Chapter - 17 : Scars Part - 6

The Library was unmanned which left Harry free to peruse any section of it that he wished. Unfortunately there was no section on dimensional magic and he had no idea on where to look.

"Figures," he muttered, "the one time you need her Pince is nowhere to be found."

A brainwave had him vacate Hermione's sanctuary and head to the seventh floor instead. The Room of Requirement could hold all the books the library hosted, except one could ask for a selection of its contents.

His gut clenched tight when he opened the door and was faced with a bare room the size of a broom closet. A small wooden desk was set against the opposite wall, occupying half the available space. The only other piece of furniture present was the simple wooden chair in front of it.

Stacked neatly on the surface of the desk were three books.

Harry swallowed. "At least I won't have to read that much."

It proved to be even less than he expected. Two of the books were on completely different topics and only mentioned dimensional magic in passing. Unnatural, Dark and ill advised were some of the terms used.

The third had a single chapter dedicated to the subject. It was a history tome of peculiar people and it listed all seven known dimensional travellers to this world that were known to have existed.

Three had been dead on arrival. One had died of his wounds after a month-long coma. The last three had survived and lived out their lives on Earth.

Summed up briefly, there was no way home.

It hit him like a bludger in the gut. His shoulders slumped and he let himself fall forward until his head hit the desk.

He was stuck here and he could never go home.

Teddy. Ron, Hermione, Andi, Emma, Dan, everyone. They were all forever lost to him.

The selfish actions of a group of self-deluded individuals had taken them from him.

Fury overtook him, and in that moment, Harry could have happily gone on a killing spree.

The Room of Requirement understood his need better than he did and with a groan expanded around him. Marble pedestals grew from the ground up and glass busts of various Order members appeared out of thin air on top of them. A beaters bat materialised on top of the desk and Harry grabbed it like a lifeline.

Howling his grief he vented his anger on the glass sculptures, smashing them to splinters before moving on to the next. The jarring impact of the hard wood against glass jaws felt immensely satisfying. The sound of crunching as he pounded the remains into the pedestal was similarly so.

Behind him, the broken glass silently vanished and new sculptures appeared so that he never ran out of targets. By the time he ran out of energy and slumped against the wall an assortment of small cuts covered his exposed skin and his shirt was spattered with little droplets of blood.

Harry groaned and let himself slide down until he was sitting on the floor. Slipping his new wand from his holster, he cast his very first successful spell with it. "Episky." He cast his second to fiftieth as well when he repeated it again and again for every cut.

When he was finally healed as best as he was able he observed the destruction he had wrought dispassionately. It was fortunate he had been here when the dam burst on his emotions: had he encountered actual Order members in that state he wasn't sure what would have happened. However, now that his temper had cooled somewhat – more through exhaustion than actual conflict resolution – he needed a plan.

What was he going to do?

His mind absolutely refused to consider 'fighting Voldemort' a valid answer to that question so instead he tried to focus on what else he knew about this world besides the fact that dark bastard was still alive. Quickly he realised that was very fucking little.

His first order of business would have to be to learn the differences from his own world. So far everything had seemed remarkably similar, except for apparently being female – wasn't that mind-boggling – and Trelawney getting captured. However, there might be a thousand little details that could prove important later on which he simply did not know.

So, what? "I need to learn about the history of this world?" he half stated, half asked.

A comfortable looking reading nook appeared in the corner with a plush armchair that looked divine from where he was sitting on the cold stone floor. It was separated from a merrily cracking fireplace by a low coffee table. The little corner slowly tinted a familiar red and gold and for the first time since being yanked from his home Harry felt even a little bit comforted. The familiarity was very welcome.

He dragged his tired and sore body over and sagged heavily in the chair. It felt like it moulded itself to his shape and he almost moaned at the sensation. Once seated he could see the bookcase that had appeared against the other wall when he wasn't looking.