When time travel goes wrong... Harry and Hermione get to meet some familiar faces through no fault of their own. Some very familiar faces. A lighthearted look at time travel and its horrendous consequences.
From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/1599/
Time After Time
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 14th April.
“What are we doing here?” hissed Hermione. Harry looked completely clueless.
“No idea.”
“More importantly, how do we get back?” she asked, practically as always.
“Well! You’re a lot of help!” she said huffily.
“Calm down,” he said calmly.
“How can I possibly calm down?” she said. “One minute we’re in the Charms classroom, well after hours, I might add. Then something very strange happens-”
“I didn’t think I was that bad at kissing,” he grumbled. For the first time since it happened, she smiled.
“You’re not. I didn’t mean that. I meant whatever it was that brought us here.”
“All right,” he said. “So how good a kisser am I?” he asked with a devilish grin.
“I don’t think that’s the issue here,” he said, smiling in spite of herself and the situation.
“If you say so.”
“Are we even still in the castle?” she asked looking around, trying to see in the dim moonlight coming in through the windows.
“I think... It’s the Charms classroom!” he said.
“What? This isn’t the Charms classroom.”
“Yes it is,” he said. “It’s the same view from the window. Look!”
“Yes,” she realised. “But it doesn’t look like the Charms classroom.”
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Where?” she asked. “We don’t know where we are or what just happened to us.”
Just then, a young boy of about thirteen came rushing in, huffing and puffing from the effort. He stopped on seeing them there and smiled broadly.
“It worked!” he crowed, hopping about.
“Who are you?” demanded Harry. The boy sobered up immediately.
“Hi,” he said in a distinctive American accent, sticking out his hand. “You must be from the future.”
“What?” Harry and Hermione shouted in unison.
“Uh... What are you doing here? My calculations said you wouldn’t be here until the morning.”
“We were up late,” snapped Harry. “More importantly, what do you mean the future?”
“Well... I, uh... Me and uh... I invented a time machine,” he said proudly.
“A time machine?” Hermione looked particularly sceptical. “How?”
“A little bit of magic.”
“And you thought you’d just pull two random people into your time?” Harry asked angrily.
“No. I left it here after class. I must’ve left it active. I was going to travel myself.”
Harry and Hermione looked curiously at this young boy who seemed so blase about a huge thing like time travel.
“Well, that’s just great, kid,” said Harry. “You can just send us back now.”
“All right,” he said sulkily. He went over to a desk and picked up an innocent looking pen and pad of paper. “Yeah, I left the lid off the pen. When are you from?”
“14th April 1997,” Hermione told him. “Time travel is very dangerous, you know.”
“Yeah? How?” he asked obstinately.
“You could change history. You could die in one time and never get back! Time travel is forbidden for a reason!”
“Yeah, yeah,” said the boy dismissively. He fiddled with the pen and paper, finally writing ‘14th April 1997’ on the paper. Nothing happened.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“What?” Harry asked in his most threatening voice.
“The uh... the power’s gone. It needs to recharge itself with magic.”
“And how long does that take?” Hermione was back to panicking.
“Two days,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Two days! We can’t hang about for two days? When are we, anyway?”
“Calm down, Hermione,” Harry said gently, putting his arm around her shoulder. The kid’s eyes lit up.
“Is she your girlfriend?” he asked Harry. “Is that why you were in a classroom at night?”
“Yes,” he said gruffly. “Your point?”
“Nothing,” the boy said with wide, innocent eyes. “Nothing.”
“What are you lot doing in here?” another, new voice asked. “You should’ve been in bed ages ago.”
The three turned to see a tall prefect standing in the doorway, his hair greased into a quiff. He did not look pleased. Hermione stared at him, sure she recognised.
“Morrison! Every time I’m on duty I find you skulking about! Every single time! What is it this time?” he said in an annoyed Scouse accent.
“Aw, John...”
“Summon Dionysus did ya? Or perhaps you got your mad time travel plan working? How was tea with Rimbaud?” asked the prefect in a scathing tone.
“The time travel worked!” said the boy Morrison triumphantly. “These two are from the Future!”
“OK Morrison, I’m taking you to the hospital wing.” John grabbed his arm and began dragging him towards the door.
“No, it’s true. Ask them. Go on! Ask them!”
“Fine. Are you from the future?” the prefect asked Harry and Hermione in a bored, disbelieving voice.
“Yes,” said Harry. “We’re Gryffindors from 1997.”
John the prefect looked searchingly at him for a moment. He looked at their uniforms- at once like his own and yet different.
“Who’s your headmaster?”
“Albus Dumbledore.”
“Dippy Dippett retired at some point, then?” John asked in an amused voice.
“This boy still hasn’t told us when we are,” Hermione cut in.
“Trust Morrison not to tell you something as important as that. It’s the 14th April 1957.”
“1957? Blimey!” exclaimed Harry. “My mum and dad haven’t even been born yet!”
“Bloody Hell,” John said, flabbergasted. “You really are from the future, aren’t you?”
“Yes, we are,” said Hermione. “This boy somehow brought us here and apparently we can’t get back for two days.”
“Morrison!”
“I did it though! I managed it!” he said. He probably couldn’t have been beaming more proudly.
“Americans,” muttered John. “He shouldn’t even be here, y’know. But he just wouldn’t go to the Salem Institute.”
“There’s bad mojo there,” said Morrison solemnly.
“You’re Gryffindors?” John asked, looking at their badges.
“Yeah,” answered Hermione. “You?”
“Yes. Come with me. I’ll find you somewhere in the Tower for tonight. Morrison, if you’re not back in Ravenclaw in the next thirty seconds, I’ll let Filch have you.”
“Yes John. Bye!” The boy skipped out of the room
“And I want to see you tomorrow!” John shouted after him, getting an ‘OK!’ in return.
“That kid,” said John as they headed towards Gryffindor tower. “Is a mad genius.”
“If you say so,” said Hermione.
“Oh, he is. He’s only a Third year but I caught him reading some 16th century tome about witch burnings last week. So, what are your names?”
“I’m Hermione Granger. This is Harry Potter. We’re Sixth years back in our time.”
“Back in the future?” joked John.
“Yes, you’re right,” said Hermione as she shot Harry a look that said ‘Marty McFly’.
“I’m John Lennon, Gryffindor prefect. Also Sixth year.”
“Prefect?” Hermione asked, open-mouthed as she finally placed the face.
“Yeah. Dunno why. I’m usually worse behaved than Jim.”
“Jim?”
“Yeah, Morrison. Kid didn’t even tell you his name?” John shook his head.
“He was too busy realising his time travel thing worked,” said Harry.
“Typical.”
They arrived at the tower. John gave the Fat Lady the password (Sugarplum Fairy) and led them inside.
“You’d best sleep in here,” said John when they got into the Common Room. “I’ll wake you up early and we’ll go and see Professor Dumbledore.”
“All right,” said Harry. “Thanks.”
“S’all right. Good night.” John disappeared up the stairs. Harry sat down on the sofa by the fire. It was the same sofa he’d sat on many times through his six years at Hogwarts, but never in 1957.
“This is very weird,” said Hermione, sitting down next to him.
“Yes. It’s weird. Very weird.” Harry sighed. “But we might as well get some sleep.”
“All right,” she said and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Good night.”
She moved over to another chair and curled up. Within a few minutes she was fast asleep. A minute or two later, so was Harry.
***
The next morning, John Lennon woke them up as promised and took them to see Professor Dumbledore. Harry was not surprised that Professor Dumbledore did not look surprised- he always seemed to know everything that was going on. He listened to them explain everything and then thought for a moment.
“It seems you have no choice but to stay here until tomorrow night,” he said. “We will make you comfortable. Mr Lennon, I’d like you to go and inform the House-Elves that we have two guests staying with us.”
“Yes Professor,” said John with a nod before heading out. Dumbledore thought for a moment.
“Making him a prefect has done him a world of good,” he said thoughtfully.
“Professor... Do you know what will happen to him?” asked Hermione. “In the future I mean?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, because I do know,” she said in a quiet voice. “I know what’s going to happen to him.”
“No matter what it is, Miss Granger, you must keep it to yourself.”
“Yes Professor.”
“Whether it is good or bad, no good comes from knowing our destiny in advance,” he told her firmly. She nodded.
“Yes Professor.”
“We will put you in a couple of guest rooms and you will stay here as guests. Perhaps some other clothes...” Dumbledore muttered and their school robes were transformed into what they recognised as relatively fashionable clothes of 1957.
“Thank you Professor,” Harry said sincerely. Since seeing his Headmaster, he had felt a great sense of calm and security- the likes of which he had not felt since the battle at the Ministry and the death of Sirius.
“You may go now. You have the freedom of the castle. Mr Morrison should be coming to me very shortly for a lecture on the proper and improper uses of magic.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, Professor,” Hermione blurted suddenly. “He just wanted to see if he could do it.”
Professor Dumbledore simply nodded. She blushed and followed Harry out of the room.
***
“Harry! Hermione!” called Jim, running down the corridor. “Here you are!”
“Hello Jim,” said Hermione. “Was Professor Dumbledore terribly hard on you?”
“Once you’re gone I have detention with him for two weeks. Could be worse. Could be grumpy old Professor Watts, the Potions master.”
“Don’t you have class now?” she asked. He looked at her oddly.
“It’s Saturday.”
“Of course it is,” she said, shaking her head.
“We feel a little disorientated,” said Harry “being in 1957 and everything.”
“Would you... would you spend the day with me?” Jim asked hesitantly. “I want to know everything!”
“Wouldn’t you rather spend the day with your friends?” Harry asked, not wanting a day with Hermione interrupted by a thirteen year old boy.
“I... I don’t really have any friends. Everyone thinks I’m mad or weird. Or both.”
“Of course we will,” replied Hermione. “Why don’t we go down to the lake? It’s really lovely weather today.”
Harry scowled but held his tongue.
***
“You really have hovering skateboards?” Jim asked with wonderment. Harry and Hermione grinned. They’d been bending the truth slightly about the reality of life in 1997.
“What about rock and roll? You still have rock and roll don’t you?”
“Yes we do. Although it’s really very different to the sort you listen to,” said Hermione. Her father had taught her all about Elvis when she was a little girl, although she’d always been more interested in her books.
“I think Elvis Presley is great,” said Jim. “Do you still have Elvis?”
“Yes, we know who Elvis is,” she said, again bending the truth slightly, not really wanting to break the news to this wide-eyed boy that his hero died on the toilet, a bloated shell of his former self.
“What about other rock and roll? Does it get better than Elvis?” he asked as if such things weren’t really possible.
“I think so,” replied Hermione. Harry said nothing, for he knew little of the music Aunt Petunia called ‘that evil racket’. He knew Hermione recognised little Jim Morrison, but wasn’t sure how and she hadn’t told him yet. That said, even he knew who John Lennon was going to become and he understood the desire Hermione had to tell him his future.
“You know what I’d like?” Jim asked in a conspiratorial voice. “I’d like to be in a rock and roll band... but I’d want to write poems, real poems and sing them instead of boring ‘she loves you’ lyrics.”
Hermione coughed to stop herself from laughing. Not only had Jim just laid out his future for her, he’d somehow managed to hear about a Beatles song that wouldn’t be recorded for five years.
“She Loves You?” she asked. Jim rolled his eyes.
“John Lennon wrote a song called that. He’s in a band when he’s at home in the school holidays, you know.”
“He is? That’s... good to know.”
“Yeah. He’s really cool. Don’t you think he’s really cool?”
“I do, yes,” she replied.
“I tried to get my hair to look like his and Elvis’ but it’s too long. Professor Watts and my dad say I should cut it. What do you think?” he asked her. Hermione looked into his eager, anxious face.
“I think it’s nice long like that.”
Jim beamed and she had the distinct feeling that she had a new fan. Harry scowled, but said nothing.
***
Jim tagged along with them almost all the time they were there. When Hermione went to the library she was amazed to see how unchanged it was and allowed Jim to show her around, even showing her a very old, very musty section she’d never noticed before. Full of absolutely ancient texts, they found that they spent most of Saturday afternoon and evening there. He seemed to know the entire library inside out- a feat even Hermione hadn’t managed yet. For his part, Jim seemed genuinely very glad to have someone to talk to about these things and showed off ‘his’ library with eagerness.
Prefect Lennon showed up occasionally, usually having to tell Jim off for something or other. That said, he seemed almost fond of the younger boy, as if these were two boys on a similar wavelength. Hermione suspected this was correct. When John had called Jim a ‘mad genius’ she thought he could’ve just as easily have been talking about himself.
“See, me mates from Liverpool and me, we’ve got this band, you know, guitar, drums, tea-chest bass, singer, typical band really,” John told her over dinner in the Great Hall, where Jim had most reluctantly parted from her to go and sit at the Ravenclaw table.
“Sounds good,” said Harry.
“We are,” John said rather arrogantly. “We’re gonna be huge.”
“Who’s in the band?” Hermione asked.
“Oh just me and some mates,” he said vaguely. “And this kid Paul. He’s not bad. Bit schmaltzy, but that’s only his dad’s records talking.”
Hermione got into a coughing fit so bad John looked genuinely concerned and slapped her on the back a couple of times. He continued talking in much the same way Jim had, about rock and roll and even poetry himself. He asked a few questions about the future but didn’t seem half as interested as Jim.
“I don’t see the point in knowing what’s going to happen, meself,” he said. “Takes all the fun out of it.”
Hermione sighed. She wanted so desperately to tell him his future, what was going to happen. Instead she obeyed the Professor and John himself and stayed quiet, hoping that by doing so she wasn’t signing his death warrant.
***
Sunday night came and Jim came to them to pronounce the time machine ready for use. They went back to the Charms classroom because they guessed nobody would be there in 1997 either.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said glumly. Hermione smiled sweetly at him.
“I’ll miss you as well,” she told him. “But we do have to go.”
“Why do you have to go?” he asked sulkily. Over the course of two days, Jim had become greatly attached to Clever Hermione and Heroic Harry, even though the latter hadn’t said much to him. Hermione now took the younger boy’s hand.
“Don't worry, Jim. We won't forget you, but this is the way it has to be.”
Jim grabbed the pen and pad and repeated his charms and spells.
“You have to grab this when I write the date,” he said. Hermione and Harry both held onto the page as he wrote ‘14th April 1977’.
To Be Continued...
Author’s Note: This story was originally posted on my live journal to commemorate the 60th birthday of Jim Morrison and the 23rd anniversary of John Lennon’s death (both 8th December). This is not meant to be high art. It is not meant to change the world. It is just an idea I had a long time ago and wrote on the eighth. It is perhaps, a dream I once had.
*
Chapter Two
“JIM!” Harry exclaimed. Jim was still with them, but the strange pulling sensation they’d felt two days previously told them that they had travelled forwards in time, although not to the right time.
“What? What?”
“Nineteen ninety seven, idiot!” Harry shouted angrily. Jim looked crestfallen.
“I’m sorry. I forgot!”
“It’s OK Jim, really. But... we’re not going to have to wait another two days, are we?” asked Hermione. He shook his head.
“I don’t think so.” He examined the pen closely. “Only one day. Not so far in time, see?”
“Well, although it’s late I think we should go and find Professor Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Again.”
“I think you’ll be going to see him right now,” a new voice said. In the doorway stood a pretty girl with red hair and a slightly weak looking boy with a grey streak in his hair.
Hermione recognised them at once and looked anxiously over at Harry. He looked like he was about to faint, but was looking down at the floor, perhaps so they didn’t look at him and realise how much like he looked like one of their friends.
“I don’t recognise you,” said the girl whom Harry recognised as Lily Evans, his mother. “Who are you?”
“I really think it’s best we speak to Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said forcefully. She and Lily stared at each other for a moment in an odd battle of wills. Despite his shock, Harry still found it rather amusing to watch.
“Fine. Follow me. Remus, keep your wand on them at all times.”
“Yes, Lily.”
Lily marched them through the castle and most reluctantly knocked on Professor Dumbledore’s door. It was not too late and he was not yet asleep. Once again, he did not look surprised to see them.
“Come in. Miss Evans, Mr Lupin, you may continue your rounds.”
Lily looked like she wanted to object but followed Remus anyway. The three time travellers sat down with the Professor and explained it all.
“Yes, I thought you might be dropping in around about now. I remember Mr Morrison’s excited chatter about it some twenty years ago.”
They filled him in on the mistake and how it was going to be another day before they could leave again.
“Professor, I’m quite concerned,” Hermione said seriously. “About a few things. For a start, I’m sure it’s quite obvious who Harry’s father is because they look so alike and I’m worried about them bumping into each other over the course of the next day. Unless Harry gets shut away somewhere for a while day.”
“Hmm. Mr Potter. You are now Harry Morrison and you are visiting us briefly.”
Professor Dumbledore now looked at Jim, who was still bouncing a little at the thought of having travelled in time. Dumbledore did not look excited, he looked sad and Hermione was sure he knew what had happened to Jim.
“Mr Morrison, you will call yourself James Granger. You are Hermione’s brother while you are in 1977, is that understood?”
“Yes Professor,” he said, a little confused as to why he had to pretend too, but too excited to really care much.
“I’ll take you to the guest rooms for tonight. You can spend tomorrow doing whatever you wish to do. A second Saturday in a row, something I’m told my students would love to have.” Dumbledore chuckled lightly, and just having him there made all three time travellers feel instantly comforted.
***
Hogwarts in 1977 did not look much different to Hogwarts in 1957 or 1997, and Harry suspected that it would not look much different in 2017. He just hoped he would be around to see it. He was overcome by a sudden, deep desire to take the pen and see his own future- whether he lived or died, whether he killed Voldemort or not, whether his friends lived or died in the war. He watched the water lap against the lakeside sand just as it did in 1957 and 1997, and was filled with a need to know everything that was going to happen. As Hermione and Jim chattered about one obscure book or another, he sat, desperately needing to know who was going to win the war.
He didn’t notice the Quaffle coming, and so was very surprised when it hit him in the side of the head, bounce and land in the water.
“Oi! Sorry about that!”
Dazed, Harry looked up to see a handsome young man of sixteen bounding towards him, black hair flopping in his eyes. His heart soared for a moment. Sirius.
Sixteen-year-old Sirius Black ran over, looking a little apologetic. Harry grabbed the ball, shook the water off it and handed it to him.
“Sorry about that,” Sirius repeated. “Peter’s a total butterfingers. Hey-”
Sirius stopped suddenly and looked at him closely as if he were sniffing out prey or something.
“You look just like my friend... Are you new here?”
“I’m visiting Professor Dumbledore. I’m Harry Morrison,” he said, sticking a shaking hand out.
“I’m Sirius Black,” Sirius told him in his cockiest voice. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”
“The Professor has mentioned you,” Harry said, simply staring at his godfather, alive, young and full of energy. He wanted so badly to hug him and never let go, but had a feeling Sirius might object.
Sirius smirked. “I’m sure he has. OI POTTER! LUPIN!”
Three boys of the same age came over and Harry knew them all. He’d met two of them in his own time, but the other had only ever been in his dreams and in a pensieve. He felt oddly woozy at the idea of meeting his father.
“This is Harry Morrison, visiting the Prof. Doesn’t he look like you, Prongs?” Sirius’ voice dragged Harry back to where he was.
“Yeah. Not as handsome though,” joked James. Peter laughed loudly, a little too loudly. Sirius, James and Harry all rolled their eyes.
“This is James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. They’re my best mates in the whole world.”
Harry now understood how Hermione had felt when she’d wanted to tell John Lennon that he would be shot dead on the street outside his own home. He wanted so badly to tell his father what was going to happen, to expose Peter as the Judas he would become, to warn Sirius that one day his own cousin would kill him. He wanted desperately to tell them.
As if on cue, Hermione joined them.
“Hello,” she said, also knowing exactly who these people were, having seen pictures of them and having met three in the future.
“This is Hermione,” said Harry after a moment in which his father, his godfather, his former teacher and a future Death Eater looked approvingly at his girlfriend. “She’s visiting too.”
“So am I!” Jim chipped in. “I’m Hermione’s little brother.”
“Hello kid,” said James. He introduced them to himself and his pals and would have continued speaking, but was interrupted by the arrival on the lakeside of Lily Evans and a group of her friends.
“Set it up over here,” Lily instructed. “We might be able to get it to work this far away.”
“Lily and her bloody record player,” moaned Sirius. “She never shuts up about it.”
“Shut up, Padfoot!” snapped James. “Need some help, Evans?”
“Not from you,” she shot back immediately. Harry couldn’t help but smile broadly now, knowing that James wasn’t going to be defeated so easily, knowing that the Evans iceberg would melt one day soon.
Lily and her friends continued to move a portable record player around in an attempt to get it to work in spite of the problems Hogwarts posed for electrical items.
“She loves me,” James said dryly. Peter sniggered. Hermione, however, marched over to Lily and her friends.
“Why don’t you try putting it under those trees? It’s the furthest away you’ll get without being off school grounds. It might work.”
Lily nodded to her friends, who took the portable record player up away from the lake and into the shade. After a moment, the strains of Physical Graffiti by Led Zeppelin emanated from it. The redhead turned to the brunette with an approving smile.
“Thanks. Hey! You’re the girl from last night.”
“Hermione Granger. We’re visiting Professor Dumbledore. So sorry about last night.”
“Oh, it’s all right. I just... I thought it was one of their diversions again. I could’ve sworn that boy over there was Potter.”
Hermione stifled a grin.
“They do look alike. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s almost uncanny, really. Although your friend-”
“Harry.”
“Harry isn’t half as good looking as James... I mean, Potter.”
Hermione could not help laughing now.
“Don’t tell him I said that!” exclaimed Lily, face reddening a little. “I’d never hear the end of it and his head does not need inflating any more. Deflating might help, though.”
“I won’t say a word,” she promised. Jim ran over.
“Those boys asked Harry if he wanted to go to the Shrieking Shack with them!” he said. She looked over at where Harry was laughing along to some joke of James’
“I don’t see why not,” she said. Lily looked sceptical.
“You don’t know what kind of scrapes those idiots get into.”
“Oh, Harry’s the same. I’m sure he’ll be fine. You can go with them if you like, Jim.”
“No, no. I’d much rather stay here and be the sole focus of female attention.”
Jim smiled at her so endearingly that it was hard not to return it.
“You look familiar,” said Lily to Jim. “Do I know you?”
“This is my brother Jim,” Hermione said quickly, praying that in that stack of records there weren’t any by the Doors.
“Oh. All right. Must just be me.”
***
Saturday night came quickly- too quickly for Harry, who had a great day with his father and his friends, and too quickly for Hermione, who found in Lily another likeminded soul. It also came too quickly for Jim, who knew that time with his new friends was fast running out.
Professor Dumbledore arrived in the Charms classroom just before they were about to set off.
“I have been working on and off on this time machine idea,” he said, “ever since young James here came to me in 1957. I have the solution to the power problem.”
He quickly explained to Jim a charm he’d devised that would help the pen retain the power it needed to transport people from one time to another. After a couple of practices, Jim had the time pen ready.
“Can I... I’d like to take you back to 1997 and then go back to my own time? Is that all right?” he asked anxiously. Harry, in a very good mood after his day with the Marauders, nodded. Dumbledore stood back and watched curiously as Jim began the spell.
“Remember Jim, nineteen ninety seven,” said Harry. Jim nodded and wrote ‘14th April 1997.’
***
“Are we back?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, there’s your bag. There’s my half-finished Potions homework. We’re back. We’re finally back!” Harry laughed loudly, relieved to be back in his own time.
Their moment of joy was short-lived however, when they saw the sad little boy sat on a desk looking at them mournfully.
“Jim, you have to go back now,” Harry told him.
“But why?” he asked in a most unbecoming whine. Hermione went and sat beside him.
“You’ve already seen the future. Two futures, now. Surely that’s enough. It’s like John said, you don’t want to know the future because that takes the fun out of living it.”
“He said that?” Jim asked. Hermione nodded.
“He did say that. You know he’s right.”
“Yeah,” he said in a sad voice. “But you won’t forget about me?”
“Oh Jimmy,” she said with a laugh. “I guarantee you that we won’t ever forget you.”
“Promise?” he asked, seeming much younger now than he really was.
“James Douglas Morrison, I assure you that nobody will forget you.”
“All right,” he said, cheered up a little by this. He wrapped his arms around Hermione and hugged her tightly.
“You have to go now,” said Harry, feeling inexplicably jealous of the boy and yet strangely attached just the same. Hermione suddenly jumped up and pulled him aside.
“Harry... Are you sure... I can’t tell him anything?” she whispered.
“He he has to make his own choices, Hermione,” he said firmly, but not unkindly. “He has to decide for himself what is easy and what is right.”
“I know but... he’s such a sweet boy and...” she sniffed. “You’re right. You’re right. Let’s go.”
She went back over to Jim.
“Come on Jim, get yourself ready. And remember what you promised Professor Dumbledore.”
“That once I get back I give him the time pen,” he recited sulkily. Hermione smiled sweetly at him and handed him the magical pen.
“Here you are,” she said. “Good luck, Jim. Don’t forget that you want the sixteenth now, not the fourteenth.”
“Fine, fine. I’m going.” Jim started up his spell, shot one last grin at them and wrote ‘16th April 1957’ on the pad. A moment later he, and his magical pen, were gone.
Hermione sat down.
“That was a very strange few Saturdays.”
“You’re right there. Perhaps we should just go to bed before anything else can happen to us.”
“I think that’s best. How was your day with Sirius, sweetie?” she asked as they walked back to the tower arm in arm- the first time they’d really spent alone in days, although it had, in 1997, only been ten minutes.
“It was... very cool,” he said, marvelling at how Hermione had understood it had been more important to him to spend the day with his godfather who he had known and loved than the father he loved but did not remember.
“I’m sure it was nice to spend the day with James too,” she added. He nodded.
“Did you have a nice time with my mum?”
“Yes. Did you know she was once in love with Jimmy Page from Led Zeppelin? Seems she had a thing for dark haired men.”
“I think that’s probably good to know,” he said with a smile. “Who is Led Zeppelin?”
“Never mind.”
***
Hogwarts, June 1998
“Harry?” asked Hermione. The Head Girl and her boyfriend were sitting by the lake at Hogwarts. Night had long since fallen and they were in contravention of several school rules. Not that they cared much, even Hermione, because in one week they would leave school behind forever.
“Yes?”
“I was thinking the other day-”
“You? Thinking? Perish the thought.”
“Oh be quiet, silly. No, I was thinking about last year. Our time travel escapade.”
“What about it?”
“Well, do you think that Jim remembered us at all?”
“I don’t know, Hermione. He became a big drugged out rock star. I’m not sure he remembered his own name sometimes.”
“Don’t be mean,” she said huffily.
“I’m not being mean. Realistic. We both read all that stuff about him once we got back? He got really messed up, Hermione.”
“I... I suppose. But I was just thinking... We did have fun, didn’t we? The things we saw in 1957 and 1977! John Lennon was a prefect!”
“I know, love. We did have fun,” he said, thinking of a glorious sunny day in April 1977 when the biggest worry Sirius Black had was whether he could steal ‘Snivellus’ Snape’s entire underwear collection without getting caught. Sensing his downturn to melancholy, Hermione snuggled closer to him.
***
The day came a week later for Harry, Hermione and their friends to leave Hogwarts and young Mr Potter was terrified. The only life he knew outside the school was with the Dursleys and he had no desire to return to anything like that. Everyone in the wizard world was clamouring to get Harry Potter to work for them and he’d been fending off job offers for months. He had taken an apprenticeship with the Chudley Cannons, although he knew he’d likely have to push it to one side for war work very soon. Hermione was off to research time travel for the Ministry in addition to fighting the war with him. Ron too, had won a hard-earned apprenticeship with the Cannons and was over the moon about it. Despite this good news the war still hung over them like a huge black storm cloud, threatening to burst over them at any time.
“Harry! Pay attention!” whispered Hermione, jolting him from his thoughts. He turned his attention back to Professor Dumbledore’s farewell-and-good-luck speech.
Once the speech was over and the leaving feast eaten, the departing Seventh years went up to their dorms for their final night at school. Harry and Hermione walked slowly arm in arm down a corridor they’d walked a million times, trying to make it last a little longer.
“Harry! Harry, over here!” hissed a voice from the shadow. Harry froze. He knew that voice. He couldn’t place it, but he knew it.
“Come here!” it whispered again. Hermione turned now to see why Harry had stopped.
“Hermione,” the voice called, still shrouded by the shadows. She too, recognised the voice. She recognised it immediately.
“Jim?” she croaked, disbelieving. When the corridor had entirely emptied of people, Jim Morrison stepped out of the shadows. Hermione nearly fainted.
This was not the cocky young thirteen-year-old boy they remembered. This was a grown man of about twenty four. He had a mane of dark brown hair that fell below his shoulders in messy curls and waves. He was wearing a white shirt tucked into a pair of black leather trousers which were a little tighter than propriety allowed. This was the Jim Morrison of Legend, the Jim that they had both researched on their return from their time travel adventure. The Jim Morrison they had known was a thirteen year old ‘mad genius’ with few friends. This was the Lizard King in all his erotic politician/young lion glory.
“Jim?” she repeated dumbly.
“Hi,” he said with that familiar grin. She recovered enough to scold him.
“What are you doing here? Didn’t you learn anything? You were supposed to give that to Professor Dumbledore! Honestly Jim, you should-”
He silenced her with a bear hug that lifted her off her feet. Harry felt that pang of jealousy again, sharper now that Jim was a handsome rock star instead of slightly awkward adolescent. He squashed it quickly- Jim did not belong here and would not be staying.
“Hey Harry,” Jim said with a more manly slap on the back.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked. “You were meant to give that pen to Dumbledore.”
“I did. The night before I left school, I went and got it back.”
“Did you ask for it?” Hermione asked him. His face coloured slightly.
“Not really. More a sort of sneaking into his office and taking it sort of thing.”
“Why aren’t I surprised?” Harry asked with a smile, really quite pleased to see him.
“How are you Jim?” Hermione asked. “Are you looking after yourself? You’re living in California now, aren’t you? I mean, what have you been doing? Why am I asking, I already know-” she stopped abruptly. “You didn’t forget us?”
Jim smiled, “no. You didn’t forget me?”
“I told you, Jim, we won’t ever forget you.”
“I’m glad. I just... I was in London with my band- hey, I have a band now! We’re called the Doors and we’re doing really well!”
“I know, Jim,” she said with a smile. He nodded.
“Of course you do! Anyway, we were playing in London and, well I haven’t been feeling too well, so I got a bit of time off and got on a train and ended up here. I worked out when you’d be leaving school and... here I am. I wanted to congratulate you.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, flattered more than he realised that this lofty rock star went to such trouble for him, even though this whole situation was particularly surreal.
“I just... I wanted to tell you that... Well, the time we spent in my time and the other time... It was some of the most fun I ever, ever had. Thank you.”
Jim seemed very much to be like that somewhat shy little boy again. Hermione hugged him.
“It was some of the most fun I ever had too.”
“Me too,” Harry admitted. Jim beamed at them.
“I should... go, I suppose. I’ll give the pen to Professor Dumbledore. He’s at the school in 1968, right?”
“Yes,” replied Harry. “Same office and everything, I expect. How did you get back into the school?”
“I kinda... just snuck in and hoped for the best. I’ll give it to him or... stamp on it or something. I promise. I just wanted... I wanted to see you both again.”
“We’re glad you came Jim, but you know you shouldn’t be here,” she said, feeling that desperate desire to tell him his future again. She stared at him for a long time. He returned the stare and she hoped something was getting through on brainwaves.
He hugged her again.
“Please Jim,” she whispered. “Look after yourself. Please.”
“Of course I will,” he said confidently. “I’m Dionysus, man! I am the Lizard King, I can do anything!” he recited with the slightest of wry smirks.
“Not to me,” she said obstinately. “You are little Jimmy and you aren’t above a scolding from the Head Girl.”
“All right,” he said casually, flashing her another grin. Now he grabbed Harry and hugged him.
“Thanks Harry, man. Look after our girl, won’t you?”
“I will.”
“Hey, I always wanted to ask. That red head girl in ‘77, she was your mother, right?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. She had the same kinda vibe...”
“Vibe?” Harry asked.
“All you need is love,” Jim said with a wink. “A good friend of mine said that. You know, I still owe him detention time?”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Funny how life worked out, huh? I’m glad you didn’t tell me my future, the man was right about that. I’ll tell John if I see him. And now, it’s time for me to go. I’ve still got to get back to London, you know.”
“All right. Take care, Jim,” said Harry. Hermione stood, biting her lip.
“See ya Hermione,” Jim said with a wink and a grin. He scribbled a date on the pad and was quickly gone.
“No. No you won’t,” she said, promptly bursting into tears. She looked up at Harry.
“I have to know if he kept his promise,” she said.
“I’ve got one of your books in my room,” he said. “Let’s go and have a look.”
They broke into a run and bounded up the stairs into the tower. Although people called after them, they ignored all, even Ron and ran up towards Harry’s dorm.
“Wonder what they’re up to?” he asked with a smirk, getting rather the wrong end of the stick. Harry and Hermione had not told him about their jaunt around time.
They burst into Harry’s room and he grabbed at the book open on his bed.
“What does it say? What does it say?” she demanded.
“Wait a sec...” he said as he flicked through the pages. His heart sank and he showed her a picture of a grave in Paris. It still read 1971.
“He didn’t listen to me,” she said.
“No,” he replied sadly. “But you just saw that even the great rock star didn’t forget us. He didn’t forget you. I was pretty jealous, you know.”
“I know,” she said with a sniff and a smile. “I was going to tease you about it but I thought that might be a little mean of me.”
“It would’ve been, yes. Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’m sure everyone’s thinking we’re mad.”
“You are mad,” she retorted with a smile. He wiped the tears from her eyes and led her out of the dorm and back down the stairs.
“That was quick,” said Dean. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. Ron noticed the tear tracks on her face.
“Everything all right?” he asked. She nodded.
“What’s up?” Harry asked, pointing to the glasses of Butterbeer laid out.
“Ah, we’re about to drink a toast,” Seamus told them.
“To the future,” added Neville. Hermione looked at Harry with a bittersweet smile and the scent Jim had been wearing in 1968 still lingering on her shirt from his hugs.
“To the future,” she repeated.
***
The End