Harry staggered into the staffroom and lowered himself into a chair, returning various greetings from his fellow professors as he did so. He relaxed into his seat, closing his eyes against the general chatter of the room. His chair was just two places away from the window, and he could feel a warm breeze blowing gently from the wall to his left.

"Coffee, Harry?" Harry opened one eye to see who was speaking; Neville, across the long table, was holding two mugs, one already steaming.

"That'd be great, Neville, thanks." He opened the other eye and straightened up to accept his cup. He took a sip as Neville sat down across from him.

"Hell of a day, huh? You look tired, Harry." Harry shook his head darkly and quivered a finger at Neville as he waited for the coffee to go down.

"I had a double third-year class today," he said finally. "They're all in a panic because Oded Patil broke up with Carla Robinson. I couldn't keep order." Neville looked astounded.

"Is that what they're on about? God, I thought someone had been killed or something… I couldn't figure out what they were talking about, but then again I was pretty busy today; something strange happened to the sprinkler system in Greenhouse One… Oded – is that Parvati's or Padma's son?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't tell. Maybe Padma's; he's in Ravenclaw, after all…"

"Mind if I join you?" Harry and Neville looked up from their conversation just as Remus Lupin sat down next to Harry, stirring a sweet-smelling tea in his mug and laying a stack of essays on the table.

"Not at all," said Neville as Harry moved his cane to give Lupin more room. "Harry and I were just discussing the various fascinating disturbances in the lives of thirteen-year-olds." Lupin chuckled and took a docile sip of tea.

"I noticed that, too," he said, leaning back in his chair, "but I was much more interested in the unrest among the fifth years. You should have seen the way Angie Ballew was glaring at me when I --"

A black and silver tabby cat leapt onto the table between the three men and relaxed luxuriously onto Lupin's papers. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Hello, Minerva," he said scratching her behind the ears. She glanced at him disparagingly and twitched her tail irritably at him.

"I would prefer if you treated me a bit more like a human, Potter," she said, though she smiled teasingly as she did. "I would like to see you in my office, if you have a minute."

"Of course," Harry said. He gulped the rest of his coffee and prodded himself to his feet with his cane. He tossed a short wave at Neville and Remus, and Minerva leapt from the table, changing back to human form mid-jump.

"We can take the fireplace if you like, Harry," she said, indicating Harry's bad leg. He shook his head.



"I'm fine Minerva; I think walking does me good." She shrugged and led the way out of the staffroom toward the Headmistress's office. They walked in comfortable silence, and Harry gazed out of the windows they passed at the expansive grounds. Most of the students were outside, taking advantage of the warm May weather. Some were cooling their feet in the lake. Harry could see four students lounging on the grass surrounding the beech tree near the lake. That was the same beech tree where he, Ron, and Hermione spent many spring afternoons studying, talking… That was where Ron and Hermione had told him, after Dumbledore's funeral, that they would stay with him on his journey to defeat Voldemort…

"Uluru." Harry looked up to realize that he and Minerva had reached the stone gargoyle guarding her office, and that the gargoyle was stepping aside to let them pass. They rose in spirals up the moving staircase, and ended outside her office. She held the door open for him, and he shuffled to the chair on the visitor's side of the desk. She took her seat on the other side and watched him concernedly as he arranged himself for best comfort in the chair.

"How are you doing, Harry?" He tore his eyes away from the snoozing portrait of Albus Dumbledore behind her and looked into her troubled face.

"I'm fine."

She sighed. "I mean… I know it must be hard for you, having this job when you really just want to be an Auror." Harry's heart sank. So that's what she meant… He averted his eyes from hers, focusing instead on the portrait of Severus Snape. Unfortunately, Snape was absent, leaving nothing but an empty black chair. He put his elbows on the desk and leaned onto them.

"Minerva, it's been five years since I left the Auror Office. I was successful while I was there, and now… I've moved on to something else. I love teaching Defense. I always did. You remember Dumbledore's Army, don't you?" In his peripheral vision, Harry thought he saw the tiniest of smiles tilt the corners of Dumbledore's mouth, but when he glanced at the old professor his face was smooth with slumber once again.

"You just seem…" Minerva began, looking earnestly at Harry. She had his best interests at heart, he knew. She had always been kind to him. Still, she was an aging woman, and he had no desire to worry her in the least.

"…subdued. Troublingly so."

Harry reached across the desk and took one of her slender hands in his.

"I take care of myself, Minerva. I promise."

She opened her mouth to argue, but a sharp tapping sound drew her attention to the window. A handsome tawny owl was there rapping viciously on the window, obviously convinced of the importance of its business. Minerva huffed, but rose from her seat and let the owl in. It dropped its envelope on 

the desk and flounced back through the open window. Minerva tore open the envelope with her wand and skimmed its contents.

"Oh dear, they want to do that today? Ugh, and I suppose I must attend…" She looked up from the letter at Harry, sighed, and then dropped it into the wastebasket. Crossing the room to collect her travelling cloak and hat, she said, "The board of school governors wants to have a meeting regarding the 'revision of school curriculum'. Silly, nitpicky little details. I'm sorry to leave you hanging like this, but I have to go…"

She stopped on her way out the door and eyed Harry carefully. After a moments' silence, she sighed.

"Goodbye, Potter."

"Goodbye, Minerva."

The door shut briskly behind Minerva McGonagall, and Harry was left alone in the Headmistress's office. Harry stood up and gazed around at the portraits covering the walls. Snape hadn't returned yet.

"You ever thought of a career as an Auror, Potter?"

"No," said Harry, taken aback.

"You want to consider it," said Moody, nodding and looking at Harry thoughtfully. "Yes, indeed…."

When Harry was forced to face defeat and take early retirement from the Auror Office, his world came crashing down around him. The dream he had built up since he was fourteen was extinguished, and nothing could possibly bring it back.

What else could he possibly do? He had been marked from birth as the one who could destroy Voldemort; wouldn't it make sense that he should dedicate the rest of his life to destroying his followers? What else could Harry Potter do, if he wasn't an Auror?

He was told of the seriousness of his injury and also of the Ministry's decision to let him go as he lay in his hospital bed, waiting for his leg to heal. He was being visited at the time by his good friend and fellow Auror, Darcy, who had an arm behind Harry's shoulders as he sat next to him on the bed. Harry wanted to jump up, scream, smash the nightstand against the wall, trash the calm, sanitary, sunny room that encased his anguish, but he couldn't do even that. He couldn't run, jump, or anything but limp.

He could only moan from the hospital bed, grip the metal rods that made up the frame, allowing Darcy to silently brush the hair from his forehead. Why had he ever taken for granted the ability to walk briskly through the office? Why had he ever taken for granted the fact that he could do exactly what he wanted to do with his life?

The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Great Harry Potter, stood in the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts with the help of a cane, despair washing over him as he thought for the hundredth time that he was utterly, irrevocably dissatisfied with the turn his life had taken.



And Minerva was worried that he was subdued.

Harry turned to leave, but stopped at the sound of a soft voice.

"She's a lovely woman, really." Harry looked over his shoulder, smiling.

"I knew you weren't asleep, Albus." Harry turned to face Albus again. "Why do the portraits in here always pretend to be asleep?" Dumbledore beamed down at him.

"Ah, but Harry, surely you know that eavesdropping is much more rewarding if those you are listening to don't realize they are being intruded upon!" Dumbledore said, looking gravely over his half-moon glasses at Harry. Harry laughed and limped around the desk to lean against the wall in between the smiling portrait of Dumbledore and the empty canvas belonging to Snape. Harry and Albus looked benignly out the window for several moments, savoring the glorious countryside together. Harry looked next to him at the side of Albus's frame. He was framed in ornately carved gold, and Harry took in all the details; the tiny curls and engravings, the sparkling gold tones in the sun, the hinges partially obscured by shadow…

Hinges?

Snape approached the portrait of Dumbledore and pulled at its side. It swung forward, revealing a hidden cavity behind it from which he took the sword of Gryffindor…

"Albus," Harry said stepping around so he could look Dumbledore in the face. "I just remembered your portrait is a door…" To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore's face tensed slightly. He smiled, his face softening once more.

"Yes, Harry. Why don't you have a look inside?" Harry stared at him.

"Are you sure it's not private…?" he said slowly.

"Well, it's my portrait, isn't it?" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Go on, Harry!"

Harry looked at him curiously for a second, then shrugged and pulled the side of the portrait forward. The hole was empty except for a tiny envelope pushed all the way to the back. He reached in and groped about until he found the envelope, and pulled it toward the opening. It was too heavy to just be a letter…

He held the envelope into the light to read the one word printed on it.

Harry.

His heart skipped a beat as he, with urging words from Dumbledore, slit open the envelope and emptied its contents onto the desk. A small, folded piece of paper fell out with a gold necklace. Harry picked up the necklace and immediately recognized it.

"A Time-Turner?" he said, looking at Dumbledore. "Why?"



"Read the note, Harry! Read it!"

Harry unfolded the bit of parchment and adjusted his glasses on his nose in order to read the spiky, cramped handwriting.

You'll need to go back eighteen years, so turn it quite a few times. You will be expected.

SS

Harry looked at the Time-Turner, his heart racing. What was going on, eighteen years ago, here at Hogwarts?

The war was almost over… Hogwarts was teaching the Dark Arts… Snape was Headmaster…

SS?

Harry looked once again to Dumbledore, who was watching him intensely.

"Whenever you're ready, Harry," he said, pressing his fingertips together and looking over them, the way he always did.

"I think I'll go now, Professor." Harry picked up the Time-Turner and laced it around his neck. Picking up his cane, he steadied himself, and then spun the Time-Turner. It turned over again and again, and Harry kept spinning it, until in his mind he felt that it was enough. And then the office dissolved before his eyes.