"At any given moment you have the power to say this is not how your story is going to end. And you also have the power to change it."

Dumbledore told them in their third year that time is a mysterious, powerful thing but "when meddled with, dangerous". He either didn't give McGonagall that speech, or she just didn't listen, and Harry's pretty sure it's the latter option. McGonagall had told all of her thirty-seven 7th-year students to meet in her classroom at the beginning of Monday morning, before breakfast to avoid the busy crowds of the hallways during the morning rush to the dining hall.

Ron had complained the entire way, saying that he could practically smell the sausage and scrambled eggs waiting, and he befriended a Hufflepuff boy named Lewis who was also complaining that all the food will be cold by the time they eventually get to eat something. Harry and Hermione had gotten pretty good at tuning out Ron's complaints, and managed to dodge Ron and his new friend to walk a couple paces ahead. Harry had left all of his school books in the dorm, convinced that he'll have enough time to grab a slice of toast and run up to grab it before the first lesson, which was only around the corner to the Gryffindor dorms anyway, whereas Hermoine's bag is splitting at the seams with all the books she's stuffed inside of it.

Trying to stuff thirty-seven students into a classroom designed for twelve plus one teacher was a struggle, yet Hermione was small enough to grab Harry's wrist and drag them both to the front in order to avoid getting pressed into desks and benches. Harry ended up beside Norma Jones, a Ravenclaw he met during the brief period that he dated Cho. She smiled at him kindly and struck up a conversation with Hermione about what spells would be best for pain relief or whatever - Harry tuned out as soon as he heard about cramps because no amount of money could get him to pay attention to that conversation.

Ron barged his way to Harry's other side, already halfway through a sentence when McGonagall called for silence. Her desk's been pushed into the furthest corner of the window, and a giant space has been cleared on the platform she teaches on. Dumbledore is beside her, though he looks bored and almost completely at of it as if he were fantasizing about something else. He managed to give Harry and Ron a small nod and what appeared to be a smirk behind the overly-large beard, and then went back into his trance.

"Seventh years are expected to complete certain tasks to achieve their Transfiguration results at the end of the year, however, it's been decided three months ago that this year will be doing a trial run of a new system," McGonagall was explaining.

She's clasping her hands together in front of her and keeps giving Harry side-eyed glances like she does when she worries gravely about him. He received the same look at the end of his first year when he destroyed the stone, and every year leading up to now. She's been giving him the look all summer whilst staying at Sirius' old place, and he knows that she's simply worried that the loss of his final family member will set him of course. He's not necessarily bothered by the look, as it is quite reassuring to be mothered over by someone who genuinely cares, but it bothers him that he can't do anything to show that he is truly alright, that the grieving process is coming to an end.

"You'll each be participating," She continued, sweeping her gaze over the other students before landing on Harry again, "and this task will be placed in Hogwarts during 1978."

A chatter of excitement rose among the students, and Harry barely registered Ron shaking his elbow whilst he sprout on about their all-round amazing Quidditch team but Harry kept McGonagall's stern gaze.

1978.

His parents' final year at Hogwarts.

"If you could all form a single file line," Dumbledore said over the chatter and everyone began pushing to be first. McGonagall gave Harry a little shove to the back and out of the classroom, Ron and Hermione on their heels.

"You don't have to participate." McGonagall was quick to say, and Ron looked baffled by the sudden exclamation.

"Harry," Hermione placed a hand on his elbow soothingly, "Are you alright? You look a little... unwell."

Harry looked at them each in turn, and for the first time wished his scar would start to hurt so that he wouldn't have to deal with this situation right now. They're all looking at him gravely, as if they've just told him that his parents have been killed again and not as if they just told him he'll have a chance to see them as they were before they were killed, like they didn't tell him he can meet them and Sirius and Remus all over again, with a clean slate before loss and murder dampened their characters.

"-We'll find you another task," McGonagall's saying and Hermione's nodding along - still holding his elbow, "The Ministry will understand and I'm sure Mr. Lupin will-"

"No." Harry said, "I want to do it."

"Harry, mate," Ron said, now serious, "We're talking about 1978, here. That means that-"

"That my parents are alive, yes I know." Harry interrupted, "That's exactly it. I want to know them, and this is how I can do it, even if it is only for a little while."

McGonagall gave him another pitiful look, "Harry, they can't know that you're their son. The task is to make it through the year according to the standards of eighteen years ago which are tremendously different to know. Everyone must keep their head down and act like a normal student, and if it gets back to anyone that you're not from that time you'll be pulled from the task. I'm afraid you won't be able to spend time with your parents or Sirius as you wish to do."

"I know," Harry replied, nodding, "And I'm not digging for my parents back, I just want to know them how everyone else did, how they keep telling me."

The line in the classroom has gotten considerably smaller, and Harry pushed past Hermione before anyone could make an argument. He was going to do this task, whether they liked it or not.

He was going to get the chance to meet his parents, get to know them. He wasn't going to let them slip through his grasp again.

Not when he can finally fight for himself.