Summary: Harry wants to use the Time Turner one more time to capture Pettigrew before he can escape; however, spell-fire interrupts the journey through time, and both Harry and Hermione are cast into an Alternate Dimension.
Notes: Just a random idea I had in terms of the old clichés.
Pairings: I have no pairings in mind for the time being. I may, later, incorporate some. Also, I may have pairings that can be voted upon.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make a profit from it. Any ideas that happen here is just fanfiction dabbling with J.K. Rowling's creation. And likely messing it up.
Terrible things happen to those who meddle with time, Harry
Chapter One: Meddling
"Come on, Harry," Hermione said. "We need to get back."
"Wait, Hermione!" Harry said, his hand shooting out to grab hers.
"We don't have time to wait!" she said, worried brown eyes met his. "We have to get back before Headmaster Dumbledore locks the Hospital Wing!"
"That's just it, Hermione," Harry said, his eyes wide behind his circular glasses. "We have time." He pulled on the gold chain around her neck, dangling the timepiece between them.
"No, Harry," Hermione said, reaching her free hand up to tug the chain free.
He didn't let her.
"We don't have time for this! We need to get back, now! If we don't, then we are breaking the rules! And terrible things happen to those who meddle with time, Harry."
"We just meddled with time and managed to save Buckbeak and Sirius!" Harry argued as he let go of her hand. "But we didn't really save him entirely, we need Wormtail for that."
"No Harry, we can't," Hermione said softly, her brow crinkled with worry. "We already went back in time once, we can't do it twice."
"Yes, we can!" Harry closed his fist around the Time Turner. "We know where we were, both times. We know where Wormtail is running, and we can get him too, give him to Dumbledore, and then Sirius' name can be cleared!"
Her hand closed around his fist, trying to sooth him. "I understa—"
"No!" Harry said, shaking his head. "You don't. You have no idea what it's like growing up without a family that loves or wants you! You have no idea what it feels like to finally find someone willing to be family, to take you in, and care for you, only to have him taken away by the same man that took your parents from you! I can't—won't—go back to the Dursleys! I just found my godfather and I refuse to lose him."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione murmured softly, a tear falling down her cheek. "You're right, I don't know how that feels, but if it was so bad with your aunt, why did you never tell us?"
"It wouldn't have done any good," he pulled her hand off of his. "This is my only chance at a family. Why can't I be happy too?"
"But, Harry, it's dangerous," Hermione said softly, her cheeks wet.
"Then it's no different than what we normally do," he looked at the Time Turner. "I can't lose Sirius too."
She reached up and placed her hand over the Time Turner, her eyes focused on him. "Then you won't," she said, steel in her eyes. "But you aren't doing this alone. We will do this together. I may not know what it's like not to have a family, but I know what it was like to not have friends. And I know that I never want to feel that way again. Since you and Ron rescued me from that troll, I haven't been lonely, and I don't care how many dangerous and hare-brained schemes the two of you drag me into, because I will go along with them, just to make sure that the both of you are safe. I refuse to lose my friends." She smiled at him.
Harry's throat ached, and he swallowed painfully, but managed a smile. "What would I do without you, 'Mione?"
Hermione laughed. "Get into more trouble than you can handle!" she quipped. "Let's get the rat and save Sirius."
"Halt!"
They jumped, spinning around to face three men in crimson robes, whose wands were aimed towards them.
"Put your hands in the air!" The center one ordered.
Hermione threw the golden chain around Harry's neck, encircling both of them in the device. "Three turns! Hurry!"
Harry grabbed the delicate device in both hands. Red light appeared out the corner of his eye just as he began to turn time backwards.
The spell struck them. The Time Turner whirled around and around as though caught in a hurricane, before, with a resounding crack, the glass shattered, and golden sand spun around them, multiplying over and over again until the two of them were encased in a sandstorm.
They fell into darkness.
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A hand shook his shoulder.
Harry sat up, opening his eyes, as he fought down the pounding headache. "Hermione?" he asked, spying her familiar mane of bushy hair. "What's going on?"
"The Time Turner broke," she said, her voice quiet. "Are you okay?"
"My head hurts, but otherwise I feel fine. Are you okay?"
"I'm alright."
Harry shook his head, feeling grains of sand falling from his hair. "Ugh, how did so much sand fit inside that little thing?" He rubbed his hand through his hair, trying to dislodge as much sand as he could.
"Maybe they have expansion charms on the inside?" Hermione mused, before shaking her head. "I don't know where we are."
Harry paused in his de-sanding, and looked around. "Isn't this the Forbidden Forest?"
"But that's just it, Harry," Hermione said, her hand flailing to motion towards the trees. "This can't be the Forbidden Forest! Time Turners take the user from the present to the past. It displaces you temporally. It does not take you to a different location."
"Then how did we get here?" Harry asked as he stood, offering a hand down to Hermione.
She took his hand, and he pulled her to stand next to him.
"Oh, I just knew something bad would happen," Hermione said.
"Well, if that man hadn't attacked us—"
"That was an Auror, Harry," Hermione interjected. "Didn't you notice his robes were crimson with the golden crest of the Magical Law Enforcement?"
"No, I was too busy focusing on the Time Turner and the stunner," Harry said. "Do you think the Aurors brought us here, then?"
"Why would Aurors drag two stunned kids into the Forbidden Forest and leave them alone?" Hermione said, shaking her head. "No, if the Aurors had taken us, we would either be in the Hospital Wing or at the Ministry. Heck, we would be at Azkaban before dumped alone in the forest."
"Right, so now what?" Harry asked.
"Now we need to figure when or where we are," Hermione said. "Tempus!" she said, and numbers appeared in the air: 22:48. Then, they vanished.
"That's way later than it should be," Harry said, staring at the spot the numbers had been.
"Oh, this has to be a really bad sign," Hermione said. "Point Me." Her wand swung around in her palm. "Hogwarts is this way." She led them in the direction her wand was pointing. "Can you give us some light?"
"Right. Lumos." Harry directed the beam of white light before them.
They walked along, Hermione leading the way, and Harry lighting their path. The Forest was oddly quiet; the only sounds were the leaves over their heads and the branches cracking under their feet.
Harry looked up and froze. "Hermione," he called, his voice loud in the quiet.
She paused on route to the school. Her gaze followed him.
"Oh," she said. "Oh no, that's not good."
Above them, the sky was inky through the trees. They could see the spattering of stars bright in the cloudless night. A sliver of moon peaked down at them.
"It was the full moon tonight, right?" Harry asked.
"It was…," Hermione agreed. Her voice was high. "At least we won't run into Professor Lupin as a werewolf."
"Or any other werewolf," Harry added.
"Hmm," Hermione hummed.
A rustle to their left caused them both to point their wands in that direction. They both knew that more than werewolves lurked in the dark depth of the forest. Aragog was a prime example.
The ping of thin metal striking rock echoed.
Harry looked down at a metal cylinder rolling towards him. "Wha—"
Smoke plumed out of the canister, obscuring their vision. Flashes of light flared through the smoke, and Harry felt dizzy. His head felt fuzzy and everything was turning bla—
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Drip.
He felt like his head was buried under a mountain of pillows.
Drip.
Sounds were muffled, but he was certain there were voices, talking. He couldn't make out what the voices were saying.
Drip.
His head was pounding hard. If it weren't for the fact that his whole head ached like a herd of hippogriffs had trampled through his brain, he would have thought he just had another run in with Voldemort. But the pain wasn't from his scar.
Drip.
He cracked his eyes open, pulling his lids up through a thick film of crust.
Drip.
He blinked. The room around him was bright white and blurry. He couldn't make out anything or anyone.
Drip.
He lifted his arm, or he tried to at least. But something hard and cold bit into his wrists. He paused, lowered his head and squinted at his wrists.
Drip.
He shifted and noted that the same thing held both his ankles firm. Someone had him shackled to a chair. Maybe the Aurors had gone back to the forest to collect us? "Mione?"
"Finally awake?"
Drip.
"Where is Hermione?"
A crack like thunder. His cheek burned and his neck ached from the forceful impact on his cheek.
"I'll be the one to ask questions, boy."
Drip.
"Are you recording, Miller?"
"Yes, Sir," a female responded.
"Good. Now, boy, are you a spook?"
Drip.
"What's a spook?"
His head jerked to the side as another slap stung his already injured cheeks.
"Are you a spook?" The man asked, his tone bored.
"I don't know what a spook is!" Harry yelled, angry over the slapping and stupid question.
Drip.
"And why isn't someone fixing that bloody faucet?" Harry added, as the annoying drips fueled the fire of his temper.
"Are you unable to see clearly without your glasses?" the female asked.
"I can't see a thing."
"Well, so much for immediate intimidation factor," the man sighed. "Miller, give the boy his glasses. What's the point of décor if the prisoners can't enjoy it?"
Shuffling and then the clicking of high heels approached. Familiar frames were shoved onto his face.
The woman before him was nice looking. With laugh lines around her lips and eyes, and grey streaks lining her temple. Her hair was pulled into a bun so tight that he wondered if she was related to Professor McGonagall. Her grey eyes stared into his own.
Drip.
"Such a pity you hide such pretty eyes, boy," the woman sighed before stepping back and moving to stand—
Harry did a double take. "Is that a video camera?" he asked, surprised. Aurors wouldn't likely know a video camera from a brick. He doubted Ron would know the difference for that matter.
"Oho!" the man said, his eyebrows darting upwards. "You recognize this bit of technology, do you, boy?"
Drip.
Harry looked to the man. He looked like one of those military men he had spied on some show Dudley had watched. His hair was buzzed short. His jaw was a heavy square. He was dressed in starchy uniform, and stared at Harry with dark, inscrutable, eyes.
"May be a stolen, then?" the man said, never taking his eyes from him. "Damn spooks, stealing perfectly good kids and destroying them."
Drip.
Harry turned his face towards the dripping. And he wished he hadn't. His stomach plummeted.
Along the left hand side of the room was a man, dangling upside on some rack that had shredded his middle. The thick drips were the sound of his uncongealed fluids still seeping from his corpse into a partially jellied pool on the floor. Harry stared into glassy blue eyes that were frozen in a moment of anguish. The man's face looked like his end had been painful.
Bile rose in his throat, and Harry vomited to the side. He heaved and heaved, until he was only dry heaving, for he had nothing left to expel within his system.
"Well, that was disgusting."
Harry glared up at the man. "There's a tortured dead guy over there, and you sound like you are commenting on the bloody weather!" Harry yelled, disturbed and disgusted, but he refused to look towards the dripping noise again.
"Dead spooks are as interesting as the weather."
Harry froze.
"What is a spook?" Harry asked slowly, his gaze darting to the dead man before they focused back on the man.
"You aren't very bright, are you, boy?" the man said before slapping Harry a third time. "No questions."
Harry tasted blood.
"A spook, boy, is what your lot call wizards," the woman spoke up.
Harry looked at the woman. A sense of horror welled up inside of him.
"So are you a spook, boy? And don't lie, I don't like liars. That spook was a liar. He denied being a spook… so I had to coax the confession out of him. He didn't survive his admission though…"
Harry swallowed. "Yes," he said, his voice braver than he felt.
"Oh, good boy," the man said. "I guess you are brighter than I thought."
"Now, boy, was that girl you were with a spook too?"
"Hermione! Where is she? Wha—"
The shovel of a palm smacked his face again, and Harry felt his lip split under the force.
"No. Questions. Boy."
"Is the girl, Hermione, a spook?"
"Where is she?! If you hurt her, I'll hurt you!"
The man snorted. "What are you, a ten year old boy who is shackled to a chair, going to do to a fully grown man with no such bindings?" the man asked.
"I'm twelve!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.
"You are awfully tiny for twelve," the woman cut in. "Apparently spooks don't take proper care of their stolen children." She shook her head, as though troubled by the thought.
"You stand there, talking about caring for children, when you are watching a man hit a kid on camera!" Harry exclaimed.
"Captain Hart is going easy on you, as you are a child, boy," the woman chided.
"Is the girl a spook?"
"Leave Hermione out of this!"
"Where do you live, spook?"
"With my aunt and uncle." He ground his teeth together. He didn't know how to get out of this situation, but he hoped that Hermione was alright. If anything happened to her, it would be all his fault. His and his stupid plan to use the stupid Time Turner.
"Where do your aunt and uncle reside?"
"Surrey, but a fat lot of good that does you. They are muggles. They loathe magic."
"Sensible folks, then," the man nodded.
"That forest we found you in, tell me about it."
"It's a forest. It has trees. There are giant spiders in it. And an old Ford Angelina."
"What does that forest hide?"
"Is that a trick question?"
Smack!
"Do you spooks have a secret base in those woods?"
Harry stared at the man. "Who are you people?"
The man looked surprised at the question. "You don't recognize us, boy?" the man asked slowly. "Do you not recognize our uniforms?"
Harry looked at their uniforms. They both looked military. They were black, plain cut, and had a strange silver patch on the right arm. "Haven't a clue."
"Miller, perhaps the spooks are not so well informed as we feared," the captain said to the woman. He turned back to the boy. "What is in that forest, boy?"
"Nothing," Harry said automatically.
"You said that too quickly, boy. I smell a lie."
"Look!" Harry snapped. "I don't know what you want. Just let me and Hermione go! We haven't done anything!"
"What is in that forest, boy?"
"Nothing!"
"If there was nothing in that forest, boy, then why were you and your little spook friend there?"
"We got lost, okay?!" Harry shouted. "One minute we were in school, the next thing we know, some blokes were attacking us, and then we blacked out and found ourselves in that forest! We were trying to find our way out when some bloody stun-grenade hit us!"
"You know what a stun-grenade is?" the woman asked, her tone sharp.
"Yes!"
The two exchanged a look. "What other military technologies are you familiar with, boy?"
Harry tilted his head to the side. He didn't get what these two were after. "Guns. Computers. Cars. Tanks. Planes. You know, the basic stuff you see on the telly!"
"You said you live with an aunt and uncle. What happened to your parents, boy?"
"They were murdered when I was one," Harry said, frowning at the man. This Captain Hart was rapidly rising on his list of people he really didn't like. "By spooks," he added.
The man's eye brows rose, wrinkling his forehead as they went. "Were your parents normal? Or were they spooks too?"
"Spooks."
The man smiled a sick smile. "Spooks killing spooks. I like the sound of that. Why did spooks kill your parents, boy?"
"I was one, how should I know!" Harry scowled at the man.
"What about your friend, were her parents spooks too?"
"Hermione's parents are muggles."
"So, the girl was stolen. What's her last name, boy?"
"Why do y—"
Smack!
"I don't see why that matte—"
Smack!
"Stop hitting me!" Harry's face pulsed in pain from the abuse. "Her last name is Granger!"
The man froze, his hand raised. "Did you say Granger?"
Harry glared up the man. "What are you, abusive and deaf?"
"It must be a trap, Sir."
"I agree, Miller." The man walked over to the corpse and stared down at it. "These two baby spooks must be trap. A way to let our guard down. Maybe even assassins who are trying to get close to the Commanders."
"What is your mission, boy?"
"I don't have a mission!"
"Don't lie!" The man spun around, spittle flying from his mouth. His face was turning red with ire. "What is your mission?"
Harry growled in frustration. "To find the man who betrayed my parents and framed my godfather! That is my mission. Not some trap! Or a stupid assassination plot against your stupid commanders! I just want to find Wormtail, give him to the Aurors, and get my godfather's name cleared! I'm not after anything else!"
Smack!
"Don't ever."
Smack!
"Insult our Commanders."
Smack!
"In front of me!"
Smack!
Harry's head lolled forward. He felt a string of saliva mingled with blood ooze out his open mouth. He blinked spots from his eyes, before spitting out a molar that the man has slapped loose. He seriously hoped Madame Pomphrey could fix that, or eating might be more of a challenge than usual.
"The Commanders are upstanding people," the man said, his tone returning to his bored neutral. "They are our leaders in this Crusade."
"Crusade?" Harry asked, his head snapping up.
"Of course, boy," Captain Hart replied. "Our mission is a holy one: we are hunting witches."
Harry just stared at the man, his mind unable to form a reply to that.
"We've discovered that it is quite easy to kill you spooks, once we take away your heathen sticks. Very few spooks stand a chance without that devil-stick. Well, children are an exception. Somehow, the younger children do devilry when they are frightened, so the trick is not to scare the younger kids. If they are not afraid, their devils will not attack."
"You're sick," Harry said quietly.
"What was that, boy?"
Harry took a deep breath, he was sure he would be hurt for this. "I said that you are sick! What kind of monsters go around talking about taking out kids? You are worse than the supposed devils you are hunting! You are the true evil here! You sound like Hitler!"
The man's nostrils flared. "We are nothing like Hitler. Hitler murdered humans and subjected them to awful conditions. Spooks are not humans. Spooks are aberrations that are an affront to good and to the normal person. Your kind are the monsters, boy." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar stick.
Harry stared at his holly and phoenix feather wand held in the monster's hand. "Recognize your link to your demons, do you, boy?" The man twirled the stick in his hands. "See, you look too old to have demons around you when you are scared, so now that this stick is no longer linking you to your heathenish ways, we can begin to purify you."
"Purify?" Harry said, his eyes not leaving his wand.
"Of course, boy. We are not monsters, we will purify the evils from inside of you, and return you to the race of humans."
Harry snorted. "Like you did with that man?" he nodded his head towards the dead man on the rack.
"That man was tainted through and through. He was beyond redemption. But you, boy, are young. It is easier to train the young, and so you do not have to worry about that being your fate, unless you cling to obstinacy. We have doctors who are willing to help you become human, and destroy your spook half."
Harry felt anger bubbling inside of him like an unsettled meal. Wind picked up around him, ruffling his hair.
The man stepped back, dropping the wand. It clattered to the floor. His eyes were wide as he fumbled for the gun holstered on his hip.
"But he's too old for this!" Miller exclaimed. "Only the innocent children who haven't had the chance to be fully turned have this reaction! This boy may be a new evolution of the demons, or his innate childish goodness may be pushing the demons back! We must get him to the laboratory! Who knows what we may discover from this one!"
The lights flickered on and off plunging them into a strobe scene. The building shook.
"The demons must really want this kid!" the woman said, her tone excited. "Maybe he is special to them?"
"We need to subdue him, before—"
The building trembled and red lights blared to life. The sound of siren blared through the complex.
"Shit, we're under attack!" the captain said, his hand pulling his gun free from the leather holder. He leveled the barrel at Harry's head.
Harry stared at the circular exit of the weapon, wondering if the gun's end would be the last thing he would ever see.
"We need to take this one alive, captain!"
"Whoever is attacking is probably after the boy, he is likely their secret weapon. The child who will become the devil's avatar in our world! If we don't destroy the boy now, who knows what evil he will unleash upon the world when the darkest of Hell's demons take him as host!"
"But what if he is not?"
"I have no choice, if I do—"
The door exploded inwards. Shards of metal and glass shot across the room.
Harry felt a number of hot pieces pierce his right side, sending hot patches around the burning wound, as blood seeped out from the jagged bits protruding from his flesh.
Red lights flashed through the room. Shots fired with sparks like fire. Shouts echoed, merging with the sirens. Figures entered the room, appearing and disappearing as the white lights flickered on and off, while the red lights of emergency blared.
Two bodies hit the ground in front of him. He couldn't tell if they were his captors or the invaders. He didn't know what was going on.
Harry struggled against his shackles, but they didn't budge. He attempted to rock the chair, but it seemed bolted fast. And his squirming only further irritated his injuries. He wasn't sure if it was all the noise and the lights, or if it was that with his injuries, but he was starting to feel dizzy.
The lights cut out and the room plunged into blackness and silence.
"Lumos," a voice said.
White light pooled in the room. Footsteps entered into the room, and Harry blinked through the spell-light wondering who had come.
"Shit, it's a kid," a woman said.
"This poor sap's dead," a voice from beside the dead man stated.
"Oi, kid, are you dead?" the woman asked as she brought her illuminated wand tip closer to his face.
Harry flinched at the light. "Yes, but I'll be blind soon if you don't get your wand out of my face," Harry said, his tone weaker than he liked. Maybe it was from the effort it took him to keep his head up. He was awfully tired, in fact…
He dropped into sleep.
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End of Chapter
Any thoughts, suggestions, likes, or dislikes would be greatly appreciated.
Cheers,
Dai-Kun