Pieces of Me, Scattered to the Wind

Ashes of One's Self

Harry threw up.

"Trust me, this place makes me sick too," a voice rang out from somewhere out in the graveyard. Why was it so familiar? "You'll get used to it. I did. And if I did, you will." The voice was making its way towards him and eventually a figure emerged from the fog. Who was that?

Was that... Harry?

Harry's shock and disbelief caused his magic to curl around him, ready to protect, to defend, to kill any threats.

"How is this possible?" This was definitely cause for Harry to be admitted to St. Mungo's mental ward.

"Don't panic! There aren't actually two of us! I'm like a younger you. You from a few months ago." Ah yes because that really cleared shit up for Harry.

"Ok say I chose to actually believe you, why are you here? What do you want? And what the fuck am I supposed to call you?" Other Harry (the Second?) smiled.

"You can call me anything you want. I'm here to show you something, I think I can help you." The earnestness and honesty that shone in Other Harry's eyes was rather convincing. After all, what did Harry have to lose. Maybe this 'other him' knew how to get out of here so Harry could return to the real world.

"Ok fine. Help me get out of here." Harry felt kind of bad about how harsh he was being to himself(?) "Also, let me redo my introduction. 'Hi, I'm Harry" Other Harry smiled brightly and waved.

"Hello Harry." Harry smiled, was this how other people saw him?

"So, what exactly are you?" Other Harry's smile faded a bit, and a shadow of pain was behind it.

"I'm you. Well actually I'm a different version of you. The one that was abused and called a freak. The one that was a pawn to all the old bastards who used us." Other Harry's voice was so soft and full of pain. Because they had the same memories Harry understood exactly how Other Harry was feeling.

"So, who am I?" He questioned softly. The sooner he could get this figured out, the sooner he could leave.

"You are going to be the better version of us. Stronger." There was absolute certainty in the voice of his doppelganger. Harry had no idea why he sounded as certain as he did. In Harry's mind he was holding on by a thread and was inches away from trying to Cruciate everyone who ever came within 10 feet of him.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Come with me. I'll show you." And with that Other Harry walked away. Harry quickly followed. They walked for what felt like a mile in silence before Harry thought to ask,

"Where are we going?" Other Harry turned to look at him, completely solemn. He pointed to the ground.

"Here."

It was a grave that was marked, Dorea Black-Potter.

"Is that-"

"Our grandmother" Other confirmed. He squatted next to the grave, and Harry followed him down. "Reach out, touch the headstone."

"Why?" Touching his dead grandmother's headstone seemed dark and sort of messed up, even with Harry's new mindset.

"Don't you want to get out of here?" Hastily, Harry reached out and laid his palm upon it. He gasped and was sucked into a vision.

They were in a huge sitting room; all of the upstairs of the Durley's house could've fit in the room. It was decorated richly and the entire room screamed generational wealth. He turned to other Harry.

"Why are we here?"

"Shh, just watch" the doors banged open and a beautiful young woman walked stormed in. her black hair was pinned up and her silvery eyes gleamed with anger. She was followed by a black haired, hazel eyed man with an utter birds nest for hair. Wait... these were his grandparents.