a/n; This fanfiction was HEAVILY inspired by pop-pop-bananas' Rewind/Press Play/Fast Forward series. However, it IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. If that made sense. Okay, look, this chapter sucks, mainly because I wanted the beginning over and done with. I know what I'm doing with the rest of the story, but this first chapter? -shudder- It was complete torture. It's so lame, I'm ashamed. HAHAHAHA, RYHME! Ahem.

simply desperate

six hundred seventy two

I'll sing it one last time for you

Then we really have to go

You've been the only thing that's right

In all I've done

xx

Throughout Hogwarts, students were enjoying the newly-June weather. Except, of course, for the OWL and NEWT-year students. Especially the ones who didn't study.

"It doesn't even seem right," a strawberry-blond wizard in the Gryffindor common room was complaining to his friends. "That they get to be outside, and we're stuck in here."

"To be fair, Lysander," Fred Weasley, seventh year, rolled his eyes. "We haven't done much work lately. Stupid Dad and his need for helpers in the shop..."

"Stupid us, you mean," his sister Roxanne piped up, poring over a large book of Runes. "For actually agreeing to help him. Merlin's pants, I'm going to fail my OWLs!" she exclaimed suddenly, causing her cousin Louis to spill his ink all over Victoire's old Transfiguration notes and curse loudly.

"You won't fail," Lysander's twin brother Lorcan said patiently, siphoning the ink off the thick stack of parchment. "You know Runes like you know the English language, probably better. Plus, all the teachers love you. That should help."
"Yes, and that's lovely," Molly snapped at her fellow Gryffindors from the corner, glaring daggers at them all over her Arithmancy textbook. "But the teachers will not be the ones examining us, and I can assure you that the people who are testing us will not play favoritism!"

"Geez, Molly. You've got too much Percy in you." Lysander sniggered and skillfully dodged the vase thrown at him.

"Urgh! I can't do this!" Roxanne wailed in anguish. Lysander patted her head awkwardly.

"Just...go ask McGonagall if there's any way you can do your exams later...this summer, maybe? I mean, the rest of us are fine, really, but, Rox...you seem sorta desperate."
"Ah, Lysander. Your tact and concern for others never cease to amaze me," Lorcan said, rubbing Roxanne's back. "But he's got a point, Anne. Go see McGonagall."

"Urgh, I'll try and talk to her," she said doubtfully, raising from her chair. "And if I don't come back, Fred can have my chocolate frog card collection." Her friends laughed as she jogged out of the room and down the corridor. She believed in maintaining a peak fitness for Quidditch, no matter how far away the season was. So she tended to jog everywhere, causing her friends to abandon all hope of walking her to class.

She jumped the fallen suit of armor expertly and gave Peeves, who had just pushed it over, a rude hand gesture. She finally saw the gargoyle at the end of the hallway and sprinted the rest of the way.

"Albus," she said confidently and with perfectly even breath, and the entrance opened.

A few moments later, she found herself explaining to the Headmistress why she was even bothering to ask for more time, as the dozens of portraits pretended to be asleep.

"And I couldn't let Dad down, he's just starting to get back to what he used to be, according to Mum! Please, Professor, just an extra week!" Roxanne was practically begging, but McGonagall's face remained impassive, tired, and wrinkly.

"No, Miss Weasley, I will not give you more time - in that sense, anyway. Here's a Time Turner. Use it to go back a month and actually study. And don't look at me with that big smile of yours, it wasn't my idea, and I certainly don't condone it. But Albus..." she gave the portrait a reproachful look. The wide awake Dumbledore-portrait chuckled.

"My dear Minerva, Miss Weasley is quite able to handle a Time Turner properly. It's better than having her do the exams later than everyone else and get questioned about favoritism, isn't it?"

"Yes, well...Miss Weasley, just spin the necklace." McGonagall said tiredly, letting her eyes drift shut. Roxanne almost laughed out loud at her Headmistress' behavior, but held it in until she was back down the staircase.

"McGonagall's lost it!" Roxanne giggled to herself, but then examined the Time Turner in front of her. "Hm...so, I wonder how many turns? I'm assuming you turn it back hours...but if I wanted to go back a month...dammit, where's Lorcan when you need him? Okay...umm...carry the one...six hundred seventy two. Wow, that's a lot of turns. Okay, let's do this. Stop talking to yourself, it's very unhealthy. Shut up, I'll do whatever I want. Oh great, now I'm arguing with myself. That's far from healthy. Here we...go."

And she started to spin the Time Turner 672 times. When she finally reached that number, she let go of the hourglass to stretch her fingers. That's when she noticed - the hourglass was still spinning.

"What? No! Only six hundred and seventy -"

Her surroundings blurred horribly, and she was afraid. What if she went too far back, and she had to lay low for a couple years while she caught up with her own age? Oh, this was not good...

She closed her eyes, scared out of her wits. She was still going back...way too far!

A moment later, she became aware that she wasn't moving anymore. She stood completely still, afraid to open her eyes.

"Hello...are you lost?" a kind voice asked politely, even though she had probably just dropped out of the sky. Roxanne gathered all her Gryffindor bravery and opened one eye a crack. And nearly screamed.

"But - but you're - you're supposed to be dead!" she exclaimed, pointing at the elderly wizard behind the Headmaster's desk. A wizard she'd only ever seen in pictures.

"I can assure you, I am not. Where did you come from?"

"Um...if you mean 'where' like 'place' - here. If you mean 'where' like 'when'...2025?"

Dumbledore looked startled for a fraction of a second, but then smiled politely.

"I would think it's now safe to assume the world will not spontaneously combust when the calendar marks the new milenium?"

"Huh?" Roxanne was confused. She was always told Dumbledore was the brightest wizard, like, ever. But then she recalled her father's words: The man might have been brilliant like whoa, but Roxy, he was a mental, manipulative git. He was very nice, though. So nice, in fact, it annoyed Fred to extremes! I remember this one time... And then he would laugh. It was amazing, she'd been told, that he could laugh about his twin now. And from the stories Roxanne had heard, her own brother had been rightly named.

"What year am I in?" she asked, to shake away thoughts of her family. If she was too far back, she might not be able to get back to them...

"Er - it's August 30th, 1976, actually."

"Huh. See, if I were one of those girls that liked cliches, I would faint right about now."

"Oh, I'm sure you will anyway." Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"That's correct."

Thud.

xx

a/n; Somosegksmgvknsmxkdgn. I hate this chapter to extremes. Siriusly. AHAHAHA. I made a funny! :D Okay, I'm in a weird mood. Um. Yeah.

Yay for semi-predictable storylining!

Also, I had to use a calculator for that 672thing. And it's probably not even correct. -sigh-