Title.

"Alysin Wyndelynd" (working)

Era.

Hogwarts / Trio / Second Generation

Genre.

General / Drama / Humor

I am a time traveler. There is a strange unknown magic within me that shoves my mind, body, and spirit about the currents of time as though I were nothing but a rogue-red leaf drifting down a clear blue river. I have no say as to when I find myself flung about the unknown nor do I have any say as to where I alight in the never-ending length of time. The unwanted trip is both exhilarating and uncomfortable as my senses are over-stimulated with wild, too-bright contorting colors, sharp, crisp scents, and a strange music of such an other-worldly sort that not even the sirens of the North could possibly hope to capture the alluring emotions. The sounds and smells are relaxing and calming, but the spasming colors twist my stomach and make me dizzier than the scrambling of my very being already has.

I always close my eyes.

It was yet another one of these unpredictable, yet inevitable trips that brought me to where I am now. My seat was cool and hard, but not uncomfortable. The air was warm but fresh, like that of late spring. I could hear the 'shushing' of water at a shore that does not include a beach and the soothing music of many birds. I opened my eyes to find myself beside the Black Lake, which can be found on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a school that I do attend when I have the chance.

The longest of these chances, and only my second jump, had been nearly a year and a half during the years of 1892 and '93 during which I had met Albus Dumbledore and had become fast friends. It was he who helped me to hunt down some obscure texts dating past medieval times that helped to determine the origins of this curse or - as he insisted - this gift.

Whatever.

I slid from my perch and tugged straight the brown colored, Muggle t-shirt I was wearing to compliment the dark purple peasant skirt and beaded, loosely woven, hemp shawl wrapped around my waist. As one may have predicted with the outfit, I was barefoot and my head was wrapped in a bright, emerald green scarf. I scowled at the tightening feeling in my chest that had nothing to do with a 'yearning of the heart' or 'an overwhelming grief.' It was a telltale sign that the travelling magic was coiling within me and preparing to jump me to the next exciting time. I ignored the sensation as it was building slowly enough that I could try to enjoy what was obviously a beautiful day at whatever date it happened to be.

I cast my eyes behind me to examine what I had been sitting on. Behind me crouched a large white, marble structure that I knew had to be a tomb. I narrowed my eyes in interest, as I had never seen a tomb on the Hogwarts grounds before. Obviously that meant I was farther forward than I had ever gone as of yet.

I quickly circled the structure in an attempt to find a plaque or engraving that would explain its existence, but there was nothing.

"Who are you?"

I turned toward the speaker and threw out a warm, welcoming smile. The person that had spoken was a young woman, I'd say of about sixteen or seventeen years of age, with bushy brown hair and a no-nonsense kind of air about her. She stood in her Gryffindor school uniform, regarding me just as calmly as I was regarding her.

"I'm Alysin Smith," I replied with a smiled. The name happened to be an inside joke and was only half correct. I rarely used my whole name and sometimes used a completely fake name when I traveled. While I would use Alysin Wyndelynd quite often, as it was my given name, I typically used variations and included Sarah, Jane, and Smith - at times I even threw in Doctor - in reference to a brilliant Muggle television series that I had become rather hooked on. I loved the series because it was quite a long running show and I was able to see it quite often; that and it dealt with a time traveler.

And typically, an adorable time traveler, I might add.

"What year is it?" I asked my smile growing slightly at the strange look I was imparted with due to this question.

"June nineteenth, nineteen ninety-seven. Are you alright? How'd you get here?" The curious woman seemed genuinely concerned and I smiled happily at her compassion.

"'Ninety-seven? That'd explain the tomb. I haven't been this far yet. And yes, I am quite alright." I contemplated how to answer the question seeing as how there are rules to follow regarding time-travel, even I couldn't break the rules the Ministry had set, or my own, for that matter. Then again, I had a feeling I would be back to this time soon, seeing as I had seen it once but was still going to jump. Al and I had determined that if I arrived at a time I hadn't encountered and didn't jump again, that I would probably stay there. That's what I was hoping anyways. Plus, three months later for me, and at least eight hundred years earlier than Albus, Rowena had agreed with that hypothesis, if Ro thought it was reasonable, it was probably true.

"Hm, I landed here," I said with a dreamy smile knowing full well how impossible that response would be.

"Landed? What can you possibly mean by landed?" I considered the woman's hair as it seemed to be bushier as her frustration mounted.

Interesting.

"Well, apparently, Time wanted me here." I often personified Time – don't look at me as though I am insane, whatever else could possibly be moving me about? It's not as though many of my stops even make sense.

"Time? Are you saying that you time-traveled here? That's impossible," she said rather haughtily. "The Time-Turners were all destroyed two years ago."

"Not everyone has to travel by Turner." In fact, I had found a worn, leather book in this very library's dark recesses during those pursuits with Al, which had revealed that the magic that moved time-travelers about was what had been used to create Time-Turners.

"Of course they do."

"Yes, of course, what am I talking about?" I replied with a smirk, the aforementioned magic was tightly coiled in my chest much like a spring ready to release; I knew I hadn't much time left. I gestured towards the white tomb beside me and spoke, cutting off whatever retort was on her lips, "Who rests here?"

At my words, she became instantly somber and gazed sorrowfully towards the grave. "Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

The shock as I learned this knowledge left me unable to support my own weight and I collapsed to my knees beside the white marble and leaned my forehead against its cool surface as tears trekked their way down my cheeks. I could hear the youth's voice inquiring something or another, but was unable to answer as grief rocked my frame and Time decided it was time to throw my mind, body, and soul onward towards my next experience.

As the familiar bonds of travel swirled about my conscious I could swear I felt gentle fingers brush the tears from my cheeks and I wondered if Al was travelling with me. Perhaps it was a trick of the time stream or a trick of my own mind, but I took a bit of peace from it and squared my shoulders, I'd faired worse.

The 'eighties hadn't been kind to me.