Harry Potter stood in Zonko's Joke Shop with Ron and Ginny Weasley, picking out novelties to send to Fred and George. The Weasley twins were far more creative than anyone Harry had ever met, but even so, they liked to keep a few of the classic pranks around, "for inspiration," they said. It was a snowy Hogsmeade weekend, and Zonko's was the friends' last stop before they headed back to Hogwarts castle, where Hermione was spending the weekend preparing for exams.
The three companions had spread out through the shop. Ron was in the back corner, eyeing the candies warily. Harry had turned away from him and was surreptitiously watching Ginny, while pretending to look through a jar full of joke quills. Ginny had joined them to escape the attentions of Dean Thomas, who she claimed was "suffocating" her, and Harry certainly didn't mind. She was browsing idly through the screaming yo-yos, careful not to touch them. Her profile was to Harry, silhouetted against the light from the streetlamps coming in through the shop window. Harry was just thinking that Ginny deserved better than an overbearing troll like Dean, when a noise he had never heard before caught his ear. It was a strange, pulsing, whooshing sound that grew and subsided rapidly and repeatedly within the space of thirty seconds or so.
"What...?"
"Something wrong, Harry?" Ron turned around, several candies in hand.
"No, nothing particularly... Did you hear that noise just now?" Harry noticed that Ron was holding, among other interesting choices, a cherry bomb. "Ron, you may want to put that one back..."
"I heard it, Harry." Ginny turned to look out the window. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary, but it was an odd sound. I think it came from just up the street."
"Well, I'm going to go have a quick look," Harry said, dropping the hot-pink quill he had been "examining". He wasn't sure what he would find, or even whether it was worth checking, but anything was better than pretending not to stare at his best friend's little sister. "Ron, really, put that red one back..."
Ron reluctantly replaced the handful of sweets. "Ah, Fred and George could use a bit more excitement anyway, now they're all wrapped up in being businessmen. Alright, let's go have a look at whatever-it-is."
The three students wrapped their scarves up against the wind and stepped outside. Hogsmeade always looked stunning in the snow, but it struck Harry as particularly beautiful today. Small drifts capped the eaves of the buildings, and the snow on the ground caught the warm light from the windows of houses and multiplied it. Thick white cushions covered the branches of trees. Ginny tossed her long red hair out of her face, setting the snowflakes around her swirling... Shaking himself out of his distraction, Harry looked up the street. "Hang on a minute... What's that little blue box there, between Gladrags and Scrivenshaft's?" Harry couldn't remember there being anything but an alley between the clothier's and the quill shop before. From where he was in the street, it was hard to see exactly what had blocked the alley, but it looked like a tall wooden crate or phone booth. It was topped by some sort of light, and had a white case mounted on the side. Harry set off down the street, the hem of his robes collecting snow.
Ron abruptly grabbed Harry's elbow, halting him mid-stride. "Now, there's a strange-looking bloke," he muttered. Indeed, just in front of the blue box that Harry had spotted, there stood an oddly-dressed man who appeared very confused by his copy of the Daily Prophet. His short brown hair was windblown, and he looked underdressed for the weather. A long, tan coat flapped around the man's thin frame, but he seemed not to notice. He focused on the paper in his hands with a cold, fierce attention that was palpable, even to the trio ten yards away. His features were sharply defined; he was handsome, but his bearing suggested distance and inscrutability.
"That's Muggle clothing, Ron," Harry murmured back. Suddenly, things were dramatically stranger. Hogsmeade was the largest all-Wizarding community in Britain, and to see Muggles there was unheard-of. What could this be about?
"You don't suppose he's with the Ministry, do you?" asked Ron.
"If he is," interjected Ginny quietly, "he's just come out of the wrong fireplace. Look at how lost he seems. It's like he's never seen Hogsmeade before." Harry watched. The man had lowered his copy of the Prophet, and now couldn't seem to decide whether the structures and people around him were real. He appeared to be talking to himself.
Ron sighed. "Why do the weird ones always manage to find us? We'd best keep out of it. Maybe he's had some sort of memory charm and doesn't know who he is." Ron had never quite gotten over seeing Gilderoy Lockhart obliviate his own memory.
"If that's true, Ron, then it's all the more reason that he'd need help." Harry was, at this point, mostly trying to find an excuse for his own curiosity. A man dressed in Muggle clothing, in the middle of Hogsmeade, in front of a blue box that hadn't been there before, was not something he could dismiss lightly. He resumed walking, this time toward the now slightly frantic man, with Ginny and Ron trailing behind him.
The sound of the time vortex quieted, and the Tardis settled with a slight thump. "Hmm... the ground here must be a bit uneven," the Doctor mumbled to himself. Rose was away, spending a few days in London for her mother's birthday. Jackie Tyler was a formidable creature, and if the Doctor had any hope of keeping Rose with him peacefully, he had to defer to her mum every now and then. Still, the Tardis seemed a little empty without Rose around to make noise and break things, so the Doctor filled the quiet by blurting out his thoughts.
"Well, best go out and have a look, eh? Allons-y." The Doctor grabbed his long brown overcoat from the Tardis' console, threw it on, and strode out the door into a snow-filled dusk. The strain of the trip had apparently left him slightly shaky. He had been pursuing the Master since their last encounter, about a week ago. The Master had landed here a good two days before the Doctor, but the energy levels the Doctor had seen coming from this otherwise completely empty swath of countryside could have led him here from another universe. The Master was up to something serious, and either saw no need to hide it, or was incapable of doing so. In either case, the Doctor was decidedly interested.
Right now, however, he was more interested in why he was standing in the middle of a bustling street. A quick glance around told him that this was the main thoroughfare of a smallish country village – one that seemed to be populated almost entirely by teenagers.
"What?"
He spun around. The Tardis was lodged in an alley between a clothing shop – apparently advertising cloaks, not unreasonable in the cold weather – and a store selling a large assortment of what appeared to be feathers. Teenagers were wandering in and out of the shops. One, a pudgy boy whose pale face stood out against his black hair and dark robes (robes?), wandered distractedly into the shop to the Doctor's right, muttering about having accidentally set fire to his best quill. Others walked by arm in arm, clearly smitten with one another. The apparent leader of one rather nasty-looking trio of thugs tossed aside a newspaper. It landed with a flap upon a snowdrift that had gathered under the shop window of the clothier's. The Doctor retrieved it, and snow settled on his shaggy hair and thin shoulders as he read: "DAILY PROPHET". The front-page photograph, under a headline naming her as a popular actress, winked at him.
"What??"
The date on the newspaper placed him in the 1990's. As he read down the columns, he noticed a short intro to an article deeper inside the paper. It mentioned the fiftieth anniversary of something called the Great Sighting, and the unknown identity of the man who caused it.
"WHAT."
The Doctor frenetically shuffled open the paper to the right page. He skimmed down the columns, scanning for any reference to the Master, hoping he wouldn't find it. Apparently, the Great Sighting was a fiasco in the 1940's when twenty-three wizards, all Hogwarts faculty, revealed themselves to Muggles in the pursuit of an unknown man. The man had kidnapped a Hogwarts student and fled with her to London. It was believed that he planned to murder her, although the reasons were unclear. Neither the man nor his captive were seen again.
"Damn, damn, damn," muttered the Doctor. Fifty years! He had missed by fifty – but wait. What in blazes was all of this doing here in the first place? And what was a "Muggle" or a "Hogwarts"? Something wasn't right. He knew Earth, and more specifically, he knew England, better than most of the people living on this damp little patch of land. It seemed inconceivable that he should be unaware of an entire community, living in a Godforsaken patch of countryside where his scans had barely found two toads to rub together. What was going on here?
"This should be empty!" The Doctor's baffled voice suffocated under the chatter around him. Robe-swaddled figures glanced up awkwardly as they crunched past through the snow. "None of this should be here..." The Doctor stood for a moment, taking in his surroundings. The village was small, and despite it being the 1990's, in England, on Earth, appeared to contain no cars. There were no tracks in the snow on the street, either; everyone that he could see was traveling by foot. They all wore full-length robes, in a variety of colors, from burgundy to navy blue to black. Some wore pointed caps, particularly, it seemed, the older women, who tended to wear ones with a wide brim... much like the modern British conception of the classic "witch".
The Doctor dodged in front of one particularly purposeful figure, his energy abruptly returning in the face of this new mystery. "Excuse me," the Doctor chirped, putting on as innocent a face as he could muster, "can you tell me where I am? I seem to be a bit turned-around."
"Erm... what?" Harry had not been expecting the Muggle-dressed man to speak first. He seemed to have pulled himself together and become startlingly chipper in the time it took the trio of students to reach him.
"Can you tell me where I am? What is this place?"
Ron piped up, "Well, this here is Gladrags, and that is Scrivenshaft's. The train station is just down that way." He pointed the way they had come. "Miss your grate, did you?" Ron eyed the man with caution.
"Yes, yes, I believe I did." The man nodded knowingly. "And what train station might that be?" He smiled disarmingly at them, seemingly thinking this a perfectly normal question. On the heels of an exchange about the Floo network, however, the man's ignorance was slightly jarring.
"It's Hogsmeade station," announced Ginny bluntly. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Gin!" Ron hissed, his neck and ears turning red. Ginny shot him a fierce look as she stepped to the front of the group, to speak to the man directly. Harry knew that look. Ginny intended to get to the bottom of this, and her determination knew no obstacles. He stepped close behind her, and his fingers found the smooth handle of his wand in the pocket of his robes.
The Doctor looked at the openly curious redhead staring him down. Here was a girl of Rose's mold; she would insist on straightforwardness, he could see it in the set of her jaw. He may have gotten more than he bargained for with this bunch. One of her companions appeared just as curious, although he also seemed to be irritated by her bluntness. He was taller than the girl but just as slight, with intense green eyes, and dark, ruffled hair that hid a scar on his forehead. He positioned himself protectively near her; close behind the girl, half-turned toward her as if to be ready to shield her from the Doctor if need be. He watched the situation intently. The third of the group could be none other than the girl's brother. He was the tallest of the three, thin as a rail, with hair the same flame-red as hers. He, more than anything, looked as though he desperately did not want to be where he now was, and was staring into the distance as if gauging his ability to make a run for it.
"What are you doing here?" the girl demanded, not unpleasantly, but with no tone of compromise. Green Eyes fidgeted uncomfortably, as if he wished she wouldn't be so bold.
"Oh, I've just dropped in to visit a friend. Unfortunately, I think I may have missed him; I arrived a little later than I expected to. You've been very helpful, thanks!" The Doctor turned and raised the key to the Tardis. Fifty years... How could he have miscalculated that badly? He must be getting old.
"Accio key!"
The Doctor felt his hand bump the cold metal of the Tardis' lock. He looked down at his empty hand. Had he dropped the key? The Doctor whirled, searching the snow at his feet. It seemed undisturbed, and he began to panic. As the realization of what he'd heard a moment ago set in, however, he paused, looking up sharply.
"I think you should stay a while. Maybe we can help you find your friend," the redheaded girl stated, in a tone that clearly wasn't a suggestion. She held the Tardis key between thumb and forefinger.
Harry panicked when Ginny pulled her wand. He continued panicking as the man, clearly outraged, stalked toward them. Harry pulled his wand from his robes and interposed himself between Ginny and the stranger.
"Now, look here, little girl. You may think you're very clever, and you may be right, because I have no idea how you did that, but you need to return that key to me. Immediately." The stranger's face was just as unambiguous in anger as it was in concentration. Harry struggled to keep Ginny behind him; protectiveness did not sit well with her. Ron had drawn his wand as well, and had trained it on the stranger's heart.
"Don't you speak to my sister like that!" hollered Ron, hand shaking.
"Ron!" yelled Harry. "Put it down!" By this point, people had begun to notice the altercation taking place in the street outside Gladrags. Harry, wand low but still trained on the stranger, crossed in front of Ginny to place a restraining hand on Ron's outstretched arm. "Let's not make this more trouble than it needs to be," Harry said to the small group. "Sir, there's clearly something more happening here than you're letting on, and I really think you ought to come with us and explain it. Maybe we can help."
"Well, since I'm forced to assume those little stick things you're pointing at me are dangerous, I don't suppose I have a choice," said the stranger. "Is there anyplace to get a good hot chocolate near here? I've just realized that it's actually quite cold."
"We can get you something better than that," said Ginny, trying, and failing, to contain the edge in her voice. She turned toward the Three Broomsticks.
The stranger stood out at the Three Broomsticks like a veela in a room full of goblins. Harry, Ron, and Ginny chose a booth in a shadowed corner, well away from the door. Ron, blushing with all his might, went to the bar to order a round of butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta. As soon as he was gone, Ginny let loose a fierce interrogation.
"Who are you?" she snapped. Her anger made Harry uncomfortable; he didn't want another confrontation. He couldn't rein her in, though; she was upset, Harry knew, because of his and Ron's protectiveness. To check her would only make her angrier.
"I'm the Doctor, and-"
"Doctor what?"
The stranger sighed. "Just the Doctor."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm looking for someone. Miss... What is your name anyway? Look, I don't really have time. I need to find this man." He handed Ginny the rumpled copy of the Daily Prophet, open to the story about the Great Sighting. Harry, looking over Ginny's shoulder at the story, found he had no idea what it was talking about.
"Ginny. Her name is Ginny, and I'm Harry," he said. "And that's Ron." He gestured to the bar. "Ginny, what is this about?"
"No, I guess you wouldn't know." Confusion seemed to have swallowed Ginny's anger. Harry could see her mind ticking at higher speeds than usual, and could sense her frustration at coming up empty. "The Great Sighting was back in Tom Riddle's days at Hogwarts," she said in a low voice. "Back before he was Voldemort, when he was still a student here." They heard a tiny yelp, and a splash. Ron had arrived back at the table just in time to hear You-Know-Who's name, and had sloshed half of a butterbeer down his front. He quickly set the mugs down and joined the discussion.
"What about... You-Know-Who?" Ron was white as a sheet, but his eyes were intent.
"Harry and the Doctor here," said Ginny, performing the introduction by way of a casually flung hand, "are asking about the Great Sighting, although I can't figure out why." The Doctor fidgeted in his seat. Harry could see that something was weighing on him – something that required action, and the Doctor was impatient to get moving. Harry knew the feeling well.
"The Great Sighting? Wasn't that back in the 1940's? That guy would have to be at least seventy years old by now," said Ron. "Why are you looking for him?"
"Oh, I don't expect him to have hung around this long. Like I said, I showed up rather late. But before I get into that, could one of you please be so kind as to explain to me what a Muggle is?" The Doctor met Harry's eyes. "I'm afraid I'm a little bit out of the loop."
Harry saw something in the Doctor's eyes that caught him slightly off-guard. They looked old, far older than the Doctor's face and build would suggest. "Um... A Muggle is a non-magic person," began Harry. He had no idea who this stranger was, or how the Doctor would take this information. The one thing Harry did know was that he could be compromising the entire wizarding world by telling this man anything. "We're wizards. The rest of the world are Muggles."
The Doctor stared blankly across the table at his new companions – or captors, as was more technically correct. Three spunky teens – spunky was really the only word, except that the one was rather more terrified than spunky. But at least he stuck with the other two. That showed grit. Did they say wizards? Surely not.
"Wizards? Really. Wizards? No, that's not possible. Alright, well, maybe... Go on then, do us a bit of magic." The doctor grinned. Who knew? These humans, they had more going for them than most of their own population even realized! No wonder they were so charmingly stubborn.
The redheaded girl – Ginny, it was – took the Tardis key out of her pocket and placed it on the table. "Now, hang on a minute," the Doctor interjected. "I need that back in one piece."
"Don't worry," said Ginny lightly. She pulled out her absurd little bit of wood, the one she had brandished at him earlier while attempting to look fearsome, and flicked it about. "Wingardium leviosa," she pronounced. And the key rose into the air.
"Well, isn't that just brilliant!" the Doctor exulted. Just when they started to drive you crazy, you'd find something else fascinating about them. "I never knew... I have a friend – a companion, her name is Rose. She's a human, from London, round about this time. I wonder why she never mentioned that there was a community of wizards..."
"Oh, the Muggles don't know. Or, well, very few of them do," said Ginny. "We have a friend, named Hermione. She has Muggle parents. Those types need to know, and the Prime Minister knows. But we keep our world totally cut off, otherwise." The Doctor thoughtfully plucked the Tardis key from where it was spinning slowly, about a foot above the table. An entirely separate community, that most of the population wasn't aware of, and indeed, methods were already in place to keep it secret. A perfect hiding place for the Master, with very little need for subtlety. He may even have managed to convince them, with Time Lord technology, that he was one of their own.
Ron interrupted the Doctor's train of thought. "Hang on a minute. Did you say you had a human friend, from this time? That's rather an odd choice of words, Doctor. Maybe it's time you come clean with us now." Ron leaned forward to stare at the Doctor in what the Doctor could only assume was meant to be an intimidating fashion. In reality, Ron had his elbow in a puddle of butterbeer. Ah, well, sighed the Doctor to himself. They seemed awfully stubborn, they had unknown abilities, and they might be able to give him useful information.
"It's easier if I just show you," said the Doctor, jumping up from the table. Ron and Ginny did the same, and Harry hurriedly fumbled in his pocket for two huge golden coins, which he laid on the tabletop before sprinting to catch up. "This key," said the Doctor, rather pointedly, to Ginny, "is to my ship. The last one of its kind. Or so I thought." The odd quartet strode out into the snowy evening, and turned left up the lane toward the Tardis. The Doctor gave the three a severe glance before turning to unlock the door. They may be wizards, but he was a Time Lord, and he wasn't about to put up with shenanigans.
"Here she is. Home sweet home," the Doctor announced with no small bit of pride as he led the gaggle of young wizards into the Tardis. This was the part he always liked best – watching them try to put together what they'd seen of the exterior with where they now stood. Ginny refused to relinquish her command of herself, although her mouth had fallen open as she gaped at the ceiling. Harry appeared fiercely determined not to gawk, but his curiosity seemed to get the better of him every few seconds. And Ron was making no effort whatsoever; he stood in the doorway, stepping outside and back in, attempting to process what he saw.
"Blimey," he breathed. "You're a space alien."
"That's Time Lord technology," quipped the Doctor. "Bigger on the inside." He grinned proudly.
"Oh, that part's easy. My dad once had this car-" Ron cut off, with a pained look at Harry. "Um, never mind. Does this thing travel through outer space?"
Harry had seen enough enchanted objects that contained more than they appeared to, like the ill-fated Ford Anglia that had so abruptly silenced Ron, and the tents Mr. Weasley had brought to the Quidditch World Cup, that the Doctor's ship was not a shock. Still, he had never seen anything on this scale before, and done with Muggle technology, no less. His Uncle Vernon had trouble with the VCR. Harry did his best not to gape, but the interior of the ship was so strange that it practically demanded his attention. They stood in an enormous room, the space crisscrossed with organic-looking structural supports, the walls textured like the inside of a living thing. In the center was a circular console covered in levers, buttons, and a few nameless items that left Harry baffled. Above it rose a tall, glowing tube.
"Never mind space," said Ginny distractedly. She continued staring at the ceiling, which, high above their heads, seemed to pulse with color. "You called yourself a Time Lord. Are you a time-traveler?"
"This ship is called a Tardis: Time And Relative Dimension In Space," the Doctor rattled off. "And yes, she travels through both."
Ron looked flabbergasted. "This is impossible. Time travel isn't this easy. Hermione said there's all sorts of complications..." Harry's mind was reeling. He and Hermione had traveled back in time once, to save the lives of Buckbeak the hippogriff, and Harry's own godfather. That single experience had been disorienting enough. Now he was faced with the possibility that it was not only possible, it was easy, and Muggles – or the alien equivalent thereof – had discovered the way. Ron's and Ginny's faces echoed his confusion. They had grown up around magic, and were far more accustomed to the idea of things like time travel and teleportation. This, however, was an entirely different animal. The usual rules didn't seem to apply.
"Here, I'll show you. Ginny, man – er, woman – that lever there. Don-"
"Ron."
"That's what I said. Take that knob, and don't turn it until I tell you. Harry, take this wheel. No, it's completely intuitive, you'll be fine." Harry wrapped his hands around the wheel as the others scrambled to their places around the center console. The Doctor looked utterly at home among all the buttons and switches, pushing and flicking them as easily as though he were having a conversation with the Tardis. "Since I need to go to the 1940's anyway, I might as well show you all a bit of a trick along the way. But then we're coming back here, and you're staying. Now, John."
"Ron."
"Just turn the knob."
Ron gave the knob, a cold blue sphere, a hard twist to the left. The Tardis shuddered and made its strange "vworp" sound once, and then abruptly died.
"What did you do?" the Doctor hollered. "Did you turn it to the left?"
"Yes," Ron sulked, "even though you didn't tell me beforehand."
The Doctor took off, scampering around the control room. He frantically checked panels and monitors, even pulling up one of the floor grates, searching for the problem. From an inside pocket, he produced a thin, complex-looking metal rod. He poked it between tubes and under the center console. It shone a bright blue light, and made a strange, quavering whir.
"Look," Ginny laughed, "they've even managed to create wands! Doctor, you're not going to find anything wrong with your machine. All the magic here in Hogsmeade is probably interfering with it; Hermione's Muggle clocks always malfunction near the school grounds." Harry realized with a flash that she was right. Muggle technology never worked near Hogwarts, both by accident and because the school was thickly shielded from attempts to locate it. That explained how the Doctor ended up here, or rather, now, instead of fifty years ago. It could also explain how he ended up at the edge of Hogsmeade, instead of closer to the school, and it certainly explained why he didn't know there was anything here in the first place.
The Doctor's face turned sour. "Well, how do I get it working again?"
"I'd guess you have to move it outside the area of magical influence," said Ginny, "but Hermione would be a better person to ask. Boys, it's getting late; we ought to be heading back to the castle anyway."
"Doctor..." said Harry, "If you like, we can get you into the castle. If you're going to be dealing with magic, either now or in the past, you're going to need our help, and we'll have to plan."
"Nonsense," said the Doctor over his shoulder, as he resumed poking around his machine's innards with the metal wand. "You all run along back to your Piglumps castle and have a nice cup of tea. The man I'm hunting is incredibly dangerous."
That comment, offhand as it was, touched Harry's temper. His green eyes flashed. How dare this man, who didn't understand and probably didn't care what was happening to the people on this one tiny planet, make assumptions about Harry's life! "Doctor, you don't know anything about our world, so listen closely. A dark wizard, the most powerful dark wizard in the world and the leader of a bunch of violent thugs called Death Eaters, killed my parents when I was one year old. I survived. Nobody knows how, but I did, and now I'm the only one who can kill him. My friends and I fought Lord Voldemort, the most evil person on the face of the earth, in the Ministry of Magic six months ago, and now you're telling me that I need to be afraid? Doctor, you have no idea what you're dealing with."
Harry's chest heaved, and he felt his heart pounding. The image of Voldemort had been haunting him since that day in the Ministry – the day he lost Sirius, the day he finally understood his responsibilities. Harry hadn't realized until now just how heavy the weight had been. He looked around, and spotted Ginny watching him. Her face was a mixture of pride and deep concern. She had fought in the Department of Mysteries too, and had an idea of what lay in store for Harry. He thought perhaps he was slightly too pleased to see that she worried about him.
The Doctor stared up at the ruffled teen from where he lay, sprawled on the floor of the Tardis. He let go the floor grate that he was propping up with his hand. It fell with an echoing BANG, punctuating the silence following Harry's outburst. It was really remarkable, the way these frail, short-lived apes persisted in times of trouble. Even these young ones took on danger, sorrow, and the potential destruction of everything they loved for the sake of their ideals. Perhaps when your life is as short as theirs are, thought the Doctor, you have to fight for every day of peace and happiness that you can get.
Slowly, the Doctor stood and straightened his coat. He studied the three young wizards carefully. Harry was still breathing heavily, chest out and chin forward, with classic human petulance. The Doctor could see fear in his eyes, but he saw something greater as well. Ron and Ginny flanked Harry, standing more or less where the Doctor had put them a few minutes ago. He found the same fire in their gazes as well. These three, and surely their other friends, had been through a great deal together, and the Doctor was realizing more and more how little he knew about their world. Their advice could prove useful; and if the Master were indeed hiding among wizards, some extra pairs of eyes and a knowledge of magic couldn't hurt. Ah, well. He wasn't above admitting he was wrong, was he?
"Well, I suppose I'll need some help to move the Tardis outside your magical muck-up field, anyway. You lot look like you could hardly lift an enchanted sofa between the three of you." The Doctor strode brusquely toward the door.
As they followed, Ron murmured to Harry, "But why would we have to lift it...?" Ron waggled his wand and arched an eyebrow questioningly.
"Shush, Ron. Leave him be."