Miss Moony would like to dedicate this chapter to crazyirishchocolatelover for being the first reviewer.
Miss Moony would also like to thank Serpent of Light, Antanaqui, Unknown-Dreams (twice) and queen-of-monkey-magic for reviewing.
To Serpent of Light: Have you read Clawtracks of a Star by neutral? The situation's a bit like that – the Harry at Hermione's house is kind of like an echo of the real Harry, to fill the void in the present that he left behind, if that makes sense. But the version of him that's in the past has a complete physical form from the start.
Chapter Warnings: Time-travel
Chapter Summary: In the past, Harry awakens.
------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------
Chapter 3: Harry Blackmoon
He could feel a warm hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently, and he voiced a muffled protest when it shook him mercilessly into wakefulness.
There was a small, brown-haired woman standing over him, looking disapproving.
'Who're you?' he asked, squinting slightly.
The woman frowned. 'I believe that you should be the one to answer that question,' she said. 'You look like James Potter, but even he is not foolish enough to place a spell on his eyes.'
''M Harry,' was the boy's only reply. He didn't know her, and, consequentially, he didn't know which side she was on: Dumbledore had told him early on in his training that he should never trust the loyalties of strangers. Especially strangers in Hogwarts, which, he believed, was where he was at the moment.
'Well, "Harry",' she said, 'I am Professor Fleming, Potions Mistress at this school. Would you mind telling me how you came to be here, or would you rather I took you to the Headmaster directly?'
Harry frowned, and wondered what had happened to Snape. 'I'd rather talk to Professor Dumbledore, actually,' he said, and, too late, realised that, if she was a Death Eater, then "Headmaster" could be a code word for "the Dark Lord".
The walk to Dumbledore's office was painfully slow, and Harry found himself stumbling often. He suspected that his bad footing, even on even ground, had something to do with the lack of glasses.
They eventually arrived, though, and "Professor Fleming" said the password, 'Licorice sticks.' The gargoyle jumped out of the way, and she climbed the stairs behind Harry.
'Hello, Eir, Mr. Potter,' the man behind the desk said to them as soon as they'd entered and shut the door behind them. He had grey hair with a very slight reddish tint, and bright blue eyes behind oval-shaped glasses.
'Albus,' Eir nodded to him, and it was only then that Harry realised that the man behind the desk was Professor Dumbledore.
'What happened to Professor Snape?' Harry asked immediately, and at Dumbledore's inquisitive look, he nodded in Eir's direction and added, 'She said she was the Potions Mistress.'
Dumbledore frowned and examined Harry thoroughly through narrowed eyes. 'There is no Professor Snape here. Nor was there ever. Would you mind telling me who you are?'
Harry did a rather impressive goldfish impression, and then managed to stutter out, 'A-are you okay, Professor? It's me, Harry. Harry Potter.'
The Headmaster frowned again. 'There is only one line with the name of Potter, and James Potter has no siblings.'
'I'm his son, Professor!'
Dumbledore smiled at Harry's outburst, and Harry could see the old man's eyes twinkling more than ever. 'Tell me, Harry. What year were you born in?'
Harry slumped into an overstuffed armchair and said in a bored manner, '1980, sir.'
'It is as I thought, then,' Dumbledore mused to himself. 'You are from the future.'
Harry's eyes widened in shock, and he said, 'But I can't be in the past,' he said. 'I'll cause a paradox, and then how am I supposed to defeat Voldemort?'
Dumbledore wasn't fazed, but Harry noticed Eir flinch slightly at the use of Voldemort's name. 'Time works in mysterious ways, Mr. Potter,' Dumbledore said. 'It may be that you were meant to be here. And if you change time by being here, it won't necessarily cause a paradox. There really isn't enough research into the subject for us to know for sure.'
Harry gulped and nodded. 'What am I going to do, then?'
Dumbledore smiled. 'If you tell me how you got here, then I can prevail on the Ministry for help with researching a way for you to get home. In the meantime, you will attend to your – sixth? Seventh? – year here at Hogwarts. I will have to ask Eir to take you under her wing for the rest of the summer.'
For a moment, Harry thought that Eir might protest, but she seemed to decide against it, as she nodded sourly a few moments later. Harry took a deep breath and began to explain how he'd come to be where he was.
He told Dumbledore and Eir of his trip to Muggle London, of Ron and Hermione's capture, and his own duel with Voldemort. '… He used a spell – Transita aetas – and then he apparated. I got Ron and Hermione, and we apparated back to Hermione's house…'
He then went on to explain his "illness", and the dreams he'd been having, and finally looked up and met the Headmaster's eyes.
Dumbledore looked pensive, and Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. 'I know of the spell He used,' the old man said finally, 'but it was never researched properly. I will write to the Ministry, and I'm sure that Minister Bagnold will agree to reopen the research project on this particular aspect of time-travel.'
Harry nodded, feeling two stares resting on him; Dumbledore's thoughtful, and Eir's astonished.
There was silence for a moment, and then a flash of fire announced Fawkes' arrival with a letter for the Headmaster. Dumbledore reached out and took it, and Eir took that as her cue to leave, with Harry trailing after her.
'You will need another identity while you are here,' she said after they had walked together in an uneasy silence for most of the journey back to the dungeons. 'After all, you can hardly announce to the entire school that you are James Potter's son from the future. And we'll also need to make you look a little less like him, as well' – she examined his face closely – 'I expect that you can achieve that by just growing your hair out a little, and getting rid of the glasses: I'll brew a sight-correcting potion. But what for the name?'
'Blackmoon,' Harry immediately suggested, thinking of Sirius and Remus, and acquiescing with a nod to her other suggestions – though they were more like orders, really. 'I'll be Harry Blackmoon.'
Eir stopped dead, her eyes wide as she looked at Harry, and a look of realisation crossed her face, though Harry didn't know why.
'What's wrong?' he asked when a minute had gone by, and she still hadn't stopped staring at him.
She shook her head, and stuttered out, 'N-nothing. It's nothing.'
He accepted her answer without complaint, and they continued on their way to her quarters, but the look on her face was etched into his mind, and he knew he wasn't going to let this go until he had an answer.
------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------
Author's Note: Eir means "mercy" in Old Norse. It was the name of a Norse goddess of healing and medicine. Also, Fleming was the inventor of penicillin (can you tell I've got something big planned for this character?). The name Blackmoon, I stole shamelessly from a fic I read ages ago, though I can't remember the title or the author. Go to this thread at Fiction Alley Park if you want to find out more: www. fictionalley. org/fictionalleypark/forums/showthread. php?s&threadid81887 (remove spaces)
