The corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries was dark. Normal working hours had long since ended, and I could not detect neither hide nor hair of any other human being. I patted my pocket. I had my scrap of paper and my uncle's memory. I was ready to go. I clenched the paper in my fist, and kept walking.

The time travel method of Foci Memoria was made for my situation. My parents had used the Tears of Merlin, and while that had been the right choice for them, using memories as the vehicle for transportation was really the only possible way I could do it. I didn't have a physical body back then; I had not yet even been conceived. I'd briefly toyed with the idea of using the Trojan Horse method, but that would have required blood sacrifice on the part of someone not me. No, Foci Memoria was a simple, elegant solution. All it took was a memory, and I'd have a month long sojourn in the past.

Quite enough time to ensure that my dad was not the Chosen One. I felt a small surge of guilt that I was basically going to saddle someone else (probably Neville Longbottom) with the prophecy. But if it was Neville Longbottom... he'd been tortured into insanity years and years ago. Anything was better than that. Anything. I had no idea what it would mean for the time travelers, but if Dad, Mum, and Uncle Ron came back, they'd be able to help Neville.

And I myself wasn't the one tweaking the prophecy. I was just going back in time; I didn't have to worry about the "Pain unto Death" like the Laws warned about. It was possible that my sudden presence would change the prophecy, and take away the "bent for always and always" line. The universe was pretty damn smart about these types of things.

So it was that I opened the door to the spinning room, said "Time" firmly, and walked through the maze of artifacts to find the Pensieve. I did spare a glance at the darkened windows of the offices. My supervisor, Adam Black, had a penchant for talking loudly, eating sweets, and working all hours of the night. The man was brilliant, but more than a little crazy. I did not hear any polka music, nor did I see strange lights coming from the third window on the left, so I figured I was safe--

"Wise Asp?" A smug voice. "Albus Severus Potter?"

Not now, I thought desperately. I hate it when she jumps out at me, and with us working in the same Department (albeit in different Divisions), it happens all too often. "Hi, Wilder," I said. Act calm, Al, I told myself. "What are you doing here so late at night?"

"Oh, we just finished having an orgy in the Love Room," she said flippantly. "You know how we are..."

I choked on my own saliva, and spun around toward her. "Wha--? No -- you don't really!"

She was laughing by the time I finished spluttering and had retreated to mutinous silence. I hated it when she made sexually suggestive comments. She did it all the effing time; she must know that it drove me crazy. I was always visited by visions of her honey colored hair making a curtain around my face as she kissed me. Her skin was always impossibly soft (or I imagined that it was). I turned away and strode over to some random artifact, and tried to pretend that right before visions of her naked had struck me almost blind, I had not been thinking about how I was just about to travel through time.

And I couldn't afford to be useless just now. She must have been following me, I thought resentfully. She deliberately tried to torment me, she really did. She knew how I felt about her; she'd made it perfectly clear what she thought about me. The fact that she kept following me and making comments that tortured me... it was just cruel. I suddenly felt the urge to--

"What is this, Albus?" she asked.

My heart seemed to fail. The tone of her voice mingled confusion and suspicion, and with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I realized that the scrap of paper was no longer in my hand. I hesitated. "It's just a joke."

"Don't lie to me," she snapped.

"And you've never lied to me?" I countered.

She looked as though I'd slapped her in the face. "Are you still on about that? Is that why -- I was fourteen years old, and you were a head case about your dad!"

"I wasn't--"

"And it looks like you still are!" she said loudly. She waved the little scrap of paper about and I saw red. I dove for it, but she put a table of Time-Turners between us. "What the hell do you think you're going to do? He wasn't murdered, Al!"

He was, I thought fiercely. Maybe not directly, but he was still murdered. I didn't say anything out loud, though, but I followed her around the table. "How do you know it's my dad?" I asked.

"Of course it's your dad," she said. "You've always wanted to be just like him. You took the same classes he did, you tried out for Seeker every year, don't think I didn't know. And I imagine you still miss him a lot, but how the hell could this bring him back? He was sick!"

I drew my wand faster than she did, and a moment later she was unconscious on the floor. Heart crashing wildly in my chest, I pulled the paper out of her hand. I rearranged her limbs so that she looked more comfortable. "I'm sorry," I said. And I actually meant it. I might even get a chance to make it up to her someday. I'd tell her that I'd had to stun her, and we'd both laugh about it...

I shook my head firmly. I walked over to the Pensieve. I cast a wary glance over at Wilder, who still lay prone on the ground. And just in case she woke up, I cast a protective circle around the artifact. I couldn't have her interrupting the process. And then, because the ground looked really hard, took down the circle, transfigured a quill into a pillow, and remade the circle. This would take a few moments, and I wanted her to be comfortable.

Then I took a deep breath. I reached into my pocket, found the jar, and dumped the swirling, misty silver into the Pensieve. I stared down at it for a moment, and I thought I saw the face of a little boy who could be Uncle Percy. I traced the runes around the edge of the silver basin. So few people knew Ancient Runes anymore. They would not recognize the rune for time, or the rune for change. I pointed my wand at it, muttered a simple spell, and the runes switched. The memory immediately turned a dark blue, the color of the night sky, and I marveled a little at how time looked a little like space. It fit. They were both infinite.

I held out my hand, and with one slash of my wand, I cut a gash in my palm. I watched it bleed freely. At first I could see no difference. But then little bright specks that looked like stars swirled faster and faster. And right before it raised up to meet me, or I bent over to dive into it, I spoke the incantation that would erase me from this time. And with a melting sensation, I slid into the Pensieve, and into the past.

APAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAP

The Laws of Time Travel:

The Traveller may not create a Reality in which the Traveller no longer exists. This will cause Pain unto Death.

The Traveller may not change Prophecy, and that which has been Foretold by the Ones with the Far-Seeing Eyes. This will cause Pain unto Death.

The Traveller may not challenge the Cornerstones of Fate, upon which Reality turns. This will cause Pain unto Death.