The Time Turner
The time turner exploded near me. Splinters of glass pierced my eyes. I could feel the air begin to move and my fingers grew warm. The dust smelled of memories—the faint tang of woodsmoke and the clean scent of rain. I closed my mouth and tried not to breathe, until my face pricked with effort and my chest ached. Finally I broke, sucking in air and dust, coughing and sputtering.
It hadn't been like this third year when I'd used the time turner. I'd hide in an empty class room for privacy and spin it once. I'd open the door and step out, the world exactly the same. Nothing shifted. Nothing moved. Nothing like this.
I could hear soft voices, but it was as if you'd run a record backward. None of it made sense. It sounded a bit like the twins on helium, with a low note for Arthur, and a high pitched giggle for Luna. I thought I heard myself for a moment. It was giving me a headache.
Finally it was silent. Then I could hear a distant knocking and a high pitched squeal of old practical experiments—right, wasn't this the old unspeakable room, before it was converted into a ballroom?
I accidentally swallowed sand and everything seemed to spin faster. I could feel the glass as it flew out of me, the cuts in my eyes healing. I could see.
Everything stretched as if it were the echoes of a very clear fairytale. The dust had vanished. I reached for Luna, who'd been standing behind me. I grabbed empty air. I turned, looking for her, the twins, and Arthur too, but I couldn't see them. I was alone.
Time slowed. The light was getting dimmer, and I could no longer feel it pulse through my eyelids. It was quieter too. Just a faint hum and a steady thumping. I felt grimy and battered. I waited, remembering.
At the ribbon cutting for the time turner, the twins had come to congratulate Luna, slyly asking for their own copy for "personal use." After she refused them, they pointed out all the ways she could use one herself, but she demurred- "it would be unfair to the snorknacks," she'd claimed, before breaking into wide eyed giggles.
I watched her for a moment before turning to the time turner. The prototype looked more like a brancusi sculpture than the time turners I remembered. It stood tall and thin and had a touch pad to operate. Clouds of sand shifted through its pipes, waiting for instructions.
"The thing almost seems to sense the best moment to return," Luna had said, noticing my interest. She'd paused for a moment, looking over my shoulder. I turned to follow her gaze and spotted Harry, his hand gripping Ron's shoulder tightly. Move, he'd mouthed. I shrugged slightly, not getting it, turning to Luna.
And then I saw them. Two men, with a young boy between them. One had his wand pointed at Harry. The other pointed at us. I could see him blink. Luna shifted slightly, standing in front of her time turner, protecting it.
Harry shouted, ducking, as he sprayed the men with curses. The men ignored him. A beam of green light rushed towards us. The time turner shivered, then exploded. Luna smiled, squeezing my hand.
It was dark when I opened my eyes again. I felt wet, and I was curled up, my knees against my chest. She was gone.
I'd been standing, Luna beside me. I chose not to think about it, and flexed my fingers instead. They seemed all right. I tried to stand, but I couldn't move. I could only shift a little. Something elastic was keeping me in place. I pressed my fists against it, kicking weakly, but nothing happened. It felt too real to be dead, I remember thinking hazily. Prison? And then, wasn't grandpa meant to welcome me if I were dead?
It felt like I'd been there for weeks. It was dark, and I could hear voices. I didn't understand at first—the death eaters had all been locked up—and who'd know to grab me if time were flowing backwards around me? But when I realized that I hadn't eaten or drunk for days and felt neither hungry nor thirsty, I finally understood.
I was waiting in the womb. I puzzled over it for a moment, my mother's voice soft in the background. How I could think properly? Even my vocabulary was complex. Could all babies do this? Weren't babies just supposed to react—warm cold, mother, father, milk, go away...how did I fit in all of this? Perhaps I was truly an old soul. It made me smile, briefly, in the dark.
But how I was going to fit in?
It was hard enough the first time.
I stared up at the crescent moon that had tipped over and slid into a Cheshire cat's smile. I helped Sharon carry the groceries to her house but refused the torch she offered me as I left. I preferred to walk home in the dark.
If I could walk in the dark, I knew where I was. It's the ultimate test of belonging. I walked quickly down my neighbor's uneven rammed earth steps, hitting each riser with my heel before I stepped, secure in the rhythm of my feet. But when I reached the road, the darkness ended. Floodlights trained on a neighbor's front steps spilled over the orange clay of path, outlining each chipped, half-submerged stone. Anyone could walk safely. The path's startling color flattened the dark into dense, unfriendly blackness. It pressed against the sharp edges of the light. There were no streetlights on Wisteria Avenue and as I walked, the darkness thinned, separating into shades of grey.
Soon the sky silhouetted the tall, closely spaced trees that edged the path. Through the twiggy branches above me, I could see a few stars. The dark frond of a palm slanted towards me. Tomorrow it would gleam like a green-rayed sun. I fixed the image in my memory. The world seemed large, uncluttered, and very beautiful. It was so quiet that my thoughts surrounded me in a bubble of sound. The bubble stretched, enveloping the distant trees.
Something thudded in front of me. Wind brushed the left side of my face. I imagined it hurtling towards me, glimpsing me in midair. I heard a thud behind me and turned to face the sound over my neighbors fence. Silence again. As I walked down the hill, the sound of my thoughts merged into the quiet. The sky was a dark grey slash in front of me, bracketed by trees. I could not see my feet.
From the sky, I guessed where the path lay. I trusted the dark.