A friendly reminder again: If you haven't read Chapter 1-19, please do so first because none of what's written here would make sense if you don't. Thank you!

CHAPTER 20

Most of the workers at the Ministry had gone home for the day when a livid and extremely worried-looking Arthur Weasley found himself at the almost-vacant Atrium when he arrived to urgently meet with the Minister. He sprinted towards one of the lifts but suddenly stopped when he spotted the man for whom he had come to search.

Alarmed by his sudden entrance and fearful expression, Kingsley Shacklebolt dashed out of the lift and walked quickly towards Arthur.

"I need to talk to you," Arthur sputtered urgently.

"I think I know what this is about," Kingsley's booming voice sounded grave as it reverberated off of the colossal walls. "Let's talk in my office." He led Arthur to the lift, and it began bringing them to level one.

Arthur looked at him with surprise. "You know what happened?"

"It's about your son George, isn't it?"

"Yes," Arthur remarked sadly. He looked at his shoes. "We got a Howler saying that he's been kidnapped."

Kingsley nodded as the elevator doors opened to reveal a small corridor. "So I've heard. I received a fire-call from one of the Aurors stating that they had seen Death Eaters enter the joke shop in Diagon Alley," he replied as they brusquely walked towards Kingsley's office. They turned a corner and entered his workplace. Once they sat down in the comfortable chairs, Kingsley immediately continued the discussion.

"I knew right away whose shop it belonged to," he resumed calmly. "I sent more Aurors at the scene to investigate. I quickly left my office to contact you, and that's when I saw you at the Atrium."

"Percy went there and to George's apartment to check," Arthur informed him. "I'm still waiting for his return." He sighed as he fidgeted with his hands, fingers teeming with nervous energy.

Kingsley curtly nodded. He clasped his hands together. "Who sent the Howler? What did it say?" he asked solemnly.

"Yaxley," Arthur replied fiercely. "He said he's got my son and he wanted us to bring Harry to the Forbidden forest before midnight, or else they'll—" He couldn't continue his sentence while his eyes began to glisten with tears, but Kingsley seemed to know exactly what he meant.

"Where is Harry right now?" he asked.

"He's with my son Bill. Molly's there, too." As if just then grasping the meaning of Kingsley's words, he looked up at the Minister with alarm. "We cannot bring Harry, Kingsley. He's unconscious right now."

"Unconscious?" Kingsley asked, bewilderment written on his face. "Has his sickness gotten worse?"

Arthur shook his head. "He is very ill but not to the point of fainting. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny have begun the mending process; they're all unconscious."

"Why's that? The potion didn't work?" Kingsley asked curiously. "I was aware they have to brew the potion, but aside from that, I don't know anything else."

"They did…" Arthur confirmed hesitantly. "But they have to go through a certain ritual, a task or something. I'm not really sure how it works, but they've been out for a while now, and we're starting to worry."

At that moment, a loud knock on the door jolted Kingsley and Arthur out of their thoughts. The Minister sprang up opened the door, revealing Percy Weasley behind it.

He acknowledged the Minister with a curt nod and entered the room. "Dad," he called when he saw Arthur standing up from his chair.

"What have you found out, son?" Arthur asked immediately.

"I couldn't find George. The joke shop was in a state of total mess, Dad. No one saw whether he was taken, but a few nearby residents said that they saw hooded figures come in. I checked his apartment on the upper floor, but it was empty. What do we do now?"

Percy's question made Arthur sigh worriedly and glance at the Minister for some answers or guidance.

"We must not take Harry to the Forbidden Forest," Kingsley stated firmly.

"But what about their demands?" Arthur asked anxiously. "I'm afraid of what they'll do to my son."

"We can find a way through this. Let me gather up the Aurors."

The air hummed softly with the sound of late-evening crickets as the night sky sparkled with thousands of stars casting light over Shell Cottage, the humble home to which Arthur and Percy were returning, their talk with Kingsley meandering through their minds.

Inside, Molly sat restlessly, fretting in one of the chairs in the kitchen until the creaking door revealed her husband and son. She quickly ran to them, bombarding them with questions.

"Where is George? Have you found him? What happened to—"

Arthur shook his head, immediately silencing her. "I talked to Kingsley," he informed her.

Bill, Hagrid, and Slughorn gathered around them, no trace of exhaustion evident on their faces. They were all intensely alert, listening closely to Arthur's news.

"I told him about Harry's current situation," he continued calmly. "He told me he would gather the Aurors and they would station themselves around the forest ahead of time. Then we can go there."

"But we can't show up there without Harry," Molly protested anxiously. "They'll kill George!"

"Kingsley will try to negotiate," he told her.

"But—"

"We'll get our son back no matter what, but if it comes down to the point of fighting them off, then we will," Arthur replied before she could rebut, a cold stare hardening his features.

Molly bowed her head. "I wish we wouldn't have to. I can't bear to have a-another d-death in our family."

"Don't worry, mum," Bill interrupted softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Nothing bad is going to happen. Percy and I will go with you and Dad."

Hagrid cleared his throat. "I'll come with yer too," he offered roughly. "I couldn' bear ter witness another one close ter yer an' Harry dying at the hands of the Death Eaters. I have seen enough deaths already, and I 'ill try ter stop it if I could."

"I'll stay here to watch the children in case something happens," Slughorn piped in.

Arthur and Molly nodded their agreements, and the five set off into the unforgiving night to Disapparate.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny entered another dimly lit room, similar to the ones of the first two tasks but only larger. The eerily tense feeling in the room conjured up the sense that someone was being interrogated. A small table stood in the middle of the chamber with a ray of light cast upon it, sending a ripple of light through its surface that encased it in a luminosity and illuminated its features, producing a stark contrast to the rest of the dark space. Harry's eyes flickered to it as the only object in the room and noticed something long and sharp resting on top of it. His confident and reckless instincts made his mind wonder what would happen if he stepped closer to the table.

"Harry!" Hermione called out to him when she saw him advance curiously toward the table. "Can we please talk to you for a minute?" She asked anxiously, worry visible on her face.

"Make it quick, Granger," he said, sneering at her. He was already sick of listening to them; they delayed his task of completing these simple challenges.

"We're not doing the tasks anymore and neither should you," she declared firmly.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"We are not here to make threats," she continued hastily. "But what Ginny said is the truth. You'll die if you keep going on with this pointless charade!"

"What's so wrong with doing this task?" he questioned hotly. "The one we had earlier wasn't even life-threatening."

"Aside from when you almost fell from your broomstick," Ron stated sarcastically. "Just saying."

Harry cast him a dark look. "Why are you all so scared to continue?"

"Because they were there to test us," Hermione reasoned. "The tasks determine whether you're willing to see past current realities and stop or to ignore the warnings set in front of you and keep going."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "This," he pointed at Harry's body, "is not you, mate."

"Don't call me 'mate'," Harry snarled fiercely. "We're not even friends and never will be."

Ron immediately seemed hurt at his pronouncement. "We are, actually," he reminded more to himself than to Harry. "More like best friends."

Harry snorted. "Don't give me rubbish like that!" he spat incredulously.

"It's not rubbish, Harry. It's the truth." Hermione insisted softly and calmly. "We are your best friends. We are all in Gryffindor. You're friends with half breeds and Muggleborns like me, and you are the best friend we've ever had. We had so many adventures. We laughed. We cried. We held on to each other no matter what. We supported and helped one another. Don't dismiss this, Harry. Please try to remember!"

"You aren't the real you in this world, Harry," Ginny confirmed, agreeing with her Muggleborn friend. "The Harry I know is strongly guided by his own conscience and has a keen sense for what is right and wrong. You are brave and selfless. You're not cruel. You're competitive, yes, but for the better part, you always act with humility and modesty."

"And not only that, you're gifted as well," Ron added quietly.

Harry cast a contemptuous look at Ron. "Finally, I'm hearing the only truth from you, Weasley," he voiced aloud as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, you fought against the Dark Arts, Harry," Ron revealed.

That piqued Harry's curiosity. "Against what exactly?" he asked trepidatiously.

Ron smiled at his sudden interest. "Dementors, Death Eaters, Inferi… You name it. Oh, and—and you killed Voldemort," he added as an afterthought.

"Voldemort? Who's that?" Harry queried, frowning. What a weird name, he sniggered silently.

"A Dark wizard," Ron explained. "He's the one who killed your parents when you were a baby."

Harry's jaw dropped from genuine shock and anger. He took deep breaths, his irritation raging through him. "Okay, that's it! I'm not hearing any more of this rubbish tale of yours!"

"Why not?" Ron asked, suddenly perplexed. "I'm beginning to like where this conversation is going, and now it's back again to square one."

Harry sighed, agitated. "You're telling me that I grew up not having parents, so I'm like a bloody orphan who likes half breeds and mudbloods?" He shot a glare at Hermione. "How many more offensive stories about me have you all got up your sleeves? Seriously, this talk is over!" He spun around and stormed away, cursing.

"No, Harry. You don't understand. Please listen!" Hermione begged desperately, trying to catch up with him, but she was suddenly thrown back by an invisible force. Smoke materialized between them and formed a barrier much like bars on a prison cell, forbidding Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to walk any further.

Harry was taken aback. "What's going on? What did you do, Granger?" He looked around himself in alarm.

"I didn't do anything," she said breathlessly, slowly standing up.

Nothing more seemed to be moving or appearing in front of Harry, so he took one step forward.

"Harry, stay with us please!" Hermione cried desperately while pounding at the barrier.

Harry wasn't listening; he took more tentative steps until he was a good foot away from the table. The object on its top was already recognizable; it was a basilisk fang. He took a deep breath and reached over to grab it. His fingertips were inches away when a cloud of gray smoke erupted from the ground; it rose higher and higher, taking the shape of a human. The figure hovered a small distance away from Harry, its face hidden in the shadows. Harry squinted at it, narrowing his eyes. The figure slowly drifted towards him until it took the shape of a face Harry could never forget in his entire life; it was the replica of himself.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood transfixed as they stared at the scene unfolding in front of them. They could only guess that the Harry they knew outside of this world would show himself to his counterpart.

"Harry?" they called out in unison, pure shock on their faces. The figure made no move to acknowledge them; instead, his eyes remained transfixed upon Harry who had been scrutinizing the phantom's every feature.

His reflection's skin was very pale as if he had lost a substantial amount of blood; his dishevelled hair was sticking out in the oddest places; sweat glistened on his forehead; his emerald green eyes lacked its usual vibrant brightness and looked dull; the clothes he wore looked oddly large and baggy for him, and there was no doubt that he had lost considerable weight.

Harry realized that the figure seemed as though he were at the brink of death, and he couldn't help but grimace at the sight of this sickly version of himself.

The figure suddenly lifted his hand up, palm open, as an invitation. Harry looked suspiciously at the gesture. He could hear Ron, Hermione, and Ginny shouting at him from a distance.

"Don't take his hand!"

"Come back to us!"

"Don't do this!"

Harry furrowed his brow, annoyed at his stubborn competitors' logic and constant, annoying protests. How would he find out if this were just another task if he didn't take the person's hand? Feeling obstinate, he placed the tip of his fingers on top of the figure's. Harry's mind suddenly clouded with various kinds of unhappy memories that weren't his. He was so immersed in them that he could no longer hear Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's voices in the background.

Harry saw himself watching the phantom Harry being bullied. His misty mirror image dodged a stick from his cousin Dudley as his Aunt and Uncle verbally abused him and treated him as though he were worthless.

"Up! Get up! Now!" his Aunt Petunia commanded shrilly.

He was also scolded by his Uncle many times. "Go—Cupboard—Stay—No meals!"

Harry saw himself all alone, locked in a tiny cupboard beneath the stairs, with no loving parents to turn to. Harry, viewing each memory closely, felt an extreme anger pool inside him like acid towards these relatives. He had never met them in his world, save for muggle photographs, nor were they mentioned by his parents, but he was positive that no pureblood child should be treated like this. The poor kid didn't do anything wrong. Harry suddenly felt the sourness of disbelief that he was silently defending this other version of himself.

Before negative emotions bubbled up, the memories dissolved into new ones. This time, some students at Hogwarts such as Draco Malfoy, whom Harry was very familiar with, were bullying the other Harry, mocking him about his dead parents and scrutinizing his very existence. He tried to communicate with his old friend, but Draco only passed right through him to throw more remarks to the other Harry.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting on the train back to the Muggles?" Draco spat and cackled with his friends.

Another memory of Draco surfaced. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor Quidditch team? It's people they feel sorry for. See, first there's Potter, who's got no parents—"

Harry frowned. He had seen that side of Draco many times with other students whom he knew weren't magic worthy, but he never imagined himself being bullied by Draco himself. Why were they enemies in this world? He silently wondered as he turned his attention back to the other Harry who sent a look back at Draco that could kill. Harry noticed the other Harry's Gryffindor uniform. No wonder they didn't get along well, he thought matter-of-factly.

The memory faded as quickly as it came, and another one revealed itself in front of him. Harry could tell that a professor by the name of Severus Snape had been hard on the other Harry, taking off points and treating him unfairly.

"Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything." Snape said with a sneer and added, "A point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Another memory of Snape appeared. "You—Potter—Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor," he snarled at the young student.

Harry knew Severus Snape was never a professor at Hogwarts. He knew him as his godfather who was sweet and kind, unlike this one, apparently, in this twisted, warped reality. It struck him as horrible to even see Severus act this way to his students. He clearly knew how to turn someone's normal day to a bad one.

Harry considered speaking to his godfather after he finished all these tasks about this, and he wondered how his godfather would reply if he regarded him as a teacher at Hogwarts. Severus would probably just laugh it off and tell him he was crazy.

Harry witnessed many more detentions and punishments dealt by a select number of unfamiliar professors, many of which were severe, like the use of a blood quill.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" A professor with a toad-like face taunted. Her soft yet malevolent voice raised hairs at the back of Harry's neck.

He looked down and examined the other Harry's hand. Words formed that said: I must not tell lies. Blood oozed out of his skin.

"Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it?"

Harry's eyes widened as he watched, transfixed. He had never seen a quill like that before. What a horrible thing to experience in life. Harry was glad that he didn't have such a vindictive professor in his school. He had never seen her toady face before.

Another memory materialized, and Harry saw people turned their backs on the other Harry instead of supporting him and his obvious talent. They called him a liar. But caught the faintest sense that these hypocrites around him lied to him as well, used him for their advantage. But they themselves had been tricked by some form of hidden enemies.

"Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did," stated the man with a wooden leg, a magical artificial eye, and a large chunk taken out of his nose. His leer stretched into an insane smile. Without warning, he transformed into a different person Harry had the distant notion called Barty Crouch Jr.

Harry was pleasantly surprised to find out that this world also had Triwizard Tournaments but this was uncalled for. Is this why the other Harry was famous in the world he was in? he mused.

A different memory surfaced. "Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted the other Harry.

"But if this is a trick of V-Voldemort's—" stuttered Hermione, who stood next to him looking extremely terrified.

Another memory replaced the last, showing Sirius Black falling through an archway and the other Harry crumpled to the ground with grief.

Who is this Voldemort? Harry wondered, and as though his quiet question had been heard, a memory rushed forward, the image of a man whom he instantly perceived as "Voldemort" torturing the other Harry, attempting to kill him.

"Crucio!" The deep voice of Voldemort boomed. "I asked you whether you want me to do that again. Answer me! Imperio!"

Another memory rushed to flood his vision. "You won't say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die… Perhaps another little dose of pain?" Harry saw green light in the background, and he instantly knew it was the deathly glow that only shone from the use of the Killing curse.

So this was the Voldemort who Granger was talking about!

Squinting, Harry quickly realized that many witches and wizards had perished, and as if their two beings were pooling together, he could sense the other Harry felt that he was to blame for their deaths. There would have been a war if this Voldemort had successfully attacked the other Harry when he was a baby. No wonder he's got no parents, Harry thought to himself.

The last memory slowly swirled about his vision until finally settling in a candle-lit room with rows of potions staked high against the walls.

"Is there a way to fix a tainted soul, professor?" Harry asked a short man with silver walrus moustache.

"That I am not aware of," he told Harry. "The creation of a Horcrux is evil enough that all information about it was banned to the public, so I would presume that there is no such reference as to how to mend a soul under those circumstances. After all, as far as I know, no one has attempted to do it but only—"

"Would you know then, professor—" Memory Harry was sweating profusely now, his voice quivering slightly. "How—how long could the person live with a tainted soul? You said the lifespan would shorten drastically."

"A few months, but I can't really say how long for sure," the professor replied. "I can only assume that it's slow and excruciating and that you'd prefer to die quickly as time passes by."

Suddenly, Harry was thrust back into the dimly lit room as the shadowy figure broke the connection of memories and lowered his hand, staring at Harry once again. Harry felt an overwhelming rush of emotions in a span of a few minutes. The world which this figure lived in was so tragic and terrible that Harry was glad that he wasn't a part of it, but was he really certain to think that after what Granger and the other two told him?

Harry gazed up to his counterpart when the figure finally spoke, his voice monotonous. "Now that you know, which one is your truth?"

Harry noticed that the figure remained emotionless when he asked the question as if the pains and sufferings he experienced were all gone. Harry wondered whether the whole experience was just a part of the challenge he needed to undergo or that simply the figure really had lost the remaining life that was left in him.

Harry gave a startled look to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny when they took up their attempt to disrupt him.

"Harry, hear us out first please!" Hermione wept emphatically as tears cascaded down her face.

Harry saw the hopelessness in their distressed faces at the back of the room. He wanted to let them in but it was not up to him.

"We're telling you the truth!" Ron shouted.

"Please believe us, Harry!" Ginny cried desperately. "Give us a chance to prove it to you!"

Harry looked at them incredulously. He had never seen them so strained. They were usually either taunting, mocking or ignoring each other for who they were, but this was different. It felt as if their previous attitudes had merely been a facade, and now they all looked vulnerable. Normally, it would be quite entertaining for Harry since he didn't care for any of them. But for some reason, they all looked broken, and their sorrowful gazes were bothering him.

"He's only testing you, Harry." Hermione was hysterical now as her hands tightly gripped the bars that separated them from him as if trying to force them apart. "He only showed you pieces of bad memories, but there are so many more good ones that surpass all of those. You have friends that turned into families who love and support you in that world. You are an inspiration to all of us. Please believe us, Harry!"

Harry briefly remembered the Headmaster's words. "Do not lose your goal, and make sure to always see the reality of things. Certain situations will prevent you from moving forward; it will come down to how you choose to interpret the circumstances and the subsequent thoughts you choose to dwell upon. You will face your greatest fears, but don't let poor choices prevent you from making objective decisions. Take control, and don't lose your way. If stuck, you can always return from where you came."

"You've faced your fears many times, Harry," Ginny pleaded wretchedly, her hands flaring white each time she clenched the bars, trying to jerk them open wider, but they wouldn't budge. "This new reality you're running away from... Please don't let this get to you!"

Harry glanced at them and cocked his head. He wanted to believe them, but the life he had in this world was far more appealing. His parents were still alive, had friends who supported him as well, and never had enemies who tried to kill him. This life contained everything he ever wanted. He could never trade his reality for another as horrible as the other Harry's life.

But then again, abiding over all else, there were the desperate words of his competitors that, somehow, rang true.

"How do I choose?" Harry asked the figure. "What do I do?"

"You have the power to erase my existence and continue the life you've been living by piercing my form with this—" The figure made a slow hand movement which lifted the basilisk fang into the air. It made its way to Harry's opened hand. "Or pierce yourself and experience the life you saw instead. The choice is yours."

Harry's eyes glowed with a determination which signified that he somehow knew from the start which he had to choose. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny helplessly watched, horrified. They were like caged animals trying their hardest to break free and drag their comrade out of a death trap.

"I don't have the time to fool myself," Harry said coldly, smiling wickedly at the basilisk fang he held.

"Harry, please!" Hermione yelled at the top of her lungs in anguish. "Don't just think of yourself!"

"So, is that it?" Ron's desperation had grown into emphatic anger. "You're gonna let your selfishness take over without you even looking at the bigger picture?"

"Ron, stop it!" cried Hermione. "You're not helping!"

"I've seen enough, Weasley," Harry sneered. "And don't think so low of me."

"Oh yeah? Prove it then!" Ron challenged, his feet firmly planted on the ground, his eyes boring holes into Harry's. "We were there for you all our lives. We fought for what was right. Your parents sacrificed their lives to save you. I swore to myself that I would always cherish those moments and stick by you until the end. Go ahead, take the easy way out if you think that'll satisfy you, but no one lives a happy life entirely inside his comfort zone, mate!"

"Harry," Ginny started softly. "I know you've been given a comfortable life here, and that living anything else isn't on the top of your priority list because you already feel like everything's been given to you… even I would take something as safe in a heartbeat. But then, you've been shown a different scenario of what could have happened if you never had a comfortable life. I know you're certain and would unlikely choose that life but, that's the thing, you will never know how to fight for anything… You will never understand what is worth fighting for if you continue living in this world nearly as much as you would in the other."

Ron and Hermione murmured their agreement but Harry only shook his head. He sighed deeply.

"Ask yourself this, Harry," Hermione began in a low, pensive tone as she stared at the floor. "Have you ever had someone worth risking your life for?"

If he had heard her or cared at all for what she had said, Harry didn't acknowledge it, but he was silent about it. He was gobsmacked in the stomach to realize that he never once thought of having someone like a friend—but at least he had parents. He would surely risk his life for them, but somehow he felt like he was missing a valuable part of himself.

The deafening silence that followed felt eternal. "We do, and that's—you," Hermione stated, her voice brimming with conviction. No clever argument, no persuasive fact, nor theory could make a dent in her pithy statement, not even Harry who jerked his head up in surprise. Hermione leaned against the barrier, her energy slowly and visibly drained as she gave up on her fight with the magic bars.

"Why would you choose me?" Harry asked them, disrupting the silence.

"You're our friend. I know you would do the same for us," Ron answered succinctly.

"How do you know?"

"Because you already have many times," Ginny replied. "You've saved us."

"And we're saving you now," Hermione added with a small smile. "Even if it costs our lives."

"Why?"

"Because that's how much you mean to us," Ginny responded quietly. "We love you like family."

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to hear any of it anymore. There was no proof to support their claims. They were all convincing, but they were only giving him false hopes at ephemeral friendships, and they had got to stop with the pointless rubbish now. He had heard enough. He was done. He didn't want to listen any longer. They obviously are just trying to make my life miserable because they have pathetic lives! he stubbornly thought to himself as he finalized his decision.

"No!" he shouted defiantly, his hand holding tighter the basilisk fang, ready to strike.

The air suddenly felt suffocating when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all caught sight of his sudden movement, and as though in slow motion, their eyes opened wide with horror and pure fear when Harry raised his hand with the basilisk fang to the lone figure and—

"NOOO!" Ginny screamed. A horrified Ron stood dumbstruck, and Hermione experienced new, fresh tears erupting as she buried her face in her hands.

Because what Harry had just done could never be undone and would change the course of everyone's lives forever.

To be continued...

Beta-read by Smthnborrowediamblue, KVeronicaP