Disclaimer: World of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. For "The If You Dare Challenge" and "The Harry Potter Chapter Competition". For the Competition each chapter that corresponds to a chapter in the Harry Potter books will have the chapter title from the book underneath the title of the chapter. The word prompts are from "the If You Dare Challenge".

A/n Relevant to the Story: This story is going to be AU, as it features a FemHarry (By the name of Harley Lily Potter), crossing realities and finding herself in the "canon" Harry Potter world. However, being as her presence in the canon world isn't supposed to be, the story will become AU.

This story begins in what would be the end of Harley's sixth year. So more or less, it begins in HBP. However, Harley is not the-Girl-Who-Lived in her universe because the prophecy in her universe is the same as the one in the canon universe, and the prophecy spoke of a boy. Therefore, her world is quite different.

This story will be a Snape/OC story.

Rating for: Language, possible future limes, references to Wolfstar, and a relationship with significant age difference.

Prompt: The End Is Where We Begin (# 912)

~x~X~x~

Across The Universe

~x~X~x~

The Next Great Adventure

Or

The Boy Who Lived

Cosmically, it was possible that there was something to the belief that life was a great circle. That death and life, are but one cycle, endlessly repeating.

Harley wasn't sure what she believed to be true about Death. There was clearly something beyond it, because Ghosts were unliving proof of that. But for herself, she wasn't sure what followed in the long yawn between one heartbeat and the lack of one.

Though sixteen going on seventeen, and being a morbid teenager at that, Harley wasn't sure if she believed in heaven or reincarnation or... anything.

Perhaps that was why it was so easy to act before she thought. It was instinct, propelling her to step in the way of the shockingly green spell meant for someone else.

But if she had time to think about it, she probably would have made the same decision, again and again and again.

His life, was so much more important and precious then her own. His life, was the hope of their whole world. And her sacrifice should mean something. At least, she hoped.

And with that step, that reckless streak that Snape had warned her would one day get her killed... did. She just hoped that Sirius, who had always encouraged her reckless streak, didn't blame himself. And she hoped Moony didn't blame him.

X

There was light. Bright and disorienting light.

With a groan, moving a hand to shield her eyes, came the sensation of hard and unforgiving stone at her back. And there was someone... she was sure of it, someone was nudging her in the side of her ribs with what she was sure was a boot.

Scowling, Harley sat up, ready to let rip one of Sirius' more colorful slurs. Rubbing her eyes briefly, she then proceeded to glare up at the person who had woken her when she was struck by several things at once.

She was sleeping in what appeared to be a hall, simply laying in the corridor, with her black, rectangular rimmed glasses askew on her face.

And then, with a shock like a ghost moving through you, she found herself looking down at herself. Her hands touching her legs, her arms and even her head, as if to make sure she was still all in one piece.

But... she'd seen the Voldemort! She'd seen him casting the Avada! She's stepped right in the way of that bright green light!

Whipping her head around, her unruly hair flying in all directions with her heart and mind both racing with sudden adrenaline, she found that she was very much in an empty corridor. That all signs of a battle were absent. And furthermore, as she previously noted, it was broad daylight. In point of fact, it wasn't night as she recalled, but rather instead, what appeared to be the hour just past dawn.

And then she stared up at the man that had woken her, her heart giving it's customary flip while her stomach felt like a boulder had been dropped into it.

"Professor Snape," Harley cried, jumping to her feet, the top of her head just falling short of his chin. Briefly, she looked down at herself and frowned as she noted that she was wearing the same clothes of the previous night, blue jeans and her Slytherin Quidditch jersey.

But then... was that just a dream? A nightmare?

But if so, what the hell was she doing sleeping on the floor in the corridor?

And why the hell was Snape staring at her as if he had never seen her before in his life?

"Who are you? And what are you doing, laying about the hallway?" he asked, eyeing her Slytherin jersey and glaring at her with those dissecting eyes.

Harley frowned up at him.

"Professor Snape... it's me. Harley," Harley reminded him, though she felt absurd doing so. This man had taught her for six years. He was her Head of House. She pestered him constantly when she felt lonely!

As he continued to frown at her, his hand clenching around his wand, which she only then realized was in his hand, she wondered what on earth was going on.

Maybe this is a dream, Harley wondered with a sinking feeling.

"I'm... Harley Potter," she said with a frown, feeling anxiety and panic slowly creeping up on her as he continued to scrutinize her. However, at her pronuncement, he suddenly lunged at her and grasped her by the jersey.

"What are you playing at?" he snarled, shaking her.

Though not the first time in this position, for the first time, she felt genuine fear race down her spine. Because this Snape... he had no recognition of her... to him she was not his student and so he had no reason to show restraint.

Harley tried not to shrink in on herself. She attempted to meet his gaze, willing him to believe her. And then she felt it.

It was like her head was splitting open. Images flashed before her eyes.

They were here, in the corridor. It was night. There were Death Eaters fighting against teachers and members of the DA. She spotted Sirius, and she fought alongside him, while he took on Bellatrix Lestrange.

Briefly, her mind flitted to the summer before first year to Sirius nudging her, jokingly telling her that she better not be a Slytherin. And then she was in her fourposter on her first night at Hogwarts, wondering what the hell had possessed her to chose Slytherin house.

Moony was then comforting her, she was six and just realized what her parents being dead really meant. Crying for her beautiful mother who she would never know... crying for the father whose unruly hair she inherited and who taught her to love brooms since before she was old enough to walk.

There she was, in her first fight with Pansy Parkinson because the pug-faced bitch had the nerve to call her an orphan and the daughter of a pair of fairies. She'd punched Pansy in her fury. And then there was Snape, so angry with her. Sneering down at her about her temper and her inability to control it.

Then there was the flash of green light, and she stepped into it.

The broken images suddenly stopped and Snape released her as if she were a hot branding iron in his hand. She dropped to the floor on her arse, her hands barely catching her. Quickly, they rose to her head and she wondered what the hell that had been, though she instinctively knew that Snape had seen everything she had seen.

Through her bludger-through-the-head like headache, Harley managed to glare up at the very pale Snape.

Arsehole, she thought at him resentfully, wondering for perhaps the millionth time why her stupid little heart seemed to care for him, of all people.

Before she could say anything, he was once more grabbing her. His hand was a pincer on her upper arm, and he hefted her light weight to her feet before he was dragging her down the corridor.

"What are you doing?!" Harley cried indignantly, trying to yank her arm out of his grip, but the man though very thin, was deceptively strong. And he merely continued to drag her petite form down the hall. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded, though there was a tremor of fear to the question, but Snape kept walking, not responding to her.

It wasn't long before they were standing before the Gargoyle statue. And Harley felt relief wash over her, thinking that soon she would be free of amnesia, psycho-Snape.

X

"Come in," Dumbledore called almost wearily, looking up from his desk just in time to watch Snape drag in a very pale, teenage girl. Dumbledore frowned at what seemed like a very unforgiving grip, staring at Severus for an explanation for his man-handling of a slender girl.

However, given Severus' pale but stormy expression, he said nothing as his office door was slammed shut behind the pair. He merely watched perplexed as Severus continued to drag the struggling girl, who looked equal parts irate and in pain, before his desk. He then shoved her towards Dumbledore's desk.

"Tell him who you claim to be, girl," Severus demanded, his voice cooler than his demeanor.

The girl with jet-black hair glared at Severus, adjusting her black, rectangular-rimmed glasses before turning to Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore! Snape's being a bloody unreasonable psycho!" the girl cried, causing his brows to move up his forehead as she appeared to know him, though he had absolutely no recollection of her. Though, something about her seemed familiar to him. She rather reminded him of someone. "What's your problem?! I'm going to have a bruise!" she yelled at Severus, rubbing her arm and glaring at him reproachfully.

"I'm sorry my dear, but I'm afraid I'm rather lost. Do I know you?" Dumbledore asked perplexed, trying to sound welcoming.

The girl then turned towards him and all her anger seemed to evaporate. She seemed to wilt, crumbling in on herself and making her slender form even smaller as she wrapped her arms around herself. Her vibrant, emerald green gaze stared at him sadly from behind the rims of her glasses. And suddenly, he knew who she reminded him of. In that moment, the resemblance was uncanny. It was as if he was looking at an older, and female version of Harry Potter.

"You don't..." she struggled, before taking a deep breath. Distantly, Dumbledore noticed the jersey she wore, and guessed at her age, being something about sixteen. Fifteen at the youngest. "My name is Harley... Harley Lily Potter."

Dumbledore stared at the teenage girl that Severus dragged before him.

"Is it?" he asked, keeping his same serene and grandfatherly demeanor though his gaze sharpened and he looked towards Severus briefly. But he detected no lie in the girl's words, or her face. Turning back to lock eyes with her, he tilted his head. "And how old are you, my dear?"

"I'll be seventeen in July," Harley replied, frowning and still hugging herself.

Dumbledore then performed Legillimens on the girl, wondering if she was, who she claimed to be. Wondering if, like her appearance and name suggested, she was related to James and Lily Potter.

Like a fish in water, he sank into her memories and found in her head, a whole other world. One as real as the one that he knew existed and quickly pulled out of her memories, afraid of the information he found. Because her memories were real, and not fabricated.

Staring at the girl before him with grief, he felt his heart breaking in his chest for what he had seen in her head.

"What year is it, my dear?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Harley frowned, but answered nonetheless. "1997."

Beside her, Snape made a strangled noise as he crossed his arms over his chest, but he said nothing. And Dumbledore nodded sadly, in wonder at the magic that somehow brought this girl, seemingly across time and various realities, here.

"What is the last thing you remember?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Harley looked down. An expression of grief and fear flitted across her face. "I... I jumped in front of the Killing Curse."

Snape stiffened, but again, Dumbledore didn't look away.

"But it must've been a... dream," Harley stated, though she didn't sound convinced, even as she looked up at Dumbledore, begging for him to tell her that it was all that it was.

Dumbledore shook his head gravely. He wished he could tell her that it was just a dream.

"You did a very brave, and selfless thing, my dear," Dumbledore stated gently. "But I believe you died... and you were brought here, by means and for reasons that I cannot fathom."

Harley inhaled sharply, as if sudden realization of what was occurring. Her breathing came shallowly as she stumbled away from his desk, as if believing that by putting distance between herself and Dumbledore, his words might disappear and not be true. But it was the only conclusion he could come to when her memories were all truth.

"I'm dead?" she asked, in a small and high-pitched voice as tears rose in her eyes.

"No... I believe you are very much alive, here," Dumbledore replied. Harley looked at him, still trying to control her breathing, her confusion clear on her face. "Death, to the well organized mind, is but the next great adventure."

Harley struggled, grasping her way into the seat before Dumbledore's desk. Momentarily, she placed her head between her knees as she tried to regain control of herself, and avoid the panic-attack that threatened.

It took her a few minutes, her breathing all the sound that was left in the quiet office, but when she finally looked up, Harley appeared marginally better adjusted.

"So... where am I?" Harley asked, her voice tremulous.

"June 17th, 1992."

Harley blew out a breath. Her mind seemed to take a few moments to adjust to that.

"So... somewhere around here, there is a eleven year old me?" Harley asked.

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a look.

"Not exactly," Dumbledore replied, to which Harley gave him a blank look. "You see Harley, I believe that more than crossing time, you have also crossed realities. And in this reality, you as you are... does not exist because in this reality you were born Harry Potter."

"I... I... what?" Harley asked, her brain unable to compute that. And then, with an unfortunate crack, her head smacked the ground.

Dumbledore cast a glare at Severus who had not moved since he entered, his arms crossed over his chest. "You could have caught her."

"You really believe this?" Severus snapped back, not deigning to respond to his comment. "That this... girl," he said, putting all his venom in his words as he pointed a yellow figure at the unconscious teenage girl, "is who she claims to be? That her memories are real and not a fabrication?"

"Severus, you are no novice at Legillemency, you know as well as I, that those memories are not false."

Severus didn't respond, because he didn't believe it. His overly logical mind could not allow him to, in spite of evidence to the contrary.

"She could be a vessel for the Dark Lord. If anyone has the skill to fabricate such intricate and believable memories, it would be him."

"Agreed. But as up until recently, he was residing in Quirrel's body; I think we can with confidence accept that he did not tamper with this girl's memories. Besides that, my instincts tell me that she is who she claims to be, and that she is not a threat," Dumbledore stated, to which Severus had to grudgingly agree. But he couldn't let the suspicion go. "How much did you see?"

Severus detailed every memory he witnessed while Dumbledore sat and contemplated what it all could mean and what bearing it might have on their reality, if any.

"What are we going to do about the girl?" Severus finally asked, interrupting the contemplative silence.

Dumbledore sighed.

"We must keep a close eye on her," he finally said. "Whether or not you believe her memories to be real, Harley believes them to be real. She's sixteen, and alone in our world. We have a responsibility, though she is coming of age in July."

Severus grimaced at this, but nodded his head. Perhaps thinking along the lines of keeping your enemies close.

For a moment, Dumbledore watched Severus contemplatively before nodding his head decisively.

"She will stay in the castle for the summer, and attend her seventh year in September. And I want you personally to keep a close eye on her," Dumbledore started, raising a hand when he saw the rage flit across Severus' face as he opened his mouth to retort. "She's in Slytherin, Severus. Her memories, have her sorted into your house. She is your responsibility."

TBC...

The Boy Who Lived- Write about the start of something. Alternatively write about Harry Potter.

A/n: So that's the first chapter. Please review. I'm really anxious to hear anyone's thoughts of it. Also if there are any questions, if something is not clear, please ask and I'll be sure to address them.