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The world in his eyes

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It had been two years since the war had ended. Harry's life had been forever changed. For a while, he had grieved and struggled to move on. He went to multiple funerals every day for a month and chose not to finish his education, he didn't return to Hogwarts like Hermione. He'd stayed helping repair the school and then rounded up the last escaped death eaters with the Auror's that had survived. He watched the trials and made sure none got away with the excuse of having been mind controlled with imperio. He made sure orphans of the war were given good homes, and that none went to live with muggles so they wouldn't experience what he himself did as a child.


He helped ministry set up aid to those who lost their homes, and their families. Made sure the rotten leadership at the ministry was replaced with honest people and that those in high positions that committed war crimes inside the ministry were caught and put away. He allowed Draco Malfoy to flee. Even when he knew where the boy was. And when he was finally caught by Auror's on call without him present, he spoke for the boy to be released. And the boy was set free with just a statement from Harry.


He worked day and night to help everyone affected by the war. He made sure muggles knew nothing of this. And that life would go on as normal. Made sure the school was opened again as hastily as possible and that the ones that had to skip their last year were given a chance to come back. He watched as Hermione returned to school to finish her studies...


And then when his job seemed finished when he could take a break and a breath they asked him to be the minister of magic. He was quick to refuse. Then he was offered the headmaster position of Hogwarts which he also refused saying that there was none better to do the job at the moment than Minerva McGonagall. Who became the headmistress the next day.


His word was law. Even if he just suggested something or argued about a choice the ministry made. He didn't raise his voice or command people. He didn't ask for favors or relievements of any sort. He didn't ask for gifts or titles. He didn't ask for political power and didn't wish to use it and yet he was given it all. All he had to do was open his mouth and people listened to him as if he was Merlin himself. So quite soon Harry realized to be silent. That was around the time when he and Ginny broke up. They had never really even been together... They didn't have time, and the tiny feelings Harry had once had towards Ginny seemed gone. And this went both ways.


They were still friends, but there was no romantic love there. They were more like siblings now.


After their breakup, Harry was slapped in the face by life. Suddenly all his work was done. The events of the war were haunting images in people's minds. Hogwarts was fixed and had students already. The ministry had gotten on its feet and named Kingsley Shacklebolt the minister of magic. Everything was like before. Except for the still quite fresh pain of lost friends and family. And the memories of fear and torture.


Hermione was a steam engine, finishing school and starting up S.P.I.T again on a bigger scale. Ron went to Auror training and Harry... Harry didn't. He was offered a job as head auror too. But he didn't take it. He'd been fighting and chasing after bad guys long enough. And now his meaning was gone. Voldemort was dead, most of his friends were safe, he wasn't in a relationship anymore, he hadn't finished his education, he didn't have a job. He was useless in the real world. He was jumpy at first. Expecting a death eater to attack him at any moment. But they were locked up now.


And Harry didn't know how to find a new purpose. Harry realized when it was too late that he did want to go to Hogwarts, but not as a student, but maybe as a teacher. He knew he could get a teaching position with the snap of his fingers but didn't want to take anyone's job.


So there he was. Sitting in a house he had bought, all alone. Every Friday he would dine with the Weasley family. But that was it. He fixed up the house he'd been left by Sirius. Getting rid of dangerous spells in the house, cleaning it up, getting rid of junk and horrible dark artifacts.


But what next?


Harry was sitting on the sofa one night, he was reading a newspaper and his name was on the cover. He didn't even bother to see what the article was about. Just ignored the long story about himself and started reading other parts of the Daily Prophet.


That night Harry was once again in the Black family house. He had gone to the cellar and was digging through a chest left there when he found a big time-turner. Or at least that's what he thought it was. He watched the blue sand run down the hourglass and was reminded of Dumbledore's eyes. That was the same color. The twinkling ocean blue that was almost translucent. He pressed the big time-turner into his chest and sighed. So many lives lost.


Then suddenly he felt the glass break under his fingers and cut into his palms he watched the blue sand running down, free between his fingers and saw some of it tainted by his blood.


He thought nothing of it until he felt the magic of the time-turner jolt and cover every inch of the room with power. There was an almost electric feeling in the room as Harry allowed the time-turner to drop from his hands and felt the power of the room lash into his and with a sickening twist of his belly, he was whisked away by magic.


Chapter Text

Harry woke up slowly. He was face down in cold mud as rain poured down on his back. He couldn't figure out when it had started to rain. He groaned and pressed a hand against his head which was pulsating with pain. He felt his energy and magic had been drained as he slowly got up on his knees and looked around.


He was in a side-alley in Hogsmeade. It was late. He knew that from how dark the sky was, and from the stars twinkling on it. He had to lean against the wall when he was able to get on his feet and even then he wavered and felt dizzy. This was something he hadn't felt since the war. How can he be this tired?


He wondered if maybe the fake time turner was a portkey. It made some sense, but even that idea had holes in it. He might have to visit Hermione and ask about it.


Harry noticed that the lights were out in most houses and no people were on the streets. It took him time but he finally noticed Hogwarts and made a quick plan. Minerva would surely give him a room in the castle for one night if he requested. He knew that apparating this tired was dangerous and didn't want to splinch himself.


He was slow as he walked. He would get dizzying headaches and his feet were so out of energy they gave up on him a few times and he had to catch himself from falling to the ground.


He made his way across Hogwarts grounds much easier. This path he knew. This path he was almost happy to take as his mind wondered to the good times he and his friends had lived here. When he reached the heavy front doors of Hogwarts he knew they would be locked. He had no intentions of taking out his wand and casting any spells. It wouldn't be worth it to prolong his recovery time. He sighed at the thought of not being able to use magic for a while and was a little surprised that the artifact had done this to him. It was unheard of. He went weeks, months even using difficult spells, dueling and protecting himself during the war. And it wasn't until the duel with Voldemort that made his magic crash and drain out.


So he leaned against the door and knocked hard. He knew the door was spelled and that Minerva would be informed in her office if someone came knocking.


He slid down the door and onto the ground pressing his back to the door and waited. He stared at the moon and slowly his eyelids closed and even the opening of the other door didn't wake him up.


"Where did he come from?" Dumbledore asked as he stood by the bedside of a mysterious wizard in the hospital wing.


"I don't know. Headmaster Dippet says calmly. "I found him outside our door last night." 


The mediwitch hurried over with a potion. "Move, move." She said to Dumbledore and hustled past him to the bed.


"What's wrong with the boy? Isn't he a squib? So is he ill?" Dippet asks as he watches the mediwitch spell the potion into the boy. "As a squib, he shouldn't be treated with magical potions or spells." Now his voice was reprimanding.


"He is no squib, just magically drained." The mediwitch scoffed. "I've seen it before."


Dippet still looked unsure and turned to Dumbledore: "She is correct. I studied it once. Usually, it happens to children when they use a lot of accidental magic. They need to sleep and their magic will be back to normal in a few hours." Dumbledore was delighted to see it in person now, even though he still worried for the young man looking rather pained and tiny.


"So his magic is at the level of a child?"


"No, under a lot of stress, agitation and the overuse of magic can cause it to happen to adult wizards as well." The mediwitch said and once again shuffled away from the bed to fetch something else. She said what Albus had indeed to say and he made a notation in his head to speak with her about this enticing subject at the great hall while eating some day. 


"I wonder where the boy came from..." Dipper says: "And why did he come here? He seems too old to be a student. Well, maybe he could pass for a seventh-year student. But I doubt he is one."


Dumbledore stayed silent at the musings of the headmaster even though he agreed on his words.


"What are you two still doing here?" The mediwitch suddenly screeched: "He needs to sleep in silence, not around all this ruckus. Go, go." She shooed away the two men who left, no doubt both trying to figure out where the boy came from.


"It has been two days!" Dippet says as he once again finds Dumbledore from the bedside of the mystery wizard. "When will he wake up?" 


"Well, I doubt all this yelling is helping him in this state." Dumbledore calmly stated with a small smile.


"I have other things to worry about than a potentially dangerous individual being in my castle just as the new term is about to start." Dippet says and then sighs. "Look Albus we both knew this was coming. They voted in favor to you not being allowed to teach defense against the dark arts again." The headmaster says sadly. He speaks slowly, making sure all his words have weight: "I can not do anything against the word of the ministry in these types of situations."


"I understand." Albus just nods: "And I wouldn't ask you to."


"Well, I can always give you another teaching position. How about transfiguration? You are more than qualified to that as well." Dippet suggests.


"The ministry will be furious." Albus smiles.


Slowly Harry's mind was lit up as he started to very slowly wake up. He could hear the two men talking.


"Yes, but it will be too late to do anything. Unless they want the students not to learn transfiguration and deal with all the angry letters from parents." The headmaster smiles and then sighs: "I will have to find a new teacher for defense against the dark arts, however."


"I am sure you will manage. And I can interview people with you." Albus offers and notices from the corner of his eye that the young man's breathing changed.