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"Harry, look at this," said Hermione, motioning him over to the corner in Mr. Weasley's workshop.
"What is it? A time turner! Where did you get this, Hermione? I thought they were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries!".
"Here, take this and wait a moment. I'm going to get Ron. Merlin knows he doesn't want to be left behind this time around.". Harry accepted it, turning it over in his hands in awe. The ministry had been trying to replicate them for years, but had no idea where to begin or what kind of magic was involved. Grasping the chain, Harry tentatively hung it around his neck, marveling at the delicate pattern that wove around the hourglass in gold.
There was a thud from outside the door, and a rough voice called, "Don't move. What you are wearing is a highly dangerous and temperamental artifact. It belongs to the Ministry of Magic. Now carefully remove it and bring it to the door". Harry frowned; he was the Head of the Auror Department, and if none else, Mr. Weasley would have told him the ministry had found a genuine time turner. Still wearing the turner, Harry disapparated, heading towards the Ministry. He felt his feet touch the ground, before a peculiar jerk fom around his neck pulled him into a cloud of dust.
He hit the ground hard, coughing as he inhaled the small particles of dust that surrounded him. Worriedly, Harry held the hourglass pendant of the time turner up. The glass was cracked, and sand was pouring out steadily. Not wanting it to cause more problems, he took it off, slipping it into his pocket. Suddenly, auror senses kicking in, Harry turned a full 360, checking to see if anyone was around. Seeing no one, he focused on his surroundings. He noticed he was sitting before a bright red telephone booth, an 'Out of Order' sign pasted over the telephone receiver. Relief flooded through him; at least he had made it to the ministry.
Slipping inside, he voiced, "Harry Potter, Head of the Auror Department".
To his surprise, the automated voice replied, "I am sorry, there is no one of that label. To this day, 15 July 1977, the post Head of the Auror Department belongs to Alastor Moody."
Harry stumbled backwards. 1977, it was 1977! Harry's surprise quickly changed to fear. If it truly was 1977, that would mean Voldemort was yet to be defeated; and just about anything he did could change the future, perhaps even prevent the death of Lord Voldemort! On top of it all, there was no one he could turn to, seeing as that could change the future as well.
Harry felt a thought gnawing at the back of his mind, telling him he would never see his family again. The thought of leaving a pregnant Ginny alone with one year old James sent him into another wave of worry. He told himself he would find a way to get back, but couldn't help but imagine James and their unborn child growing up without a father as he had. Shaking this thought out of his head, his mind set with determination, he vowed to return to 2005, by all costs. Even if his children had Ginny, he wanted them to have a father as well.
After Harry had married Ginny, and Ginny was pregnant with James, Harry had dreamt of doing all the things with his son that he had never had the opportunity to do with his father. Showing him how to play Quidditch, buying his first wand, sending him off to Hogwarts at Platform 9 3/4, among many other things. Harry realized with a start that he might never even see his second child.
Sighing, he resolved to speak with the Dumbledore of this time. If necessary, he could always Obliviate him, Harry decided. Pulling his wand from beneath the folds of his robes, he cast his patronus to Dumbledore, informing him of his arrival. Then with a soft pop, he disapparated to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade.
The Three Broomsticks was quiet that morning, a couple of old wizards sat in a corner, sipping at large glasses of Brandy. What attracted Harry's attention was a family of five sitting by the entrance, apparently eating a brunch. There were two red-haired boys, around the ages of four and six, flicking pieces of scrambled eggs at each other with their spoons. Harry smiled lightly at this. Beside the two boys sat their parents, both young, the father with red hair matching his sons'. The mother held in her arms an infant, who too had a tuft of red hair peaking out from beneath his blankets. The baby painfully reminded Harry of his own son, James, who had inherited his messy black hair, and Ginny's brown eyes.
A sudden thought struck Harry: Percy Weasley had ben born in 1976, and three years before him, Charlie Weasley, following Bill Weasley in 1971. Unless he was mistaken, the family sitting before him was none other than the Weasleys! Harry felt an overwhelming desire to sit down with them and tell his story, to have Mrs. Weasley tell him that they would work everything out. For the first time, Harry truly realized the measures Mrs. Weasley had taken to preserve his childhood, to protect him from the responsibilities of an adult. But now, Harry knew he had no choice but to face his problems alone.
Taking a deep breath, Harry exited the pub, earning a disgruntled look from Madam Rosmerta. He headed down the street leading to the walkway to the front gates of the castle. Harry pulled out his wand, tapping the gates to alert the headmaster he had reached Hogwarts.
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