People typically remember their whole past life around sixteen, sometimes a little sooner, sometimes a little later, depending on how well they were equipped to handle it.

Ron had remembered at fifteen and a half, at the start of fifth year. His old name had been Tyler Milton, and he'd been some transfiguration teacher at one of the community magic schools people had, in Wales. Harry still wasn't quite sure what those were, but he did know that Ron's transfiguration got a lot better after that. Ron sometimes slips into Welsh when he's stressed now. It's quite amusing, actually.

Hermione remembered when she was sixteen and a few months. She hadn't been magical before. She had been a muggle historian from England, which Harry had found extremely interesting, and Ron extremely confusing. Her name had been Helen Cam.

He doesn't know much about his other friends' previous lives, but he knew that Neville had been some sort of philosopher, and that Bill, Fred and George, Seamus, and Luna were New Souls. Dean told them he'd been born in London, but moved to America to be a charms teacher at Ilvermorny, and he sold art on the side. Ginny had said she had been a fourth grade muggle maths teacher in Switzerland. Her Arithmancy had definitely improved after she remembered.

Sirius, before he died, said his name had been Aaron and he had been a cursebreaker his first time around. Remus told him he had been called Daniel before, and he'd been a wizard, but had taught psychology at a muggle college. They had told Harry that his mother had been a muggle woman from eighteenth century America, and that her name had been Angelica. His father had been an African wizard named Zane, and he had drowned in a river at fourteen.

Harry remembers a month after his seventeenth birthday. Bit unfortunate, really. Here he was, hiding out in Grimmauld Place, trying to track down a locket horcrux, and one day he wakes up, and thousands of memories attack his mind.

Memories of an abandoned isle, of a pirate ship, of a father he could never please, no matter how hard he tried, until he eventually just stopped trying. Harry thought he had it bad in this life, but the hurt of the Dursley's being awful to him is nothing compared to the pain of his own, real, father backhanding him, or yelling drunkenly while waving a bottle threateningly at him, or simply not caring, without a hint of remorse.

Memories of a hook he cared for more than anything else for a while, just because he didn't have anything else to care about. Memories of a king who he'd hated for no good reason, a purple haired woman who he had loved more than anything, but who had never loved him back.

Memories of finally getting off that wretched isle, only to die seven years later. It didn't bother him much, he had honestly thought he'd die much earlier. Memories of Gil and Uma, the only friends he had ever had, for ten years, at least. His heart ached for them; he wondered if they had come back too, if he would ever find them, if, possibly, they were still alive. They would both be about 53 by now, it wasn't too far-fetched to think they could still be alive. Especially Uma. She and Mal were half-sisters, their father was Hades. Hades was a god, making them both demi-gods. Demi-gods have extended lifespans, and age slower. Both Mal and Uma probably looked only a decade older than when he had last seen them 28 years ago, at the most. Gil, on the other hand, well, who knows. He decided that once Voldemort was taken care of, he would have to visit Auradon, to find out. He'd have to see how they were doing, and whether Uma and Lonnie had finally stopped being stubborn and gotten married already.

He snorted in amusement after a moment, thinking of the strangeness of being the reincarnated son of a villain from what he'd previously thought to be a muggle fantasy story.

He must really be messed up if his first thought is I wonder what Voldemort would think if he saw this. Because, actually, it would be really bad if Voldemort saw this, but right now, Harry's head is way too jumbled up too care. He's remembering the isle now, and the people there, the blood he spilled. He'd killed only three people, which was less than the actual villains on the isle, but most of the VKs had never actually killed anyone, just fought enough to get what they wanted. Most of them hadn't gone any further. He had.

The first was because he'd gotten into a fight and had gone too far, and by the time he realized that, it had already been too late. The second and third were two guys that had captured Gil. They'd tried to torture Gil until he gave back what he'd stolen from them. Some stupid bracelet or something. He'd felt guilty after the first one. He relished killing the last two. He forces his mind away from those images for a minute, trying to think of something else.

He's really glad his name has been Harry in both lives, because trying to sort through these memories was hard enough, he didn't know what he'd do if he had to keep track of two names as well. He knew Ron sometimes had trouble when he was in a mood, Hermione not so much, though she said it was because her name was pretty similar to her old one that she instinctively responded to anything with an H sound at the beginning.

About ten minutes later, he thought he had most of his memories sorted out, and he'd just been thinking that he should try out eyeliner again, to see if he would look as good with it in this life as he did the last, when Ron poked his head in the door.

"Hey, mate, you up? Kreacher's making breakfast, and Hermione wants to go over some of the maps again," he said, before looking more closely at Harry's face. Harry suddenly remembers that having your revelation is supposed to be exhausting. He probably looks like crap right now. "Harry?" Ron asks. "Are you okay?"

Harry stares at him for a minute before saying, "I had my revelation." It comes out sounding strange, but he doesn't quite know how because Ron grins at him and starts talking so fast that it's all Harry can do to keep up with him. "Really?" he asks. "That's awesome! Who were you? Come on, we've got to tell Hermione."

Harry stares blankly at him. He casts around for a few things to say, but it turns out that his brain must not have filtered all the memories as well as he thought it had, because all he could manage to say was, "I'll be down in five minutes." His old Scottish accent came out stronger in his moment of confusion, and it takes him a moment to realize that's why his voice had sounded strange a second ago. Ron looks at him weirdly, but doesn't say anything, just nods and heads back down the stairs.

Harry sighs in relief, and closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get rid of the headache that has been building up. His scar flares with pain for a moment, and he sighs again, in annoyance this time. "I'd almost forgotten about that," he mutters to himself as he sits up and pushes on his glasses.

A few minutes later, he's walking down the stairs, resigning himself to what he knew would be an onslaught of questions from Hermione. He reaches the kitchen, and Hermione is there, but there are no questions. It's not until she asks if he had a good sleep and comments on the dark circles under his eyes that he realizes she doesn't know. Surprised, he glances at Ron, who just mouths, 'It's your news to tell,' with a smile.

Slightly touched, though he'd never admit to it, Harry turns back to Hermione. "I had my revelation," he says.

Hermione's whole expression changes in an instant. "Really?" she exclaims in delight. "Of course I knew it must be coming soon, you were already later than usual as it was, but really, this is exciting! Who were you?" She says this all in her fast way of talking that Harry should be used to by now, but he still has trouble sometimes, and he's tired, so it takes him a minute to process everything she'd said.

Once he does, he gives a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, see, this is where things get a bit complicated," he says. They both give him a weird look, and he tries to explain. "So, uh, where to start. Um, what do you know about the story of Peter Pan?" he asks, repressing a wince. Though he knew better now, part of him had never been able to shake off the message that his father had drilled into his head last time around. That Peter Pan is the reason we're here, you know. He's the reason you'll never get to see the sun, or sail the open seas, like I did once. He's the reason we are trapped on this miserable island. Remember that. And Harry had remembered. No matter what anyone said, he could never shake off the last bits of hatred and slight fear he had of Peter Pan.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, (It's not good to daydream, Harry, it could get you killed one day, said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Uma) he looked back at Ron and Hermione. Ron just looked confused, he was a pureblood, of course he hadn't heard of Peter Pan. Hermione also looked confused, but more like she was wondering how that fit with who Harry had been in his past life. "Yes, of course," she said. "But what does that have to do with anything? Ron just shook his head.

Hermione looked at Ron, slightly exasperated. "Honestly," she mutters. "You'd think with his father's obsession, he'd have picked a few things up by now. Anyway," she says, turning to him. "Peter Pan is a fairytale about a boy who never wants to grow up. He goes to Neverland so he doesn't have to, and manages to annoy the crap out of this pirate captain called Captain Hook, who then tries to do anything he can to get rid of Peter Pan. Or something like that. I haven't heard the story in many years," she says. "Is that right, Harry?" she asks.

He nods stiffly, takes a deep breath, and says, "My name in my other life was Harry-"

"Oh, no fair!" Ron cuts him off, complaining. "You don't have to deal with the awful name confusion that we did."

Harry manages a tight, forced smile and an almost imperceptible nod, before continuing. "My name was Harry Hook," he said. Inwardly, he grimaced. That could have come out better.

"Wait," Ron said. "Are you saying you were this weird Captain dude? But didn't Hermione say he was from a fairy tale?"

"She did say that," said Harry, grimacing. "That's where this gets complicated." He blinks. "And, hey, wait, back up! I am not James Hook! Captain Hook," he adds at their blank looks. Funny, my father's name is the same in both lives too. Yet they are so different. One gave his life to save me, one couldn't care less what happened to me.

"Then who are you?"

"I'm his son," he said.

There is silence for a moment as Hermione and Ron take this in. Then, "Wait," said Hermione. "How is that possible? He's fictional! He's not real!" She sounds like her childhood has been ruined.

Harry is just the slightest bit (or maybe a bit more) amused. "Obviously he was real," he says. "Or I wouldn't be telling you this. Someone must have written a book of the story, or something, and people just assumed it was a fairytale."

Hermione considers this logic. "I suppose that makes sense," she said, finally. "So you were Captain Hook's son?" she asks, and now she sounds guarded, almost afraid. Harry recognizes the tone.

"Hermione," he says firmly. "I have never, in either life, agreed with James Hook and his lunatic way of thinking. Nor have I really considered him my father since I was about thirteen last time around."

Hermione looked relieved. Harry quirked a bitter, crooked smile. "Don't fall into the trap many people have before, Hermione. Don't make the mistake of thinking villains must love their kids too. That one thought got me nineteen years of misery last time. Stuck on a stupid bloody island…" he trailed off, realizing they would probably have no idea what he was on about. He clears his throat. "Anyway. He didn't treat me any better than the Dursleys did." Worse, he adds in his head. But they don't need to know that.

Hermione and Ron both are wearing relieved smiles, with something sympathetic in there too. Harry likes that about them. They never pity him, they only sympathize. It's a good trait, he thinks. Looking at them now, he softens. "Make no mistake, guys, I wasn't a very good person. I got better, but…" he trails off, wondering how to say this. He takes a deep breath. "So first thing, basically all those Disney stories are true." Hermione looks both shocked and delighted. He is totally taking her to Auradon with him, assuming he survives this war anyway. Ron, predictably, looks confused. Hermione leans over to whisper to him. "They're muggle fairy tales."

Harry smiles. "Yeah. Someone from Auradon, where they all live, is probably behind the makings of those movies. They changed some things, of course, like time periods and ages and places and such, but they are all true stories. Auradon is the center point of all the kingdoms and towns that are mostly close by, and when they came together, they created an island prison where they basically chucked all the villains, both from stories you know and the ones you don't. So, they threw all these bad guys on an isle with a magic barrier around it and sent them their food scraps every week and their everything else scraps once a month."

Hermione gasps, connecting the dots. Harry continues. "Never once did they think about the fact that yes, even villains are capable of reproducing. When they realized the villains did, in fact, have kids, they just assumed the kids would be evil also, and left them there. Kind of like Snape, I guess," he said thoughtfully. "Though a bit less evil."

"That's-that's awful!" Hermione exclaims, aghast.

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "They shouldn't blame babies for what their parents did."

Harry smiled wryly. "No, they shouldn't. But they did. And that Isle is where I lived for the first 19 years of my life."

"Nineteen years," breathed Hermione, shaking her head. "Did you have any friends? Were you okay?"

"Well, we weren't exactly allowed "friends" on the isle, only alliances. But, yes, I had friends, even if we couldn't call ourselves that. Uma and Gil, part of Uma's pirate crew, but us three were the real friends in the crew. The rest were just pirates who needed a place, and were maybe a bit scared of Uma. She was the captain, I was the first mate. We protected Gil; he really wasn't fit for the isle. Without us, he probably would've died. You have to get hard on the isle. Get tough or die, pretty much. Gil was too nice for it. He would have been a Hufflepuff," Harry adds fondly.

"Tell me it gets better," she begs.

"It gets better," he says. "When I was seventeen, four other kids from the isle, Jay, Evie, Carlos, and Mal," He knows his voice sounds different when he says Mal's name, and he hopes they didn't notice. "Got to go to Auradon to be given a chance, courtesy of the new king." He tries his hardest to keep the dislike out of his voice when he says king, but he's not quite sure he did. "Well, he succeeded, and eventually, when I was nineteen, they let down the barrier, and put the unredeemed villains into normal jail, and let the rest of them, and the kids, make lives for themselves." He doesn't mention the whole rivalry thing with Mal's gang and Uma's. It's not important right now, and they might not understand it the right way. He might tell them later, but not right now.

"That's good," said Ron, now happier. "They finally saw some sense."

"That they did," Harry agrees. I had some fun sailing around the world with Uma and Gil, after that. Finally got to actually use that Pirate ship. Seven years later, I was twenty-six, and my hook- that was my most prized possession, you know. I kind of miss it. Or at least my sword. Actually, using muggle weapons like that against Voldemort could be really useful, he probably wouldn't see it coming. Anyway," he shook his head. "My hook fell in the water." Seeing Hermione's look, he added. "I didn't really need it, Hermione, I still had my hand. I just held it. I liked it. So it fell in, I dove in after it, but I hit my head on a rock underwater, which would normally just give me a concussion, but I was underwater, and I passed out and drowned before anyone could get to me."

They both looked horrified. "At twenty-six!?" squeaked Hermione.

Harry just nodded.

"Man, mate," said Ron clapping him on the back, though Harry could see the emotions swimming in his eyes. "You had a hard life, both times. You wanna go get some more sleep? You look exhausted."

And now that Ron said it, Harry felt exhausted too. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Can we continue this map stuff tomorrow? I need to realign my life views and sort out all these thoughts and get some sleep. Bye," he said without waiting for an answer, and stumbled up the stairs. They both looked slightly worried, but they let him go, so he figured it wasn't too important.

A few hours later Harry is staring up at the ceiling in his room. He thinks he's gone through all his thoughts and memories, and has them as sorted as he can without knowing Occlumency, and is now thinking about houses. Stupid thing, really, he muses. To divide up eleven year olds like that. And it is stupid. People could have so many more friends even if they just put a mix of all the houses' kids in each class. But whatever. It wasn't his system so… not much he can do about it. Especially now. Gil would have been a Hufflepuff. Uma a Slytherin. I would have been a Slytherin. The sorting hat wanted to put him in Slytherin, and he knew for sure that he would have been before, maybe even now, if he got sorted again. Uma would be a Slytherin. Mal would, and Jay. Most of the people on the isle, really. So was Slytherin really that bad? No, he decides. It isn't. Voldemort is bad. His Death Eaters are bad. But not all of them are Slytherins. Pettigrew is a Gryffindor. Crouch Jr. and Quirrell were both Ravenclaws. So, Death Eaters are bad. And if most of them happen to be in Slytherin, that doesn't mean the entire house, or its virtues are bad. These thoughts calm him, and he can finally settle his mind. Only a few minutes after this he drifts off to sleep.

Their break-in to the Ministry of Magic was successful, but not without a price. They'd gotten the locket, but couldn't destroy it, they lost their safe house, and Hermione had packed literally everything they needed, except food. Which, okay, Harry could deal with that. He'd put the locket in the pouch Hagrid had given him until they could destroy it, just in case it could possess them like the diary did with Ginny. Uma had always told him he had a knack for remembering small details. And they did have an awesome tent that was really more like a small flat. The food problem was a bit more concerning.

Of course, Harry had experience with little food. He'd spent nineteen years on the Isle of the Lost with terrible and scarce food, and then ten years and then six summers with the Dursleys, who were not big on giving the "freak" anything to eat. He knew what it was like to go without food. But Hermione and Ron didn't. Neither of them had ever experienced the feeling of hunger eating away at you, how tired it made you after a while, how irritable people could become at first. It worried him. He didn't want them to go through that, and he didn't want them to do anything rash when it did, inevitably, happen.

He groaned. He shouldn't have taken the eye. Why had he taken the eye? How could he have been so stupid? This was war, this was worse than the Isle, which was honestly kind of a scary thought. Next time, he promised himself, he wouldn't let his emotions get in the way of doing the job. Lock 'em up until it's safe to let them out. Get back into Isle mode. And with that thought, he told Hermione and Ron he was going to keep watch outside the tent.

He and Hermione took turns keeping watch that day, since Ron was in no shape to get up. Hermione had stewed some mushrooms in a Billycan for dinner. Ron had quit after a few bites, Hermione ate about half of her portion, and Harry had only eaten most of his because he knew the feeling of hunger all too well, and had no desire to experience it again. Still, he suggested to Hermione that maybe he should try to make the food next time.

"I've had lots of practice at the Dursleys," he told her. "And I know you did your best, considering our limited materials, but I've actually stewed mushrooms before. I can do it. Even without all the extras, it'll probably taste better. No offense."

She hadn't seemed offended, rather glad she didn't have to cook anymore, and a bit angry at the Dursleys, for making him cook, but he was so used to this, now, that he ignored it, and was just happy to not have to eat Hermione's mushrooms again. They really were terrible.

Harry took Mad-Eye's eye out of his pocket, looked at it, before also slipping it into his pouch. He figured it could be useful to be able to see through things, and he thought Mad-Eye would have approved. I'll bury it once this whole mess is over with. Anyway, Mad-Eye would definitely have preferred this to being stuck on Umbridge's door.

Later, they apparated to the outskirts of a small market town. After helping place the protective enchantments around the tent, Harry went out under the invisibility cloak to try and find food for them. It didn't go very well. He came across the all too familiar chill of dementors almost as soon as he stepped foot into the town.

He froze. "Lily! Take Harry, and run! I'll hold him off." "Bow to death, Harry." "I lied to you. The kids won't be coming off the Isle." "Come on, you can do better than that!" He could feel water filling his lungs, he was drowning again.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry gasped out, thinking of Hermione and Ron refusing to let him do this by himself, Uma and Gil always backing him up even though their parents would all punish them later. The bright silver stag burst from his wand, and charged at the dementors in front of him. They scattered, and the stag nodded his head at Harry before fading away.

Harry took the chance to quickly sneak into a convenience store, and nab a few cans of soup, a bag of frozen corn, and a loaf of bread. Those stealing skills from the Isle really did come in handy. Of course, he was absolutely going to tell Hermione he paid for them. What she doesn't know won't hurt her, and their limited savings might be needed later. Who knows?

They continued moving from place to place every day or two, and Harry was always the one to cook the food they got. As a result, it was much better than the stewed mushrooms Hermione had cooked on the first day, especially when they were near a town and could take food from there. Hermione and Ron always left some money behind- be it magical or muggle, depending on where they were- but Harry never did. He took things that nobody would miss instead of obvious ones. Anyway, stealing was an ingrained practice in him, whether it be on the Isle or nicking food from the Dursleys' pantry at night. Why pay when you don't have to?

I think my moral compass has gotten greyer since my revelation. Oh, well. It's not like he was doing anything really bad. He was only stealing to survive, after all, and to him, that made all the difference. He also cursed more, which Hermione took note of, and confronted him about it, to which he said, "Sorry. Habit. Parents on the Isle don't really care if their kids are swearing. Been doing it since I was about seven. They're just kind of words to me, you know? Not all that different from all the rest."

At one point, they heard voices coming from outside the tent, but when they checked who it was with Mad-Eye's eye, they saw Ted Tonks, Dean, a man named Dirk, and two goblins. They listened to their conversation with extendable ears. They found out that Ginny, Neville, and Luna had tried to steal Gryffindor's sword out of Snape's office, and when they failed, Snape sent it to Bellatrix' Gringotts vault. Except the sword had been a fake, so it wasn't really in her vault. Very informative.

A few days later, they were arguing about where the remaining horcruxes might be, never mind they had no way to destroy them yet.

"I'm telling you, there's got to be one at Hogwarts!" Harry insisted, for what felt like the dozenth time.

"Really?" asked Ron speculatively. "His school?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "If anything was important to him, it was Hogwarts. It was his home, a place that made him feel like he belonged, that made him believe he was special. It was everything to him, even after he left."

"Okay!" Hermione cut in. "But even if there was one in Hogwarts, we'd have no way of getting it! Let's come back to this, alright?"

Harry huffed, but nodded. It was always 'Let's come back to this.' It was like they didn't even want to entertain the idea. He was sure there was one in Hogwarts.

Autumn snuck up on them in a matter of weeks, and soon they were pitching their tent near piles of fallen leaves and mists made it hard for them to see much beyond their area. This, they supposed, was mostly a good thing, as if they couldn't see anything, then no one could see them either. Still, it reminded Harry too much of the constant cloud over the Isle for him to be content with it.

The lack of food was making them increasingly less focused, although it had gotten better since they learned they could summon fish, however, this was only if they were near rivers. As the weather got colder, most of the small game that was available before disappeared into hiding, and their limited food opportunities got even smaller.

"Can't you, like, transfigure food or something?" Harry asked one day.

"Food is the first of the five Principle Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration," Ron and Hermione said at the same time. Ron continued, "It's part of the seventh year curriculum, so you wouldn't know it unless you read ahead everything like Hermione does." He rolled his eyes, but still looked at Hermione quite fondly as he said this. Harry wondered when they would finally realize they liked each other and get together already. They sort of reminded him of the way Jay and Carlos had danced around each other for years before getting together.

Harry started taking the Marauders Map out when he was bored at night, simply to stare at Ginny's dot, hoping she was alright, and wondering whether she could feel him thinking about her. He loved her more than he had ever loved Mal, at least that's what it felt like. He snorted. Uma would say he was going soft if she ever knew what he was thinking. But he'd just retaliate by saying the same thing about her and Lonnie. Mushy couple they were, at least by Isle standards. Merlin, he missed them.

"Wake up, it's okay, Harry, wake up!" Harry started awake, and looked wildly around him. He saw Hermione and Ron standing around him, looking worried, and it all came back to him. Godric's Hollow, Bathilda Bagshot, Nagini, his wand, his wand!

"Where's my wand?" he asked abruptly, his accent coming out stronger than usual. It had settled somewhere between British and Scottish most of the time, but when he was tired, angry, annoyed, etc, the Scottish part came out hard.

They looked awkwardly at each other for a moment, and then Hermione pulled out his wand. It was nearly cut in half, with only the tiniest strand of phoenix feather holding the holly wood together. Harry sucked in a breath, and reached out for it with trembling fingers.

Hermione broke first. "I am so, so sorry, Harry, I think it was me. As we were leaving, you know, the snake was coming for us, and so I cast a Blasting Curse, and it rebounded everywhere, and it must have - must have hit -"

"It's okay," said Harry robotically. "It's not your fault. It was an accident. It's fine. We'll- we'll share the two we have for now." He tucked the pieces of the wand into the mokeskin bag, and laid back down. Ron and Hermione quietly left him to his thoughts.

It's fine, he told himself. You spent nineteen fucking years on the Isle without magic and survived. You'll be fine. But nobody else on the Isle had magic either, so he wasn't at a disadvantage. Plus, he'd had his other weapons. His sword, and his daggers and knives that he didn't have now. He sighed. He wished for them back, both his weapons, and his friends. He missed them. So much.

About a week later, they set up the tent in the Forest of Dean, which reminded Harry of Dean Thomas, who was also on the run, and he hoped Dean was okay. That night, while he was keeping watch, a bright silver light seemed to be making its way towards him, through the trees. He stood to get a better look, and a silver doe padded her way forward. She looked like a patronus, though no one else was there. She turned and started walking away from him, and he had the strange, compulsing need to follow her. Telling Ron and Hermione didn't seem so important anymore.

She led him to a small frozen pond just away from the tent. As he looked through the ice, he saw the Sword of Gryffindor lying there beneath the ice. He figured out he had to jump in the lake to get it. He stripped off all his clothes, except for his mokeskin bag and underwear, and pointed his wand at the ice. "Diffindo." The ice broke. He jumped in.

Water. Water. The sword. Cold, cold, cold. Drowning. Again? Huh.

He landed facedown in the snow, hacking his lungs out. Ron was there, asking why the hell he hadn't just vanished the ice, so he wouldn't get stuck down there.

"Sorry," Harry said, his voice scratchy from coughing. "Didn't think to. We can't all be transfiguration masters, can we?" He asked sarcastically.

Ron chuckled. "Sorry," he said. "Just, be careful."

Harry nodded, then tried to change the subject. He still wasn't quite used to people openly displaying affection and worry for him. "Did you get the sword?" he asked. Ron nodded and held it up, sensing that Harry needed the subject change. Harry was grateful. Ron was a really good friend, despite what some people thought.

"Yeah," Ron said, examining it.

"Your grip is all wrong," Harry said automatically.

Ron looked at him, surprised. "It is? How do you know?"

"I was quite good with a sword last time around," Harry said, grinning a bit. "I hope those skills have carried over to this life, like your transfiguration talent did."

"Probably," said Ron. "Could you show me?"

Harry glanced around nervously. He had just realized that they were not within the safe boundaries of their protection wards anymore, and were liable to get attacked at any moment. "Yes, but not here," he said. "When we get back to the tent. But we should get rid of the locket Horcrux now. I think you should do it."

"Me?" asked Ron, confused. "Why?"

"I remember Dumbledore saying something about the magic of acts, or whatever. You got the sword out of the pond; I think it's supposed to be you."

Ron stared at him for a moment. "All right," he said, finally. "But how are you going to open it?"

"I'm going to open it with parseltongue," Harry said, like he'd known it all along. "Make sure you stab it right away, don't give it time to get into your head."

"Okay," Ron said, still a bit bewildered.

Harry took the locket out of his bag and put it on a rock in front of them. Ron positioned the sword directly above it. "Ready?" Harry asked. Ron nodded. "Open," hissed Harry. The locket flipped open. Ron brought the sword down. There was a hissing, then a shrill scream, and then quiet.

Harry grinned. "Brilliant, Ron. Let's get back to Hermione."

Hermione, of course, yells at them for leaving the tent before congratulating them on getting the sword, but it's not like they expected any less from her, so it wasn't too bad. "But what are we going to do with the sword now?" she asks.

Harry looks at her. "Well, we'll keep it, obviously. And when we find any of the other horcruxes, we'll destroy them with it. And in the meantime," he picks the sword back up. "I'm going to brush up on my sword fighting skills. This will be especially good now, since I don't have my wand anymore."

Hermione stared at him. "You can use a sword?" she asked in surprise.

Harry scoffed. "Hermione, I was a pirate. Of course I can use a sword."

Being locked in the cellar of Malfoy Manor kind of sucked. Hearing Hermione's screams above them was even worse. They seemed to be cutting through him like his old knives would, and he tried not to think about how once upon a time he might have been the Bellatrix in this situation.

Letting Pettigrew kill himself with his own hand was much more satisfying than it maybe should have been, and Ron tried to help for some reason, though Harry couldn't imagine why.

When Dobby got them out and took that knife for them, Harry felt like crying his eyes out and trying to seem indifferent to the pain at the same time. He did neither. Instead he asked why. "Why, Dobby? Why would you do that? Take a knife for us?"

Dobby didn't answer. He had already let out his last breath. But then, Harry thought he might not need to. He already knew why. Wouldn't he take a knife for Uma, Gil, Luna, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Mal? Yes. He would. He probably even would for Jay or Carlos or Lonnie or Neville or Evie or Fred or George.

Damn, he's gone soft. What is that, fourteen people? And to think it used to be only two, maybe, if the circumstances were right and he felt like it. It hurt to think of a time when he thought about what he would do as captain if Uma died, or when he wouldn't have protected Gil with his life. But he knew he would have done both at a certain point in time.

Riding a dragon is just plain awesome. No question about it. This is the best thing he's ever done. "If only Mal could see me now," he said out loud, the wind muffling his words so the others did not hear him. "Riding a dragon. Wow."

On the ground, Harry broke away from a vision, panting. "He knows," he gasped out. Ron and Hermione were looking at him worriedly; they obviously saw him get the vision. "He knows, and he's going to check where they are, and the last one is at Hogwarts. I knew it!" he exclaimed furiously, already standing up. I told you. We have to go."

And they were running, and Harry flung the Cloak over them, and they apparated right into Hogsmeade, and of fucking course there was a charm alerting the Death Eaters, that was just his luck, wasn't it? And there were dementors too, isn't that fantastic?

"Fuck, it's your eye I've been seeing in the mirror," Harry said as soon as he saw Aberforth's face. "Oops, uh, sorry. Thank you for helping us."

Aberforth grunted. "Shouldn't have come here anyway."

"You sent Dobby," Harry said.

He nodded, and looked around. "Thought he'd be with you. Where have you left him?"

"He's dead," Harry said shortly. "Bellatrix."

Aberforth's face seemed impassive, and Harry knew Ron and Hermione would have thought it was, but he was an expert at reading expressions. On the Isle, he'd always be the one who interrogated someone, because he could always tell if they were lying. Gil was shit at it, and Uma grudgingly agreed that this was one thing he was better at. Aberforth's eyes flicked down just the slightest bit, and Harry could see him discreetly clench his jaw. "I'm sorry to hear it," he said. "I liked that elf."

Aberforth didn't want them to go into the school, which, Harry had to admit, made sense. It was very reckless, and could so easily go wrong but…

"My brother Albus wanted a lot of things," said Aberforth, "and people had a habit of getting hurt while he was carrying out his grand plans. You get away from this school, Potter, and out of the country if you can. Forget my brother and his clever schemes. He's gone where none of this can hurt him, and you don't owe him anything."

"I'm not doing this because I owe anyone!" Harry yells. " I'm doing it so people dont keep fucking dying. I'm doing it so nobody else gets hurt. It has nothing to do with your brother! He just told me how to do it."

Aberforth looked at him. "And did he really tell you everything you needed to know?"

Harry wanted so much to say 'yes' if only for the sake of winning the argument, but he couldn't. He was tired and frustrated, and his brain felt sluggish, and he couldn't think right, but he forced himself to try. Just do it.

Somehow in that time, Aberforth had been pushed into telling Ariana's story by Hermione, and he told them a story about how Ariana got attacked, and how their father went to jail, and how Ariana liked him the best, and how their mother was killed. How Dumbledore had to come home to look after her, but didn't want to, and got distracted by Grindelwald, and helped him work for The Greater Good. And how Ariana had died, in that end duel, and Harry didn't even want to know what happened after.

"Did your brother love Grindelwald?" Harry asked Aberforth quietly. He looked at him, shocked. "Was he in love with him?" Harry asked, louder.

"Yes, I believe he was," Aberforth said quietly, angrily. "And I don't think he's ever stopped loving him. Not even after all the things he's done," he said. An ugly look was passing over his face, and Harry quickly changed the subject.

"We need to get into Hogwarts," he said. "If you know a way, that'd be great." He doesn't say anything else.

Aberforth walked over to Ariana's portrait and said, "You know what to do."

Harry was confused until the whole painting swung open like a door and Neville came out of it."

They were in the Room of Requirement when the passage door opened and Luna and Dean came running in. Seamus whooped with delight and smashed into Dean, kissing him full on the mouth. Luna beamed brightly and exclaimed, "Hello, everyone! It's great to be back!"

A few minutes later the door opened again, and this time Ginny and Fred and George and Lee came through, and Harry felt his heart stop and he wondered how he could have ever thought he loved Mal when this feeling he had for Ginny was so much greater and all he wanted to do was grab her and forget everything, and damn, life seems like it's always awful for him isn't it?

Harry just about lost his mind when he saw Amycus spit in McGonagall's face. He swung the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, "You shouldn't have done that." Amycus spun around, and Harry, without hesitation, shouted, "Crucio!"

The Death Eater was lifted off his feet and with a crunch and a shattering of glass, smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, writhing in pain, to the floor.

"I see what Bellatrix meant," said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, making him lightheaded with rage. "You need to really mean it." And he meant it. For the first time since his revelation, he remembered what it was like to want to cause people pain, to want them to hurt, to make them want for death. It was an ugly, twisting feeling, and he hadn't felt it since the Isle, not to this degree.

"Well, how about that, Uma? Still got it then," he said, his Scottish accent coming out hard, remembering a conversation they'd had a few months before his death, when they'd wondered about whether they'd ever really lose the ruthlessness the Isle forces on you.

McGonagall looked at him, bewildered, probably because she didn't know what he was doing here, or why his voice had changed, or why he was speaking to some unknown person. Probably thought he was crazy.

When they got back to the Room of Requirement, they heard Ginny arguing with her mother about fighting. "I can't go home!" she shouted, brown eyes flashing with just as much beauty as Mal's when they glowed green, in Harry's opinion. "My whole family's here, I can't stand waiting there alone and not knowing and -" Her eyes meet Harry's as she notices he's there. She looked at him, pleading silently.

"I think she should be able to fight," Harry says slowly, aware of Mrs. Weasley's wrath. "I think she's earned it. You don't get possessed by someone and not want revenge. Let her fight."

Mrs. Weasley shouted loudly, but Ginny looked at Harry so thankfully he didn't have time to doubt his decision. People on the Isle fought to the death at much younger ages, after all. And Ginny was far more capable than some of them. Besides, she'd never forgive him if he said no.

Before Mrs. Weasley had the time to argue the matter any longer, Percy literally crashed out of the tunnel. And he was apologizing, and Harry was ready to step in if all the Weasleys refused to, but then Fred stepped up, and forgave him, and Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Because if they could forgive Percy, then maybe, if he lived through this, they could forgive him for being fucking Captain Hook's son.

The Grey Lady was infuriating. It seemed impossible to get anything out of her, and he badgered her for about five minutes, until she slipped and admitted she was actually Ravenclaw's daughter, which, he had to admit, was very unexpected.

She told him she stole the diadem and hid it, and didn't even come to say goodbye to her dying mother. Then she told him that the Bloody Baron, of all people, came to get her, and stabbed her when she wouldn't come, then stabbed himself out of guilt.

"That's like a really twisted Romeo and Juliet story," Harry remarked.

The ghost went on to tell him the diadem had been hidden in Albania, and that she had also told Tom Riddle the story, and oh shit. "The night he asked for the job!" Harry realized, and took off running, calling his thanks behind him.

Saving Malfoy was the right thing to do, though Harry did still hesitate for a second before coming to his senses. "Ugh. Evie would kill me," he muttered as they ran down the corridor, almost bumping right into the backs of Percy and Fred.

"You actually are joking, Perce, I don't think I've heard you joke since you were-" Fred was cut off by the air itself exploding, and Fred was still laughing and why wasn't he running!? Harry grabbed him, and yanked him backwards just as they were all blown in the air. Harry kept as tight a hold on Fred as he could, and then he felt him gripping him back, and they all landed on the ground hard.

The air cleared and Harry could see Percy looking around frantically and Fred on top of his chest. Fred wasn't moving, but Harry could feel him breathing. "Percy!" Harry yelled, his throat scratchy. He cleared it. "Percy!" Percy looked over and immediately saw Fred. "He's alive," Harry said, before he could ask. "Just unconscious."

Percy breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Ron and Hermione are behind there," he said, pointing behind a tapestry. Harry could see them from this angle, whispering in frantic voices, but they came out when they heard Percy talking to him.

"Wake up!" Harry said to Fred, poking him a bit. "Wake up!" It wasn't working. He glanced at Ron, an idea forming. "Do you think if I sounded a little unfamiliar, he'd wake up?"

Ron knew what he was trying to say. "Maybe?" he said, Percy looking at them confusedly. "Can you try to sound like a threat? That might startle him awake."

Harry laughed. Sound like a threat? Easiest thing ever. They were about to find out just how bad he was. "No problem," he said. Then he put on his thickest Scottish accent and tried to pretend Fred was an Isle enemy. "Hey, Freddie?" he asked in a sing-song voice. "Do you wanna know what happened to George?" he asked rhetorically, thinking of the time they took precious King Ben. If he had his hook, this would be perfect. Too bad.

"Yeah? Well, you know what? We nicked him. And, if you want to get him back, you should come up to the Astronomy Tower at six sharp, tonight. Or he might just find out what happens when someone falls from that tower, and first hand too. And you don't want that do you?" He said in a would be casual tone, if you didn't know Harry Hook at all. Fred breathing starts to quicken. Perfect. It's working. "Yep, tonight at six, he's got a one-way trip scheduled to that tower. The highest tower in Hogwarts, did you know? But, you know, just imagine everything we could do before then. I mean, the chains and the swords and we can even use curses now, and don't forget all the water-"

Fred woke up, gasping. "George?" he breathed out. Then he noticed Harry on top of him, looking smug, and Ron and Hermione off to the side gaping at him, looking a bit scared, and Percy looking so confused, torn between wondering what the hell Harry had been doing, and happy that Fred was awake. "George?" he asked again, firmer this time.

Harry patted his head. "George is fine; we just needed you to wake up. Sorry about that. Are you okay now?" he asked, his accent not disappearing. Great. It'd probably be there for the rest of the day. Or...night. Whatever.

Fred looked bewildered. "Yeah, I'm fine. But George is too, right?"

"Yes, George is fine," Hermione said, pulling Harry off of him, leaving Percy and Fred there, and they were running again.

"Bloody hell, Harry, you sounded scary," Ron said. "Like- like someone who-who…"

"Someone who enjoys torture, I know," Harry said bitterly.

"Well, yes, a little bit," Hermione looked sorry for even saying that, but Harry didn't really mind.

"I told you I wasn't a very good person for a while." he said. "It wasn't hard to think of things that I could say. I've done it so often before." He went to say something else, but he got pulled into a vision, and all he could say when he came out of it was, "Shrieking Shack."

Harry rose out of the pensieve and crashed onto the floor, unbalanced. Apparently he was destined to die young in all his lives. He felt as though he could cry, but he stubbornly held the tears back. Now was not the time for crying. Except he wanted to live, so much. He wanted to kiss Ginny, and practice with swords again, and visit Auradon. He wanted to see Uma, Gil, Mal, Carlos, all of them. He wanted to get his hook back; he knew they would have kept it. But no, he had to go and fucking get himself killed, on purpose. "26 and seventeen. 43 years of life in two lives. How sad."

In the forest, Harry turned the stone over three times, and he saw them come out of it. Neither ghost nor flesh, just like when Tom Riddle came out of the diary. James was there, smiling crookedly, and Lily, beaming and pushing her hair back. Remus was younger, less shabby, with a brighter light in his eyes that Harry had never seen before. Sirius, with an easy grace to him and happier than Harry had ever seen him, not looking haunted as Azkaban had left him. And… "Gil," Harry whispered. "How?"

Gil looked slightly older than Harry remembered, but not as old as he'd imagined he'd be at this point. Gil smiled at him, and said, "About five years ago, was being too reckless, got in a car crash."

"But you were happy, right? And what about everyone else? Uma and Lonnie, Carlos, Mal and them?"

Gil smiled. "Yeah, they're all doing great. I married Jane, you know, and we had a little girl named Gabby. She's amazing, you'd love her. She'd be ten now. And Jay and Carlos are doing great, Lonnie and Uma finally got married and adopted a little girl, Leta. She's thirteen. And Evie and Doug have three kids, twin boys and a younger girl, fifteen and nine, Daniel, Evan, and Eliza."

Harry was soaking all of this up, wishing more and more he could go visit them. His parents and Sirius and Lupin, off to the side, also listening.

"And," Gil hesitated. "Mal and Ben have got two daughters, Madison, twenty, Breanna, fourteen, and a son, Mason, eleven. Madison's the queen now." He glanced warily at Harry, as if afraid he was going to rage about it, but he just smiled.

"Good for her," he said, and he meant it. Gil looked astonished. "I'm not going to go crazy on you, Gil, don't worry. I mean it. That's great. She's done so much better for herself than I ever did," he sighed. "Did you save my hook?" he asked, wanting the subject to change.

Gil looked thrown but answered anyway. "Yeah. Uma found it with you, and she wouldn't let go of it for months. Used to hold it at night while she pretended not to cry. Now she keeps it in your old room on the ship. That's where she and Lonnie live now, but it's been turned into more of a houseboat. They go out on it about once a month."

Harry smiled at him, holding back tears, and turned to the other four. Gil moved back. The first thing Sirius said was, "Since when do you have a Scottish accent, Harry?"

Oh. Right. That. "Since I had my revelation," he answered. "I was very much from Scotland, and also the son of Captain Hook."

"What?" asked Remus and Lily, startled. James and Sirius just looked confused.

"Never mind," Harry said. "Remus, I'm so sorry, Teddy..."

"It's alright. I'm sorry too, sorry I could never know him, but I hope he'll understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life. And he'll be okay. Andromeda will take care of him."

Harry nodded. He felt the chill breeze on the back of his neck. He looked at them. "You'll stay with me?"

"Until the very end," James said.

Harry looked at Gil. "It's okay," Gil said. "Because we're rotten."

"To the core," Harry finished, smiling.

Harry had forgotten how exasperating talking to Dumbledore was. He could not seem to give a straight answer. At least he said he wasn't dead. And apparently his soul was now free of Voldemort's, which was encouraging, to say the least. "So, Voldemort killed his Horcrux then, and not me?" he asked slowly.

"Well, yes," said Dumbledore. "But why couldn't he kill you? Think, Harry."

"Because," Harry said, thinking out loud. "Because he took my blood?"

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Yes!" he said, sounding quite delighted. "Precisely. He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it! Your blood in his veins, Harry, Lily's protection inside both of you! He tethered you to life while he lives!"

"Well, that was stupid of him," Harry remarked.

"Yes," Dumbledore said sagely, lips twitching. "It most certainly was."

"So, you knew this? You didn't really want me to die?" Harry asks, and he hates how desperate he sounds, but he can't help it, so few people care.

Dumbledore grows serious. "Harry, of course I didn't. And while I didn't know that for certain, I had a very good guess, don't you agree?"

He nodded.

Dumbledore told him about the wands, which Harry still didn't quite understand, so he changed the subject again. "The Deathly Hallows," he said.

Dumbledore looked grave now, and sad.

He told him of his obsession of the Deathly Hallows, and of Grindelwald, and of his sister's death, which Harry really did not want to hear about again, but he forced himself to listen, because Dumbledore seemed like he needed this. It didn't seem like he'd ever talked about it before.

Right before he left, Harry asked Dumbledore, "Were you in love with him? Grindelwald?"

Dumbledore looked at him, shocked.

"It just didn't seem like you'd wait until 1945 to even seek him out if you were just friends. For two months. And," he hesitated. "And I understand what it's like to love someone you can never have. I'd have done the same if I were you."

Dumbledore smiled at him, though behind the smile Harry could see the pain in his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I loved him. I loved him in the most painful way possible, up until my dying breath."

Harry smiled sadly. "I'm sorry."

Harry sat with Luna after the fight, after the talk with Dumbledore when he got his wand back, resting his head on her lap, her fingers combing through his hair. It was peaceful. Harry didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep on her until he woke up to a sleeping Luna and a hall considerably more empty than before. The Weasleys remained, as well as Dean and Seamus and Neville and Hermione, and Luna of course, but everyone else was gone. Either at home or in the hospital wing, Charlie said.

"So," Fred said firmly once Luna had woken up. "Now that this is all over, you owe me an explanation of what in the name of Merlin you did to me to wake me up before."

Harry smiled. "Have you ever heard the story of Captain Hook?"

Yeah, just couldn't seem to let Fred die so... Anyway, I hope you all liked the story, and reviews make me happy! :)