Disclaimer - Not mine.

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Before he opened his eyes Harry knew something was wrong. His eyelids felt heavier than lead as he strained to open them only to find that he was in bed and inside of a room that did not reside on Hogwarts… or the Dursley's on number 4 Privet Drive… or in the Burrow, home of his best friend, Ron Weasely. Not only could he not physically place himself, what day and time it currently was also eluded him. Wherever time and place he was in, the bed sheets were a very high quality cotton and the feel of them soothed the skin on his body that was inexplicably aching. He was surprised to see he wasn't wearing a shirt and let out a gasp as he peeked under the covers to discover his pants and boxers were also missing!

A sound jarred him to cover up again, stacking the many pillows on his lap and pulling the covers to his neck. The foot of the sleigh bed lead to a door, slightly cracked, just hiding the person beyond it. Harry guessed the person just got in the shower as the water come on.

Out of habit, he reached over to the nightstand without looking to grab his glasses and felt they were not there. He looked quickly and saw nothing but an old fashioned lamp. Wrapping his bare waist with the flat bed sheet and the comforter, he haphazardly stepped out of bed to inspect in his room.

Crunch!

Knowing what he had done, and silently cursing himself, he bent down to pick up his glasses that now were broken. Straightening up, he struggled to keep his head over his shoulders as a rush of blood teetered him slightly. A lofty armchair seated itself near the bathroom door and upon it Harry recognized were Hogwart student robes. All the other clothes lie in disarray scattered on the floor. The first article he grabbed clearly did not belong to him. He held up and examined a white silk blouse in one hand, his other hand firmly gripping the blankets tightly around his waist.

"Whose could this be?" he muttered thoughtfully.

The water turned off and the silence startled him. The person finished their shower. He heard whomever it was pull a towel from the rack and as this person rubbed dry, she began to hum. Harry's jaw dropped and so did his blankets. Even without the aid of his glasses he knew which of the robes were actually his. Just as his head emerged from his robe's neckline he flew out the door and raced down the narrow hallway and down the stairs faster than he could have said hangover.

Out in the fresh morning air he determined his whereabouts to be in Hogsmeade at a time so very early in the morning, the sun just breaking. Not a wizarding soul was on the outside of their front door. Slowing his pace to a slow trot he crossed the village's main gate, establishing his safety far from the identity of the occupant of that room.

On his walk to back Hogwarts he thought hard to recollect his missing time, though his head swayed from weighing just about the same amount as the rest of his body. Luckily, his wand lay in his pocket for use of the Oculus Reparo charm that fixed his spectacles. Now he was ready to see what other clues lay inside his pocket.

The first was a crumpled note in very illegible handwriting: You're not going to believe this. Go back one week and make things

And that was it. Go back and make what? Harry thought.

But the answer did not produced itself until he reached again down in his pocket. Abruptly, he stopped as his fingers recognized the object before pulling it out…

I don't believe it! A time turner!

Oh no, Harry thought again, I am in serious trouble!

The inside-his-head voice of his other best friend, and Prefect to the tee, Hermione Granger, pointed very strictly that time turners were very secret and a deadly device when in use of the wrong hands. Harry was closer to certain than not, he wasn't to have one of these in his possession. His only reason for knowing anything about time turners and how they worked, he credited all to Hermione who was especially granted one with the blessings of the Ministry of Magic. Even she returned it after concluding its power was not worth the trouble.

After the lecture between his lobes died down he noticed he just entered Hogwarts. Checking his pockets again the last thing he pulled out was a familiar piece of jewelry. His feet froze as he examined it closely; the round amber stone weighed heavy in his palm with a pin fastened on its flat back. He racked his throbbing brain to remember where he had seen it before.

It came by owl… in a box with a ribbon. A present… a birthday present! But, it wasn't for me…

He replayed the memory again and this time he saw who received the amber brooch. But, like every thing else that happened since he awoke this morning, he didn't believe it. The brooch belonged to Hermione.

Before completing the emerging thought he shook his head wildly and gasped. It couldn't be, it just couldn't have been Hermione in that bathroom.

Part of Harry's conscience was obviously convinced as it slumped with guilt and caused him to mutter, "How could I do this to Ron?"

"Harry, there you are! You all right?" It was Ron.

Harry tightened his fist on the brooch and turned over his shoulder failing to hide the guilty expression on his face. "I've had a rough morning," he said swallowing hard.

"Thought we lost you, you know," said Ron looking relieved but then he paused when Harry faced him straight. "Where is the stone? You have to wear it at all times!"

"This, you mean?" Harry reluctantly opened up his palm. "This brooch?"

"Ah, you finally admit it's a brooch," laughed Ron, relieved again. He took the stone and pinned it on Harry's robe.

"Ron?" Harry edged his question slightly with caution, "Where's Hermione?"

Ron began walking and absentmindedly Harry followed.

"She's supposed to be watching over you this morning. Her turn, it is. But then you went missing and we didn't know where you went off to. What's wrong?"

The confusion on Harry's face was even obvious to himself. "I don't understand all of this." They continued walking while Harry told him all that happened since he opened his eyes this morning.

"Harry, your timing couldn't have been more worse to loose your memory right now," said Ron half consolingly, half amused. "I can tell you about the time turner: you stole it. You stole it to revisit an instance in time over and over."

"I stole it?" Harry's bottom lip quivered. "What for? What happened?" Harry didn't realize that he was shouting. "What moment in time could be worth this?"

"Don't know. You wouldn't say." Ron nodded his head.

The name Hermione Harry dared not to utter. Ron, already perturbed that Harry hid this special memory, would crush their friendship if Harry presumed the 'instance' he was reliving was shagging his best friend's girlfriend in some far off inn. But none of it was adding up. That's not the way time turners work.

Aware they stopped walking, Harry found themselves in front of the girls' bathroom on the second floor. "What're we doing here?"

"Honestly, Harry, if you can't keep this straight, how do you expect me to?" Ron said in exasperation.

"I might remind you that you are one up on me with this one, Ron," Harry glared.

Recalling Harry's memory loss Ron apologized at once. He looked over both shoulders and began to explain in a hushed whisper. "You haven't caught up with yourself in time. There are two Harry Potters co-existing right now. One who knows there are two, that's you, though, right now you don't remember; and the other who's asleep upstairs and knows less than you do… if that's possible."

The tale became clearer thanks to Ron's simplified explanation. However, Harry could have done without the bits of commentary. So many questions needed to be asked but Harry hadn't clue what they were. The soreness emanating from the inside core his head branched out to every inch of his body. To think out this puzzle he needed nourishment.

"Let's go to the dining hall. I'm starving," Harry said grabbing his noisy stomach.

"We can't, remember? We might run in to you."

"Right, right."

"That's why we're here." Ron gestured to the bathroom door.

"It's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," declared Harry repulsively.

"Shh, she might hear you. She's still sensitive, you know. It's the ideal hiding place for you. No one goes here, least of all you, er, well, the other you. Go inside and wait for me. After the match starts I'll come back for you and we'll head for the kitchen. Go on." Ron waved his hands at Harry. He was certain Ron secretly enjoyed this moment.

Peeking his head out, he called after Ron, "Match? What match?"

"Gryffindor versus Slytherin. It's the first Quidditch match. You've been waiting for it for ages!" Ron's voice echoed in the hall.

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