So this fic is pretty much exactly what it says on the tin. Also it's a cheeky response to every time one of us has started reading an incredible fic, only for it to be abandoned before reaching the best part! Featuring much drama and trope-y goodness.

Each oneshot/drabble will be labeled with its situation and the pairing/s that may be involved, so it will be easy for everyone to skip things that are not their jam. I will label crossover fandoms and any necessary trigger warnings as well.

This will have a somewhat interactive element. By that I mean: if there's a trope, a pairing, or a situation you really want to see, drop it in a review and you just might see it written.

First Trope: Harry Potter is a… Dimensional Traveler

Dimension Travel 01: Recognized (Gen)

Life in an alternate dimension sucked. The universe was terrible. Harry grumbled unintelligibly to himself as he piled food onto his plate. He glanced balefully across the table at the woman seated before him. Lily Potter. She did not quite resemble the photographs he had once owned of her, however; nearly two decades older and worn down by war and loss. Her husband, James, seated beside her didn't look much better. The dim lighting of Grimmauld Place probably didn't help much, though.

He focused his gaze further down the table, eyes narrowed. But Albus Dumbledore was not looking in his direction, and so missed Harry's malicious glare. This was all his fault. The meddling old bastard. He had located a ritual designed to pull a hero out of their universe and into his own, and had manipulated most of the Order into going along with the ridiculous plan.

In this universe Harry James Potter had perished as an infant. James and Lily Potter survived however, as did Voldemort. The Dark Lord had become free to continue his reign of terror without being vanquished for 10 years as he had in Harry's original timeline. In his infinite wisdom, Dumbledore had decided to pin his hopes on some total stranger instead doing the dirty work himself.

However, that was not the only reason for Harry's ire. He idly twisted a lock of his light brown hair. Thankfully when he was forcibly dragged from his own world he had been wearing his cloak with the hood up, spelled so that no one would be able to see his face or remove it without his permission. He had glamoured himself at the first opportunity into a non descript stranger with brown hair and blue eyes. It was rather a pain that his cursed scar wasn't affected by it, but lengthening his fringe to hide it better seemed to do the trick. It wouldn't do to have people distracted by his identity, and it wasn't fair to the Potters to bond with their (sort of) dead son only to have him taken away after he completed his task. It wasn't fair to Harry himself, either.

These were not his parents; the ones who sacrificed their lives for him. Just… mirror reflections of what might have been. Harry was happy to observe and get to know them from a distance, or at least that's what he told himself. Still a small, selfish part of him ached to tell them, to feel the comfort of a true familial embrace, to interact with his own flesh and blood rather than ghostly images.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair, sighing in frustration. The muted chatter around the room abruptly ceased as a loud crash echoed throughout. The glass in Lily Potter's hand had slipped from her fingers, shattering impressively into a thousand pieces at her feet. Her face was white as parchment. She didn't seem to hear her husband's worried questions, focused as she was on the young man across from her.

"Henry," she spoke Harry's (hastily-chosen) cover identity as though it physically pained her. "Y-you… you're wearing a glamour, aren't you?" She stuttered, voice hardly above a whisper.

Harry's face paled to match hers. How did she know? Damn, his scar. He must have swiped his fringe back accidentally, and in front of his mother no less! The one person who was sure to recognize the lightning-shaped mark on his forehead for what it was.

"Answer me!" Lily barked. If everyone in the room wasn't already focused on the two of them, they certainly were now. Harry stammered a denial as his body flooded with adrenaline. This couldn't be happening. He should have taken more precautions. Stupid, stupid-

"What? No, of course not! I-" but he never got to finish his denial, for Mad-Eye Moody had leapt into action and hit him with a Finite Incantatem followed by a rope binding hex before Harry even had a chance to react.

He could do nothing but shut his eyes tightly and bow his head in defeat. Cries of shock and outrage echoed about, barely audible to Harry over the sound of his own heart hammering in his ears. There was a secondary crash as James leapt out of his seat with such force he sent his chair flying backward.

"You...you-" Harry's not-father was lost for words as he frantically reached for his wife's hand without looking away from the devastatingly familiar stranger before him.

Harry finally gave in and opened his eyes. He had to look, to know what they were going to do. The Potters seemed to visibly fold in on themselves with the force of their combined grief as they viewed his features in full; lightning scar, untidy black hair, green eyes and all.

"Harry…" James breathed, wavering. They may not have had the chance to see their son full-grown, but there was no mistaking Lily's eyes or a fucking identical copy of James' own face staring back at them in sheer terror.

"Nooo, no no no no no." Harry chanted; more to himself than anyone in particular. "I'm not- I'm not your son. My parents are dead. I don't belong here stop looking at me like-" He stilled, as suddenly and completely as if he'd been petrified, when Lily touched a fingertip lightly to his scar.

"Sowilo." She whispered almost reverently as she traced its shape. "Th-the Norse rune for the sun, for victory. It worked. I d-decided not to go through with the ritual before Vol-" Lily choked on her words as she began to sob, turning away into her husband's chest while she cried. James held her tightly. He appeared shaken and pale, clutching his wife closely as though she were the only thing keeping him upright.

Harry's own face crumpled in response. This was an awful way for his parents to find out. He hadn't wanted them to, but if it had to happen it would have been so much easier if he had killed Voldemort first. Now they would be severe liabilities to each other, rather than neutral allies. And if he was successful in completing his mission and returning home to his world, then what? It would be cruel to build a relationship with these people only to rip it away again. Nothing about this situation was fair. He fought down his own frustrated tears and bowed his head once more.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered to his tableware. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to ha-"

"Stop." James interrupted. His voice cut through Harry's, hard and furious. "Stop apologizing f-for being… for being our son."

"You should be apologizing for hiding it from us." Lily continued her husband's train of thought as his voice broke off on the last word. She sniffed and surreptitiously wiped her eyes, which remained red and puffy. "I-I know you're not really him, but… you're what he could have been, one day. And…from what I've learned about you so far...I would be proud to have a son like you, and I know that your mother would feel the same."

"And your father too." Added James hoarsely.

Harry's head shot back up, shocked. He had been expecting rage and denials not...this. Two broken people reaching out with tenuous acceptance. He stared blankly as the both of them walked around the table to him. The ropes binding Harry to his chair fell, vanishing into nothing with a whispered word.

Harry flinched as they reached out to him. His mouth fell open as he was drawn into their arms. He was utterly speechless. After a long pause, his hands slowly crept up around them in return. His mother's tears were wet against his cheek and his father's grip was a little too tight as they clung to him but it was still the most perfect hug Harry had ever received.

He hadn't realized how much he had ached for this, old childish wounds rubbed raw by the constant yet untouchable presence of the family he'd longed for all of his life. How many times had he dreamt of this feeling as a boy? How many times had he dreamt of it here, in this place? That he could reveal himself and everything would be okay, somehow. Harry had never realized the crushing weight he had carried within him until it was suddenly lifted, the pain soothed as the love and warmth from the bodies he held close seemed to seep into his very bones.

But… the doubts began to creep back in. Harry sighed as his eyes slipped closed. He couldn't keep them; this wasn't his life to have. For now though, he could pretend like it was. He tightened his arms around his parents. This was only temporary, he thought to himself over and over, but still, here in this moment he would take all he could from the comfort of his family.

The universe could go back to being terrible in the morning.

I imagine that the rest of this fic would be about the Potter family bonding, alternately growing close and being pushed away by Harry while he tries to figure out a way home. But little by little, they would force their way into his heart, and he would go longer and longer without angsting about his home universe until one day he wakes up in Godric's Hollow and realizes that this was his home now, and he hasn't even thought about going back to his original universe in months. So he finally settles into his new life and lets himself be happy. And alt!Dumbledore is smug as hell about it.

Dimension Travel 02: Memory (Gen)

Harry was breathing harshly, exhilarated as he dueled the alternate version of his godfather in the middle of the Great Hall. The second version of Sirius was both familiar and not, just like everyone else he had met here since his accidental trip through a parallel dimension. This Sirius had not faced twelve years in Azkaban, though he had faced many more as an Auror in opposition of Voldemort's followers. The Dark Lord had been vanquished by Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived, but had returned in a new body during the boys' fourth year much the same way as he did in Harry's world.

Harry's own counterpart was watching with interest from the sidelines with his parents along with the rest of the Order and their children. The summer Order meeting had just ended when Sirius challenged Harry (or "Evan", as he knew him) to a friendly duel.

Harry could tell that something was off, a darkly mischievous glint was in Sirius' eyes as he flung another curse at his opponent. That was one of the oddest differences between him and the man Harry had known. This Sirius had matured somewhat without the years in prison to stunt him emotionally, but the years as a battle-hardened auror had taken a different toll. He was...cruel, in a way; jaded and paranoid the same way Mad-Eye Moody was. His love of Marauding mischief warped into something colder.

Harry cast three stunners in quick succession, but they were deflected by a small, carefully controlled shield. Sirius returned a volley of unfamiliar spells, likely ones known only to him from the Black family library. Harry was not expecting the man to drop his shield so quickly, and was too slow to avoid all four curses headed his way. That didn't stop him from trying. He dove to the side, somersaulting across the stone floor. He nearly made it, but a deep navy spell collided with the side of Harry's head, just a hairs breadth from missing him.

He came to a stop and jerked his head up at Sirius. Nothing happened.

"Got you!" Sirius crowed as a blue mist suddenly surrounded Harry before exploding outward to cover the rest of the room. "Time to learn a bit more about our mysterious dimension traveler!"

Harry paled. That couldn't be good. The mist surrounding them all began to take on shape and color, as if the Great Hall has suddenly become a three dimensional Impressionist painting. It was almost familiar, like being inside a Pensieve. The blood drained from Harry's face further as he recognized the scene descending upon them.

"The Forbidden Forest?" Asked Remus, confused.

"Sirius, what is this?" Lily Potter questioned worriedly as she watched Evan, the traveler who always seemed so in control and clever sway where he knelt, as though he were about to be sick. Sirius didn't answer however, drawn as he was to the sight of a younger Evan, bloodied and shaking, taking form from the mist. Clenched tightly in his hands was a golden snitch.

"Stop this!" Harry shouted from his position on the floor. "Please, you can't-" He sucked in a breath, panting as he did his best not to hyperventilate.

"...Please. You don't want to see this." He said lowly as his misty doppleganger pressed the snitch to his lips. A shiver ran down Sirius' spine at the young man's deadened tone. It was too late anyway, the spell had no counter. It had been originally invented by a Black who enjoyed creating torture spells to use on his enemies. This particular one was rather tame; based off of the abilities of a Boggart and a Dementor, combined with the properties of a Pensieve. It showed the victim, and anyone else in their vicinity, their most private memory. Sometimes it was entertaining, such as the times it showed an embarrassing sexual encounter. Other times it was disturbing. Had had the feeling this was one of the latter.

"I am about to die." Said the mist-Harry. Many gasps and confused questions rose from the crowd. The sense of foreboding which hung over the scene like a shroud pressed heavily down on everyone present. The whispers died down, only to pick up once more as the snitch broke open to reveal a stone.

"The Resurrection Stone." Harry said numbly. He didn't want to see this but found himself unable to look away. There were more questions and cries of "Impossible!" fired rapidly in his direction, but he ignored them. They'd understand soon enough. He felt disconnected from his emotions, from his body, even. He watched the past vision of himself turn the stone three times.

A cacophony of noise erupted from the watchers as they were given proof of the Deathly Hallows in the ghostly forms of James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily in the mist.

"You've been so brave." Lily watched in shock as a younger, dead version of herself spoke to Evan. The mist boy was striking in how much he resembled the Potter men. She had noticed it before in the young man's features though they'd been heavily obscured by his long hair and numerous scars. She watched ghost James tell the boy how proud they were. Her knees buckled and a low moan escaped Lily's lips as she figured it out.

He...he was Harry! But not, as her own Harry was seated just a few feet away, staring in shock at the scene around him. He seemed to have figured it out, too.

Why hadn't Evan-Harry, ever said anything?! He'd been living among them for months, always at a politely reserved distance. Lily watched in mounting horror as the mist figure asked if it would hurt.

"Dying? Not at all, quicker and easier than falling asleep." Said the other Sirius. The Sirius Black who had started this all gave a start. What on Earth was going on in this memory? It was Remus' turn to startle next as his other self spoke with the young Evan about his son. He could not imagine such a thing.

"You'll stay with me?"

"Until the very end."

They all stared, rooted to the spot as the memory appeared to fast forward in time, leaving the mist Evan standing in a clearing opposite Voldemort himself, surrounded by Death Eaters, Giants, and Dementors. Hagrid was tied to a nearby tree. The non-mist half giant watched in shock as his other self interrupted Evan and the Dark Lord with a scream.

"HARRY! NO! NO! NO HARRY WHAT'RE YEH-?" Those who had not already put it together gasped as Evan's true name was revealed. Lily blinked back tears, reaching for her husband's hand beside her. James appeared stricken and pale. He gripped her hand as tightly as she gripped his.

Evan, or Harry, was still kneeling on the floor. His eyes were focused on Voldemort, utterly blank and emotionless. Lily longed to go to him, this sad, lonely vision of her son, but she didn't dare to cross through the mist. James must have felt the same, because his body jerked forward slightly beside her.

"Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived." Said Voldemort slowly, in a smug hissing voice sure to reappear in everyone's nightmares that night. He raised his wand slowly, all eyes both mist and not focused on him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Sirius shouted at his -oh gods-, alternate godson's memory. He wasn't even trying to defend himself!

The group watched in mute, collective horror as the Killing Curse struck Harry directly in the forehead. There were a few screams as his lifeless body fell to the ground and promptly dissipated. The misty scene vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a radically changed perspective of their resident dimension traveller.

Said traveller had leaned back, arms loose at his sides, to turn his deadened gaze to Sirius, eyes appearing to look right through him (emerald green, the exact shade of Harry and Lily's, why hadn't they seen-) into his very soul.

"Told you." He rasped. Sirius cringed. His plan had crumbled so swiftly around him. He'd been expecting the spell to be mostly harmless; to bring up an embarrassing memory as it had most of the other handful of times he'd used it. It was supposed to be a prank that ultimately brought the traveller closer to them all. This had been something else entirely.

The tenuous silence was abruptly broken as Evan shot to his feet and sprinted through the main doors, slamming them shut behind him as he fled. Harry jumped up to follow.

"Wait!" He cried, but Evan did not turn back. The night swallowed him whole as he vanished into the forest. The rest of the Order members were left in the Hall to digest what they had witnessed. Sirius bowed his head.

He had a lot of work to do to fix this, whatever it was.

The non existent remainder of this fic would be about exploring Harry's relationship with his alternate self and parents (why do so many fics turn alt!Harry into a jerk? He's Harry Potter, now you have double the cute! Use it!) and also exploring what Sirius Black could have become without the years in Azkaban. Some people like to bash him for his immaturity, but they forget that he was only 20-21 when he was arrested and Wizard prison is definitely not the place to grow as a person. But how much of his wilder, Black side would have grown unchecked without being tempered by Azkaban?

This was supposed to be longer and have more oneshots, but I've run out of steam for this topic. No worries for those of you who like this trope, there will be multiple installments in the future. Same with most future ones. Updates will be more irregular, as this is more of a dumping ground for plot bunnies I'm too lazy to write than anything else.

Next Trope: Secret Relationships!

Please leave your suggestions in a review on your way out. Thanks for reading!