By the highway, how do you say "DEPTHS"? I say it like, "Dep-uth-us" which sounds very wrong. Is it like "Depps"? Or "Deaths"?
While it is true that you don't know what you'v got till you've lost it, it is also true that you don't know what you've been missing till you've had it.
Prologue
A month had passed since the fall of Lord Voldemort. Wizards, witches and magical creatures were still celebrating, saying Harry's name in all parts of the world, dancing late into the night, unconsciously doing magic...
"A peculiar little thing happened in London last night," the newscaster said with a small smile. "It occured in what appeared to be a fireworks show. Witnesses say that the fireworks - if they really were fireworks - formed what seemed to be a war scene, with moving figures and energetic blasts of light. The war continued from half-past seven until ten in the evening, and experts are still unable to explain this oddment. Meanwhile, in a similar story-"
"Anything on the news?" Hermione asked, striding into the room with Ron and drowning out the news. She was fiddling with a necklace's pendant, and she sat on the couch next to Harry.
"Oh, just the usual antics," Harry said, changing the channel. "Some moving formations in the sky, you know."
"I don't know why you bother to watch the Muggle news," Ron said, settling himself on the armrest on Hermione's side of the couch. He gazed around at the living room of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, then turned to look at Hermione.
"Hold this, Harry," Hermione said, handing him the necklace's chain as she continued to fiddle with the pendant."Oh, it's just a precaution, Ron," she said dismissively. "Honestly, they should really be more careful... Muggles are getting suspicious, obviously."
"Oh, let them have their flapdoodle," Ron said, waving the matter away. "They have the right to celebrate! I mean, You-Know-Who's already gone, once and for all, thanks to Harry over here..."
"When are you going to say his name, Ron?" Harry asked him, bending to look past Hermione at his best mate. "If you really believe Voldemort's gone, you should have the courage to say his name."
Ron didn't wince when Harry said "Voldemort," but he seemed to put a whole lot of effort into it. Shifting uncomfortably, he said, "Well, it's just the trauma... the aftermath of the war..."
Hermione shot him a look.
"Oh, all right," he muttered. "V-Volde-"
Suddenly, Hermione shrieked, and the world started to spin. Harry got up from the couch, still clutching the chain of Hermione's necklace. He grabbed the small pack beside him before it blurred into the rest of the world; inside it was his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the world stopped spinning, settling into place. Harry looked around, he was still in the living room, but it looked cleaner than before, and there were a few minor differences. Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen.
He heard shouting from downstairs, as if there was a fight going on. He draped the silvery cloak over his head, as a precaution, and he disappeared from view. He hurriedly scampered downstairs to see what was happening.
A snobbish lady was screaming at the top of her lungs outside the door. "You filth! You blood traitor! Scum! Don't you dare walk through these doors again!"
"I wasn't planning to!" snarled a voice from outside.
Fuming, the lady slammed the door shut and stomped up the stairs, narrowly avoiding Harry. She was grumbling incoherently.
"Foul filth... He dares besmirch the name..."
Curiously, Harry hurried down the last few remaining steps and opened the door, quietly stepping outside. A boy about his age was sitting on a motorcycle, revving it up. An odd sense of Deja Vu filled him...
Then, the motorcycle soared into the sky, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Understanding smacked Harry in the face with so much force that he almost fell over.
Unless he was very much mistaken, he had just seen a sixteen year old Sirius Black leave the house of his parents for his best friend's house. James's house. The house of Harry's father and grandparents.
But... how? How did he get transported back into time? How did he get sucked into this? He clutched the Invisibility Cloak, Firebolt, and necklace tightly, and he felt a sharp stab in his palm...
Looking down, he saw the answer to his dilemma. In his hands lay broken shards of glass, and a fine, soft powder. The powder was trickling into the air, and the shard of glass were almost crushed.
In his hands lay the remains of Hermione's old time turner.
"YOU SEE? I TOLD YOU SO!" Ron bellowed back in the present. "SAYING YOU-KNOW-WHO'S NAME STILL MAKES BAD THINGS HAPPEN! I WAS ABOUT TO SAY IT WHEN HARRY DISAPPEARED!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald!" Hermione snapped, but with an edge of panic in her voice.
"Well how do you explain Harry's disappearance, then?"
"Well, as you know, I, unlike you, returned to Hogwarts for a proper N.E.W.T. year," Hermione answered promptly. Professor McGonagall kindly gave me my old time turner for all my N.E.W.T. level classes.
"And what's that got to do with Harry, disappearing, eh?" Ron asked haughtily, looking like he'd just seen the world explode in front of his eyes.
"Shut up, Ron! Where was I... oh, yes, the time turner...Well, it's been going haywire lately, and I was trying to fix it. I made Harry hold it, and I must have done something wrong, because... Well-"
"And that happens exactly when I was going to say You-Know-Who's name?" Ron taunted.
"It was just a coincidence!" Hermione said, exasperation evident in her voice.
"I think not!" Ron insisted.
"Well, we can't argue about that now," Hermione said, getting up and walking out the door briskly. "Come on, we'll have to save Harry somehow... Hm, if I recall correctly, the time turner turned over about twenty five times or less..."
"Where are we going?"
"To the Hogsmeade library."
"Typical Hermione," Ron muttered under his breath, speeding up to catch up with Hermione's brisk walk. "When in doubt, go the library."
Just a short introduction.
So... yeah.