Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it and it is likely from Order of the Phoenix by JKR.

A/N: Welcome to year four! *throws confetti* Finally. This story is complete, it will be 28 chapters total and I'll try to update daily or at least every other day. Depends on how fast I finish editing.

So, as usual, this is the fifth story in the series Rewritten in Time. Best to start at the beginning (Regrets Collect Like Old Friends), but it is up at to you.


Demented Summer


A drowsy silence settled over the neighborhood as the hottest day of the summer drew to a close. Tom Riddle surveyed the yellow, crunchy lawns, which made everyone scowl and complain about the lack of rain and the ban on watering. There wasn't a soul outside (likely due to lack of green grass) and every single window of every single house Tom saw from his vantage point was thrown open in hopes of catching the nonexistent breeze.

Air conditioning clearly hadn't made it to the homes of Little Wheeling. Addy Black, Tom's long dead friend and associate, had asked the estate agent if any of the flats when they looked so long ago came with air conditioning and the agent had given her an odd look. And not because he was a Muggle and she'd misspoken. No, it turned out air conditioning was an American thing.

It still must be a very American thing seventeen years later as no one on Privet Drive had it.

"This stinks," Harry Potter complained. "I'm going to die from overheating, not at the end of a wand."

Tom cast the messy haired boy a dark look and went to gazing out the window. Due to Tom's genetic makeup (he wasn't alive, yet not dead), he didn't feel the oppressive heat. He simply witnessed it and had to make do with his memories of overly warm days in a London orphanage.

"You know, someone might see you," Harry pointed out, glancing up from the newspaper he was reading.

"I doubt it," Tom murmured. "The usual hobbies of the housewives have fallen on the wayside in this heat. Also, I doubt anyone will be able to see anything through these bars on your window. Why are there bars on your window?"

"They appeared after second year," Harry answered, looking back at the paper. "They were worried I'd make a break for it out the window."

Harry snorted, throwing the paper aside. Tom glared at the offending object. The headline wasn't anything having to do with Harry, Voldemort, or how bonkers old age had rendered Dumbledore, but Tom knew these stories were hidden within the depths paper. Harry had been reading only the headlines, then throwing the paper aside till one morning Tom pointed out he needed to read the whole paper to get what the enemy was saying.

"The enemy?" Harry had questioned.

"The Ministry of Magic. They are not with you, they are against you. Fudge will do whatever he can to remain in power. He allowed Skeeter to lay the seeds and now others watering the garden. He's playing a complicated game that will blow up in his face. As you well know, Marv— as you fondly call him— will not be silent forever."

Harry had smiled at Tom, shaking his head. He read the paper cover to cover every day now. (Which allowed Tom as well to read it over his shoulder, as Tom was unable to touch anything due to his ghost like state— well, other than Harry and things imbued with Addy's magic, like his trusty wooden block.)

"So, anything?" Tom inquired, floating away from the window and hovering above the bed where Harry was sprawled.

"No. Not really. What happens this year again?"

Harry tended to forget the details of what might occur in the coming school year. His best friend Draco Malfoy was a time traveler and had told them all the major points at the start of Harry's fourth year. While nothing was guaranteed to happen, they were able to guess out which events would likely more no matter what changes they tried to achieve.

Time was a mad lady in a box and she liked to fix some events. It could be something major or something inconsequential— such as Harry's obsession with following spiders second year or Draco's urge to fork over the broom Harry got for the holidays from an unknown third year to McGongall to check curses even though Draco knew there was nothing wrong with the broom.

Tom hated time travel.

"You end your summer by being attacked by dementors," Tom reminded the green-eyed boy.

"Huh? How do dementors get to Little Wheeling? Voldemort?"

Tom sighed, giving Harry a look. "No. Likely, someone in the Ministry wishes to prove the stories in The Prophet true. Though, this time the first underage magic complaint was expunged from your record, so there will be no need for a hearing, unless Fudge decides it'd be best to make an example of you and throw you out of school."

"Why dementors?"

"Why not? Muggles can't see them and you are the only wizard in the area. There would be no way to prove what you saw when you cast the charm to protect yourself."

Harry sighed. "This is why I need you."

"Pardon?" Tom asked.

"You're my brain, I'm your heart," Harry replied, rolling off the bed.

Something lodged itself into Tom's throat and felt warm, which was odd as Tom didn't feel temperatures due to his non-human being state.

"I'm going to go out for a walk," Harry proclaimed. "I can't stand to be in here any longer. God, I can't wait till we can go to Sirius' house. Do wizards have that air conditioning you were talking about? It usually doesn't get this hot, so we don't usually need it."

"Wizards use cooling charms and from what Addy told me about air conditioning, it works in a similar manner. Remember the block."

"You're coming with me?"

"Do you not wish me to?" Tom asked, feeling something sink in his chest.

"I can't talk to you outside," Harry said, frowning.

Tom had been cooped up in Harry's messy, cramped bedroom for the past two weeks. Then again, so had Harry due to doing his best to avoid his relatives. Tom observed the relatives were fearful of Harry and ignored him, as Tom figured they would, so keeping to the room wasn't necessarily needed.

Tom was glad he'd returned to the Durlsey's with Harry even if he'd been trapped in a micro sized bedroom for two weeks. Harry wasn't dealing with the events of the end of the year well. Tom woke Harry nightly from nightmares featuring a dying Cedric Diggory and a vicious Lord Voldemort. At least with Tom around, there was someone to wake, comfort Harry, keep him company during the day, and offer a distraction from his circling thoughts.

Harry blamed himself for Diggory's death and nothing was ever going to change his mind.

"Where did your cousin go tonight?"

"He told Aunt Petunia he was going to tea at the Polkisses'," Harry snorted.

Harry's aunt and uncle were astonishingly stupid about their own son, Dudley (horrid name), and swallowed all his dim-witted lies about having tea at various members of his gang (they weren't friends) each night of the summer holiday. Harry and Tom both knew perfectly well what Dudley and his dimwitted cronies were doing each evening, and it was nothing good.

"He's likely beating up some kid who had the misfortune of crossing his path," Harry muttered. "If you'll be quiet, I'll take you to the park with me. I'm just going down the street. Not too far."

"I'm not worried about you being alone at the park," Tom bit out.

Harry was always watched. Harry hadn't noticed, but Tom had. A strange array of people were clearly watching the house and following after Harry wherever he went.

Tom hadn't mentioned this to Harry, fearing he'd start irrationally shouting.

"You coming or not?" Harry snapped.

"I'll stay here," Tom snapped right back.

With a slam of the door, Harry was gone and Tom was left on his own in the room.

"Bloody hell," Tom muttered, crossing his arms across his chest and moodily staring out the window.


"HE DID WHAT?"

"Draco, you do not need to shout."

"What are you looking at in there? They don't print anything worth while these days," Sirius Black complained, stabbing his plate of eggs with his fork.

"Harry was attacked by dementors," Draco reported, folding the paper so the story about the Unstable-Attention-Hungry-Boy appeared front and center.

"He what?" Sirius asked, eyes going impossibly wide in his thin face.

"And they think he's lying?" Narcissa demanded, her shrewd eyes scanning the paper.

"Of course they do," Draco grumbled as Sirius snatched the paper up. "Fudge has spent all summer telling the public Harry's an attention hungry liar. And what better way to prove your point than to have Harry cast magic in front of a Muggle?!"

Narcissa pressed her lips together and swept out of the room. Sirius stared at the paper, a dumbfounded look on his face till he was sure Draco's mother was out of earshot. The look dropped off Sirius' face and Draco was pinned with stormy grey eyes.

"This happened last time," Sirius stated flatly.

Draco nodded. "Potter got off. Last time around, Father hadn't cleared the damage Dobby did. Potter got in trouble for before second year, if I remember the papers correctly. Levitation charm performed in front of his family and their guests."

"It was all over the papers?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. Anything that painted either Harry or Dumbledore in an unfavorable light was published that summer."

Sirius pressed his lips together, looking alarmingly like Narcissa.

"Potter had a full trial."

Sirius raised his eyebrows and his mouth dropped open.

"Fudge tried his best to get Potter thrown out of school. It didn't work," Draco reminded Sirius. "I doubt Harry'll be thrown out. Technically this is his first offense, so unless Fudge does something drastic law changing, it's just a warning."

"Why wasn't I informed my godson performed magic?" Sirius asked.

Draco's mouth dropped open.

"And if there were really dementors in Little Wheeling, why didn't someone tell me? The Order should have been alerted. As you well know they weren't."

Unlike most people Draco's age, he was privy to exactly what the Order of the Phoenix was up to, thanks to Sirius. Narcissa had no clue her cousin was telling Draco things that he ought not to be told due to his age, but Sirius figured Draco already knew most of it and he was actually older than he appeared thanks to time travel.

The Order didn't know much. Voldemort was MIA. So far, it appeared as if Fudge was right and Dumbledore and Harry were mental. The only way they knew for sure the Insane Lord was up and about was thanks to Snape and Atlanta Lupin, who had gone from cool, calm, and collected to a jumpy bundle of nerves. She startled at nothing and everything— even though she had spent most of the summer locked away in her room.

"Dumbledore better be here shortly."

The doorbell rang.

"Speak and he shall appear," Draco snarked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'll let you know the four-one-one."

Sirius stood up and swept out of the room as Draco shouted, "We still do not say that!"


It was almost another week before Harry was brought to Grimmauld Place. Draco hadn't even been aware Harry was arriving till he appeared at breakfast to find Harry moodily sitting at the table while Dobby attempted to tempt him with various breakfast foods.

"Harry, when did you arrive?"

The green eyes moved from Dobby to Draco. "Dead of the night. Flew in with a bunch of Order members."

Draco nodded. "I hear you had some minor excitement."

Harry scowled.

"I take it you've been properly scolded by Tom?"

Harry stabbed his empty plate with his fork.

"Harry Potter, sir, you needs food."

Harry cast his eyes back towards Dobby, who held a huge tray laden down with food. Harry grabbed a pastry and set it on his plate, stabbing it with his fork. Draco took his seat at the table and Dobby cracked away. A moment later, Draco's breakfast appeared on his formerly empty plate.

"This happened to Potter, didn't it?"

"Correct."

Harry cursed rather darkly.

"Hopefully, you won't have to go to trial."

"Trial?"

"Yes. Fudge changed the rules and made Potter appear before Wizmogot."

Harry went a little green.

"Hopefully, there is someone around to talk him out of it, since this is technically your first offence and you were defending yourself and your cousin from dementors," Draco pointed out.

"I shoulda listened to Tom," Harry griped, stabbing the pastry again with his fork.

"Where is the Not Ghost?"

"I threw him through the fire this morning," Harry said.

"I hope you dialed before," Sirius muttered entering the dining room. "While I'm no fan of Tom, he's kind of useful at times."

Harry scowled. "I dialed."

"Brilliant. With any luck, he'll stay there till we need his big brain," Sirius said, grabbing the jug of coffee that had appeared at the table at some point.

Harry grumbled under his breath.

"I think Tom and Harry are fighting," Draco loudly whispered.

"Not exactly hard to believe," Sirius muttered.

Harry noisily stabbed his pastry once more, scowling at Sirius and Draco.