The Silver Millennium

Authors Note: When rereading chapter ten the other day I discovered an age mistake I made. Somewhere in the chapter I put that Hermione was twenty-seven in the year 2005, which is incorrect. She was twenty-five. I don’t think anyone said anything, but I just thought I would say something, hehe. This chapter isn’t as long as the past two have been like I promised, but it isn’t terribly short either. It’s about 1,000 words shorter. So technically I still kept my promise. I liked writing this chapter, particularly the ending. The title of this chapter has to do with what JK said would be a central theme to her own book six, so I copied her. Hope you enjoy!

- | - Chapter Twelve - | -

What’s Easy & What’s Right

“Weasley! Weasley! Are you even paying attention to this lesson at all?” Professor Minerva McGonagall exclaimed. She was standing right next to the table where Ron’s head was down on the desk, his eyes closed and his mouth open as a droplet of saliva slipped out. “WEASLEY!”

“Huh?” Ron yawned, sitting up and stretching. When he saw that Professor McGonagall was standing right in front of him, he jumped slightly in his seat. “Hello, professor. What’s wrong? You look very lovely this evening.”

“Weasley, it’s twelve o’ clock in the morning,” McGonagall said acidly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you a detention. I will not stand for sleeping students in my class.” She turned away and started for the front of the class.

Ron cursed angrily under his breath as he crossed his arms. He was glaring up at the front of the class; Hermione was staring at him in complete annoyance and Harry couldn’t have really cared at what was happening.

He personally was off in his own little world, thinking over the finer plans of what he was about to do involving stealing the Time Turner from Dumbledore. Luckily he had the two handiest things a robber could possibly want when stealing something…the Marauders Map and an invisibility cloak.

The moment the bell rang, he stood up and left the classroom, not waiting for Ron or Hermione; Ron seemed to not really notice while Hermione frowned somewhat sadly. He had been acting different still and hadn’t changed. In fact, now he seemed to be avoiding them completely.

Harry was walking down the packed corridors now towards the Great Hall for lunch. He didn’t expect to run into Kira Devree, who was coming down the opposite side of the corridor, apparently looking for him, Ron and Hermione. When she spotted him and the other two somewhat behind him, she grinned.

“Perfect,” she said, “we should continue with that search. C’mon.”

“But it’s lunch,” Ron groaned lazily, “you can’t expect us to give up our only lunch of the day?”

“There’s always dinner and besides, how many lunches do you want? Seven?” Kira said brightly.

“That would be nice,” Ron murmured.

She rolled her eyes with a smirk as she started up a staircase towards the library. She had gotten quite used to the castle of Hogwarts now and knew her way around…of course she still occasionally forgot which steps were trick ones in the staircases, getting her foot caught quite often, but she was improving on that nevertheless. The trio followed her, all three of them silently. Harry was still walking ahead of his two best friends.

Yes, he was being a huge jerk to them. He knew this. But he wasn’t sure why. He just actually felt like it. That sounded mean to him whenever he thought of it, but he was tired of acting the way others seemed to want him to act. If he wanted to be a moody bastard, why should he hold back? Because he didn’t want to be rude to others? He was done with thinking of others. It only got them hurt and him hurt the same.

“Why are you walking so fast, mate?” Ron asked indifferently.

“Because I feel like it,” Harry replied in a snarl; Hermione’s frown deepened as she watched him walk ahead of her.

Kira sat down at the table they usually sat at, and she said very quietly, “listen I’ve been thinking about this whole possible teacher being the Half-Blood Prince thing, and it doesn’t sound half bad. Flitwick is Half-Blood, right? So is Hagrid. And what blood is Dumbledore? A bit old to be a Prince, but hell…anything’s possible, right?”

“Why are we looking for this Half-Blood Prince git again?” Ron asked confusedly.

“Because! According to that anonymous person that keeps contacting me from the future, the only key to saving the magical world and Muggle world, as we know it, is to find the Half-Blood Prince. Have you not learned about this in History of Magic? Sweet Merlin, Ron…a bit thick, are we?” Kira teased.

“I have another question,” Ron said. “If we find the Half-Blood Prince, what’s he going to do? Take Voldemort out for a fancy dinner to convince him not to take over the world? Flirt with him? Hell, I’d do that if you’d pay me high enough.”

“Ron, just put your head down and go to sleep,” Kira suggested, deciding it would take too long to explain everything; Ron shrugged and put his head down. Kira looked away from them and over at the entrance. “That Luna girl is heading our way. Don’t worry Ron, she’s cage-less.”

Both Kira and Hermione snickered for a moment at the memory of what had happened on the day Luna had brought her trusty pet Shelifusia; Ron looked at them resentfully.

“Hello fellow magickers. Thought I’d come help you out,” Luna said gaily. She opened her book bag and pulled out a very tattered, maroon colored book. “Bought this one at Flourish and Blotts. It’s titled, The Most Extra-Ordinary Tales & Legends of the Past by Simon Shanks the Silly. Anyway, it has a bit about the Half-Blood Prince.”

“Amazing,” Hermione said skeptically. “That’s what we need more of…fictional tales and legends by some wizard named Simon Shanks the Silly.”

Harry wasn’t paying attention at all to the conversation. No one appeared to even notice that he wasn’t. He was staring off out the library window at the Herbology green houses he could see from where he sat.

“Exactly, I know,” Luna agreed, apparently missing the skepticism. She opened the book to the book-marked page and started reading out loud, her voice still very dreamy.  “And of course one of the most magical tales of the British History of Magic, is by far the legend of the Half-Blood Prince. Wait, wait we already know all this. Let me skip a few paragraphs.” She skimmed down for the apparently important part she wanted to read to them; Hermione rolled her eyes. “Aha! Here it is. No one knows what really happened to the Half-Blood Prince Percival Pevlon, but there are many rumors from every direction. Some say he died of natural causes, a heart attack to be specific after being surprised by some youthful trick or treat-ers on Halloween night. Others seem to enjoy the tale of the Prince being hexed into a toad or frog by an evil hag and still living amongst us today. But by far the most farfetched theory is the one of the soul—“

“That’s quite enough, Luna,” Hermione interrupted. “That’ll lead us nowhere. It’s a bunch of loony opinions from loony people that don’t really know themselves. They’re just making it up to get recognized in a published book.”

Luna snapped shut her book huffily. It was the huffiest any of them had ever seen her look. She still looked dreamy though somehow, even when appearing sulky.

“That’s quite fine, Hermione. Just thought I’d read it to you. I guess I’ll be on my way now,” Luna said. She stuffed her book in her book bag and left the library immediately.

Everyone was quiet for a few seconds. The only noise at their table was coming from Ron; he was snoring very loudly, completely unaware of what was going on. Kira clapped her hands together, rubbing them together as well.

“That went well. Can’t help but wonder though if maybe one of those weird theories are right,” Kira said, shrugging. “You never know. Stranger stuff has happened.” Kira sighed. “It seems we’ll never find this Half-Blood Prince, the successor to Percival Pevlon. I wonder where he could be…”

 

- | -

The night of that November the weather was very strange indeed. There was an unfriendly air about the whole castle, especially in the Gryffindor common room or maybe Harry was just imagining it. There certainly did seem to be a high tension between himself, Ron and Hermione. They were all sitting in their usual armchairs near the fire, pretty much the only one’s left in the whole common room. The only difference was Hermione was sitting in the middle rather than Harry sitting in the middle, as was the usual case.

Ron was sitting lazily in his armchair with his quill propped loosely between his fingers and his Potions book opened over his lap. His eyes were drooped with tiredness and he was unusually quiet, a sure sign of how truly tired he was.

Hermione had of course already finished all of her homework. She was sitting reading a book about the Four Founders, containing nothing except historical facts about them; she thought that if they were ever going to find the heir to Prince Pevlon, it would be best to start with the Four Founders.

Harry was sitting with his Charms book open, but his eyes set on the fire as his thoughts seemed to be millions of miles away. The very last thing on his mind was Charms. And he also definitely didn’t notice the way Hermione kept throwing odd glances over at him out of worry.

What he really was thinking about was the Prophecy. For being a teenage boy that had previously decided he didn’t want a destiny, he had been fixating on the Prophecy a lot since he returned from the future. It seemed that the Prophecy represented to him his ultimate destiny, the reason he was born. But he wanted so badly to disobey it, to prove it wrong completely. Yet he still couldn’t find it within him to forget about it now that he was destiny-less.

Hermione seemed unable to bear the silence any longer. By the looks of her face it seemed to be causing her torture. She closed her book about the Four Founders and said very meekly to Harry, “are you okay, Harry? You seem really distracted lately.”

“I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

“That’s because I am.”

“You don’t look like you are.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m being bothered right now,” he replied with clenched teeth. He still had not taken his emerald eyes away from the fire. He could see her watching him from the corner of his eye; he didn’t want to look her in the eye. He didn’t want to look anyone in the eye lately.

Hermione stared at him plainly blinking. He would have liked to see the expression on her face, but remembered that he didn’t want to look her in the eye. He waited for her to speak.

“I’m sorry I’m bothering you so much,” she whispered.

Now he knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to make him feel guilty. Normally he would have fell right into her trap, but not this evening; something about this evening was different and he found himself resisting.

Instead he thought of the rudest thing he could say; this way he could push her away even further. After a ten second pause he replied, “you should be.”

“Okay,” Hermione sighed. “Obviously you are trying to push me away from whatever you’re hiding. If this is about the whole murdering thing.”

Ron’s eyes seemed to open fully at the word murdering. His head snapped over to where Harry and Hermione sat. His face was rid completely of any signs of tiredness.

“What murdering thing?” he asked.

“Oh this is great. Thanks, Hermione…now I know I can trust you with a secret,” Harry said sarcastically.

“No really, what murdering thing?” Ron asked persistently.

Hermione looked from Harry to Ron. Then from Ron to Harry. She appeared to not know what to say. At last she sighed again and said in a steady voice, “Harry murdered someone in the future.”

“He what!?” Ron exclaimed. His face was completely shocked. “How? Why?”

“Just forget about it!” Harry shouted.

“But how? But why? But who?” Ron asked stupidly.

“JUST FORGET ABOUT IT!” Harry shouted again this time much louder.

“Don’t I get to know what in the bloody hells happening? Why am I always the last to know?” Ron questioned angrily, “my best friend becomes a murderer and I don’t get to know this? And yet Hermione does!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione snapped, her head turning to look at Ron.

“I’m his best friend, but yet you got to know first!”

“I’m his best friend, too.” Hermione looked offended.

“You’ll always be just the second best friend, Hermione. I’ve been the best, BEST friend for longer,” Ron retorted, shrugging.

“BOTH OF YOU! SHUT UP!” Harry yelled. He stood up angrily now. They were being so annoying and immature. He wanted to lock them away forever at that moment.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Ron yelled. He also stood up. “How could you not tell me?”

“I would have, but it probably would have taken you an hour to figure it out,” Harry mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms, and turning away.

“There we go with the thick remarks again!” Ron said. “I always tell you everything!”

Hermione seemed thoroughly annoyed now as well. She being the only one still sitting stood up as well. She looked once more at both Harry and Ron before she spoke. “And what am I?” she asked them, “just someone there that bails you out of trouble with my clever plans? Is that all I am?”

Ron looked like he was tempted to say, “exactly!” But he restrained himself. They all avoided each other’s eyes for a few very awkward seconds.

“So let’s get this straight,” Ron said coolly at last, “Harry is acting like an arse because that’s who he is. Keeping secrets from his best friend. Treating everyone around him like they’re beneath the worth of his attention. I see. And you, Hermione…keeping stuff from me as well. Is there anything else I should know? Are you really my sister, Hermione? Or hell, are you married? How should I know, right? I’m too thick to figure things out.”

“Shut up Ron.” Harry didn’t want to hear anyone’s brooding but himself.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me Harry? Is there ANYTHING else anyone is hiding from me?” Ron asked loudly now.

Harry still refused to turn around to face them. He kept his back to them with his arms crossed. How he wished he had that damn Time Turner right about now to get away from both of them. For how long, he did not know.

“You know with you being a murderer, I can’t really know what you’ll never do now. Maybe you’ve been You-Know-You all this time. How should I know, right?” he repeated, “I’m too thick to figure anything out.”

“I was supposed to be a murderer anyway,” Harry whispered.

“What?” Hermione asked.

Harry exhaled. Now for some very unknown reason seemed like the perfect opportunity to inform them about the Prophecy. He turned around to face them at last, the room suddenly looking much dimmer than usual. He was aware of all the darkness in the room, all of the shadows.

“I was basically born to kill Voldemort,” he said plainly. “I was born to be a killer.”

A few things that were expected happened. Hermione had tears in her eyes. Ron’s face was immediately covered with bewilderment. Harry’s voice sounded distant. Everything seemed to be a dream.

“H-How do you know?” Hermione whispered, her nose slightly pink because she was about to start crying.

“You see there’s this thing called a Prophecy,” Harry explained in a rude and curt voice. “And it was made by Trelawney sixteen years ago to foretell the one person that could get rid of Voldemort. That person just happened to be me.”

There was silence. The silence seemed to last forever. Like for the rest of time the three of them stood there near the crackling flames in the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Hermione staring disbelievingly at Harry as if they had never seen anything quite like him, or imagined anything quite like him before.

“Of course,” Hermione whispered, “the Prophecy. It all makes sense now.”

“This is great,” Ron said loudly. The shock had passed now. “Just one more thing everyone was hiding from Ron!”

Harry nodded his head in irritation. He bent down near his book bag and started throwing his books into them, not noticing that his small black book fell out of his bag in the process of his quick movements. He hitched the bag onto his shoulder and told them very, very coldly, “I’m going out. See you whenever.”

Then he left. He left in a quick stride out the Gryffindor common room leaving his friends staring shocked behind. Ron started toward the Portrait Hole to yell something back to him, that way he could get the last word, but Hermione…she noticed something that had fallen out of Harry’s bag.

She bent down and picked up the very small black book, looking at it curiously. Slowly she opened the book and began reading it from the very first page.

- | -

Harry pulled from his bag his Invisibility cloak and his Marauders Map, his eyes searching for the office of Albus Dumbledore. When he located it, he discovered that no one was in Dumbledore’s office. He started instantly very stealthily through the darkened Hogwarts hallways towards his office.

He was lucky enough not to run into Ms. Norris at all, although he did hear Filch whistling as he walked down the hallway of a boy’s lavatory carrying his infamous lantern that served as a trusty tool for spotting students creeping in the shadows.

When he reached the door to Dumbledore’s office, Harry turned it gently, expecting it to be locked. But it wasn’t. He wondered why Dumbledore would ever leave his office door open. He stepped inside still very stealthily just in case there were any surprises.

Fawkes was asleep on his small perch near Dumbledore’s desk. Harry’s eyes scanned the length of the office hurriedly for any sign of any Time Turner. When he didn’t spot it at first he began walking through the pieces of furniture, pausing at every table and desk he seen just in case it was there.

Harry stopped. He spotted it just on Dumbledore’s main desk. It was just near his jar of ink. Harry started toward the desk only to hear footsteps at the door. He paused in mid-motion as the door opened, forcing himself to stay still as if he were some kind of statue. He didn’t want to give Dumbledore any reason at all to be suspicious that someone was there in his office.

But apparently Dumbledore wasn’t alone. Kira was with him. And they both had a cup of milk in their hands as they shut the door behind them. Harry found this sight very strange indeed.

“Dobby makes great apple pie,” Kira said, taking a swill of her glass of milk. She sat down in an armchair just near Dumbledore’s main desk. She had to wipe herself free of a milk mustache afterwards.

“Oh yes, I am afraid I have visited the kitchens on several occasions to have a slice or five of Dobby’s magnificent apple pie,” Dumbledore agreed with a chuckle. He walked towards his desk, just barely missing Harry and sat down in his chair. “Kira, we cannot avoid discussing this matter any longer. It is time we talk about it, I’m afraid.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. What were they talking about? He reminded himself again not to think so much, just to stand still. Extremely still. Dumbledore was sitting just a few inches away from him.

“You’re right,” Kira replied, emptying her glass of milk at last. “We can’t avoid talking about it much longer.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose even higher.

“We need to discuss when you’re returning to the future,” Dumbledore said sadly.

Harry’s eyebrows lowered in relief. He had been thinking something different.

“Mr. Dumbledore,” Kira began, but paused. “I mean – Albus, I thought I’ve told you already. I was going to stay until I do my part asked of me. Until I find out whom the Half-Blood Prince is. You wouldn’t happen to have any ideas, would you?” She went to reach into her robe pocket for her notepad and quill.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Kira you are one of a kind.” He sounded amused. “Truly one of a kind. As much as I would love you to stay in my present, you must go back to yours. It is how it’s meant to be.”

Kira sighed. “How about another week Mr. Dumble – I mean, Albus. How about another week? That’s all. If I don’t find him by then, then hell I’ll probably never find him. Best to quit before you look like a complete nitwit was what my foster father always told me.”

Again Dumbledore chuckled amusedly. “Very well,” he agreed, “a week. But that is all. You know how much Time Makers hate for Time Travelers to abuse their Time Turners.”

“I found that Time Turner on accident, sir. The crazy woman, she attacked me—“ began Kira.

“Yes, I’m aware of that. Ah, I believe it’s time for me to get some rest. If I don’t, I won’t be a very pleasant person to be around tomorrow,” Dumbledore joked. Kira stood up as Dumbledore stood up.

“All right, goodnight,” Kira wished. Dumbledore opened the door for her with a cheery smile.

Harry took this as an opportunity to snatch the Time Turner from his desk and quickly set it for the time he wanted to travel to. He did this a tad bit nosier than he would have liked, but he didn’t care seeing as, as he thought this he was already gone from the present, heading to the past.

- | -

“Where am I?” Harry whispered.

His eyes were looking up at the murky gray sky full of so many angry looking clouds. It looked like it wanted to rain. Somehow the reason it wanted to rain appeared to be because the sky was mad.

Harry sat up from the dirty ground he had landed on and stood up, looking curiously every way around him. He was in a playground it appeared. Not too far off he could see a set of metal swings and then next to that a slide inside a sandbox with soiled looking sand.

There were trees off in the distance that looked weathered like everything else around him. It almost seemed the world was on mute except for the clinging noises the chains of the swings were making. It was an eerie noise to Harry. It reminded him of a horror movie he had seen as a child in the Dursley’s house.

Harry turned around completely to look at what was behind him. Now he was staring directly at a four-floor brick building that also looked shabby and filthy. Practically every window was broken and the few that weren’t looked cracked at least. Underneath all of the windows was a plain brown door, above it a sign that read in slanted letters, The Better Home Children’s Orphanage.

“The Better Home Orphanage?” Harry whispered to himself, “seems like it should be called the Worst Home Orphanage. This place looks terrible.”

He shrugged and pulled his Invisibility cloak tighter around himself. He walked over to the front door. Very hesitantly he opened the door and entered the Orphanage. The first sight to meet his eyes was a very long hallway.

The walls surrounding him were a dark chocolate brown wooden color, the paint chipping off. Along the hallway walls every so often was a cheap table with a book under one of its legs to make it stand even, and on the actual hallway walls were black and white pictures of very old looking adults and some of children.

Harry took a step forward. He was alarmed when the floorboard squeaked very loudly. Besides the squeaking floorboard he could hear the voices of children coming from straight down the hall. He shrugged and followed the sound of their voices, very careful not to set off another floorboard.

He entered the very huge room where there were at least two dozen children playing all together with very cheap looking toys. The only other thing in the room besides the children and the cheap toys were many bunk beds, all for the children. Harry couldn’t imagine having to live here with so many other people in one room in such filth and stench.

No one seemed to hear as he stepped on a second floorboard that squeaked. He was looking for Voldemort, for Tom Marvolo Riddle. He knew that Voldemort looked somewhat similar to him missing the glasses and of course the scar.

“Give back my teddy, Bryant!” shouted one particular little boy that caught Harry’s eye.

“Make me, Tom. Make me,” laughed the much taller, wider boy with curly blonde hair and that had about three to four chins. He reminded Harry oddly of Dudley in some ways. “What are you going to do about it, Tom? What are you going to do about it?”

Harry stopped just a few feet away from them, watching them in a transfixed manner. For a second he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be there.

“I don’t know. Please give it back, Bryant,” said Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was frowning. He looked as if he were about to start crying. He crossed his arms in a sad pout.

Harry felt a sudden urge to grab the teddy bear from this kid Bryant and give it back to Tom. He felt this would somehow be revenge to Dudley for all of the times he wasn’t able to do that himself when he was a child. Then Harry remembered who this poor little Tom was going to end up being in the future.

“DINNER!” screeched the voice of a woman from a few rooms off. “GET YOUR LITTLE BUMS OVER HERE NOW! DINNER!”

There was a lot of scrambling and scurrying as the small children all ran towards the exit of the room. Harry was afraid one of the kids would accidentally run into him. That didn’t happen, but the next worse thing did. On her way out, a small girl with black pigtails stepped on the hem of his invisibility cloak, pulling it off of. The invisibility cloak landed on the floor.

His heart just about stopped. Luckily the girl didn’t notice she stepped on anything and continued out the room. But Bryant and Tom noticed. They looked over their shoulders at Harry, gaping at him in surprise. Harry just stood there still, almost hoping they could see right through him still. He knew he was stupid for thinking this, but somehow he still hoped it would work.

“When’d you get here?” Bryant asked.

“Erm…” Harry stuttered. “I work here.” That was the best he could think of.

“You work here, do you?” Bryant asked suspiciously. He afterward seemed to realize he couldn’t really pick on Tom any longer. He dropped the teddy bear onto the floor, stuck his tongue out at Tom and left from the room to go eat dinner.

Tom waited fearfully until Bryant was gone before he bent down to pick up his teddy bear. He stood up fully and looked over at Harry. His face was very curious.

“I’ve never seen you here,” he said.

“I’m new.”

“Thank you very much, sir.” He tipped the small little cap on his head. “If you hadn’t come Bryant would have never gave me back my teddy. You’re very brave, sir.”

He turned his back to Harry and started toward his bunk bed. Harry stood there breathing deeply. If he were going to do anything now would be the time to do it. He found his wand inside his pocket and pulled it out. He raised it gradually in front of him, ready to point a spell at him.

He had to do it. He had to kill the evil demon that was born in the form of a human that caused him so much pain, which caused so many others so much pain. He had to kill the sole source for all of the death, chaos and tragedy that was happening in the future. But yet he couldn’t. He lowered his wand, his hands shaking violently. He couldn’t murder him.

No matter how much he hated the bastard for what he had done, he couldn’t do it. Harry shoved his wand back into his pocket and ran a still very shaky hand through his hair. He felt disgusted with himself. Look what he was about to do. He was about to kill an innocent child. A child that wasn’t so different from himself when he was younger.

“Are you okay, sir?” Tom asked from where he sat on his bunk bed. He was still holding on tightly to his teddy bear.

Harry nodded. “I’m fine. I – I have to go,” he stuttered. He turned very quickly and ran out the room. He ran from the Orphanage house. He ran back into the playground where he pulled out his Time Turner.

He had to go back to the past. He knew by now that Dumbledore probably noticed his Time Turner was missing. He knew he was going to have to face Dumbledore now for sure. But he also knew he deserved whatever he was about to get. With a slight sigh he changed the year on the Time Turner to 1996.

- | -

With a thud to the floor Harry was back in the office of Albus Dumbledore. He stood up quickly, picking up his book bag with his invisibility cloak and Marauders Map along with the Time Turner. He looked around to receive a big shock that Dumbledore was sitting behind where he was standing on an armchair, his fingertips touching lightly against each other.

He was giving Harry a penetrating stare. But it wasn’t an angry one. In fact on his lips there was a very, very small smirk. Harry didn’t know if Dumbledore was waiting for him to say something first or if he wanted to say something first. Harry decided he ought to explain himself.

“Professor, I –“ he began.

“No need,” Dumbledore interrupted immediately. He held his hands up before he crossed them now on his lap. “No need, Harry, no need.”

“But Professor, I –“ Harry began again.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said. He stood up. “I said no need.”

Okay, Harry decided he would listen this time. He stood there and watched Dumbledore walk across his office towards his desk. Dumbledore sat down behind it and stared at Harry again.

“As I sat in that armchair with a stomach full of delicious apple pie, I couldn’t help wondering how you’re trip to the Better Home Orphanage went,” Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry gulped. “Professor—“

“No need. I already know, Harry. There isn’t any need for you to try to explain. I already know why you went and what you were going to do. But I knew all along you wouldn’t do it,” Dumbledore said still calmly.

“Because I’m not bad enough, right?” Harry asked predictably.

“No, because you’re not a murderer. You have been bad as of late. But you necessarily don’t have to be bad to be a murderer,” Dumbledore said.

“But, I am a murderer,” Harry pointed out.

“Harry, there is a very vast difference between the murder you committed in the future and the murder you wanted to commit in the past. If you would have murdered innocent little Tom you would have changed everything. Absolutely everything. If you would have murdered Tom you would have become as ruthless as Tom’s future self, willing to murder anyone for what you want. But, when you murdered Sir Brice Lepidus Napoleon in the future, it was more less in defense of yourself and Miss Hermione Granger. Of course I must say I never even thought you would be the one to kill a single soul,” Dumbledore admitted.

“But Voldemort has to be stopped!” Harry shouted, “the easiest way would have been to kill him in the past!”

“Yes, indeed. Easy. The easy way is what we humans, Muggle or Magical, search for when in a problem or situation. But sometimes, most of the time actually, the easy way isn’t always the right way,” Dumbledore said.

“The easy way was the right way,” Harry argued stubbornly, “Voldemort’s the most evil man to live on this earth…he deserves to be dead.”

“It was not the right way, Harry. You know that. That is why you didn’t kill little Tom back in the Orphanage. You knew that it wasn’t right for you to end the life of an innocent child, even an innocent child that grows up to be arguably the most evil man alive, just for what you wanted…just to change everything about your life that’s tragic into a happy fairy tale.” Dumbledore reached into his robes pocket and pulled out a small bag of lemon drops. He offered Harry one, but Harry refused.

“I didn’t want to kill Voldemort just for me,” Harry said. At least he didn’t think he did.

“Maybe not. However it was still a reason you wanted to kill Tom for.”

“I guess.”

“You were faced with a junction, Harry. A great decision. The easy choice, murdering little innocent Tom or the right choice, to leave the present as it be and fulfill your true destiny,” Dumbledore said, sucking on his lemon drop.

“What’s that? To fail at facing Voldemort? To let everyone down and curse them to an existence of terror?” Harry asked sourly.

“Maybe so. Maybe not. We’ll all just have to wait and see, won’t we?” Dumbledore asked amusedly. He stood up and pulled out a familiar looking pocket watch. He gazed at it for a couple of seconds. “It is time you head back to Gryffindor Tower. You need your rest.”

“I’m not being punished?” Harry stammered. “At all?”

Dumbledore chuckled amusedly. “Harry, I must admit it is quite obvious by now that I have a very soft spot for you when it comes to discipline. If I didn’t, you would still be in detention for just all of the trouble you caused in your first year here. Goodnight.”

Harry almost found himself grinning. He returned the Time Turner and left the office, not knowing what to think now. He took as long as possible before returning to Gryffindor Tower. It was now early morning and he did have to admit he was dreadfully tired.

- | -

Harry slept into the late afternoon. He sadly had to skip lessons for that day. Actually he wasn’t very sad about that part. When he did get up and showered he decided he just wanted to remain in his dormitory. He didn’t want to go anywhere else in the castle to be around people. He was still thinking intently about what Dumbledore had said.

He was very surprised definitely when the door opened and Hermione stepped through like nothing. She was still in Hogwarts uniform just minus the robes and her hands were behind her back oddly enough.

He couldn’t help feeling guilty for the way he had been treating her lately. He gave her a very adorable slanted smile as she stepped more fully into the room. Okay now he had to apologize.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she said in return, her hands still behind her back.

“Look. I’m sorry. I know I say that a lot to you lately with the way I’m always treating you, but I mean it. I hope you forgive me. Both you and Ron, actually. I’ve been a huge arse lately.” He stopped his sentence there. He knew he was almost rambling. He blushed as he realized this.

“I accept. I have to, don’t I? You’re my best friend. I don’t care what Ron says,” she said teasingly. She took a step closer. “I guess…I suppose I should be returning this back to you.”

She held out the very small black book that Hermione’s future self had given him. Harry’s eyes widened the widest they could probably ever go. He gaped at the book in horror for a few seconds then looked back up at Hermione horrendously; her expression was hard to read.

“You – You read this?” he asked in petrified stutter.

She grinned. Very meekly she nodded and said, “yes, I read it. I couldn’t help not reading it. It was very…interesting.”

“Um, yeah, you can say that.”

“My future self gave it to you, did she?”

“Um, yeah, yeah she did.”

“Oh.”

There was a long extremely awkward moment of silence between them. They both were looking in the opposite direction. Harry was urging himself to say something charming and witty; he wished Sirius were there so he could ask him for good advice on something charming to say.

“Listen,” Hermione said suddenly, “you don’t have to…I mean now I understand why you were erm…pushing me away. I mean you know because of the book. But you don’t have to be scared or anything. I mean just because of that book. I promise I’m not going to make you fall in love with me or anything. You don’t have to worry. I mean –“

“Hermione,” Harry said grinning; she grinned too.

“Sorry…rambling,” she apologized.

“It’s okay,” he said simply. He stared over at her with a very different stare. It was hard to explain, but there was something different in his eyes. He finally knew what he wanted to tell her. “If there is one girl I will fall in love with in the future, Hermione…I know it will be you.”

As cheesy as that sounded Hermione couldn’t help almost melting at those words. They almost brought tears to her eyes. She felt herself almost breathless somewhat as she thought of how difficult it must have been for him to say that; he had never told anyone he loved them and this was the closest he had ever come. She found her voice just in time.

“That means the world to me,” she whispered. The tears were coming on. She tried to wipe them away nonetheless failed.

Harry stood up from where he sat at his bed and walked over. They both were blushing deep now. She was surprised when he let her wrap her arms around him, her arms ending up just on his lower waist. He felt like everything was so perfect when he was holding her. It felt like home. Hermione felt the exact same. They stood there for as long as they could manage clinging tenderly to each other. And for that moment nothing, not even any of the deaths or tragedies to come in the future, mattered except that they were there in each other’s arms.

Hermione looked up from his shoulder and stared intently into his eyes; he was reminded strongly of his dream and found himself worried that the floor beneath them would crack in half and Hermione would disappear into a great dark fall. He brushed a small hair out of her eyes, studying her face very closely. Merlin how beautiful she was, he thought. She closed her eyes when his hand touched her face and he knew what would make the moment somehow even more perfect. He bent his head low and gently pressed his lips against hers in what had to be the most tender show of affection he had ever shown a girl, a truly loving kiss.

- | -

Authors Note: Thanks for reading. Please review. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks again! ; )