The Vow of Time

Prologue

The stars, thought Harry, were miraculous. Shining down upon the world, twinkling kindly and reminding them that they would always be there, protecting them. He had never appreciated that the night sky could look so beautiful, so opposite to the world he was now forced to face.

Ever since his Godfather's death, Harry had ceased to exist. He felt drained of life, unable to let go or accept his loss. Sirius had become such a father figure to him it felt as if he had lost his only parent and that half of his heart had gone with him through the Veil. Harry had believed, with an adolescent's naivety, that Sirius had an immortality of sorts and that he would always be there for Harry. But as with all things in his experience, that was not to be. Half of him wanted to move on and to stop dwelling on the blame and guilt; the other half wanted to murder Bellatrix Lestrange with such a powerful surge of hate it scared him.

At these times, he was driven to seek solitude to try to gain control of his thoughts. Right now, he was sitting against a beech tree by the lake.

Ron and Hermione were at dinner, probably wondering why he was not there. Their tremendous anxiety over him sometimes got on Harry's nerves - he would much rather prefer to be alone instead of dragging anybody else down in the gutter with him. Their anxious concern over him recently had strained Harry's nerves to the point of preferring his own company rather than inflicting his depressed mood on anyone else, especially his two best friends, the people he cared about most in the world. He would prefer them to be happy and to be their normal selves.

The cold autumn air whipped across Harry's face. He shivered slightly and hugged his knees closer to his chest. Suddenly, he had the feeling that someone was watching him; he looked around and felt despair when he saw Hermione and Ron walking towards him from the main gate. As he watched them approach, the feeling did not fade away.

The branches above him rustled slightly in the wind and Harry looked up suspiciously, but could not identify why he still felt like he was being observed.

As Ron and Hermione drew near, Harry shifted slightly to conceal himself better, hoping that he would go unnoticed, but that hope was in vain. He knew they had sought him out deliberately. Sure enough, Ron slid down next to him on his left side while Hermione sat on the other.

It was silent for a few moments while the three friends gazed out across the sparkling lake and into the heavens. Finally, Hermione spoke, “Harry, Ron and I are worried about you.”

Harry responded, “I'm aware of that, Hermione... Really, I'm fine. I just need time to myself every now and then . . . you know, to think.”

“We know, mate,” Ron said. “But we want to help you.”

“You can't do anything to help,” Harry said stubbornly, absolutely refusing to include them in the anguish he felt. “Unless you can go back in time and change everything - ”

“If you let us in, we can help you!” Hermione said angrily. “You've been pushing us away ever since last year! How many times do we need to remind you that we are on your side and we would do anything to help you? We have been by your side since our first year together and that isn't going to change. Remember that. You don't have to go through this by yourself.”

“But - ”

“No buts, Harry. You aren't the only one affected by Sirius' death!” At her words, Harry stood up angrily and walked away to stare moodily into the dark waters of the lake.

Harry knew that he wasn't the only one effected by Sirius' death, the whole Order of the Phoenix had suffered; but Harry felt that he was the one who had the full blast of it. All his life, Harry wished for a parent figure that he could count on, depend on, confide in; and when finally he received exactly what he had always wanted, fate had conspired yet again to take him away from Harry.

Harry felt Hermione and Ron's presence come up beside him. He continued to stare down into the murky water rather than face their concern. “Harry,” Hermione said softly, “I'm so sorry. I know he meant so much to you. He meant a lot to Ron and me too.” Harry turned his head to look at her; she looked so sincere. He just nodded solemnly.

“I never told you,” Harry said after a few moments silence, wanting to change the subject, “about the prophecy.” He decided if he was ever going to tell them about the prophecy, now might be the best time. Hermione's facial expression changed from puzzled to understanding almost instantaneously, while Ron's stayed confused.

“Well,” He continued heavily, “after Dumbledore brought me back from the Ministry of Magic that night, he told me that the thing Voldemort was after was a prophecy made about the both of us by Trelawney. He showed me Trelawney in his Pensieve sixteen years ago when they were in the Hog's Head for a meeting about her job. He was unconvinced she was a true seer, and was about to leave, when Trelawney went into a trance and told him the prophecy.

"I cannot remember exactly what she said, but it comes down to this: the only person, that has a chance at defeating Voldemort for good was born at the end of the July, and was born to parents that defied Voldemort three times. Voldemort marked me his `equal' after hearing this because he knew I was born at the end of July and my parents must have defied him three times. There was another boy was born at the end of July to parents that defied Voldemort three times, but Voldemort chose to attack me rather than him that Halloween night and so cemented the prophecy onto me. And it also said that `I would have power the Dark Lord knows not', and `neither one of us can live while the other dies', which means I'm going to have to become either a murderer or die at Voldemort's hand.”

Hermione's mouth was hanging open by the end. Ron's eyes were as wide as saucer plates. Harry looked away, staring as birds flew over the lake toward the Forbidden Forest. . He envied their freedom to fly away at that moment more than anything he could remember. “H-Harry,” Hermione said shakily, “who was the other boy that was born at the end of July?”

“Neville.”

“Why didn't Voldemort choose him?”

“He chose me because he thought I would be more danger to him. He saw himself in me before he even saw me - a halfblood.”

“Harry, if Voldemort had chosen Neville, do you know how much your life would have changed?” asked Ron quietly after a few moments, He had been quietly trying to comprehend enormity of what Harry had just told them.

“I know,” Harry muttered. “It would definitely be different and probably much better. But I'm stuck with this scar, and I'm going to have to deal. After all, when has my life ever been worth living?”

“It's worth living now, Harry,” Hermione said sharply. “You mean a lot to the Wizarding World. And to us…”

Harry did not reply. They turned and silently walked back up to the castle together. Harry felt like a huge load on his chest had been lifted. As they entered the front hall, he said quietly, “Thanks.” Ron and Hermione both smiled at him and remained at his side as they returned to Gryffindor Tower.

Chapter 1: The Kiss

“Harry, are you okay? You don't look so well.”

Hermione's worried voice snapped Harry out of his reverie sharply. It was dinner at Hogwarts on the last day of term before Christmas break. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had all decided to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays - well, Hermione and Ron had just stayed because Harry was staying. He had tried to persuade them to go, that he would not care - but they persisted on staying and with a small feeling of guilt, he relented.

“No, I don't feel that well,” Harry said truthfully.

“Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey,” suggested Ron.

“Nah, I think I'll just go up to Gryffindor Tower and get some rest,” Harry told them. He said good-bye to Ron and Hermione and left the Great Hall quickly. He was glad to see, upon reaching Gryffindor Tower, that it was mostly empty, save some students talking quietly by the window or studying.

He walked across the room and plopped down into his favorite armchair by the fire. For a while, he watched the flames lick the side of the log, mesmerized, and half-hoping that Sirius' friendly face would appear in the fire, like it had before the incident at the Department of Mysteries. If only, he thought, I had been smart enough to open his package to me before...I could have known he wasn't in danger before dashing off to the Ministry of Magic to play hero and getting my friends hurt...

“Hey, Harry,” said a voice from behind. Harry looked over his shoulder to see who it was: Neville Longbottom.

“Hi, Neville,” Harry responded gloomily as Neville sat in the armchair next to him.

“Where are Hermione and Ron?”

“Still at dinner.”

“Why aren't you with them?”

“I didn't feel well so I came up here.”

“Yeah, you don't look too well, either.”

“Thanks, Neville,” Harry said sarcastically. He noticed that Neville was fingering something in his pocket. “What do you have in your pocket?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Neville said quickly, taking his hand out and looking furtive. Harry just shrugged indifferently. He thought that it was probably something Neville didn't want to share with anyone.

“Harry, I have to ask you something.” Neville sounded very serious. Harry sat up straighter, taken aback by the unexpected seriousness.

“Yeah?” he asked. “What?”

“Well . . . just remember, Harry, you can't persuade me not to do this, my mind is already made up, but - ” Neville broke off suddenly as arguing voices came from outside the tower.

“YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO THROW THE CHICKEN LEG BACK AT HER!”

The portrait hole swung open and Hermione's voice echoed throughout the Gryffindor Common room as she clambered through. Ron scrambled in just behind here. Everyone stopped to watch the row unfold.

“OH, YES I DID!” Came Ron's equally angry response. Their robes were covered with stains and remnants of food. Hermione's hair had pieces of corn in it and her forehead bore ketchup smears. Ron's fiery red hair was oozing what looked like chocolate pudding, dripping down his freckled face and what looked like mustard was smudged across his chest.

“Ron, you are the biggest imbecile I have ever had the misfortune to meet! Not only did you make a fool out of yourself, but also you turned the GREAT HALL INTO BLOODY CHAOS! LOOK AT MY ROBES!” Hermione flailed her arms about in an effort for Ron to notice the food that covered her clothing.

“What's so wrong with a food fight?” Ron asked innocently. Hermione let out a loud exclamation, rolling her eyes before storming off to the Girls' Dormitory muttering under her breath. Harry had a feeling Ron was going to regret angering Hermione in the very near future.

“Honestly,” he said as he spotted Harry and Neville. He came over to join them, squelching as he walked. “You'd think I killed someone by the way she was going on about it.”

Harry laughed, “What happened?”

“This girl from Ravenclaw threw a piece of chicken at me,” informed Ron. “I don't know if it was by accident or not, but I threw it back at her. Then the Ravenclaws started bombarding me with food and of course the Gryffindors joined in and soon enough the whole Great Hall was throwing food all over the place.” He grinned. “You should have been there. It was great until Hermione had her hissy fit.”

“She seems really mad, Ron. I'm not sure she'll get over it very soon.”

“But she always does,” said Ron. “Well, I'm off to take a shower. See you later.” Harry said good-bye and turned around to ask Neville what he was about to say before they had been interrupted, but amazingly, he had slipped away.

“Neville?” Harry looked around the common room but Neville was nowhere to be found. Oh, well, he thought, getting up and heading up the Boys' Dormitory staircase, I'll ask him tomorrow. However, he could not help wondering where had he gone?

*~*

Harry awoke to an empty dorm room, which was surprising since only Seamus and Dean left for Christmas Break. Harry quickly got dressed and went down to the common room to see Ron and Hermione sitting at a table by a window. Hermione was doing homework as usual, while Ron was struggling on the Charms essay.

“We wanted to get it done before Christmas, and seeing as it's Christmas Eve, we wanted to get started early,” said Hermione as Harry walked over, answering his unasked question.

“Really, you'd think that since we're sixth years and we don't have O.W.Ls or N.E.W.Ts coming up they'd lighten up on the homework, but no, they have to assign us three foot essays on the most boring subjects ever to be done over Christmas break when we're supposed to be relaxing,” ranted Ron all in one breath. He hastily scribbled out some lines on his parchment.

Harry sighed and sat down. “I don't feel much like doing homework,” he said as he looked out of the window and noticed it was snowing heavily outside.

Ron slammed his book down and threw his quill on top of the parchment, grinning, “Me either! Hey, what do you reckon? A snowball fight? It looks like perfect weather to me.”

“Sure.” At Ron's defection, Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Ron quickly overrode her objection.

“Hermione, it's Christmas Eve and we have plenty of time to do our homework. Lighten up, will you?” Hermione closed her mouth and instead of nagging, she made a little “humph” noise and returned to her work.

“Want to come with us?” asked Harry. The pair waited hopefully on their female compatriot, but, Hermione continued to ignore them. Finally, Ron shrugged at Harry helplessly. They headed up to their rooms to get their cloaks and gloves, then bolted quickly through the common room to avoid Hermione's disapproving looks.

“Ah, fresh snow,” said Ron gleefully when they were finally outside. He scooped up a handful of it, mashed it into a rough ball in his hands and threw it at Harry so fast that he didn't have time to duck. The snowball hit him straight in the face.

“RON!” he yelled as he tried to get the snow off his face. Unable to clear the snow easily, Harry took off his glasses and wiped his face; cleaning his glasses on his cloak.

“Hey, Hermione, you came!” shouted Ron happily. “Good, you needed a bit of - OW! HERMIONE!”

Harry got his glasses on in time to see Ron spit out a mouthful of snow and rubbing his face to remove the rest, while Hermione stood smirking a few feet away. Harry laughed and gestured for Hermione to come join him as he rushed behind a nearby bush. She quickly caught on and managed to get behind the cover of the bush before Ron could recover.

“When I say three,” Harry whispered, “Let's pelt him with snowballs.” She nodded, grinning, and started making some.

“Hermione, you are going to get it!” yelled Ron. “Both of you are! Wait . . . where did you go?” For Ron had just cleared the snow off his face and saw that Hermione and Harry were no longer in sight. “I know you're up to something!” He turned about, trying to see spot where his friends had gone.

“One,” breathed Harry. “Two.” He and Hermione stood up on the third count. A group of snowballs went flying towards Ron, who was now standing with his back to them: two of the snowballs hit him in the back, one in head, one in the rear, and the rest missed.

“ARGH!”

Hermione, snickering, grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back down behind the bushes. Ron cried out, “You're going to pay for that!” They were barely restraining their laughter at their red-headed friend's disgruntlement.

“Shhh, he's going to hear us,” whispered Harry, putting his finger to her smiling lips. Their eyes locked, and then something happened that Harry couldn't quite explain - a tiny feeling of warmth, of hope, and happiness and something else he didn't recognize fluttered at the pit of his stomach.

Her eyes, a beautiful hue of hazel, were staring deeply into his, searching and intense, seeking something - and before he knew realized what he was about, Harry had leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. He half expected her to pull away, to say, “What are you doing, Harry? We're only best friends!” Harry felt that the feelings he had discovered in the last few moments were just his imagination playing tricks on him. He could not, did not, have romantic feelings for his best friend, right? But she didn't stop the kiss to vocalize these doubts for Harry. The crazy mixture of unusual emotions continued to overwhelm Harry as their kiss deepened and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. But before he could completely comprehend and enjoy what he was doing, the bushes were pushed apart and they heard an shocked gasp.

“Harry! Hermione!” The two jumped apart instantly, neither one able to look at each other or their red-faced, red-haired friend either. He was, of course, the least person in the whole entire world that they should want to catch them at this. Ron just stood there, flabbergasted. “I . . . I can't believe this,” he finally managed to say. “Harry, how could you do this?”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, standing up and moving out from behind the bushes, Hermione following.

“You knew I - you knew - ” Ron stammered, his ears turning red, always a danger sign.

“Knew what?” Harry said blankly. He was completely confused. Of course, he expected Ron to be shocked at what he just saw, but he had no idea to what else Ron was referring.

“Let's talk privately,” Ron said, glaring at Hermione. She quickly scampered up the stone steps and into the Entrance Hall without a backward look.

“What?” asked Harry, a little impatiently.

“You knew I fancied Hermione!” Ron yelled.

A wave of guilt came over Harry. So that's what Ron was mad about. Harry had always had a suspicion, but since Ron never really discussed it with Harry, he had never felt right in asking Ron about who he truly fancied. “How was I suppose to know if you never told me?”, questioned Harry.

“You should have figured it out!” Ron turned his back to Harry.

“I'm sorry, I can't read minds!” Harry shouted sarcastically. Ron spun round, his face in full flush, but his words were cut off by a booming voice.

“ALL STUDENTS PLEASE REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY. I REPEAT, ALL STUDENTS REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY.” Harry recognized it to McGonagall's voice.

Shooting a shocked and worried glance between them, Harry and Ron sprinted up the steps and made their way to the Great Hall without another word.

Chapter 2: Neville's Letter

When they entered the Great Hall, they saw Hermione, five fifth year Ravenclaw girls, two second year Slytherin boys, two boys and three girls in seventh year Hufflepuff; and only a few first years from Gryffindor. All of them were seated at one long table in the middle of the Great Hall; the other tables had been put away due to the small number of students staying over for the holidays. Professor McGonagall was standing in front of the table, peering down at them with a stern face.

Uncomfortably aware that everyone was staring at him and Ron, Harry took a seat next to Hermione while Ron deliberately sat next to the Ravenclaws, away from them. Hermione looked at Harry, question in her eyes. Obviously, she had not known about Ron's feelings for her either, but Harry just shook his head to stop her from asking about what had happened between the boys.

“We have called you all together here,” began Professor McGonagall, “because of thievery.” There was an audible gasp throughout the students.

“What happened?” squealed a small boy in Gryffindor.

“One of my possessions has been taken right from my office. It is one of the most valuable and precious things here in Hogwarts - the Time Turner. The staff has been informed and they are now searching Hogwarts for it. I would like to ask if that person who stole the Time Turner would come forward and return it.” When nobody moved, Professor McGonagall sighed. “I expected this. Therefore, has anyone seen anybody with a Time Turner?” Again, nobody moved or answered.

“Please, Professor,” said Hermione, her hand shooting up. “How do you know that a student stole it and that you didn't simply misplace it?”

“Miss Granger, the Time Turner was kept in a drawer that was locked. When I returned to my office this morning, I saw that it was clearly forced open and the Time Turner was missing.”

Everyone was silent. Who would want to steal the Time Turner? Thought Harry. Didn't they know the dangers of it? “Professor, what if a student who left for the holidays stole it?”

“We are quite aware that that is a possibility, but we felt that it would be necessary to question students here first, as they are the prime suspects.” Everyone squirmed uneasily in his or her seats. “How many people know the dangers of a Time Turner and what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands? HISTORY COULD BE CHANGED! Everything that you know and love could be changed forever!” Professor McGonagall stated, a bit hysterical. Then she calmed down, “All of you will report to your common rooms and dormitories to search them for anything suspicious. Then, at dinner, you will inform me what you may have found. This will also give the thief some time to think things over and maybe confess to me and return the item in question. I promise you, whoever you are, that if you confess today, you won't get into as much trouble as you will when we find you out and trust me - we will.”

Everyone was quiet as they left the Great Hall and went their separate ways to their common rooms. Ron ignored Hermione and Harry and set off to Gryffindor Tower by himself. Harry deliberately took Hermione's arm and held her back so they could talk. Once Ron was out of sight, Harry finally spoke, “Ron is really angry at us.”

“Why?” asked Hermione in a worried voice.

“He said I knew he fancied you when actually I didn't - ”

“Oh no,” breathed Hermione, her expression sorrowful. “Harry, do you know what we did when we kissed? We broke the best friend code!”

“There can't be a code when I didn't know - ”

“There is always a code! `You can't date the girl your best friend likes.'”

“What if I like her too?” Harry said quietly. They stopped walking abruptly.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione cried and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back awkwardly; he had not expected this sort of response from Hermione. He thought she'd say `you still can't date her' or something of the sort.

“Hermione,” muttered Harry into her ear, deciding to be perfectly honest. “When I kissed you - there was this feeling inside of me that I'd never felt…it was…We were right. It wasn't there with Cho, or any other girl. This feeling of surety; I knew that I wanted to be with you and only you - I can't really explain it - but I knew it was right. Hermione, we've been best friends since we were eleven. I guess that I never really noticed my feelings for you before consciously . . . but I have always had them inside. It was so sudden . . . I don't know what to do…” he concluded, more confused then before he admitted everything.

“Harry, I felt it too,” breathed Hermione. She backed away just far enough to look into his eyes. “I don't know, either. All of this is so unexpected. But I know I want to be with you, too. And then there's Ron . . .” she bit her lip. “I don't want anything to come between our friendship because of what's going on between me and you.” Then she paused. “What exactly is there between me and you?”

“Something I can't quite identify but I know that it's good.”

“Me too. It is good. I can feel it.”

Together they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. Even though Harry was glad Hermione felt exactly what he felt when they kissed, he was still bemused. Why did he have these feelings for Hermione all of a sudden? What was going to happen between him, Ron, and their friendship? All of these questions popped up into his head, yet a bubbling mixture of happiness and dismay confirmed that he wanted to be with Hermione so much that it almost frightened him.

When they entered the common room, Ron was nowhere to be seen. “We have to talk to him,” Hermione said to Harry. “Maybe he's up in the boys' dormitory. Let's go check.” But when they got up there, Ron wasn't there, either. “Well, we should probably search for the Time Turner while we're up here,” Hermione suggested.

They started combing through the room: under beds, in dressers, under pillows and sheets, but to no avail. “It definitely isn't here,” said Harry as he sat down on top of Neville's bed. Then he remembered last night. “But, hang on, you know what's weird?”

“What?” asked Hermione, sitting down next to him.

“Neville wanted to ask me something last night, but then you and Ron stormed in and he never got the chance. But, when I turned around to ask him, he was gone, and I haven't seen him since. Do you know if he was staying for the holidays or not?”

“No, I think he was going to visit his Grandmother. But that still is strange, Harry. I'm getting a bad feeling about him disappearing and then McGonagall saying her Time Turner has gone missing - what's that?”

Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment from inside the cover of Harry's pillow. She scanned it quickly and then went stone white.

“What's the matter?” asked Harry worriedly.

“Look, Harry, look!” She thrust the piece of parchment at him. Harry read it carefully, feeling his heart drop into his shoes.

Dear Harry,
I did not get the chance to tell you what I wanted to last night, so instead I'm leaving you with this note. Do you remember that evening by the lake when you told Ron and Hermione everything you knew about the prophecy?

Harry's stomach lurched unpleasantly.

I was there, sitting on one of those branches in the beech tree above you. I know that I was the other boy Voldemort wanted to kill but he chose you instead. I know that you would have rather him chosen me then you - that's why I stole Professor McGonagall's Time Turner. I'm going back sixteen years to make everything right. I have nothing to live for, Harry, and you do. You have everything to live for. Expect things to change soon.

- Neville

“Oh No, Neville…Hermione, do you know what this means?” asked Harry after he finished reading the letter. “Like Professor McGonagall said, everything is going to change! I have no idea how Neville is going to get Voldemort to try and kill himself when he was little, but if he does . . . well, I don't reckon that it will be good.”

“We have to show this to McGonagall,” said Hermione quickly. “To see if she can stop him before he does real damage!”

How can she going to stop him? He already left last night - that must be why he disappeared!”

“I don't know, Harry, but we have to show her!”

“Okay,” said Harry slowly, trying to calm down. “ Let's go tell her.”

In a rush they left the boys' dormitories, and hurried through the corridors to Professor McGonagall's office where they hoped the professor would be waiting. Hermione didn't bother knocking. As luck would have it, McGonagall was sitting at her desk, grading some papers when they entered.

“Manners, Miss Granger, Mr Potter! Have you found something?”

“Professor,” panted Hermione, “we know who stole the Time Turner.”

“Who?”

“Neville Longbottom!”

“What!” Professor McGonagall stood up so fast she sent her cup of coffee spilling over her desk. Ignoring the spill, she gestured for them to sit down. “How do you know this?”

“He left this letter,” said Harry, handing her it and sitting down on the edge of one of the seats in front of McGonagall's desk. Hermione did the same on his left. McGonagall read the note through twice, her eyes traveling back and forth at lightning speed, before she returned her attention to the two young Gryffindors. Her face reflected pain as she sat down slowly and bit her lip before addressing the pair..

“Potter, I believe you know what this can do.”

“Yes,” Harry said shakily.

“Please, Professor, elaborate,” Hermione said quietly, “I don't really understand.”

“Miss Granger, if Neville Longbottom succeeds in having Voldemort kill him as a baby instead of Harry, history will change itself. Harry will no longer bear the lightning-bolt scar he does today, nor will he have gone through everything he has in the past six years. He would, I believe, still have his parents, though that is not for certain…”

“Then why is it so bad? If Neville wants to do it - ”

“Hermione,” said Professor McGonagall interrupted sternly, “it's bad and we'll leave it at that.” Harry could tell from Hermione's crestfallen face that she still didn't understand. “I'm afraid that there is nothing we can do. You may return to the common room now and I will inform everyone about the Time Turner.”

“But, Professor, what are we going to do, sit here and wait for something to happen? Why can't we go back and stop him?” asked Harry.

“Potter, Neville has already caused enough damage. We don't want to further it.”

“Isn't it worth trying - ”

“It's too late. I'm sorry.” The older woman sighed heavily, a single tear tracing down her cheek.

~*~

“Hermione,” said Harry as he and Hermione walked back to Gryffindor Tower. “If anything happens . . . which I'm sure it's going to . . . I just want you to know . . .” he stopped walking, took her hands into his, and looked straight into her eyes. “I love you.”

Hermione closed her eyes and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I love you too,” she breathed as she embraced him. They clung to each other for a long time. When they finally let go, Hermione broke down.

“I hate this, Harry, I really do - why does everything have to be awful? Why can't I stop worrying for even one day? I wantto know that you'll be okay; that nothing's going to hurt or kill you?” she sobbed.

I want you not to worry today, Hermione.” He gripped her hand tightly and his voice hardened with his determination and confidence. “Today, there is just us; no enemies or battles. Forget about everything else and live like there's no tomorrow.”

“It's going to be hard.”

“We can do it.” Harry leaned forward and kissed her. And she knew that he meant it.

Chapter 3: The Potter Family

“Harry, wake up! It's Christmas!”

An unfamiliar, excited female voice rang in Harry's ears. He snapped his eyes open and looked around slowly. He was in an average-sized bedroom painted cornflower blue with a wide window to his left. Navy blue curtains hung around the window. Harry could see that it was snowing heavily outside. The room looked like an ordinary boy's room - with the exception that it was obviously for a wizard boy with Quidditch paraphranelia and spellbooks lying pell mell across the desk. There were picture frames with wizard photos waving back at him on the wood dressers and shelves and Harry thought he saw himself in several shots.

With an unpleasant jolt, Harry remembered what had happened the previous day and thought, Oh no, Neville did it. He caused Voldemort kill Neville instead of me! Who is this girl? Where am I?

Harry sat up to take a closer look at his surroundings. He was laying in a bed with matching navy blue blankets. The girl that had awoken him was sitting at the foot of his bed, bouncing a bit anxiously, but with a gamine grin and shining eyes. She had bright auburn hair that flowed past her shoulders and green eyes. At first glance, Harry thought the girl was his mother; she looked almost identical to Lily Potter. However, after he looked more closely he discovered that she wasn't Lily Potter, she was someone else. But who?

“Who are you?” he asked her uncertainly.

“Harry!” She wrinkled her nose in annoyance, “Stop teasing and come down to the family room to open your presents! Mummy and Dad are waiting for us.” She slid off the bed and hurried out of the room. Harry sat up, his mind reeling. Mummy and Dad - were his parents alive too? His stomach twisted in excitement and nervousness. Was this really happening? Could that girl really be his sister, and did he really have his parents or was it all just an elaborate dream? There was only one way to find out.

He got up from the bed and saw that he was wearing plaid red and white pajama pants and a plain white shirt. He also noticed that he was not as skinny as he was before - his body was more full and less scrawny. He reckoned it had something to do with growing up with love, like he would have if he grew up with his parents, instead of being neglected with the Dursleys.

He crossed the room and opened the door to a narrow hallway leading to a staircase. Harry rushed to the stair and descended two steps at a time. In the main hall he could see half of a plushy couch in the room at the end and hear several different voices coming from the same room, so he hurried toward the family room; eager to see what was awaiting him.

He came to a rather large living area with two couches facing each other, a coffee table in between, and a fireplace with a fire going. A Christmas tree was placed in the corner of the room, decorated with an assortment of different colored lights, baubles, and a gold star at the top. The girl that had been in his room earlier was kneeling down next to the tree and looking misty-eyed at the glistening packages. Harry's mother, looking the same as Harry had remembered her but with slight wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, was sitting on the couch drinking coffee and looking tired but pleased nonetheless. His father, almost identical to himself but an older version, was tending to the fireplace.

“Harry, dear, you're finally up,” said his mother. “Come over and open your present! Your father and I think you are going to love it. Go ahead, Aubrianna, you can unwrap yours.” So, my presumed sister's name is Aubrianna, thought Harry.

Instead of going over to the package that was marked with his name, Harry stood rooted to the carpet, staring at the tableau before him. All of it was overwhelming. Here was his family… no, what would have been his family if Voldemort hadn't tried to kill Harry when he was a baby. Even though he was feeling confused and startled, Harry felt torn. The atmosphere was warm and full of love - everything Harry had always yearned for in his heart; a real family that he could call his own. The Potters.

“Harry, what's wrong?” asked his mother. Harry had a million questions boiling inside of his head, but he knew that of course they didn't know Harry had memories from another timeline - one where they were dead and Aubrianna had never existed and that he was completely new to this one. He blurted out a question anyway.

“Do you know who Voldemort is?”

The sudden question changed the atmosphere completely; Aubrianna stopped unwrapping her present automatically and looked up at Harry with a frightened look, his father stopped tending to the fire to look over at Harry questioningly and his mother put down her cup of coffee and looked startled. Harry inferred that they did.

“Harry, is there something the matter? Of course, we know who Voldemort is. You know that. Do you have a fever? Did you have a bad dream?” She got up and walked over to him, putting her hand on his forehead with a worried expression.

“Is he reigning the Wizarding World?”

“What has gotten into you, son?” Harry's father finally spoke up. “Does he have a high fever, Lily? He seems a little delirious. Of course he's reigning the wizarding world - he has for the past twenty years.” Harry's heart sank. He decided not to ask any more questions.

“Oh yeah,” he said blankly, lying. “I had a bad dream and forgot.”

“It's okay, honey, happens to me occasionally as well. Sometimes I wake up and think that all of the bad things that have happened are just a nightmare, but I awake and find that it's all too true,” said Lily. She put her arm around his shoulder and led him to the Christmas tree.

“I think this one is yours.” She picked up a long, slender package wrapped in shiny green paper and held it out to Harry. He took it and slowly unwrapped it.

“A Firebolt,” he said once he finished unwrapping it, more to himself then anyone. “Oh, a Firebolt!” he cried with more enthusiasm. He was more bewildered and startled at the sudden existence of his family to be happy that he was getting a Firebolt . . . again.

“We knew that you wanted it badly,” said Lily, beaming at Harry.

“Especially since your old broom has gone past its glory days,” said James. Harry nodded, a smile plastered on his face.

“Ooh, Mommy, I love it!” exclaimed Aubrianna from the other side of the Christmas tree. “It's wonderful! Thanks!” she got up and kissed her mother on the cheek. Harry couldn't see what Lily had gotten her; it was hidden beneath silver wrapping paper.

“You're welcome,” said Lily warmly. “And now, I think a good breakfast is in order.” She walked over to the cozy kitchen next to the family room and started assembling her ingredients and pans. James took the Firebolt from Harry's hands and examined it carefully.

“What a beauty,” he murmured. “I would have loved to have had this when I was Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You're lucky, son.” However, James' hair had tiny flecks of gray in them and his eyes looked tired and old, like they had seen too much in his life.

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly.

“Why don't you and me go fly in the backyard after breakfast and take it out on a test run?”

“Sure, but let me go put it in my room for now,” Harry said as he took it from his father and headed back up to his room. The shock of going from being an orphan to suddenly having parents and a sibling the next day was frightening in a way. He didn't have any memories of growing up with his family or going to school. All he had was the memories of the world from which he had been taken by Neville's actions; the memories of Ron and Hermione; of defeating Voldemort and watching him rise again; of the life with the Dursleys. He didn't know how long he would be in this world - although he didn't mind it all that much, he thought hastily - he was a little edgy at the thought of staying here nonetheless.

He put the Firebolt on his bed and walked over to sit on the window seat, staring out blindly at the snowy scene around the cottage. He was immersed in his thoughts and didn't know how much time had passed when Aubrianna stuck her head in and announced breakfast was ready.

“Aubrianna, I have a question,” he said, thinking it might be better to ask someone else other than his parents about the current.

“What's with the sudden name change?

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, perplexed. That was her name, right?

“You usually call me Bri,” she said. “You're acting very odd today, Harry.”

“If you only knew then you'd understand.”

“Understand what? What happened?”

“Nothing, I - ”

“Harry,” she said very seriously, sitting next to him on the window seat. “You know you can tell me anything. So tell me already!”

“You're not going to believe me!” he cried, thoroughly convinced that she wouldn't no matter how hard he might try to explain her what had happened to him.

“Well, you are going to have to take a chance then.” Her green eyes met his matching ones directly.

“Alright, but promise me you won't think I'm crazy when I'm done.”

“I can't promise that, but I'll try not to.” She replied with a smirk.

Harry told her everything he knew about the prophecy, Neville's letter, and the other world he had been in before being switched to this one. Throughout his talking, she stayed silent and attentive, her face sometimes screwing up in confusion or shock. The resemblance in her and his mother was sharpened with her expressions.

“Okay, so what you're saying is that you have no idea who I am, you grew up living with an Aunt and Uncle I've never met before - ”

“Wait, you don't know about Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?”

“No, Mummy or Dad have never talked about them. Maybe they died or something. But anyway, you don't know who I am; you grew up as an orphan and had Voldemort trying to kill you since you were a baby? And the only reason he tried to kill you was because he thought you were a threat? But this boy, Neville Longbottom, heard about the prophecy and went back and time and made Voldemort try to kill him instead and he succeeded so you were switched to “this world”?”

“Sounds about right,” said Harry. “Maybe this is all one big dream.” She pinched him. “Ow! What was that for?”

“No, you're not dreaming,” she informed him indifferently. “But this is strange.”

“You're telling me.”

“Aubrianna! Harry! Where are you? Your father and I have already eaten!” cried Lily. “You're food is getting cold. Come and eat, both of you!”

Harry and Aubrianna got up swiftly from the seat. They didn't say anything and went down to the kitchen quickly to answer Lily's summons. Lily and James were sitting at the small wooden table with plates of toast, eggs, bacon, kippers, and orange juice in the center of the table. True to Lily's remarks, he saw that his parents plates were nearly empty. Harry sat down next to James and began filling his plate. He was unusually hungry all of a sudden. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Aubrianna was shooting him worried glances from time to time.

“When you're finished eating, meet me outside with the Firebolt,” said James as he stood up from the table and walked over to the sliding glass doors on the other side of the kitchen. Lily got up to do the dishes.

“I don't know if I believe you or not or if this is just one big joke,” hissed Aubrianna from the other side of the table.

“You don't have to believe me if you don't want to, but just to let you know I'M NOT LYING!” Harry whispered angrily. Who was going to believe him if she wasn't going to? He needed someone to believe that he had come from a totally different world - one without parents or a sister.

“I don't know, Harry, it seems awfully strange . . .” she had dropped her angry and unbelieving manner and was now nervously contemplating if Harry was telling the truth or not. He decided to try to persuade her.

“Aubrianna, I - ” she gave him an arch look. He corrected himself.

“Bri, do you see what I'm talking about?”

She faltered, “I still don't know and it's not safe to sit here whispering about now when Mum right here.” He agreed and grew silent himself as they continued eating. When he was done, he deliberately avoided Aubrianna and Lily's eyes and went to his room to fetch the Firebolt and go outside. He walked up to the glass door and was about to slide it open when he saw in reflection that his scar was no longer on his forehead. He shook his head slowly and stared at it as if expecting it to reappear any second - but it didn't. Harry sighed softly and exited the cottage to meet his father.

“Ready to try it out?” asked James. The morning sunlight highlighted the grey in his black mop of hair, while his hazel eyes gleamed with a teasing light.. Harry nodded. They walked out onto the snow-covered backyard that surrounded by tall trees on three sides.

Harry mounted the Firebolt with his father watching. “Go ahead,” he encouraged his son.

Harry pushed hard against the ground and soared upward with the familiar feeling of freedom with the wind blowing through his unruly hair and the cold air causing his cheeks and nose to redden. This was something he needed right now - something he knew and was familiar. Right then - flying higher and higher over the treetops and seeing an amazing view of mountains and rivers - he thought everything was going to be okay; that everything would work out fine. He had never expected things to turn out the way they did. Maybe it was meant to be this way…

Chapter 4: Return to Hogwarts

Harry spent the rest of the Christmas break with the Potters. Aubrianna relented about questioning him and being skeptical about his story and instead they had several late night talks. Harry told her about what it was like in his world where Voldemort had just arisen nearly two years ago, and about Ron Weasley and his new relationship with Hermione Granger. She told him about her family memories with him and stories of school and what it was like with Voldemort being in power for her whole life. Harry liked listening to the family memories and knowing that they actually existed, even if he had no memory of them personally.

The night before they were to return to Hogwarts,
Aubrianna entered Harry's room with a look of frightened concern.

“What's the matter?” asked Harry, who was packing his trunk with robes, cauldrons, and books. He sat down beside her on his bed. She looked like she was about to cry.

“I just heard Mum and Dad talking,” she said plainly, in a voice that suggested that was the reason she was upset.

“And?” asked Harry.

“And? Don't you - oh yeah, you wouldn't know - well sometimes Mum and Dad talk about what's happening in the Wizarding World - you know, with Voldemort and everything; all of the stuff they don't want us to know. I always eavesdrop because I'm always curious and it is always horrible. I just heard them saying that down the road, the McCurvys, those muggles, were killed by Death Eaters and the Dark Mark was hovering over their house.”

Harry realized that that this attack was a thing that happened often, so he couldn't understand why Aubrianna was so upset if she's seen it many times. So he asked her why she was reacting this way.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, falling backward to lie onher back. “I always forget how little you know.” Harry didn't bother to point out that she should have remembered. “It's always bad hearing about it.”

“What about Hogwarts,” asked Harry, the thought suddenly occurring , “What happened to Hogwarts?”
She hesitated before speaking. “No muggle-borns allowed. They don't even know about the Wizarding World anymore and even half-bloods are looked down upon.”

Hermione doesn't know she is a witch?, thought Harry. That means I don't have a relationship anymore and she doesn't even know me . . .

“What about Dumbledore? Is he still Headmaster?”

“No, he died before I was born.” Oh no, thought Harry. Dumbledore was gone?

“Do you know Ron Weasley?” asked Harry, praying for the answer `yes.'

“Nope, I never heard of him. Is he one of your friends?”

“Yes, and he's pure-blood, so he should be at Hogwarts.”

“Well, if he's in your year then it's completely plausible for me not to know him since I'm only in Fourth year,” said Aubrianna, sitting up on the bed.

“I guess.” Harry returned to packing with a heavy heart. Aubrianna left to finish her own packing. He wanted to see Hermione badly and could not stand the fact that she didn't know she was a witch or that she didn't know him. And Ron - were he and Ron friends?

When Harry finished packing, he slid into his comfortable bed and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. He couldn't help worrying over what Hogwarts was like now and what had happened to Hermione and Ron. The door opened and his mother stood standing in the threshold.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she said. “You have a big day tomorrow so I want you to get a good night's rest.”

“Do you know the name `Weasley'?” asked out Harry before she closed the door.

“Yes, I do. Why?”

“Do you know them?”

“Harry, Arthur and Molly Weasley died more than twenty years ago.” Harry's jaw dropped.

“No . . . no . . . how - how did they die?”

“Voldemort,” said Lily, sighing. “They were in the Order of the Phoenix, like your father and I am now.”

“Did - did they have any children?”

“Oh, yes, two. Bill and Charlie. I remember them. Don't know what happened to them, though . . .well, goodnight Harry.” She closed the door, leaving Harry to stay awake all night, turning over what she had just told him repeatedly in his head . . .

~*~

“Wake up, Harry, we have to leave soon to go to Platform Nine and Three Quarters!” Harry awoke to James Potter's voice. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night and the thought of falling back onto his pillow and forgetting everything was tempting . . . but before he could do exactly that, Aubrianna walked in, in her pajamas, and handed him a wand.

“You left it in the Family room before Christmas,” she said. “I know you don't remember.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, examining the wand. It was nothing like the one he had before. When he had gotten his wand, he remembered Mr. Ollivander saying that the wand chose the wizard. But since Voldemort had chosen Neville to kill sixteen years ago instead of him, he wasn't destined for anything special. He was just a normal, average kid. Everything that he always wanted.

Aubrianna left and Harry slowly got up and got dressed. He wondered if he was going to stay in this world forever - and he didn't know if he wanted to or not.
It was raining heavily when they finally reached Platform Nine and Three Quarters. James got two trolleys and put Aubrianna's and Harry's trunks on each of them. The four of them hurried through the gate onto the platform.

“Goodbye, Harry, have a nice term!” said Lily, kissing him on the cheek and giving him a rib-cracking hug. She turned to Aubrianna and did the same.

“Keep in contact,” said James after hugging Aubrianna, clapping his son on the shoulder. Harry and Aubrianna were one of the last ones to board the train, and even after they did they hung out of the window waving until they could no longer see their parents.

“You know,” said Harry, sitting back down on the seat, “I really like having parents.”

“I don't know what I'd do without them,” informed Aubrianna. “Well, I'm going to go find my friends, see you later.” She started walking out of the compartment.

“WAIT!” Harry grabbed her arm. “Who am I friends with? My friends, Hermione and Ron, aren't in Hogwarts!”

“Oh, yeah. You're friends with Seamus Finnigan and Parvati Patil. Those two are your main friends and I don't know who else.”

“Alright, thanks Bri, for believing me and everything else.”

“No problem.” She walked out of the compartment swiftly. Harry took his wand out of his pocket and began to experiment with it, to see if he could do magic like he could with his other wand. He found it very successful.
After a while, the compartment door slid open again and Seamus Finnigan walked in. Harry figured since he was half-blood like himself and that they were looked down upon then they had a lot in common and could relate to each other, therefore becoming friends. Harry couldn't help but miss Ron and Hermione terribly, though.

“Hey Harry! How was your break?” asked Seamus, sitting down next to Harry.

“Okay,” said Harry. “Yours?”

“All right. Have you seen Parvati yet?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, okay. Well we wanted to talk to you about what
happened before we left,” said Seamus slowly.

“What happened?” asked Harry, perking his head up, suddenly intrigued.

“You remember,” Seamus said uncertainly. “when you saw Parvati and me . . . er . . .” he appeared very uncomfortable.

“When I saw you what?”

“Oh Harry, don't play dumb!” he snapped. “When you saw us kissing in the common room! We wanted to talk to you because we didn't want anything to come between our friendship and we wanted to tell you that just because we are together doesn't mean anything is going to change.” Harry was reminded very forcibly of the night that Hermione and him told Ron the very same thing.

“Okay,” said Harry, the fact that Seamus and Parvati being together not really bothering him. He figured that it was different with Ron, since Ron actually liked Hermione, unlike him having feelings for Parvati . . . he tried to imagine Ron and Hermione being together and then giving him the “it will still be the same” speech even though all three of them would perfectly know well that it wouldn't; yet he couldn't. He knew that he felt something extremely strong for Hermione that he never felt with anyone else - and if Ron was to be with her? He didn't know what he would do. Harry suddenly felt very ashamed of himself for being blind to Ron's feelings.

“You're okay with it?” asked Seamus uncertainly.

“Yeah.”

“But I thought . . . I thought you fancied Parvati. She told me you told her that.” Seamus averted Harry's eyes. So, thought Harry, I did fancy Parvati.

Harry quickly made up something. “Oh, yeah, well I did tell her that but since I saw you two kissing I decided to back off and let you have her. You know - the best friend code.” Something that Ron should do, Harry thought bitterly.

“Thanks.” Seamus smiled gratefully at Harry just as Parvati entered the compartment. She grinned at both of them and took a seat next to Seamus. “I overheard you two talking and I'm glad that nothing is going to be a problem.” Harry nodded, yet he sort of felt that this was what it was like to be in Ron's position somewhat . . .

For the rest of the train ride the three of them talked about their Christmas Breaks and what they received as presents, Quidditch, and random other things. It was dusk when the train finally pulled into the Hogsmeade station. Harry felt oddly alone when he walked out of the compartment without Hermione and Ron at his side.

As soon as he was on the platform Harry gasped. A cold sensation came over him and he felt as if all of the happiness had been drained and was left with despair. He looked over at the carriages carrying students to the castle and saw that several Dementors were surrounding the platform. He spotted Aubrianna near a gang of students, so he pushed through the crowd to reach her.

“Bri!” he shouted. She stopped walking and turned around, her long hair following.

“What?”

“Why - why are there - Dementors at Hogwarts?” Harry remembered when he was in his Third Year and there were Dementors at Hogwarts because of Sirius - he prayed that there wasn't a supposed mass murdered killer at Hogwarts now, of all times.

“Oh, Harry, use your brain!” snapped Aubrianna. “They sided with Voldemort and now they control Hogwarts.”

“What!”

“What did you think they were here for?” she said and climbed onto the carriage pulled by Thestrals that he could no longer see.

“I don't know . . . I don't know . . .” muttered Harry, running his hand through his hair and closing his eyes. He didn't want to go back to Hogwarts because he was afraid of what he'd find there. Everything is so different, he thought. I just want everything to be back to normal. . .

Chapter 5: Finding Hermione

That night Harry sat on his four poster bed and thought about the Hogwarts he had just seen - a ruined castle overpowered by Dementors: the lawn was unkempt and dead of all life; the Great Hall was dirty, dark, and grimy, as was the rest of the castle; the staff looked depressed beyond words and no longer cared about what happened to their once precious Hogwarts.

But it was not Hogwarts. At least not anymore.

How could anyone want to go here? It was so dismal and gloomy and so devoid of any happiness that Harry didn't think he could bear to stay here for another moment. But perhaps no one knew the joy Hogwarts could bring, because they never experienced before. And yet . . . and yet . . . Harry couldn't settle with the injustice of it all.

Since Muggleborns were not allowed to attend Hogwarts, the amount of students was considerably less. Only himself and Seamus were the Gryffindor Sixth Years and right now Seamus was off somewhere with Parvati, so he didn't have anyone to worry about noticing his aberrant behavior right now. His mind was made up. Harry had just decided to leave Hogwarts.
What I need, thought Harry, is someone that can help me. What…no, who I need is Hermione.

But Hermione wasn't there. She didn't know about magic or Voldemort or anything about the Wizarding world - her life was probably completely different and uncomplicated. What if I went and found her and told her everything - that she was a Witch that saved my life numerous times and that I need her, right now, to tell me what to do…I can't do that. She wouldn't believe me or understand about anything that's happened. She wouldn't even know who I was. The last thought was the most distressing and painful one.

A little voice inside Harry's head spoke up. I've got to try.

~*~

The cold night air streamed around him as he sped along under the starry night sky, heading south. He had no idea where her house would be, or where he was going - he only knew that he just had to get away from
Hogwarts as fast as he could.

Before he had left, Harry had gone down to the Gryffindor Common room and said goodbye to Aubrianna, even though it pained him much to do so.
“Please tell Mum and Dad I love them,” he had said. Aubrianna's face twisted in confusion.

“What are you going on about, Harry?”

“Just tell them Bri! I love you too.” He kissed her on the cheek and then went back up to the Dormitory. Then, he took his new Firebolt and flew out of the window.

Moments passed slowly as Harry's knuckles on his Firebolt turned white and then started to turn blue. He passed over small towns, forests, and lakes. It took him a while to come to his senses and finally say `What the hell am I doing? I don't even know where her house is!' But then he remembered a spell Hermione had taught him in the beginning of their Sixth Year when he was looking for his Transfiguration book:

“Just say `Dirto Rehhuse' and then the thing you're looking for and a map will appear before you with instructions on how to find it,” she had said, showing Harry the correct wand movements.

So Harry tried it. “Dirto Rehhuse Hermione Granger's House!” He flicked his wand. Surprisingly a map appeared before him with a red dot labeled “Harry Potter” and another labeled “Hermione Granger's House.” The Harry Potter dot was on one side of the map while Hermione Granger's House dot was on the other. The map showed Hermione's house in the middle of a fairly decent town and her house was of average size. Harry estimated that it would take him to the end of the night to get halfway to her house and he'd have to finish his journey the next night. Flying in the daylight would be too dangerous.

With that said, Harry traveled until he could see the sun rising on the horizon. He slowly descended into the thick forest he was flying over until he was level with a rather large and thick branch. He slid off his broom onto the branch, caught up the Firebolt and wedged it securely in some smaller branches and leaned against the hard bark of the tree's trunk, closing his eyes. Within a few moments, he fell sleep.

Harry awoke to the sound of birds chirping. Loudly.

He opened his eyes blearily and looked up to see three birds sitting on the branch next to him. “Shoo,” Harry muttered, waving his hand at them sleepily. They stayed where they were, chirping away ceaselessly. Restlessly Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I could have slept a couple more hours if it wasn't for you lot,” he muttered angrily, glaring at the birds.

He could tell by the sun that it was somewhere in the mid-afternoon. He took out the map and estimated he could probably reach Hermione's town by evening, and be at her house before midnight, if he started traveling now. He figured that if he flew just above the ground through the forest that he shouldn't be spotted easily. With that final thought, Harry dropped his Firebolt to the ground and carefully lowered himself down out of the tree until he could safely drop from a lower branch to the ground. Once on his feet, he picked up the Firebolt as his stomach rumbled. I should have brought along some food, Harry thought.

Traveling through the forest was very slow compared to open flight. The trees were old with thick trunks and many thick lower branches. Harry found himself frequently having to get off his broom to avoid flying through dangerous spots. After a while, his face and arms were scratched and bloody and his robes had been torn in several places. Finally, near sunset, the forest began to thin out and Harry could see the signs of a town straight ahead.

“Yes!” he muttered, speeding up to reach the edge. He jumped off and looked around; he was at the edge of a fairly large town, similar to Surrey where the Dursleys lived. The houses were comfortably large and had extremely neat lawns with long driveways. Holding his broom in one hand and the map on the other, Harry slowly began the walk to Hermione's address.

People passing by in cars and or on the street gave him odd stares as they saw him. Harry figured the stares were because of his Firebolt or his torn black robes and the multitude of small cuts and scrapes on his face and arms. Focused on his purpose, Harry paid no attention to the whispering and stares. He had to find Hermione, and whether or not she was going to be of any help or not, Harry thought it was quite worth the risk.

Dusk gave way to darker evening as Harry made his way into the heart of town. Soon enough, the only light was the bland orange light from the streetlamps along the sidewalks. . At the end of a particularly long street, Harry held the map up to the streetlamp to get his bearings and saw that Hermione's house was only a few blocks over from where he stood.

A few raindrops splattered on the map and Harry looked up at the sky to see dark, swirling clouds had covered the once starry sky. He made his way down the street as the rain started to come down harder. The rain streamed down Harry's face, making it hard to see through his glasses. His robes were rapidly soaked straight through to his skin.

At last, Harry spotted mailbox number 28, Lark Lane. This is it , he thought. I'm finally here. Half of him wanted to mount his Firebolt and fly away into the rain, back to the serene comfort of his home where his mother and father were; yet another half, the stronger half, knew that he had to save Hogwarts and the Wizarding World from suffering under Voldemort's rule.

His heart hammered against his chest when he finally reached the front door and rang the doorbell.

Harry could hear voices within. “Someone get the door!”

“All right, Daddy!” Harry's stomach lurched as he recognized the voice. . The door swung open and Hermione, looking as beautiful as ever, stood there staring blankly at Harry, who tried to straighten his appearance even though it was truly hopeless. His soaked clothes were sticking to his body, his wet hair was messier then ever and dripping down his face along with a little blood from the gashes on his forehead and cheeks.

“Hello, Hermione.”

Chapter 6: Born to be a Witch

She simply stared at him.

“Who is it, honey?” said a sweet female voice from inside.

“Who are you?” Hermione finally asked.

“I'm Harry Potter. I have to talk to you,” said Harry, much more bravely than he felt introducing himself to someone that was - or used to be - his best friend.

“Okay, come on in,” she said hesitantly, holding open the door. Harry leaned his bedraggled Firebolt against the side of the house and entered. The house was decorated very warmly and luxuriously - colors of red, gold, and brown everywhere, making it seem welcoming. She led him into the family room where her father was watching television.

“Please, take a seat,” said Hermione, sitting down on a love seat next to her father's recliner.

“What's all this about?” Hermione's mother asked as she entered from the kitchen. She was an attractive middle-aged woman with Hermione's hazel eyes and looked him over curiously. “Who is this young man?”

“Harry Potter, Mom. He says he wants to talk to us.”

“You,” corrected Harry. “I want to talk to you. It's very important and I would like to talk to you alone.” For a moment, Mrs. and Mr. Granger stared at him; Harry thought they would forbid him from speaking to Hermione.

“Tell us who you are,” said Mr. Granger forcibly.

“Harry Potter, sir. It's about, er, school,” Harry lied blandly. He figured that since Hermione was a top student, school was pretty important to the Grangers, and they would want her to be going to the best schools.

Hermione was giving him a perplexed look as Mrs. Granger huffed a little and herded her husband into the kitchen.

Once the door was closed, Harry turned to Hermione and prepared himself for the worst.

“What did you want to talk to me about that's so important?” she asked coolly. Harry started to explain everything to her - about Hogwarts, how they were best friends and what they did all throughout their years at Hogwarts, about the Time Turner situation and Voldemort and the Wizarding World and how she as the best Witch of her year - everything he could think of.

“Wait - I thought this was about school?” she interrupted.

“I lied, okay? I need to talk to you and that was the only thing I could think of to get your parents out of the way.”

“How am I suppose to believe you?” said Hermione loudly. “I don't even know you. I've never even seen you in my life before - ”

“Don't I look familiar to you?” asked Harry, hoping that Hermione could at least remember him a bit, like a vague dream.

“Well, to be honest, it's kind of like Déjà vu. But that doesn't mean I know you, and most importantly doesn't mean I can trust you!”

“Alright. I didn't think I'd have to come to this, but - ” Harry pulled his wand out from his pocket and muttered “Wingardrium Leviousa” at a mug on the coffee table. It rose a few feet in the air. Hermione gasped.

“How - if you're wand is down there, it can't be holding it up - ” she grabbed at the mug, and waved her arms above and below it, searching for an explanation as to why it was floating in mid-air.

“Do you believe in magic now?”

“Do something else!” she demanded, but Harry saw her confidence falter.

Harry immediately pointed his wand at the bookcase in the corner and said “Accio book!” One blue book came pelting out into his outstretched hand.

“Do you believe in magic - and in me - now?”

She looked at him uneasily. “So, what your saying is, you want me to help you defeat this guy, Voldemort?”

“Sort of. I want you to tell me what to do. Advise me. Please,” he begged.

“Mr. Potter - ”

“Harry. Call me Harry.”

“Harry, how am I supposed to believe anything you're saying is true? I'm not a Witch, I've never heard of Hogwarts or Voldemort and I'm not smart - ”

“Hermione, you are a Witch,” interrupted Harry. “It's in your blood. You have magic running through your veins and you are the best Witch of the century. Please don't doubt me,” Harry said quietly. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and sighed.

“How do I know that? Let me try to do some magic with your wand so I know that it's not a trick.” Harry handed her over his wand and instructed her on how to do the “Alohomora” spell because he remembered her being quite good at that.

“So, I point it at the door, and say “Alohomora” and flick it like this, and it will lock?”

“Yes.” Hermione did so successfully. She inspected the doorknob hastily, and then turned back to him.

“You always knew how to do it the first time you ever tried,” remarked Harry.

“Tell me about this Voldemort person again?”



~*~

Hermione and Harry spent the night talking and eating (Harry had been starving since he had not eaten in a day). Her parents had come in a little bit later and asked what was taking so long and suggested Harry to leave. Hermione stubbornly insisted that Harry was her friend from school and he was having “family issues” so he had to stay there for the night. Needless to say, Hermione was a good liar.

“What you need to do,” she told him, after long hours of talking into dawn, “is this. Find a Time Turner and go back sixteen years ago, when you were just a baby, exactly like Neville did. Then find out where Neville is, because he has to be there to, since he went back also, and stop him. From what you've told me, the Wizarding World is a wreck because Voldemort's Avada Kedavra spell didn't backfire on Neville as it did to you.”

“Right. Okay. I can do that . . . I think.”

“Some confidence here, Harry,” said Hermione seriously.

“You've caught on very well to what I've told you,” observed Harry, rubbing his tired eyes. “I told you that you were smart.”

Hermione looked sheepish, “I still don't get all of it.”

“And you don't need to,” said Harry. “I appreciate all of the advice you've given to me and I'm definitely going to do it. But I'm afraid that you won't see me again after I leave, even if it will or will not be a success.”

“If it's not a success - ”

“I'll probably die.”

“Don't say that.”

“It's true.”

“Hermione!” said Mrs. Granger's voice as she walked into the family room. “What are you doing and why is this boy still here?”

“Sorry, Mother, we spent all night talking and catching up with each other on things. Would you mind if Harry slept here for a while and then left?” Hermione asked.

“Hermione, I don't - ”

“Shush, Harry,” she hissed at him. “Mother?”

“Sure, I don't mind, he could sleep in the guest room,” Mrs. Granger replied and walked back into the kitchen. “I'm going to start breakfast.”

“I will show you to the guest room.” Hermione told him and headed up the stairs and along to a doorway about halfway down the hallway. “Here it is.” She opened the door to reveal a small room with a queen size bed and large window. Harry walked in and looked around.

“Thanks Hermione. Thanks a lot.”

“No problem.” She grinned as she closed the door. Once he heard her go down the stairs Harry started undressing and since he didn't have any pajamas, he just slipped into the rather stiff bed in his boxers.

It was mid-morning when Harry trudged downstairs, dressed fully and ready to set out on his journey. But before he could reach the door, Hermione had interposed herself between Harry and the front door.

“Where do you think you're going?”

“I'm leaving to change everything,” he said.

“I'm going with you.”

“Oh no, you're not.”

“Oh yes I am.” Hermione's face looked set.

“Hermione, you know the danger in coming! You are not coming with me and that's final.”

“I don't want to go back in time with you. Just help you find the Time Turner. Oh, come on, I won't be able to sleep without knowing if you were able to get the Time Turner or not . . . Hell, I'm not even going to be able to get to sleep now that you've told me about everything . . .”

“Well, you better,” Harry advised. Hermione looked at him pleadingly. “Okay, okay! But how are you going to get back?”

“Your broom,” she said, gesturing out the door to where it was leaning against the side of the house. “You're not going to need it after you go back in time.”

“Hermione! You don't know how to fly! You're afraid of flying and think Quidditch is a waste of time.”

“What's Quidditch?” she asked. Harry grumbled. It was like teaching a two-year old something new.

“See? This is what I'm talking about. You don't know anything about the Wizarding World. You can't come with me.”

“Watch me.” She opened the door and grabbed his Firebolt and ran down onto the long driveway. Harry chased after her, thoroughly convinced that she would not to try to fly - but like always, he was wrong. Numbly he watched her straddle the Firebolt between her legs and awkwardly pushed off from the ground. She gave a little squeak of nervousness as the broom began to gain altitude. “Harry! Harry! Help me, I'm going to die!” she shouted as the Firebolt steadily progressed higher into the air and she struggled for balance.

Laughing slightly, Harry walked to a point just underneath her. “Put your hands on the end of the broom and push down. Slowly.” She obeyed and began to descend. Luckily, she lost her balance when she was only a few feet above the ground and Harry was able to catch her..

Harry was holding her in the position he would hold a baby, with one arm underneath her knees and the other under her arms. The Firebolt clattered onto the driveway unnoticed by either of them. He stood still as they locked eyes - and the feeling he had felt behind the bushes with Hermione Christmas Eve came back more strongly - the hope, the certainty, and the feeling he now recognized as love.

“I think I'm perfectly happy being your friend,” breathed Hermione, her eyes swimming in Harry's dazzling green ones. “In fact I love it. But sometimes I have this incredible urge to kiss you that won't go away.”

“There was something I forgot to mention,” whispered Harry. “We were in love.”

~*~

The feel of Hermione's hands hugging his waist and the sense of her behind him was enough to spur him to keep going. They fly tandem on Harry's Firebolt towards a red dot on the map labeled “Time Turner.” It was very far away and Harry figured it probably resided in one of the Death Eater's mansions - or maybe even Voldemort's abode itself.

After Harry had told Hermione that they had been in love in the other world, she had gotten down from his arms and said very defiantly, “I knew it,” and walked away towards the house. However, she appeared a few moments later with warmer clothes on and a basket of food: prepared for a long journey. “I left a note on the table for Mom and Dad,” she had said. “I told them I might be gone for a couple of days because I'm staying with my Auntie. They had wanted me to go visit her for a while, anyway, so I don't think they are going to fret.” Harry nodded and they had set off to find the Time Turner.

Hermione was now carrying the map (which had changed now to show the way to the Time Turner) and was often correcting him to which direction they should travel. They wanted to reach at least walking distance to wherever the Time Turner was located (in whose mansion, Harry could not tell, but he knew it was at least a mansion), and they knew it would take them up to dusk to reach that. Hopefully, they would find somewhere to sleep and set off for the Turner in the morning. After Harry had retrieved the Time Turner, he would hand over the Firebolt and the map to Hermione and turn the Time Turner as fast as he could to get into the past to stop Neville.

The hours passed slowly as they traveled. The temperature decreased dramatically so that Harry was suddenly envious of Hermione's extra layers of clothes as he shivered in the cold, but was perfectly content to have her snuggling against him.

When they were finally to their target distance from the mysterious mansion, Harry descended vertically until they could hop off easily.

“Well, that was uncomfortable,” said Hermione, rubbing her back.

“It is when you have to fly for ten straight hours.” Harry grinned. “but it isn't usually.”

“You never explained Quidditch to me,” she piped up. “Oh, come on, I want to know!”

“Okay,” said Harry. He began to explain to Hermione to the wonderful sport of Quidditch as they made a makeshift shelter to camp until dawn.

Chapter 7: Journey to the Mansion

Harry and Hermione slept poorly that night underneath the protection of a rather large sycamore tree. Hermione had dozed off to Harry's elaborate stories of Quidditch wrapped in his arms. Although Harry knew he should not get attached to this Hermione, nor should she get attached to him, he just couldn't resist.

Hermione was the first to wake up. “Harry,” she murmured, elbowing him slightly, “Wake up.” Harry muttered something incoherent; his only desire being right then was to fall back into the comforting embrace of sleep.

“Get up,” Hermione repeated more loudly. “We have to walk some distance to get there and you need to get there early to check it out, right?” Harry had agreed, but still was not happy about it and moodily sat up, yawning. “For breakfast we have bread, bananas, and a bottle of water,” said Hermione, pulling things out of the basket she had brought along and handing them to him. They began to eat as the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn.

Once they finished the small meal, they started making their way through the thick forest (the mansion lay isolated from any nearby towns or roads - Harry felt certain it had to be a Death Eater's home given the location) Harry's legs and back began to ache from three nights of hard travel and poor sleeping conditions.

“Why don't we just fly there?” suggested Harry, tripping once again over a heavy tree root.

“No, we don't want to be stopped do we?,” said Hermione matter-of-factly. “And besides, brooms are very uncomfortable. Maybe that is why I didn't like them in your world, as you told me.”

“You didn't care for it,” corrected Harry irritably. She was making him miss the old Hermione . . . the one that always pestered him and Ron to create study schedules and to do their homework, the one that absolutely hated nicknames, and the one that had always, always been there for him and stood by his side no matter what. Then he wondered if missing the person that was right next to him made sense. But they aren't the same person, Harry reminded himself. They are two different Hermiones.

“How do you know that?” pestered Hermione.

“You've only said it about million times.”

“Oh.” Then they both fell silent. “Technically, Harry, I actually didn't say that I didn't care for Quidditch,” Hermione observed after a few moments. “So you really can't say that.”

“Alright,” Harry said shortly.

“Then, lets ride the Firebolt there.”

“But you said - ”

“I've changed my mind, Harry. I've realized that you've got to take chances in life, and since this is probably the most exciting and worthwhile thing I've done in my whole entire organized and boring life, we should try to take advantage of it.” Harry didn't need any more convincing, so he quickly mounted the broom. Hermione got on behind him, strapped the food basket on, and then put her arms around Harry as he pushed off into the air just enough to clear the ground and started through the wood.

“What are you doing?”

“Er - flying . . .”

“Harry, we are in the middle of the forest. Who cares if anyone sees us? And besides, people saw us flying out of my town.”

“Oh no - ”

“Don't worry about it, Harry, you're going to be gone by today! Just fly above the trees!” Hermione shouted. Harry obeyed and soon enough they were soaring with the birds. Harry closed his eyes and breathed the fresh air.

They did not have to travel for long before coming across the grand park that surrounded the large mansion. It was sitting in the middle of an enormous landscaped area with beautiful maple trees on the lawn and a rather large swimming pool in the back. Harry almost fell off his broom when he passed the iron gate and read `MALFOY' etched across it.

“Is something the matter?” asked Hermione, who must have felt Harry's uneasiness.

“Yeah . . . yeah . . . this place is Draco Malfoy's . . .”

“Who is he?”

“Someone I knew from school . . .” Harry muttered, not wanting to explain the rather peculiar relationship with him and Malfoy. Hermione, sensing the awkwardness, did not persist with the subject.

“Where should we land?” asked Harry quickly.

“Over there and get out of plain sight or else someone might see you!” hissed Hermione. Harry immediately flew towards Hermione's finger, which was pointing to a clump of bushes about a quarter of a mile from the mansion. They landed abruptly and instantaneously Hermione had pulled Harry down to the ground.

“Now we have to be stealthy, Harry,” she whispered. “We can't go charging in and demanding the Time Turner.”

“I know that,” snarled Harry.

“Just making sure.” She peered over the over the bushes. “Alright, the best way to get in would be the back way, because there would be less likely a chance you would be seen by anyone. We don't know if they are home or not, but we can't take any chances; so you need be as quiet as you can once you get in the house. Ifsomeone sees you, then get the hell out of there as fast as you can. I'll be ready if you come dashing out and we'll fly away together, so no harm will be done. But if you are seenand can't escape, you're going to have to duel.”

“I know . . . I'll be ready for it.”

“Right. There will be no way to know if you got the Time Turner or not because you're going to use it right after you find it,” said Hermione, more telling him to do that instead of just stating it, “so I'll just stay here until it gets dark. Then I'll leave to go home.”

“No, Hermione, I don't think you should wait up for me - it's dangerous enough that you came, let alone staying here - ”

“Harry, stop it. I'm staying here whether or not you like it,” Hermione informed him stubbornly.

“Fine but promise me you'll leave once it gets dark or if someone spots you.”

“I promise. Good luck.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you for everything, Hermione. I hope to see you soon, the way I know you,” Harry said, touching her cheek. “Hermione the witch.” A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek as she smiled sadly.

“Me too,” Hermione whispered. Harry slid his finger down her soft, slightly wet cheek before turning away and without looking back, sprinted to the side of the house. Leaning his back against it and hoping that no one saw him run up to it, he edged to the back wall and was out of sight for Hermione. He continued along the back wall until he reached the door. Praying with all his might that the Malfoys were were not home, he was disappointed that the obvious signs showed that they were, in fact, home. Harry's mind was filled with visions of what they would do to him if he was caught.

He was at the door sooner then he thought. Shaking slightly, he laid his hand on the doorknob and twisted it carefully. Then he pulled it open just enough so he could peer through a little crack. Harry could see that behind the door was a long corridor, furbished luxuriously with royal red carpet and gold-framed paintings. Since the corridor was empty, Harry gingerly opened the door so he could slide in silently, and then closed it softly.

He stood still listening for a long time, intent for the slightest sound of movement or voices or anything to indicate where anyone might be in the house. But he heard nothing. Harry was perplexed - either they knew of his presence and were waiting for the perfect time to strike or they weren't home. Yet Harry thought that it would be simply too easy for him for them not to be home, and things in life never came easy for him.

Thinking that he should get a move on and stop mulling, he tiptoed down the hallway until he saw mahogany double door. His hand shot out and was about to touch it when -

“MALFOY!”

Harry jumped and slammed his back against the wall, breathing hard. Okay, so someone was home. He stayed absolutely quiet, waiting to see what would happen and who had just shouted that.

“Yes, Master?” answered another voice. Harry heard footsteps from the floor above and then heard them going down steps close by to where Harry stood. “How may I help you today?” Harry suddenly realized the cold voice as Lucius Malfoy's, and that the other must be . . . Lord Voldemort's. They were both in the room Harry had been about to enter.

Why, Neville, why? thought Harry disgustedly. He was going to have to face Voldemort again if he didn't get out of this predicament and find the Time Turner fast. But how could he? The Time Turner could be a million places in the mansion - it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. But then he thought of Hermione - how beautiful she was; how lovely - and became determined. He wanted to see the Witch Hermione so much - it was not fair for Neville to do this. Oh, how Neville was going to pay once Harry was back. If Harry got back.

“I have a task for you, Malfoy.” Lord Voldemort's high, cruel voice echoed in what was presumably the Entrance Hall. “Let's go into your office to discuss it.” The sound of footsteps retreated back up the stairs relieved Harry's anxiety that they might discovered him where he stood. Harry waited in case they came back down, but when he did not hear any more movement through the door, he pushed it open slowly to reveal a large entrance hall with marble floors and white walls. A grand staircase sat in the middle of it. Slightly apprehensive, Harry climbed the staircase.

He took the left corridor because in the right one there was door at the far end with a light on, and Harry was almost sure that Voldemort and Lucius were in it. But what if the Time Turner was in there? Harry thought. I might as well check around anyway . . .

Continuing down the long corridor, Harry chose the first door on the left to open first. Without being cautious he swung it open and heard a tremendous gasp.

“What the hell are you doing here!” yelled Draco Malfoy, who was lying in a luxurious four-poster bed. Harry gasped too. He could not make his feet move; it was as if he was glued to the carpet. “I said, Potter, what the hell are you doing here!” Draco repeated. Harry assumed from Draco's voice that they were enemies in this world, too, and Harry wasn't surprised, rather relieved actually that some things did stay the same despite Neville's blunder.

“Draco, what are you shouting about?” called Lucius Malfoy from down the hallway.

“FATHER! FATHER! HARRY POTTER IS HERE!” yelled Draco angrily, scrambling out of bed and pointing at Harry furiously. Clearly, Harry was not liked. If Harry hadn't been extremely stunned right then and frantically racking his brain for ways to get out of this situation, he would have been amused at what Draco was wearing: satin blue pajamas with lace cuffs. A second after Draco had said that, though, Harry heard a scuffle down the corridor and the bang of a door.

Quickly Harry dodged down the opposite end of the corridor. “STUPEFY!” roared Lucius. Harry ducked and saw a red flash of light pass over his head, missing him by a mere few inches.

“You didn't get him, Malfoy, let me try,” Lord Voldemort instructed Lucius calmly. But Harry was ready this time.

“STUPEFY!” he shouted, whipping his wand out of his pocket, swinging around and pointing it at a cloaked figure he knew as Lord Voldemort all in one motion. Unsurprisingly Lord Voldemort deflected the spell and Lucius Malfoy came after him.

“What the hell do you think you're doing in the Malfoy Mansion!” he snarled. Draco Malfoy's pale pointed face poked out from his bedroom door to watch the entertainment. “I don't want a filthy Potter stinking up the place!”

Harry knew he had to get to the room where they had just come from, and this was his only chance. Lucius Malfoy charged at him with Lord Voldemort not far behind. They were halfway down the corridor when Harry finally did something.

“STUPEFY! STUPEFY! STUPEFY!” He didn't know what else to do but keep on repeating the spell and hoping that it would hit one, if not both. He slammed his eyes shut and kept on shouting it, his wand pointing outward and preparing for the worst.

“You're done for now, Potter!”

Harry snapped his eyes open to see Lord Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy sprawled on the ground. I did it! He thought. I did it! Now I just have to take care of Malfoy . . .

Disregarding his wand completely, Draco took a swing at him with his fist that hit Harry right on the nose. He moaned and sank to the ground, his hands cupping his swelling nose and the blood that started pouring out of it. But as he did this Harry thought - why isn't Draco at Hogwarts like where he's supposed to be?

A tremendous pain in the left side of his stomach told him that he had just been kicked. Groaning, Harry rolled over and muttered “Petrificus Totalus!” and pointed his wand upwards at Draco's face. He immediately fell to the ground, his arms springing to his side and his legs clapping together. Harry scrambled up, his nose still gushing blood.

Draco was staring at Harry menacingly and with an expression of utter hate that almost scared him. Harry glared down at him and as he did so a few drops of the blood from his nose dripped down and splattered on Draco's forehead. Harry laughed; Draco would not be able to wipe it off for a while.

“So, Malfoy, tell me, why aren't you at Hogwarts?” said Harry, with an urge to kick Malfoy in the side as he had done to him, but rested on the fact that he didn't want to sink as low as his enemies. Malfoy avoided eye contact and looked away; it was clear the subject was uncomfortable to him. Suddenly Harry spotted the edge of what looked like a black tattoo that wasn't covered by the short-sleeved silk pajamas. He lifted the sleeve up and Malfoy's eyes snapped to Harry. Quickly he tried to jump away but Harry had already seen it: the Dark Mark. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. Comprehension on why Malfoy was not at Hogwarts suddenly dawned on Harry.

Revolted, Harry got up and walked down the corridor to the last door where Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort had been discussing their plans. He prayed that the Time Turner was in there - if it wasn't, he wouldn't know where else to look, because time was running out and it could be anywhere in the enormous mansion, especially in hidden places like under loose floorboards or behind bookshelves. However, to his unbelievable luck, the Time Turner was laying on Lucius' oak desk unharmed and untouched.

“Yes,” exclaimed Harry, moving forward to pick it up. It was more fancy then the one Hermione had owned in their third year; the edges gleamed gold and the sand inside sparkled white. For a moment, he was mesmerized by it, but then shook his head and put it around his neck. He turned it sixteen times for sixteen years, but even as he was doing this he thought of Aubrianna, his mother, and his father - about how he loved having a family; how he loved spending his Christmas with them in a house full of love. But he could not stay with them even though it pained him so much to come to this conclusion. The wizarding world needed him - they couldn't have Voldemort reining their world and destroying it so there were no Muggleborns like Hermione allowed and even half-bloods were persecuted.

When he turned it for the sixteenth time and final time and everything started to swirl in a wheel of color, he knew that he was doing the right thing. Goodbye Mum, Dad. I'm sorry, Bri…

Chapter 9: The Task at Hand

Harry stumbled a bit when his feet landed firmly on hard, solid ground. His surroundings were dark and he could not see clearly where he was. He assumed he was on a street, since in the distance he thought he saw a streetlamp but it was extremely foggy outside. Feeling slightly reckless he took a few steps into the thick fog towards the dim orange light.

“Hello?” he called out hesitantly. Everything felt so surreal, like he was in a dream that he desperately wanted out of but did not know how. The light seemed so far away and kept getting dimmer and dimmer so that it seemed he was moving further away from it instead of getting closer.

“What do you think you're doing, wandering the streets at a time like this?” said a cruel, sarcastic voice from behind him. Harry turned around swiftly, his heart racing madly. Instinctively he whipped out his wand and held it high, ready to strike if he needed to. A cloaked man stood before him, pointing his wand straight at Harry's heart. Due to the fog, Harry was not able to make out his face.

“I don't think you will be needing that,” said the man swiftly. Before Harry could react, he had muttered something intelligible and in seconds, Harry had blacked out.

~*~

“Why did you bring the boy here?”

Harry awoke to the sound of a hushed woman's voice.

“He is a Wizard in a Death Eater part of town. I want to know why he was there. He was probably sent by Dumbledore to retrieve information on what we are doing . . .” said a man, laughing ruefully. “As if a boy could spy on us.”

“He is stirring, be quiet,” snapped the woman. Aware that they knew he had awoken, Harry opened his eyes. He was in a dark room with only one window that was closed. Two figures were sitting on chairs on the opposite side of the room, and even in the dark, Harry knew that they were watching him intently.

“Who are you?” asked Harry blearily, sitting up in bed and trying to recall what had happened recently. The man laughed again.

“Guess, silly boy.”

“You are Death Eaters, right?” asked Harry. He had a sudden tide of remembrance that he was sixteen years in the past and the last thing that had happened was blacking out in the middle of a street.

“Of course. A good wizard, are you, boy? A muggle-loving fool, no doubt,” the women said bitterly, standing up and walking over to the moonlit window.

“Actually, I'm not.” Harry swung his legs over to the side of the bed. “I have some information that I think Lord Voldemort will find extremely interesting.”

“Yes?” said the man snidely, but Harry could tell that he had perked up some interest by how the man shifted in his seat.

“What is it?” asked the woman, coming over to the bed. “Tell us and we will inform our Master.”

“Let's just say,” said Harry, “that I know what the prophecy entails and which boy is the untimely threat.” The women obliged and left the room immediately through a door next to the chair on which the man was seated. Harry uncomfortably averted his eyes and instead looked out of the window to the starry sky, wondering where Lily Potter, James Potter, and himself, young Harry Potter were right at this moment.

“What is your name?” grunted the man after a few moments, startling Harry.

“Does it matter?” he shot at him. He didn't want to come up with a fake name.

“Yes, I want to make sure that you aren't on Dumbledore's side. I don't trust you just yet.”

“Well, I think that Lord Voldemort will appreciate my knowledge on this prophecy even if you trust me or not.” Harry turned away, determined not to look at the man. They both fell silent and waited for the woman to return. She returned after a few moments.

“He wants to see you,” she breathed after entering. Harry was surprised at the quickness with which he was able to get in touch with Lord Voldemort. Shaking slightly, Harry stood up and followed the woman out of the room where the man still sat. She led him through an extremely dim corridor that caused Harry to stumble a few times before they reached a door at the end. She stopped and turned to him. “I must warn you if your information is useless, he will kill you.”

But Harry didn't even worry about that. If this didn't workthere wouldn't be anything for Harry to live for working this reality. Once again, he mentally cursed Neville as he was shoved through the door into Voldemort's lair.

The room had a roaring fireplace on the side of the room that cast a warm glow. It felt much more inviting then the other rooms, even though it's inhabitant rendered it as the least inviting.

“Kneel,” said a high, cold voice Harry came to know as Lord Voldemort's. He was sitting with a high red chair with the back facing Harry, so luckily he didn't have to see his face. Harry knelt before the raised dias that held the chair, averting his gaze from Voldemort. A desk was the only thing separating them, and Harry was astounded to realize that his scar was throbbing painfully as it usually did when he was in close proximity to Voldemort. Then, he realized that he did not have his scar back. Not yet, at least. Surreptitiously, he traced his forehead with his finger on where the scar would have been.

“One of my faithful followers captured you and brought you here because he said you looked suspicious and that you might be one of Dumbledore's lackeys,” said Lord Voldemort loudly. “and I must say that you certainly do appear that way. You proclaim you know about the prophecy made concerning myself and my downfall.” He laughed softly. “How like a foolish child wrapped up in something he cannot begin to understand. But, I cannot take the risk that you might actually hold such crucial information, so talk and I will make your death quick and painless. Otherwise…”

Harry breathed deeply, gathering up courage. This was it. After a short pause to clear the lump that had risen in his throat, he said firmly, “Harry Potter is your biggest threat.”

“How do you know that and why should I believe you when someone else just came before you and said that Neville Longbottom will be my biggest threat?” He got here before me, thought Harry. “Very suspicious . . .”

“I am sure because the only other person that heard the prophecy recited everything to me. I cannot tell you exactly what it said, but I know that Harry Potter will be your biggest threat and if you don't believe me, I can't help you,” Harry lied, hoping that Voldemort would believe him and not Neville. Where was Neville right now, anyway? Harry wondered. He stood up and walked to the door. “Goodbye.” He opened the door and walked through, looking back to see that Lord Voldemort had turned around in his high red chair and was staring at Harry, smirking.

Harry gasped and closed the door instantaneously but the red slits of eyes, shaped like a snake's, loomed in Harry's head and would not go away. He leaned against the door; his eyes snapped shut and breathing hard. What did he just do? Why did he tell Voldemort to try to kill him as a baby, when he had wished numerous times that he was just a normal kid? And he had had that; he lived it. He had a loving, normal family and even a little sister - but he had to give it all up. Why am I giving it all up? He thought.

Because of Hermione.

And Ron.

And the whole Wizarding World.

That's why.

~*~

The woman Death Eater that had escorted him there came out as soon as she heard the door to Voldemort's room close. “What happened?”

Harry glared up at her. “Where's the exit?”

“Did the Dark Lord permit you to leave?”

“I guess, I'm still alive,” said Harry irritably, regretting leaving the Firebolt with Hermione. He pushed her aside and went down the rickety, dark staircase. He could see the window of a door at the bottom, so he carefully made his way down until he reached it, and then he could feel the cold night air on his face. The fog from before had cleared up, and the sun was just showing itself on the horizon.

Harry walked quickly down the sidewalk through a town that obviously had better days: the houses were old and falling apart, the sidewalks were cracked, and the lawns were overgrown. It looked even worse as the sun rose further and he could see more detail.

Harry had no idea where he was going, all he knew was that he wanted to get as far from Lord Voldemort as he could; his guilt eating him almost alive. He had just practically told the Dark Lord to kill him and his parents. But you had to, Harry thought, trying to reassure himself. You did the right thing.

Why doesn't that make me feel any better?

He shoved his hands into his pocket moodily and kicked a small pebble from his path, frustrated at the world.. He watched it fly into the air, across the sidewalk, and behind a fence. Then he saw something mysterious - the swish of a black cloak around the corner of the street, just a few feet in front of him. Not another Death Eater following me, thought Harry angrily. He quickened his pace until he reached the corner of the street and looked down. A short figure was running down it, but as Harry watched, he tripped and fell flat on his face.

Harry ran after him, and since he had tripped, caught up with him in no time.

“Who are you?” Harry yelled, searching his pockets for his wand to point it at whoever it was, and then realizing that he didn't have it and the Death Eater back at Voldemort's lair had kept it.

“I am . . . I'm . . . I don't - ” stammered the figure, his face still against the pavement.

“Who are you?” repeated Harry loudly, but slightly nervous because he was missing the most important thing in the Wizarding World - a wand.

“Oh, Harry,” he said and rolled over so Harry could get a clear view of his face. It was Neville Longbottom.

“Neville!” yelped Harryas hejumped to his feet, completely taken aback.

“Don't hurt me!” he whimpered as Harry's facial expression suddenly turned from shocked to angry.

“How could you Neville? How could you go back and tell Voldemort to try and kill you as a baby?” screamed Harry as Neville sat up and edged away from him and his wrath.

“I - I thought I already explained that in the letter,” he said quietly. Harry groaned.

“Neville, you can't change time. Things happen and you can't do anything to stop them. But most importantly you can't go back in time and try to change things - it just makes things worse. Did you know that if Voldemort really went after you, he would have successfully killed you and then continued to take over the Wizarding World?” Neville looked up blankly at Harry. “Yeah, it's true. And Hogwarts would be ruined and run by Dementors and no Muggleborns would be able to attend there. It would be a catastrophe.

“I'm sorry, Harry, I really am,” wept Neville, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth slightly. “I don't know what else to do. I just wanted to make it right.”

“Just think next time,” barked Harry. Then he sighed, his anger ebbing away immediately. Neville was just trying to help, after all. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Chapter 10: A Sirius Time

Harry and Neville sat there quietly for a while, both of them lost in their own reveries. Harry was looking around the shabby, ghostly town when he remembered something.

“Neville, it's Halloween.”

“So?” asked Neville slowly.

“So! Tonight Voldemort murders my parents,” he said angrily, standing up and looking around as if Death Eaters were going to come strolling down the street any second. “We have got to get out of here - ”

“Where are we going to go?” Neville asked rhetorically, then continued, “We have nowhere to go! We might as well stay here tonight and wait for something to happen - ”

“Are you insane? You don't think Death Eaters are looking for us now, after we've both went and told Voldemort we know about the prophecy?” Harry cried with more than a touch of exasperation.

“Er - well… I …” CRACK. Two cloaked Death Eaters Apparated onto the street in front of them with their wands raised.

“EXPELLIARMUS!” one of them shouted.

Instantly Harry tried to pull Neville to the ground to duck the spell, but Neville resisted. Instead, he fumbled for his wand in his pocket and then stammered out, “S-S-STUPEFY! S-STUPEFY!” To Harry's enormous surprise, both Death Eaters flew backwards and fell to the ground unconscious.

“Wow,” he muttered, straightening up and wishing he had a wand. “Nice one, Neville.”

“The D.A. really paid off,” Neville said proudly, grinning. “So, where are we going to go, since you've proved me wrong?”

“I don't know…” Harry sighed and sat back down on the curb. He wished he had never gotten into this mess in the first place…

“Eh, well, I know of one way of transport.” Neville raised his wand; for a second, Harry thought he might be conjuring a broom, but right after he had put his arm down a loud BANG sounded and a violently purple bus was swaying down the street at full speed.

“How did you know about the Knight Bus?” asked Harry, surprised. He had only traveled on the Knight bus twice, in the summer before his third year and just last year to go to Kings Cross and they had not been exactly pleasant experiences.

“I've traveled on it loads of times with my Gran,” Neville said matter-of-factly as the Knight Bus halted in front of them and a friendly-faced old lady stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, here to serve any of your transportation needs,” she said loudly. “Good morning young men, where would you like to be off to today?”

Harry was about to answer “Hogwarts,” (although he had no idea why he wanted to go there, it seemed like the only option), when Neville cut in.

“Godric's Hollow.”

“What? Neville, we can't go there, you know what is going to happen tonight, we don't want to be in the middle of it and cause any more trouble then we already have…” Harry urgently whispered.

“Don't worry about it,” Neville said confidently. “Just be quiet and let me talk. Mrs.…” Neville squinted at the old lady's nametag. “Mrs. Fewrin - ”

“Call me Eileen, dear.”

“Eileen, I have to be honest with you. We don't have any money.”

“And you want to ride free?” asked Eileen kindly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she smiled warmly.

“Yes! Thank you so much for understanding, you see we've - ”

“No,” Eileen said flatly, her smile dropping into an unwelcome frown. She turned around and walked aboard the bus. “We don't transport troublemakers of your sort for free.”

“Are you giving customers a problem again?” A booming male voice came from inside of the bus.

“Of course I'm not, they just don't have any money.” A man around his thirties with black hair and warm deep brown eyes appeared behind Eileen. He looked Neville and Harry up and down with his face expressionless.

“Let them on, Eileen,” he said. “They are in a Death Eater town, and too young to that sort. The least we can do for them is take them out of here to wherever they want to go for one time.” He looked at them. “But don't assume that just because we let you ride for free today means we will the next time. We aren't that lenient.”

“Yes sir,” said Harry, nodding. “Thank you.” Eileen gave them a look of disgust and gestured for them to follow her. Harry's heart thumped loudly against his chest as he followed Neville to the upper level of the bus. He was not ready to see his father again nor his mother. He could not face the pain of knowing he left everything he always wanted behind. And he definitely wouldn't be able to bear to see Voldemort come. However, that was if he even was coming at all.

When they reached the top level, there was only one other passenger there. He was absorbed in The Daily Prophet (which had large, graphic pictures of the Death Eaters' destruction with the headline “You-Know-Who Strikes Again”) and was holding a cup of coffee.

“Sit. We'll be in Godric's Hollow very shortly.” Neville and Harry sat across from the man nervously. Upon hearing Eileen's words, the man had lowered his newspaper and was staring sharply at them.

“You two are going to Godric's Hollow too?” he asked suspiciously. Since the paper no longer obscured his view, Harry could now see the man's face clearly. He was very handsome, with sleek dark hair and even, well-cut features. Then, simultaneously Harry and Neville both gasped in recognition. They looked at each other, flabbergasted, and then back to the twenty year old Sirius Black. “Er - something the matter?” Sirius asked while giving them a perplexed look.

Neville was first to recover his voice. “N-no, nothing's the matter, and, er, yes, we are going to Godric's Hollow. Why?”

“What's your business there?” Harry knew that Sirius thought that they could be looking for the Potter residence. A strange chill went down his spine.

“We - we live there,” spoke up Harry when Neville obviously did not know what to say and was opening and closing his mouth with a dumbfounded expression.

“You don't sound so sure about that.”

“We are, don't worry.” However, Sirius didn't seem convinced. He went back to reading The Daily Prophet and seemed to ignore Harry and Neville, though Harry knew he was shooting him furtive glances from the corner of his eye.

Harry kept his face blank, careful to not show any emotion that might betray the real reason they were there. Neville was obviously uneasy about the whole situation; he kept on shifting in his chair and biting his lip nervously. Harry wanted to tell him to quit looking so guilty.

Harry shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool window glass. He was exhausted, and falling into sleep's comforting embrace was a very enticing thought indeed… just as he started dozing off, Sirius spoke up.

“Say, you look like one of my friends. Do you know James Potter?” Neville let out a little squeak. Sirius looked sharply at him; a lump came to Harry's throat. He couldn't believe this. After almost two years of wanting just to see his godfather again, here he was with him on the Knight Bus and Sirius didn't even know who he was. And he knew, Harry knew, where all of their respective fates lay. Sirius was going to go after Peter Pettigrew tonight and then spend his next thirteen years in Azkaban under the false name of “Murdered thirteen muggles and Peter Pettigrew.” He couldn't let that happen. He just couldn't… a war broke out in his head.

You can't mess around with time, Harry.

But I could just tell him not to go after Pettigrew…

NO. Look how badly Neville and you have corrupted time. It's going to be a miracle if you two return safely without doing any real danger.

What's the difference if Sirius doesn't go to Azkaban? He could have lived a totally different life…

As these thoughts battled in his head, Eileen came upstairs and informed them that Godric's Hollow was the next stop and that they would be arriving there in a few moments. She left quickly, her stare lingering in Sirius's direction.

Aware that he and Neville had not responded to Sirius's question yet, Harry decided to say. “No, I don't think I know him,” The statement was punctuated just as the Knight Bus screeched to a halt in a cozy-looking little village.

“GODRIC'S HOLLOW!” shouted Eileen from downstairs. The three of them stood up. Sirius started walking downstairs, but Harry stopped him.

“Wait.”

“What?” inquired Sirius, obviously annoyed at Harry's temerity. “I have some place to go, you know.”

“Er - well - whatever you do, don't go after Wormtail.” Neville stepped on Harry's foot sharply and looked at him imploringly.

“Harry, don't,” he breathed.

“I have to, Neville. Sirius, whatever you do, don't go after Wormtail,” repeated Harry. Sirius's face contorted with shock, confusion, and bewildered anger, but Harry did not wait explain himself any further. He grabbed Neville's arm and hustled him downstairs and out onto the sidewalk of Godric's Hollow. A few minutes later, a befuddled Sirius walked out and continued to walk in the opposite direction of Neville and Harry.

“Come on, we don't want to look like we're following him.” Harry tugged on Neville's arm, but he didn't budge.

“Harry…he's going to your parents house…”

“So?”

“So…maybe we should go there too…you know, to see if Voldemort goes there tonight.” Harry didn't want to, but he didn't know what else to do. When he refused to respond, Neville took that as a `yes'. “Come on, we can follow Sirius.”

Chapter 11: Almost There

Harry had thought that maybe Sirius subconsciously knew two teenage boys were following him, or at least that he was being watched, but if he did, he didn't show it openly. He kept his head down and his hands in his jean pockets the whole way.

When they finally reached the end of a particularly long street that had seemed likely to go on forever, Sirius suddenly turned to right and started walking up a gravel driveway that lead to a cozy cottage partially hidden by trees. Neville and Harry, busy scurrying behind bushes and trees and cars, perked their head up and stayed behind a large tree across the street for a few moments, watching him.

“Sirius!” cried a cheerful male voice from the window. James Potter then appeared at the door to greet his faithful friend. “I thought you weren't coming. I have your motorcycle in the back shed, you can leave on it if you want to leave later. It's almost noon, come in and have lunch.” Harry's heart dropped at the sight of his father. I can't believe I'm here, he thought grimly. Neville, on the other hand, seemed rather excited about it all.

“That's your father!” he whispered urgently, pointing. “Look!”

“Stop it, Neville,” Harry snapped irritably, smacking his finger down. “I know that's my father. Calm down.” Neville sighed and slumped against the tree.

“What do we do now, wait for Voldemort to come?”

“I guess,” said Harry. “It was your idea, after all.” Harry sank down, preparing himself for hours of waiting. He was so physically and emotionally exhausted from everything that had happened, he was out in less than ten minutes, which didn't surprise Neville. For Neville, the whole journey had been a rather exciting one; despite the consequences that he was sure was coming soon.

But the excitement was starting to wear off a bit as Neville watched the small cottage, waiting for something to happen. He sighed and leaned his head against the tree. He shut his eyes to close out everything around him and imagined he was back at Gram's house, underneath the sycamore tree near the pond with a slight breeze…

~*~

A woman's high pitched, frightful scream.

A woman's scream!

Harry's eyes flew open. For a second he didn't know where he was, but then like a gushing waterfall it all came back to him.

“Neville!” he whispered urgently, shaking Neville. Neville stirred slightly. “NEVILLE GET UP!” He gasped and sat upward, wide-eyed and staring.

“Uhm,” was all he said.

“I think something's happened. I heard somebody scream.” Harry turned his head to look beyond the tree. There were no lights on in the cottage and he couldn't make out any sounds. “Maybe Voldemort came and left…” he mused aloud. He didn't want to even think about Voldemort not coming at all.

“Maybe he - ” began Neville, but stopped abruptly as a piercingly green light that shone with a diamond-hardness erupted from the cottage's windows. Before either of the boys could do anything, everything started to swirl around them in a whirl of green and black. The ground disappeared beneath them and all Harry was able to do was shut his eyes tightly and hold his breath, waiting for it all it all to end.

Then, right when Harry thought he was going to pass out, everything stopped. The swirling came to halt and Harry could feel hard, solid ground underneath him. He was lying flat on his face and he could feel grass underneath his hands.

“HARRY! HARRY, GET UP! LOOK! LOOK WHERE WE ARE!” Neville screamed. Harry rolled over and opened his eyes tentively. Above him, he saw a night sky sprinkled with stars. He looked to his side, and gasped. They were at Hogwarts. And it was just as he remembered it. No Dementors, no destruction.

Without a word, Harry jumped up and sprinted to the front doors. All he could think about was seeing Hermione and Ron and hoping desperately that everything was back to normal. But, when he threw the doors open and stood in the threshold, looking at the scene before him, he knew something was still wrong.

Hermione was sitting on the last step of the grand staircase, head buried in her knees. Dumbledore and Fudge were conversing to the left, and ministry employees and wizards Harry didn't recognize were spread about.

“Harry?”

Dumbledore was looking at Harry incredulously, his attention drawn from Fudge by Harry's precipitous entrance. At the sound of his name, Hermione's head shot upward and everybody in the Hall turned sharply to look at him.

“HARRY!” she shrieked, and in a rushing dash, she had thrown herself onto him, arms flung about his neck and throttling him without mercy. “Oh Harry, you've been gone for ages! I didn't think I would be ever see you ever again, and then Ron's missing and I didn't know what to do! I'm just so glad you're back and I love you and I, oh Harry, you're back!” she babbled in a relieved rush without pausing. Harry squeezed her tightly, grateful and ecstatic to have her back in his arms. “I missed you so much.” Her cheek grazed Harry's and a streak of her tears fell down along his face.

When they finally let go of the embrace, everyone was gazing.

“Mr. Potter,” said Fudge, his tone implying relief. “I think we should discuss recent events: what happened with you, and what's been going on here.” Harry nodded. “Your office, Albus?”

“I think so, Cornelius.” Fudge started up the staircase while Dumbledore walked over to Harry. He squeezed his shoulder affectionately. “Glad to see you're back and safe.” He smiled, his eyes flickering to Harry and Hermione's entwined hands. Then he winked. “Couldn't say I didn't see that coming.”

A/N: Thanks for the reviews for all the previous chapters, everyone. =) Sorry there’s such a stretch between updates, I’ve been so busy! But I promise to update more frequently now. I hope. Annnnnd, there’s going to be a sequel for this story. (yeah I know, you’re all bouncing up and down in your seats).

Although Dumbledore seem quite pleased to see Harry, and soon Neville, who stumbled into the Great Hall looking lost, there was something about his stance that made Harry think something horrible had happened. His once glinting, light blue eyes now looked tired and worn, his smile was simple and not the warm smile Harry had always seen, and he looked twenty years older than Harry had remembered him.

After everyone reunited, Dumbledore requested for Neville to join them in his office. Harry could only imagine what Neville and himself looked like after all they went through. As the three of them made their way up the staircase with everyone in the Great Hall’s eyes upon them, Hermione started crying softly and rested her head on his shoulder. Neville looked away, lost in his own thoughts.

Harry looked down on Hermione and noticed how terrible she looked - there were shadows under her puffy and red eyes, she probably hadn’t slept in days; she looked much thinner and her hair was matted and dirty. Yet she still looked perfect in his eyes and his heart swelled just looking at her. He kissed her forehead gently and brushed away a few stray wisps of hair in her face.

“I missed you,” Harry muttered softly. He didn’t understand why she still looked like the world had ended - he was back, Neville was back, everything was under control … right? Was there something he didn’t know yet? Why was everyone acting like someone had died? As fast as these questions flooded him, an answer surfaced itself - where’s Ron? His heart took a dive. Shouldn’t he be here?

“I missed you too,” Hermione sniffed, closing her eyes and rubbing them.

Harry couldn’t speak. “Where’s Ron?” he choked out, his legs suddenly cemented to the floor, refusing to move.

“I already told you,” whispered Hermione, her voice breaking, “he’s… he’s missing.”

Harry couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t take it anymore. Everything that had happened was enormously difficult to swallow, let alone comprehend. He felt his chest constricting and it was hard to breathe.

“Harry! Harry, are you okay? PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE! Neville! Help -”

***

“Oh, I just don’t know what to do… the letter says it all, doesn’t it? But what if that’s not Ron - that could be a Death Eater, you know. It just doesn’t make sense, though! A Death Eater wouldn’t know so much stuff… unless they tortured Ron into telling them? Oh no, that’s horrible, why am I thinking such horrible things? It’s Ron, I know it is, we have to go and -”

A thundering pain was shooting through Harry’s head. He moaned and blearily opened his eyes to find himself in the moonlit Hospital Wing. Hermione was pacing back and forth on the side of his bed, muttering to herself and biting her lip nervously. Harry found it very problematical to speak, so it took Hermione a few moments to notice he was awake.

“Well, what are we going to do? We can’t do anything, I have to convince him - Harry! You’re awake!” she immediately went to his disposal. He winced when she touched his forehead.

“Sorry - Madam Pomfrey told me that your head would hurt incredibly after the Replenishing potion, so I imagine it would hurt to talk, too. I’ll just tell you everything that happened,” Hermione whispered, comforting him by stroking his arm lightly. “Oh, it’s been awful lately. After you left, Dumbledore exploded. I’d never seen him like that before. He was so - so angry that Neville had done that. He gathered everyone in the Great Hall and told them how you were missing and ordered everyone home immediately, apparently afraid that Lord Voldemort would make a move on Hogwarts when you were away. The only exception was Ron and me because Mcgonogall said that since we were your closest friends we were the easiest target, and they didn’t want to take any chances by sending us home. They thought we would be safest here in Hogwarts - but obviously that was not the case.”

Hermione sighed and Harry noticed the tears welling up in her brown eyes. Her voice sounded strained as she fought to continue to tell him the story.

“After a few days, I can’t remember which day it was exactly on, because I was so distraught about you - I woke up and… Ron was missing. We slept in the Room of Requirement together - Dumbledore said it was the safest place for us to be - and he was just gone. I remember going to sleep that night and praying that you were safe, and that you were going to come home alright. I remember saying goodnight to Ron, and then being unable to fall asleep for hours like I hadn’t been able to every night since you had been gone. I… I feel like it was my - my fault that Ron was kidnapped.”

Harry shook his head violently and cried out, “How could it have been your fault?” The pain in his temples increased dramatically. Tears spilled out of Hermione’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Vaguely Harry wondered how many tears she had cried since he had left and immediately his heart went out to her. He raised his hand and wiped her soft, wet cheeks. This had to be so hard on her. “It’s not your fault,” he reassured her.

Her voice shook when she answered him. “We were suppose to watch out for each other! I don’t understand how I could have not woken up when he was being taken… I was right there! I could have stopped it and I didn’t!”

“Hermione,” Harry said, sitting up with extreme effort and putting both his hands on her shoulders, “listen to me. They are Death Eaters. They don’t just stroll into a room without any plan and kidnap someone. They knew what they were doing - they had been planning it the whole time! They knew you were sleeping in the same room as him and if you were awake of course you’d try to do something, so that’s why they probably put you under a spell or potion to keep you asleep.”

Hermione let out a soft cry and then fell into his arms. “I suppose you are right,” she answered after a few moments in Harry’s protective arms. Harry had a burning desire to erase all of the pain she had ever known and make her never feel heartache again. “But I just can’t help feeling I didn’t do anything to stop it.” The two of them slowly settled together into the hospital bed.

“You couldn’t do anything to stop it,” Harry breathed, closing his eyes, comforted by the fact that Hermione was next to him. Falling into the enticing embrace of sleep was what Harry wanted right now more than ever. He wanted to forget everything Hermione had just told him and imagine it was just the two of them again, back in the Gryffindor common room in front of the fire for just a little while longer.

Yet the heavy weight that had settled into his chest after hearing the information of Ron’s kidnapping didn’t erase, and his thoughts were anything but pleasant as he slowly drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

***

It was morning - or noon - did it matter? - and Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Harry had awoken to find only himself in a lonely hospital bed, and after a flush of fear went through his body he quickly got up and was about to leave the Hospital Wing to look for Hermione, thinking the worst, when Madam Pomfrey stalked down the room calling his name.

“Harry Potter,” she cried, grabbing hold of his arm and tugging him back to the bed. “I am disappointed you are already trying to sneak out.” Harry scowled.

“I wasn’t trying to sneak out,” he said indignantly.

“You were trying to leave. And you’re not leaving yet, Mr. Potter, because your health is in a very fragile state right now. The Replenishing potion takes a few days to completely work, and I know you are very weak right not from what you just went through - ”

“I am not that weak,” said Harry, wobbling slightly as he clambered back into bed, knowing fully she was right. “I just want to know where Hermione is, that’s all. Neville, too - where’s he? How come he’s not taking a Replenishing potion like I am? I want to see Dumbledore too, could you tell him - ”

“Slow down! Hermione is just getting something to eat for the two of you, she should be back any minute. Neville is with Dumbledore, and for your information I did give him a Replenishing potion,” Madam Pomfrey said with a hint of asperity. “Dumbledore just wanted to talk with him, and he hasn’t returned, which I should really check up on…”

She walked away, muttering to herself.

Not long after Hermione returned, true to Madam Pomfrey’s words, with sandwiches and drinks. She handed him one stiffly and sat on the edge of the bed, chewing hers thoughtfully. “There was something I forgot to mention last night,” she said, not looking at him. Harry was hungrily eating his sandwich, but paused when Hermione spoke.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t really know what to do when I got it. I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not, and I’m still not sure, but I think we ought to take it seriously but be suspicious about it nonetheless - ” she put down her sandwich on the bed and dug into her robe pockets. Out came a small dirty piece of parchment. She handed it to him, and Harry, a bit apprehensive, took it immediately.

He read it through four or five times.

Hermione, it’s Ron, you’ve got to help me. The Death Eaters have me deep into the Forbidden Forest, in a clearing past halfway through it. I don’t know how much longer they are going to keep me alive, I think they are waiting for you to come and save me, so if you come - come with backup.

Harry put it down, his appetite lost. “Well,” he said slowly, “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

“Be that easy for what?” Hermione asked, standing up and beginning to pace, wringing her hands.

“For us to save him.”

“What are you talking about, Harry? We can’t just go barging into the Forbidden Forest with the intention to save him - you should know by now Voldemort has got a trick up his sleeve and it’s not going to be that simple. I don’t even know Ron wrote this! One of the Death Eaters could be planning an elaborate scheme to kill you and wrote this to lure you to them -”

“You’re right,” Harry answered, his eyebrows furrowed. It surprised Hermione immensely. “It sounds too much like what happened with the Department of Mysteries. We don’t know if this is authentic; of course it looks like Ron’s handwriting but then again they could have tortured him into writing it, as awful as that sounds… what kind of owl did it come with?”

“I don’t know. It was on my bed.”

“So we don’t even know if it actually even came with an owl. Someone could have dropped it off there. You say you got this last night?”

“Yeah. When you fainted, Dumbledore thought it would be best to talk to you later and tell you what happened. I went to my room and I found it lying on my bed. After I panicked for a few minutes, I decided not to tell anyone about it besides you and see what you wanted to do.”

“Why?”

Hermione seemed uncomfortable. “It was just a gut feeling.” Harry nodded. He had no idea what to think about this letter. Of course there was two options: to come to the conclusion that it was Ron who actually wrote this and him and Hermione had to go save him now, or that this was a scheme of Lord Voldemort’s to get Harry to go to the Forbidden Forest so he could kill him. Harry weighed the possibilities in his head.

Lord Voldemort wouldn’t use the same trick to lure me to some place, he would know that I would think twice about it and be smarter about the decisions I made instead of being so rash. So why would he do it over again? It just didn’t make sense. But then why would he kidnap Ron if not under the intention to get me to some place where I’m not so protected?

Hermione sighed and sat on the edge of Harry’s bed lightly. “You know,” she said, “I think Ron really did write this, regardless of whatever happened last year. Why would Lord Voldemort write ‘bring back up’? He would want you to be by yourself. It would make it easier to kill you. And Ron wrote it to me, not you.”

Harry didn’t say anything, but bit his lip and considered Hermione’s words carefully. It did make sense that Ron wrote this and not Lord Voldemort; a lot more sense than the opposition.

“I think,” Harry said, “we should show Dumbledore this before we do anything else.” Hermione agreed and helped Harry sneak out of Hospital Wing (Madam Pomfrey was busy doing something in the back room). They headed up to Dumbledore’s office where they found him and Neville sitting there quietly.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said, walking up to him briskly and brandishing the letter. “I got this last night.” Neville looked on, intrigued. Dumbledore took it and read it through speedily, his light blue eyes darting back and forth.

“What is it?” asked Neville as Harry took a seat next to him. Hermione stood a bit a ways from the desk, her arms crossed and her face blank.

“A letter from Ron Weasley,” answered Dumbledore in a monotone, putting down the parchment and entwining his fingers on the desk.

“Really?” gasped Neville. “What does it say?”

“It says that he’s in the Forbidden Forest in a clearing. Death Eaters have him.”