

"That's rather sad." Mal moped. "I would have thought that Hermione would be above that."

"There are many kinds of bullying." Harry reminded her remorsefully reminded Mal. "Hermione may not have stolen or destroyed Luna's things or hexed her, but Hermione did put Luna down a lot. Had they been in the same house, it would have been a lot worse. She would have constantly "corrected" Luna's behavior and tried to "set the record straight" regarding Luna's creatures. Which are not all made up."

Mal looked on the verge of tears. "Poor Luna!"

"You really love Luna's character, huh?" Harry asked, amused.

Mal glared at him. "Luna's a big cinnamon rowl! She's sweet and innocent and pure!"

"I agree." Harry grinned. "There's a lot of reasons why I consider her like a little sister."

Hearing Harry admit that caused Mal to flush, and her stomach began to flip about.

Finally, Harry's name was called, and as expected, the whole hall went silent. Dumbledore looked a little overexcited, leaning forward in his chair a little, and began watching with avid anticipation. Every eye followed Harry's movements. For a boy who lived his life in the shadows and was used to everyone ignoring his existence, well, it was a new experience, and Harry didn't care for it at all.

He sat on the stool meekly, and the Sorting Hat was placed on his head by the only calm person in the room. Minerva McGonagall, though he thought that Pomona Sprout was very professional as well.

What followed was the most bizarre conversation Harry had to date, and the odd occurrences would only grow from there. So it was saying something that most of them fell short when compared to talking to a hat!

Harry could honestly say the canon verse got the conversation mostly right.

Having met Draco and having spent time with Ron and Hagrid, Harry sat there with his eyes closed, continually repeating, "Not Slytherin! Anywhere but Slytherin!" But the Hat was unconvinced that it wouldn't be a good fit for Harry.

As the magic in the Hat slowed time for a while, so it could adequately sort the children, the Hat spoke at great length about how Harry had the qualifications for all four houses.

Slytherin would have been the first choice because he embodied all of their attributes. Both from his birth and the circumstances in which he was raised. His breeding was better than most purebloods, although he was a half-blood. Being a Potter would have gotten him accepted instantly among their ranks once they got over the shock. Harry would not have been the first Potter to be sorted into Slytherin; it was only in the last century that Potter's went to Gryffindor.

He was ambitious, a trait all Potter's had. He wanted to do well here at Hogwarts and prove his worth. He was cunning and resourceful because of his constant running from Dudley and making the best of the Dursleys' situation to ensure that he survived them. Potters, whether they liked it or not, were natural-born leaders. All of this was Harry, so Slytherin fit him perfectly.

Hufflepuff was the second choice. Harry was loyal. Despite what his aunt and uncle had told him growing up, he was sure that his parents weren't the people they told him. Harry knew deep down somewhere in his heart that James and Lily Potter were good people and loved him dearly. He held on to that when he had little to nothing else to comfort him. He'd only met Hagrid once, and he was ready to fight Draco and anyone else who put down his giant friend.

Gryffindor was third. Because Harry was brave, he didn't feel like it all the time, but he was. He had the courage to face every day at the Dursleys, essentially his hell. He was kind to all unless they gave him a reason not to be. But, and perhaps most importantly, he was the heir of Gryffindor. However, he hadn't known that at the time.

Lastly came Ravenclaw. Because, despite what Dumbledore did to him later on, Harry was intelligent. He learned from his mistakes. At least Harry did before the potions. He would have done well in that house.

The Hat was almost insistent that Slytherin was where he should be. If not there, then Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. In the end, he acquiesced and put Harry in Gryffindor.

"It doesn't sound like the hat was trying to sort you based on the Horcrux." Mal mused.

"Oh, it wasn't." Harry assured her. "That Hat knows the difference between tainted soul fragment and the real thing. All of that was based on my own mind."

"I take it the hat couldn't tell you what was going to happen due to something Dumbledore did, so it was trying to help you as much as it could without saying why." Mal narrowed her eyes at him. "And you being the brat you are, didn't take the hint!"

Harry nipped at her nose in place of a verbal answer, causing her to giggle.

Harry's life at Hogwarts was, more or less, as stated in canon. However, there were things that the books played off with humor when it was a severe matter. Somethings were toned down when they were a lot more complicated than that.

Snape was every bit the git that canon made him out to be. There was no "poor misunderstood" Snape. This man was an unapologetic rat bastard. He hated his job; he hated the students; he could only tolerate the Slytherins, and even then, only a select few could say that he liked them. He was very obsessive over his mother; his memories at the end only proved that. His hatred for James Potter was palpable. He often took points off of Harry, calling him Potter, but thinking James. Sometimes he even called Harry, James.

Those points, to everyone's amusement, even some Slytherin's, never took. Half of the bullying that Harry endured from Slytherin was because they wanted to get Harry in trouble and see if the points that Snape took would stick or not. It became an amusing game for them.

No matter how many people sided against him or the evidence to convict him, Dumbledore favored Snape's word. He protected Snape from Azkaban and relied on the crooked nose, greasy-haired, smelly potions git far too much for it to be considered healthy. Whenever Dumbledore would have a meeting with Harry, or meetings in general, Snape would usually be there. Sometimes visible, sometimes hidden.

Mal cocked her head to the side and got a distant look in her eyes.

"What's up?" Harry asked her.

"I was just wondering if Snape was Dumbledore's sex slave, or if it was the other way around? And whether or not it was something Dumbledore engineered?"

Before her eyes, she watched as Harry went wide-eyed in horror. He shuddered and gagged at the image her words painted in his mind.

"Ahh!" Harry screamed as his hands fisted over his eyes, and he bent at the waist, causing her to move off of his lap as he did. "I need brain bleach!"

Mal couldn't help it; the moment he shouted that last part, she doubled over laughing, falling off the couch.

He watched her, suppressing his own smile but still rather put out with her, putting those thoughts out there and making him suffer. He wasn't about to accept her halfhearted apology when she was laughing hysterically.

"As disgusting as the imagery and thoughts are," Harry said slowly once they had recovered, and she was climbing back into his lap, meeting her eyes once they were comfortable again, "you have a point. If not in my world, I could see it being the case in another."

"So I take it you have a problem with all of the slash. Especially the ones involving you, Snape, Riddle, or Dumbledore."

"Yes, I have issues with that." Harry shuddered. "Though in all honesty, depending on the circumstances, I could see a different version of myself being with Draco, Cedric, even Neville."

"What not, Ron?" Mal mock pouted. "Was he not good enough for you? Not man enough for your liking?"

Harry shuddered again, "I'm so glad we can't get nightmares here." Glaring at her, he continued. "Contrary to the canon verse's ending, I'm not that in redheads. And as for my not being with Ron, one, he's far too lazy even to consider having for a spouse. Two, he eats way too much, and that’s with me having cooked and fed the Dursleys for most of my childhood! Three, he's way too narrow-minded for me to put up with when I'm not potioned into a complacent personality."

"Dually noted." Mal said with a nod. Despite it being a joke, Harry was rather serious about his views on the matter. "So, you started Hogwarts as a Gryffindor. Ron was your BFF, and Hermione later joined the ranks, creating the picturesque Golden Trio." She nodded at Harry. "Pick up from there."

"You wanna know something?" Harry asked with a sad smile.

"Of course!"

"It was never supposed to be Ron or even Hermione, for that matter." Harry said, laying back. "It was supposed to be Neville."

That was something that Gabriel had told Harry about. It was a tiny compulsion put on him by Gabriel in an attempt to have him go down the right path. It wasn't strong enough to cause damage to Harry's mind if Harry decided to ignore the compulsion.

Neville was sitting alone in a compartment, and Harry had looked in. Neville had looked at him with a bit of hope in his eyes. At this point, Harry was supposed to sit in there with him. However, Molly tagged him with a powerful compulsion charm to make him sit alone so that Ron could later find him and keep everyone else away from him. So despite feeling bad about it and wanting to make it right, Harry was too weak to fight against a capable Molly and her charm.

Dumbledore's potions later on effectively did the same thing.

"But that's all I know." Harry said with a shrug. "Gabriel couldn't say any more than that."

"I might be able to help with that. Just give me a second here." Mal said, getting up to take off her jacket and shoes, wondering to herself why she hadn't done that before. She sat back on the couch, not in Harry's lap, but rather in front of him.

"Now, bear in mind this is taken from canon and fanfictions I've read, so this is all theory and guesswork."

It was no secret that both Neville and Harry were the babes of the prophecy, which meant that they had something inside them that was a foreign power or something that was utterly overlooked or ignored by Riddle. Meaning once the two of them teamed up, they would have been an unbeatable duo.

"For reference, think back to the Ministry and the final battle at Hogwarts." Mal said, and Harry nodded. She had a point there; when he fought with Neville, the odds were in their favor.

Now is where the theory work began. As brothers of the prophecy, they should have been raised as brothers. While Sirius and James were as close as brothers and Sirius was Harry's godfather, James was also friends with Neville's father, Frank. Lily was also very close to Neville's mother, Alice. It was said, not proven, that Alice was Harry's godmother, and Lily was Neville's, and his Godfather was James.

The couples had known each other through Hogwarts and were members of the Order together. Frank also worked with James as an Auror during the war. It seemed reasonable to conclude that they would name at least one of them as a Godparent to their child, especially when you considered the boys' link.

"That's another reason the Potter Will is so important and why you meet with the account manager at Gringotts." Mal concluded. "It would not only label Sirius as innocent, but it would also give a detailed list of who you were supposed to be raised by and why. Alice and Frank would have been at the top of the list under Sirius because of Neville. You should have been raised as brothers in all but blood."

Harry stared at her for a long time. The information was repeating over and over in his head. Gabriel had said that Neville was critical to Harry, but nothing more. Harry hadn't thought much about it at the time. Figuring he'd learn why eventually, and it would all make sense then.

"Huh." Harry eventually said. "You might be spot on about everything. Again." Then he gave her a confused look, "But if that's all true, then how come Neville's grandmother didn't bring this forward? You'd think she'd know and want something done about it."

Mal raised her hands, palms up, but then let them fall as she considered how to answer this. "Actually, there are a lot of reasons, and not all of them good. First, is she could keep Neville weak-minded and willed, making him more manageable for her to control. Thus, for as long as she's alive, which could be a long time for magicals, she has control of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom. Back when her husband was alive, he was in control of the house; then Frank took over from him when he died as is tradition. Especially with Frank being of age. However, since both Frank and Alice are relatively comatose, that leaves her in control as Regent. As long as Neville is considered unfit, be it because he's underage or underdeveloped magically, she has power.

"Second, could be because of the attack of the Lestrange's and Crouch Jr. She lost her husband to the war, then not long after that she lost her son and daughter in law. The Death Eaters were in her house, and Bellatrix Lestrange was holding Neville. She had to fight her to get Neville away from them before they killed Neville or worse, which would have been kidnapping him and raising him with their beliefs. She probably snapped somewhere in her perspective and just focused on keeping Neville safe.

"Third, and the one I'm leaning on, along with grief she was suffering from in second reason, combined with the power she has from the first reason, despite everything Augusta tried, she just wasn't able to overcome the powerhouse that is Albus Dumbledore."

"But what about the Longbottom's will?" Harry asked, still skeptical. "Wouldn't she have brought that forward?"

"Most definitely, but as I said, she was up against Dumbledore." Mal sighed. "That or she's waiting till Neville's of age to open it, or at an age where she thinks he can handle the situation. Or the theory I'm leaning on is Augusta doesn't want to or can't bring herself to enact it. Not because she wants to control Neville or the power of the house and name, but because it would be admitting that Frank and Alice are beyond hope. That they are in fact all but dead in the sense that their bodies run, but there's nobody home inside, and never will be."

With the remorse of her tone, he could tell that she felt for Neville. That if she could, she would give him a huge hug and be a good friend to him. Just as he knew he would if he was given a chance. That information mollified his ire because he could easily see that being the case.

"Anyway," he grinned at her, "I owe you a death."

"Before we get to that, I have to ask what was practicing magic like!? What's flying like!?" She asked excitedly, bouncing up and down a little.

He smiled warmly, not at all upset at her questions; in fact, he expected them at some point. "All that you can imagine and more. I don't have words that could accurately do the experience justice."

Mal slacked with disappointment. "It's something you have to experience for yourself, isn't it?" He nodded, and she sighed. "Alright, I understand, onto your next death then."

His first and second years happened, and there wasn't much difference from canon, except for the fact that the practical experience was something else entirely. While descriptive, the books didn't give you the adrenaline rushes, didn't take you deep into the mind of a child as they faced such horrors. Questioning why? Feeling as if this was it, they were going to die here. Or how utterly frustrating it was to have so many adults around but not a competent one in the bunch.

It wasn't fun, and it wasn't glamorous. There was pain, blood, and the rewards afterward hardly made up for what they endured during those battles and experiences.

"In truth, given our many traumatic experiences in such a short frame of time, we needed mind healers. I know Hermione and Ginny definitely did after my second year." Harry seethed.

Mal nodded in agreement and understanding. However, she kept her conspiracy theories to herself.

Harry's third death was met at the hands of the Dementors, or rather after the fact. It was in a Forbidden Forest clearing, with the Black Lake lapping at the edges, trees surrounding all sides, except for the narrow opening where the Black Lake seeped in.

Past Harry and Sirius were on one end with the forest to their backs; Sirius was on the ground, already unconscious, Harry was standing on shaking and failing legs, wand in hand, attempting to cast Patronus after Patronus.

Future Harry and Hermione on the other side, near the opening to the lake. Buckbeak at their backs. Harry was standing tall, shaking, yet firm-legged, wand in hand, casting the strongest Patronus he could.

Magical exhaustion began to set in, brought on by casting two very powerful Patronuses in such a short amount of time and not having the proper treatment or the appropriate rest during that short period. He had exhausted himself to the point that there was no more magic in his body, and it killed him.

"According to Gabriel, it's because of the blocks on my core."

After a moment's pause, Mal smiled down at Harry, who was grinning at her expectantly.

"So, a death for a death. I assure you that my third death wasn't anything as glamourous as magical exhaustion saving a loved one from Death's own creatures."

Harry snorted, but otherwise, let her continue. He didn't think his death was all that glamourous either.

"Another thing I should make clear is I restarted all of my lives from the beginning to whatever end I was met with." Mal sighed. "From what you said, your lives were backtracked a bit, and you were put back before your death."

Harry nodded and spent the moments Mal spent silent figuring out how to tell her tale, on how he would like to hurt Rida.

As she had said before, Andrew wasn't there after her first life. She was alone, the only daughter to Terry and Lauren Matthews. The fallout was the same, and Lauren was remarried to Arnold again. Only this time, Mal was a toddler when it happened. Barely three years old.

In this third life, things were different. There were no other children yet, just Lauren, Mal, and Arnold. Arnold spent whatever time he was home during the day, training Mal to be the community's perfect daughter. Something Lauren had been neglect in doing. Making sure she cleaned her room properly, helped with the household chores, learned how to cook, could read and write, and thus say her prayers like a good girl.

This wouldn't have been so bad if Arnold didn't have a fiery temper, and Mal wasn't a toddler.

He demanded that she call him daddy, and she refused. He wasn't daddy; Terry had been daddy. Arnold's reaction was pretty violent.

Rather than realize what a monster she married, Lauren grew jealous of all the attention that Arnold "doted" on Mal. In Lauren's mind, all of that attention should have been on her and making more babies together. So Lauren could prove that she was a good daughter of the community and that they had been right to save her the way they did.

Lauren made no secret of this when Arnold wasn't home—punishing Mal more than Arnold did—telling Mal that she wanted Arnold all to herself and that Mal was spoiling everything.

But all of this went over Mal's head at the time. She was three and didn't understand any of this. All she knew was that daddy was gone, mommy was scary and mean, and Arnold was a monster.

In the middle of the night, Lauren got Mal up in the dead of winter, dressed her for going out, got into the car, and began driving. Mal was in the front rather than in the back in her booster seat. She got to watch as the lights and stars went by. She was happy; she thought they were finally leaving that monster behind.

What Mal hadn't noticed until they were well into the trip was that Lauren was silent. The whole time that Lauren got her up and dressed her and during the car ride, not a word was spoken. Not even the radio was playing. Lauren’s look of determination never wavering as she drove.

There are moments when children can sense that there is danger ahead, there's no logical way to explain it, but they could feel it. Mal's joy at leaving Arnold eventually faded as she realized nothing but eerie silence was coming from her mother. This wasn't the happy smiling mother from when Daddy Terry had been there. This was the scary angry mother from recent days.

Mal wasn't sure how long they drove. Without music or a clock in the car, there was no way to say how much time passed. It could have been under an hour, but it felt like it was a few hours, so Mal was going to safely assume they had been driving for at least two hours when they finally stopped.

Mal looked out the windows, confused. There was nothing but piles of snow. They were on some back-country road. The snow was flattened behind them as if the snowplows drove out this way and stopped here because there were no more homes beyond that point.

She looked at Lauren, confused, even scared, but no words came as Lauren looked fiercely back at her. Lauren did speak then;

Mal was ruining everything. Lauren had been given chance after chance to prove herself, and she was very well aware that Arnold was her last. If she was going to start over, be worthy of the community, be worthy of Arnold, of her family, then she needed to be rid of Mal. Mal wasn't born and raised with the community, she would never understand, and she would never be seen as anything more than an outsider, an abomination, a monster.

Having said her piece, Lauren unbuckled Mal, opened the passenger door, picked up Mal, and threw her into the snowbank.

"She was grinning." Mal realized as she went over the memories. "This insane grin as she grabbed me and flung me out of the car."

Mal was immediately submerged in the snowbank and could hear rather than see the car back up, turn itself around and speed off again.

Mal struggled to get out of the snowbank, but she managed it after a while, then she was standing on the road alone. During her attempts to escape the snow, she had begun crying. Crying in fear, anger, panic, and confusion; crying for a mother that would never return. Standing on the road, Mal realized, looking back, there were no driveways. No place that she could see to go for help.

So she tried to follow the car, tried to follow mama home.

So tiny for her age, she couldn't get very far. Even wearing her thick winter coat, snow pants, boots, all of it pale pink and shiny brand new, she was still cold. She had no gloves, no hat, no scarf. Her cries echoed around, and it was the only sound that could be heard. She walked the rest of the night; by dawn, she was tired, freezing, and hungry.

She curled into a ball and cried and cried until she passed out.

"When I woke up, I was here, in that room, with only Rida standing over me. I was on the floor, still cold, it seemed, still in the body of a three-year-old. She offered me no comfort as I cried. I didn't want to go back; I begged and pleaded to stay. Why was she sending me back to people who kept hurting me? She repeated words she spoke before in my previous times here and forced me to go back."

Mal hadn't realized she was crying so hard until words wouldn't come out of her mouth. The feelings she had felt in her final hours in that life came rushing back as she spoke about them. Once again, in her heart, she was that scared baby girl, crying for her mama.

When she fell forward, Harry caught her and pulled her back into his arms—holding her tightly against his body. Rolling so they were on their sides, her back against the couch, his facing the office behind him. Her only view was his chest as she cried into his black t-shirt. His head was resting on her own as he wrapped his limps around her. Sharing warmth and comfort.

"When I was facing the Dementors, I felt cold, freezing. As if the whole world had lost the sun and was covered in ice. I know the stories said I could hear my mother's final moments when they got close to me, hence my training with the Patronus Charm, but I could also hear every mean thing the Dursleys' ever told me to beat me down and break me. I heard more than just my mother’s pleading with Riddle to save me. She died screaming my name, and my father had died screaming just minutes before. I could hear him too.

"But during my death, I was literally freezing where I stood. My fingertips already solid as ice, chipping away as I tried to keep a grip on my wand. I didn't fall asleep as you did, not really, and my death came much faster. My whole body was becoming like ice as dark shadows encircled around me, dragging me down into darkest, coldest depths I'd ever experienced before."

Mal's arms came around him and held him as tightly as he was holding her. "I'm so sorry you went through that."

"I'm sorry I glossed over my death." He whispered back. "It was a habit. I promise I won't do that again."

~==(oIo)==~

In the temple, tissues were being passed back and forth between Gabriel and Michael as the light twinkling of bells could be heard from the second floor.

The two men weren't under any notion that macho men didn't cry. Even if, for some reason, it was true, they weren't macho men.

They'd like to see any grown men hear the things they just had and not be crying.