CHAPTER 8 - Red

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The room was packed with more people than Harry had expected. All chairs were taken and many were those standing against the wall, in the back – Charlie and Bill Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Lee Jordan, Oliver Wood, Rubeus Hagrid and more. This was, after all, a meeting of the last minute.

Kingsley had contacted the Order and a Ministry official to discuss a matter of 'the utmost urgency' only one hour ago. Molly had prepared the kitchen in Number 12 Grimmauld Place without questions asked, several seats had been hastily conjured and all other engagements cancelled.

Harry had thought, when the meeting had begun, that there was hope if the number of people Kingsley had cared to involve was anything to go by, but now he wasn't so sure anymore.

"Impossible!"

"How can we be sure of it-"

"The words of a little girl-"

"Order..."

"A seer?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead-"

"That's not the point- Believe a Lovegood?"

"Order..."

"The Granger girl-"

"But a Lovegood, real-"

"ORDER!"

Shutting up at once, everyone turned their eyes towards the head of the table where the Minister for Magic was standing, his narrowed eyes silently reproving the crowd.

Unfolding his arms, he sighed, "We know that what we're asking sounds dangerous-"

"Dangerous!" Aberforth stood. Harry craned his neck to look past the many backs and shoulders seated next to him on the bench and saw the man in question shake his head in disapproval. "It's a suicide mission!"

Voices started to rise again but Kingsley held up his hands.

"Yes, it might be," he said calmly, looking at Aberforth, who was still standing. "But we talked with an important source… We believe... that we can go back in time and save Hermione Granger- take her to the present, where she belongs."

"Who's the source?" Hestia Jones asked.

The Minister smiled, "Albus Dumbledore."

Aberforth scoffed loudly, but the others didn't try to interrupt the silence that descended upon the kitchen this time. The air was filled with anticipation.

"We asked his portrait and, strangely enough, he has memories of a Miss Granger- showing up on Halloween night- but nothing more."

"Impossible," the other sullen Dumbledore kept muttering, shaking his head, even knowing all too well that nothing in the wizarding world was impossible.

"And he doesn't remember anything else? How come?" Hestia asked again, frowning.

This time the answer came in a familiar drawl from the back of the small, crowded room. Harry twisted his back to look at the man. He was leaning against the wall, the look painted on his face one of sheer disgust, but Harry knew better because whereas many people hid behind fake smiles, Snape's cold looks were an armour, built on arrogance and apathy, to fend off people who tried to befriend him, offering happiness and love – people like Hermione or Luna or Dumbledore. People like Lily Evans. After decades, Snape's sneers were an armour to protect himself from being hurt again.

"We believe that Miss Granger hasn't been in the past for long," Snape said in a dispassionate voice. "Should anything happen in the past, the only person who can tell us, Albus Dumbledore, might obtain more memories of her. But nothing has changed yet."

"But if we go back- what if she isn't there..." Minerva McGonagall's voice trembled. Her face was paler than usual, but, of course, Hermione had been very close to their Transfiguration professor, now Hogwarts Headmistress.

"She should be there," Snape said, a corner of his mouth lifting imperceptibly upwards. "Time is a circle. What happens in the past changes our future."

Harry remembered his third year, how he'd gone back in time. With her. And he knew, he knew, that he could save her. He had done it before for Sirius and he would do it again for her.

"But we must move fast," Kingsley added and all attention returned on that imposing presence that seemed to absorb half of the room. "Hermione Granger has been in the past for only a few days, but we don't have much time. Anything might happen and we don't know what a small change can cause..."

Harry looked at Ron. His eyes said it all. We know.

Messing around with time could save lives that had already been given for dead, but the opposite could occur as well. Time was dangerous.

"Rapidity is what we need-"

Anything could happen. If Riddle were to go near her, know her, hurt her, kill-

No. He wouldn't allow it.

"And a team, someone willing to go back and ready for possible-"

"I will go." Harry rose from his chair and stared into the Minister's eyes with resolution. Ron immediately followed him, nodding, "Me too."

At that, Molly Weasley leapt to her feet and faced his son, red in the face. "Absolutely not! You are not going anywhere."

"I'm an adult!" Ron said in disbelief. "I can go and I will!"

Molly was about to counter sharply but her husband placed a placating hand on her shoulder, reminding her that this was not the time nor the place for one of the infamous Weasley's discussions.

"Harry," Kingsley started slowly, regarding the young man with uncertain dark eyes, "are you sure? You just got out from, well..."

"So has Hermione," Harry said. "And she's there, with Voldemort-"

Half of the room flinched at the name.

"- and if someone can save her, that's me."

Now, the fact that only he could save her wasn't exactly true, as Harry and the young Tom Riddle wouldn't have now the connection they had had before, and most people in the kitchen knew as well, but no one tried to talk him out of his decision.

Kingsley hesitated and then gave a curt nod. "Anyone else?"

No one stood or answered at first, but then-

"Here."

Harry whipped his head as an unexpected voice cut the silence. Theodore Nott, a Slytherin that had nothing to do with the Order, was looking directly at Kingsley, his arm lifted halfway in the air. "I will go."

Almost everyone arched an eyebrow, but the Minister merely asked, "Why?"

The boy shrugged before giving his infuriatingly evasive answer, "Because I helped to discover where Granger is and I'm curious."

Ron and Harry shared a look.

"And Potter wouldn't last an hour in the past," Nott added with a smirk, "not with Weasley. He tried to get the Forbidden Forest to kill him the other night."

Flushing, Harry opened his mouth to retort, but a slightly dreamy voice interrupted him.

"I will go too, then," Luna said, smiling.

"Children!" Mrs Weasley squeaked, fidgeting on the bench. "They are children! We can't possibly let them go-"

For the second time that evening, Mr Weasley stopped his wife from giving in maternal hysterics in front of the whole Order with a soothing hand on her back.

"They are not children, Molly," he said wearily, though his eyes betrayed the same concern of the woman sitting beside him. "It's their decision to make."

"B-but," Mrs Weasley stuttered, her face pleading Kingsley to help her cause, "they are young, just got out from a w-war, surely s-someone should accompany them-"

"I will."

Impossible. Not in a hundred years or more Harry Potter would have expected to hear Severus Snape of all people offer his help to save an infuriating know-it-all. Brewing a potion to locate her was one thing, but travelling to the past, getting into a 'suicide mission', as Aberforth had called it, was completely different.

Harry stared at his ex-professor and the man stared back. There were several reasons why Severus Snape wanted to aid them. With one long, steady look, though, the boy understood and needn't question the decision of the older man any more.

Harry simply turned around and addressed Kingsley. "When do we go?"


The meeting drew to a close at midnight, after three hours of planning and answering questions and more planning. The Ministry official had revealed himself to be an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries, the same one Harry and his friends had done their best to destroy two years before. The man had explained how their journey could, theoretically, take place using a modified Time-Turner. The Ministry still had a few intact objects saved from that unfortunate accident and the eternal storm of sand that had followed, and they were secretly guarded in the deepest levels of the building.

"These are dangerous objects we're talking about... but I'll be able to steal one," the Unspeakable had informed them. "To travel between years, there's a spell… it's not really dark, but in the Grey area... I'll teach you in due time. Journeys of more than one day using our Time-Turners... the risks are high- but I won't give you my opinion as it hasn't been requested and nothing I could say will change your mind, as I understand."

The Unspeakable, a little bespectacled man with big black eyes and a long nose, had given Kingsley a pointed look and then turned sharply for the door. Harry had had the suspicion that the man had been coerced to help the Order- and by the Minister himself at that.

"It isn't illegal, right?" Harry asked Ron minutes later, climbing the narrow staircase. "What we are going to do? We're saving Hermione."

Ron turned his wide eyes on his best friend. "'Course it is! Haven't you heard? Steal Time-Turners. Kingsley could get himself in troubles just for that, not to talk about using one with Dark Magic."

Shivering, Ron paused on the landing and looked anxiously at the doors before him. The old bedrooms. They had slept here, in this house, in these rooms, before hell had broken out, less than a year ago, and the Trio had been forced to go into hiding for several months.

Just for this occasion, Molly had agreed to spend the night in Grimmauld place, though Harry had hesitated at first: too many memories encircled this place, bad memories. And the absence of Hermione didn't help.

Tossing and turning, Harry didn't get much sleep that night. Images of Sirius and Remus and even his father haunted him. And her voice kept him awake. It was with great relief that Harry descended the stairs and went into the kitchen when the first reddish lights of the morning peeped through the windows.

Mrs Weasley was already by the stove, cooking breakfast for everyone. Harry felt a sudden surge of affection for the witch he considered by now a surrogate mother, seeing her like this, busy with the pans and the floating slices of bread, muttering to herself the list of things to do for the day.

"Oh, Harry dear!"

Harry started when Mrs Weasley whirled around to see him standing by the door.

"Why up so early?" she asked, gesturing for him to take a seat.

Harry merely smiled, sitting down on the creaking bench and thanking her when she poured him a cup of tea. The woman studied him for a moment.

"Didn't get much sleep, did you?" She gave him a knowing look.

"Just a couple of hours I guess," he replied honestly, adding a generous amount of orange jam on his bread. With a new mission ahead, something real to act upon, Harry was glad to find his appetite back, if not doubled.

Ten minutes later, Theodore, Ron and Luna entered the kitchen, the latter with a deep crease between her eyebrows, and Mrs Weasley excused herself to go upstairs and get some cleaning done. Harry was standing to go after her and offer his help – this was his house and to have someone else clean it made him feel definitely uncomfortable - but Luna's greeting stopped him.

"Dawn's red today," she stated, pouring herself a mug of coffee. "It's not a good sign."

Ron grunted in his mug and Harry blinked, but Theodore glanced at the girl, waiting for her to say something else. He cleared his throat when she didn't.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Luna gave the boy a stiff smile. "I'm sure you know what I mean."

Theodore didn't say anything else after that and everyone felt the weight of his silence, and Luna's, during most of the day.

Bill, Fleur and Charlie dropped by after lunch, three identical sad expressions on their faces, and Percy arrived in the late afternoon.

"George... he couldn't come," he said, an apologetic smile directed at them and his mother.

Mrs Weasley repressed a sound of agony in her throat, nodding, and Harry once again felt wracked with guilt. It was his fault if George had lost his twin brother, his partner in crime, his best friend, no matter how many times Ron told Harry that the war was bigger than them, that it had always been. But George... he hadn't left the apartment above the shop since the end of the war. The pain was too great, Percy said.

By 7 pm, all members of the Order had come and gone, each one to bid farewell and wish luck to the young travellers. Of Severus Snape, not a shadow.

"He's at Hogwarts," Mr Weasley informed them at supper, "for the last details."

The tension was palpable in the kitchen. Mrs Weasley wasn't getting much of the food in her mouth as her hands shook and everything on her fork kept falling on her plate. Her eyes stole glances at his youngest son every ten exact seconds.

Like Mrs Weasley, Harry's eyes too kept lifting, but towards the door. He couldn't believe it. After everything he had done to protect her, after defeating Voldemort with the only hope of a normal life afterwards, with her- still, Ginny didn't come.

"She's at Muriel's, Harry," Bill said gently, catching the resignation on his face. Fleur, who was sitting beside him, offered him a small smile. "She said she couldn't do it- you know... say goodbye again."

Harry understood but it still hurt. He loved Ginny, so he couldn't blame her. In her eyes, it might have seemed like the umpteenth attempt at running away from normalcy. Maybe it was true.

"Not even for her brother, huh..." Ron gave a bitter laugh, stabbing his treacle tart with the fork.

"Ron..." Mrs Weasley looked at him with a weak smile and then turned her imploring gaze to Harry, Luna and Theodore too. "It's not too late, someone else can-"

Mr Weasley, Bill, and Charlie stopped her at the same time.

"Mom!"

"Molly..."

Harry looked at Mrs Weasley, his mother, with sorrowful eyes, taking in the worry etched on her face and the still shaking hands now held by her husband.

"I'm sorry," he told her, really meaning it. "But I- we must go. Hermione is in danger, I can't let someone else save her."

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They arrived at Hogwarts fifteen minutes before midnight, but everything changed in the span of a minute. Humans, these imperfect creatures led by instincts, reason, and worse of all, feelings. Harry looked at himself, ready to jump into the void of time and, if necessary, face death for the purest concept of love- a feeling that had revealed itself to be his most lethal weapon against Voldemort - and then he looked at his best friend. Resolute and cold blue eyes saddened within seconds and the conflict of feelings was clear on his freckled face.

In the middle of the Entrance Hall, Harry sighed and looked at the retreating back of Lavender; he could see her whole body trembling with silent sobs. Meeting her on their way to the dungeons had been an incident. To avoid the inhabitants of the castle was essential at a few minutes from what could possibly be their last journey, but it seemed that fate had other plans.

Heaving a forlorn sigh, Harry cringed at how easily he had lied to Lavender before shaking her hand goodbye and at how Ron was now blinking, his gaze lingering on the back of his ex-girlfriend, bruises still healing on her arms and her covered limbs, her blonde hair catching the dim light of the torches.

"H-Harry..." Ron whispered, looking back at his friend, moisture gathering in his eyes. Luna and Theodore were already in the dungeons.

"Harry... I can't..." Ron's breath caught in his throat and Harry's heart sank. But he understood. Harry's feelings were commanding him to proceed while Ron's were battling over the few options he had. His slightly quivering lips said it all though, the path he couldn't follow.

"H-Harry-"

"I know, Ron," Harry said with a sincere smile, squeezing his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head. "Don't be. I understand."

Ron covered his face with his sweating hands, groaning. "God, I'm the worst best friend in the world."

"You are not." Harry punched him lightly on the arm. "You have to stay. You have a reason to stay."

The redhead gave in a broken laugh. "I have a reason to go with you too."

"You had," Harry corrected him, "but now you have another to stay. One that's equally important. And I'm not blind, I can see that you want to stay... I won't hold it against you."

Ron laughed again, lifting his head not to let the tears bathe his face; Harry ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Listen," he said, grasping both Ron's shoulders. The other boy had a bitter, lopsided smile on his lips, the one he always wore when he confessed feeling guilty after a fight with Hermione and wanted to apologise. "You stay. You want to. I'm not saying it because I don't want you with me, with us, but because... because Lavender needs you and you need her. Hermione won't let you live, not knowing that you had an important reason to stay."

Ron nodded and Harry pulled him in for a man hug.

"Be happy, mate."


"Where's Weasley?"

Theodore arched an eyebrow when Harry walked into the Potion's lab, alone. Luna frowned and Snape sighed.

"It's just us," Harry replied with a steady smile.

The other three were standing in the middle of the classroom, two pairs of legs nearly shaking; Snape was holding a familiar and shining necklace in his hand. The Time-Turner. The object was glowing and Harry knew that whatever spell would take them back in time had already been placed.

"Do you know how to use it to come back?" Harry asked, pointing at the Time-Turner. "The spell?"

The Potions Master eyed him with disdain and questioned instead, "Do you all have everything you need?"

All three nodded, patting their pockets.

"Good." Snape dragged in a deep breath, the first sign of humanity shown in a long time. "We should appear in this very room on the 31st of October 1943. It's night and the kids should be in their dorms, but I won't take any chances, so be ready to use Potter's cloak or a Disillusionment Charm. Remember, we must not be seen."

The man looked pointedly at each one of them, the danger clear in his obsidian eyes.

"Remember, there's a reason why we are going in a number of four, we have a higher chance of finding Granger if we collaborate. With a little help from the Gods, we might even get out of there in a matter of hours. We stick together. No one leaves the other behind. We avoid people, creatures, portraits and the walls-"

Harry huffed in irritation. "Let's go and be done with it!"

Seconds of silence ticked by and, finally, Snape took the Time-Turner and slowly, very slowly, held out the long chain. Luna lowered her head first, a little smile of excitement on her lips, and Nott followed her. Harry did the same and at last Snape pulled the chain behind his still bandaged neck.

All four held their breath as the ex-Death Eater turned the loops around the hourglass three times.

One second passed. Two. At the third, the world started spinning and a blinding light flashed frenetically all around them.

It was so painful. Time was dragging them by ankles and wrists, pushing them on their backs, punching them in the stomach. Lungs constricted, eyes squeezed shut-

When Harry opened his eyes again, groaning, the world was still, but his head wasn't. Gasping for air, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked down his crooked spectacles, taking in the floor he was kneeling on.

"W-When-" he stuttered, trying to stand and failing. "When are we?"

The other three grunted in response. Apart from their gasps, silence reigned on the castle. Harry managed to turn his head towards the small window, but the sky was too dark to see anything at all.

"Is it Halloween?" Theodore asked, standing up only to sit down again in the nearest chair.

Snape, who was already standing against the door, drew out his wand from the sleeve of his robes and swirled it in the air.

"Fuck."

Harry leapt to his feet. "What? What day is it?"

In the bluish light of their wands, Snape looked at him. "22nd of December 1943."

Theodore cursed under his breath and Luna sat up on the floor and leaned her head back against the legs of a desk.

"W-What?" Harry shook his head, trying to understand. It wasn't possible. They had studied and revised their plan over and over again, 99% sure that the fucking spell would take them to the right day-

Sighing, Luna turned on all the lamps in the classroom and warded the door. The room was like they had left it minutes ago. Six rows of desks were disposed in two columns, scratches and engravings decorating the surfaces, the same old cupboard abandoned in the back, and a stone basin placed in the corner.

"That means that Hermione isn't here yet, right?" Harry asked to no one in particular, his eyes roaming over the familiar environment, not sure what he was looking for.

Snape, who was taking off the Time-Turner, stopped mid-action. Three pairs of eyes turned on Harry.

"That means that she's been here for more than a month, Potter," Theodore answered through gritted teeth.

Harry's jaw slackened. Time. Circularity. Fuck.

More than a month. Everything might have happened in more than a month.

Finally deciding to leave the floor, Luna stood in a smooth motion. "We can only hope that nothing has changed," she said softly, dusting herself off.

"We could-" Harry started, but Snape cut him off.

"We won't go back again," he said in a tone of finality.


Not trusting themselves to walk into the Gryffindor Tower in a group of four, Harry and Luna volunteered to go and look for Hermione while the other two hid in the Room of Requirement. Only that Hermione wasn't in the Gryffindor Tower. And in the Hospital Wing. And the library. It all felt like a déjà vu.

"Where the hell is she?" Harry exclaimed, flopping onto the couch once he and Luna had returned to the Room of Requirement.

The Room had taken shape into a more comfortable and heavily revised version of the Hogwarts Library and a merry fire was crackling in front of the couch and two armchairs. Nott was dozing off on one of them, the closest to the fireplace, but Snape's eyes were wide open and staring ahead in deep concentration.

"She must be in another House, I know she's here, this is the only explanation," Snape was muttering to himself.

"We'll look for her tomorrow morning," Luna assured Harry after moments of silence. She kicked off her shoes and sat beside him, tucking her knees under her chin. "No one will see us, but we'll see everyone."

Snapping from his train of thoughts, their ex-professor turned his head to give Luna an unreadable look; Harry thought he saw him curl the corners of his mouth in a faint smile, but then had to tell himself he was going barmy when the greasy man drew his gaze back to the fire and resumed his muttering.

Luna yawned softly and Harry looked back at the girl, smiling; he tried to pour all his gratitude in that smile and the girl understood; after squeezing his hand in return, she adjusted in her curled position, searching for comfort to favour the sleep that was quickly overtaking her.

Stifling a yawn of his own, Harry stared into the fire. He thought about Ginny and her fire. He thought about Ron and then all those who cared and were waiting for him to come back home. The last image he saw before Morpheus claimed him under his spell was of Hermione, crying for him not to go.

Seconds later, or so it had seemed to Harry, something soft but heavy fell on his face, making him jump awake.

"Whatdahell!"

Harry swore loudly when he cracked his eyes open and an intense light blinded him, making him think in a moment of pure panic that they were travelling through time again. The next cushion that hit him on the nose and pulled his glasses over his ear convinced him that that was not the case.

"Wake up, Potter!" Nott's voice echoed in the room. "We have a Ravenclaw princess to save!"

Giving a whine worth of Ron Weasley, Harry placed his feet on the cold floor to get himself ready for the mission; only when he was already lacing his shoes did he register Nott's choice of words.

"Ravenclaw princess?" he repeated, looking up. Theodore smirked and Harry noticed, with a tinge of envy, that the boy was dressed impeccably in dark robes, a stark contrast to Harry's muggle clothing.

"Luna found her," Theodore told him, unable to keep the smirk from stretching his lips. "While you were sleeping your arse off. She and Snape sneaked into the Great Hall and there she was!"

Standing, Harry let an exhale of relief leave his lungs. Something heavy fell off his shoulders.

"Guess the Hat placed her in Ravenclaw- she's a true swot, no surprise there," Nott went on. "Though I must say, hadn't it been for her blood- and I mean no offence- she could have made Slytherin too... Anyway, we must be quick and get to the Entrance Hall before Granger leaves for lessons. Luna says she looks okay-"

Harry began to get the impression that the boy was rambling. When his hands kept clenching and unclenching only to claw agitated fingers through his dark hair, Harry sighed in defeat, somehow knowing that Nott was nervous. Harry tended to notice these little details, the fidgeting, the faint colour flooding cheeks and neck; he had been friends with Hermione Granger for seven years, he ought to pick up the small changes in her behaviour for both their sakes. Theodore looked just like Hermione in third year, when she had tried to avoid telling Harry and Ron about her disgusting betrayal, the report she had made to McGonagall about Harry's new Firebolt. Hermione couldn't stop herself from speed talking when she was nervous and guilty.

Sighing inwardly, Harry stood to better appraise this talkative Theodore Nott, and, once again, he couldn't refrain himself from wrinkling his nose at the sight of his nauseatingly perfect pale skin and neatly combed hair lit by the sun rays streaming through the windows.

This is the result of centuries of inbreeding, Harry reminded himself, the bitter voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Hermione's.

"What have you done?" Harry asked tiredly.

Nott closed his mouth at once and frowned at him. The confusion was genuine when he said, "What do you mean?"

Harry crossed his arms. "I know that look, Nott. What are you hiding?"

"I don't know what you are talking about..."

"Look, I'm not that dense yet, Nott. Spit it out."

Nott made to protest, but Harry raised an expectant eyebrow.

"Alright," Nott exhaled in surrender. Harry waited patiently for the other to regain his composure and, when he did, the boy's voice had an uncharacteristic hint of uncertainty. "This morning, while you were sleeping and Snape and Luna were in the Great Hall... I may have – or may have not, actually... stolen a book."

Pause.

"From the library."

Harry frowned. "What book?"

Hesitantly, Nott reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a heavy and battered book; Harry drew closer to inspect it. It looked familiar. The aura surrounding the tome was definitely dark-

"Bugger!"

Taking an immediate step back, Harry covered his mouth with his hand, staring at the engrossed title on the cover. He had never thought he would see it again, not after he had retrieved it from Hermione's beaded handbag to toss it into the fire with all those other blasted, evil books.

"Damn it, Nott!" Harry yelped, his eyes fixed on Bullock's Secrets of the Darkest Arts. "We have to return it!"

"Can't," Nott mumbled, tilting his head to the side to avoid Harry's accusing gaze.

"Why? We have to return it, or else... Feck if I know what might happen," Harry said, feeling a new wave of panic attack his brains.

Nott shook his head and eventually turned his eyes on Harry. "We can't return it... I've already removed the book from the archives and deleted any trace of it."

Harry dropped onto the couch and massaged his temples, trying to understand why the hell Nott was trying to destroy the few slimy chances they had of returning home. Closing his eyes, he thought about the book, about what it contained, and he struggled to remember the contents until a memory resurfaced in his consciousness, the memory of a specific evening spent at the Burrow. He could even hear Hermione speaking as she fearfully skimmed the page of the dark book.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry looked up. "How did you know about it? Who told you about his Horcruxes?"

Nott clenched his jaw. "You forget that my father is- was a Knight, Potter."

A Knight? Harry looked at him questioningly and Nott scoffed.

"A Knight of Walpurgis," he explained. "The first generation of Death Eaters."

That's when Harry remembered Nott Sr, an old wizard he had seen for the first time in that horrid graveyard in Little Hangleton, after the rebirth of Voldemort. But, if Mr Nott had been a Knight, that meant that the man was much older than he looked like, probably as old as-

"They were classmates," Nott elucidated, glancing down at his muggle wristwatch. "We don't have much time, lessons start in ten minutes."

"What are you doing?" Harry asked when Nott walked to a desk to put down Bullock's book. The boy contemplated it with a look of aversion for a moment, then he pulled out his wand and pointed it- at the book.

"I have to destroy it," Nott stated coldly.

"W-What!?" Harry sprang to his feet, shouting, "You can't destroy it, you'll fuck up the future, Nott!"

But Nott wasn't listening to him and Harry realised in horror that a spell was already on the tip of the boy's tongue. Growling, he rushed ahead and shoved Nott to the floor.

"What's wrong with you!?" Harry shouted again, trying to take Nott's wand, his own lying forgotten on the couch. But Nott was surprisingly strong and had Harry pinned under his weight within seconds, a knee pressing hard into his stomach. Grunting in pain, Harry blindly tried to push him off while Nott twisted his back to aim at the book again.

"Reducto!"

Harry kept trying to wrestle his way out, even when the tell-tale sound of an explosion informed him that his battle was lost for good, just like their future. He felt Nott's weight shift and then completely disappear, but Harry stayed there, sprawled on the floor, with tears of anger running from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Potter," Nott said, his voice conveying anything but repentance. "But I had to do it."

In his head, Harry heard screams and pleas for mercy fade away, images of pain and torture contort themselves into nothing but shadows behind his eyelids. Was he imagining the beginning of a new future? A future where Lily and James Potter were alive and happy and safe to raise their only son?

"What if he's already made one," Harry whispered, blinking back the tears to see Nott looming above him, his head tilted towards the windows.

"He hasn't," Nott replied calmly, not looking at him.

"Are you an Occlumens?"

"No."

"Then Snape will know."

"Yes."

"He's going to kill you."

Nott left the sight of the windows to look at Harry, a small smile gracing his lips. "It's worth it."


It took only a glimpse in their direction to have a Disillusioned Snape stalk across the corridor, an invisible Luna in tow, and grasp both Theodore and Harry's cloak-covered shoulders in a deathly grip to drag them to the closest empty classroom.

As soon as the Invisibility Cloak had been lifted, Harry sat in a chair beside Luna and tuned out every sound around him. Or at least he tried to.

"...what the hell were you thinking!"

"...had to do it, he said I could..."

"...so this is why you came along..."

"...had to do something!"

"He's a senile man, you idiot! I can't believe he convinced you to-"

"He didn't convince me, it was my choice-"

"This isn't a game! We can't take chances. You may as well have killed yourself and us all! I can't begin to imagine what might happen to us in the future if something, anything, goes wrong now-"

"Better be us than our parents, then!"

Snape opened his mouth to bellow another list of objections but he soon shut it, his eyes wide with realisation.

"So, this is what it's all about," Snape said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "This is to save... to save her, isn't it?"

Harry's eyes darted between Nott and the ex-professor, the resolution of keeping his ears ignorant of the fight abandoned long ago.

"How can you be so selfish?" Snape spat, scowling.

"Selfish?!" the boy fired back. "This might save our world from two Wizarding Wars-"

"NO!"

Panting, Snape lifted his fist to his mouth, his eyes squinted.

"No," he repeated, more calmly. "We have to go back and save the book."

Nott was seething, but the ex-professor's glare was daring him to protest. Harry didn't know Nott's selfish reason for trying to change the future, but he was past caring, the still present sharp pain in his stomach a reminder not to trust Slytherins ever again. Selfish cunning bastards, the whole lot of them.

Snape led the trio to the potions lab where they had appeared the night before, finding it luckily empty, and walked briskly to the centre of the room, the Time-Turner already in his hands.

"No more tricks," Snape said coldly, and Nott averted his eyes. Luna gave him a sympathetic glance but she didn't hesitate when Snape held up the chain, lowering her head as Harry did. Nott faltered for a second before nodding imperceptibly and following the other three in their second attempt at saving Hermione Granger.

The trip was much more bearable this time and Harry didn't feel the need to sink onto the floor and vomit when they arrived- whenever they were.

"Did it work?" Luna asked gingerly, approaching Snape who had apparently moved from them in the blink of an eye. He was leaning against the desk, a series of numbers glowing in front of him. When Luna gasped, Harry neared the other two to look at their new little problem, leaving a resentful Nott to wallow in his anger.

"Perfect," Harry said, his voice sagging with sarcasm. He laughed bitterly, if not a bit hysterically, at the stupid numbers floating in the air. They mocked him: 01-13-1944

"Fecking perfect," Harry muttered again, combing his shaking fingers through his hair. "Now what?"

"The plans, Potter," Snape growled, stretching his hand. Harry glared daggers at Snape but the man wasn't looking at him, his black eyes fixed on the Time-Turner.

Groaning, Harry drew Hermione's handbag from his pocket and fumbled a bit to reach for Hagrid's Mokeskin pouch. Found what he was looking for, he withdrew from the bag and handed Snape a notepad. The man snatched it from him without so much as a glance, too absorbed with whatever he was searching for in the golden object now placed on the desk.

"This might take a while," Luna told Harry. Harry half-heartedly watched her as she Warded the classroom, telling him airily that things were going downhill as it was and a bunch of students walking in on their little problem wasn't a chance they wanted to take right now.

Stepping back to his side, Luna studied the objects Harry had pulled out from Hermione's bag with electrifying fascination, picking them up and turning them over in her hands. Despite his implicit vow of silence, Nott sat at their table and leaned over Dumbledore's books.

Frowning, he said, "A few are missing."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "I destroyed them ages ago. Couldn't come here and have two copies of the same book, could we?"

Nott scoffed loudly, folding his arms. "I bet you did it out of instinct because you hate the books, not because you knew we would end up here. And I'd wager you threw them in the fire in Gryffindor's common room, frustrated and bored and trying not to drink yourself stupid because of Granger."

Harry stilled. Of course Nott had to be right, about everything. The snake wasn't an Occlumens... maybe he was a Legilimens?

Harry had found a few bottles of Firewhisky in the kitchens; it had taken several attempts and almost two hours for Winky the House-elf to force three vials of Sober-Up Potion down Harry's throat, three as the number of bottles he had decided to latch onto. The little House-elf had taken upon herself the duty to watch over him and keep all the alcohol out of his reach – not that Harry had tried to get drunk again, not after retching in the toilets for what had felt like hours of acid agony. He still felt like shit for those many moments of weakness... so much for being a war hero.

"What does it matter to you, anyway?" Harry asked, fidgeting with the beads of Hermione's handbag.

"It doesn't," Nott snorted. "But you are so easy to read, Pot- LUNA, DON'T!"

Too late. Everyone started to cough as a thick smokescreen rose and obscured their table like a blanket of darkness.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Luna said in consternation, between the coughs.

With a flick of his wand, Snape vanished the mess and glowered at Luna, who was standing right where she had been a moment before, an empty jar held in her hands. Harry's eyes fell on the table, where a thin layer of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder still covered his things and the bottom of a cauldron whose owner hadn't cared to put back in its rightful place after Slughorn's lesson.

Harry cleaned his things of what remained of the powder with his wand and moved around the table to get to the cauldron. The rest of the classroom looked good though, or as good as it gets.

"What's going on here?"

Freezing on the spot, the four of them shared a look while voices, many voices, started to near the classroom.

"It won't open, Goldstein," a voice spoke behind the door, sending another wave of panic over them. "It's locked."

Snape cursed silently as someone tried to unlock the door with a muttered and weak Alohomora; he sent a meaningful look to the other three, hurling the notepad in Harry's direction.

Harry caught it and sharply swung around to hastily gather all his things and shove them into Hermione's beaded bag before looking around to check that they weren't missing anything; the stools were out of place, but-

"Potter!" Snape hissed and Harry wasted no more time. Pocketing the beaded bag, he ran to his companions and completed their circle within the chain of the Time-Turner just as a familiar, jovial voice approached their hideout, asking, "Why aren't you inside?"

Harry didn't manage to hear the reply because, for the third time in less than twelve hours, the world started spinning.


"This is all your fault, Nott."

Harry's reminders were given at an interval of seven to ten minutes and, as much as it irritated Snape to no end, no one tried to deny him the right to vent his anger on the Slytherin boy, not even Luna... and that was because Luna wasn't actually listening to Harry, but Harry didn't need to know that.

They were hiding in a corner in the Middle Courtyard, waiting for their target to walk by – they had seen two Slytherins hurry towards the Quidditch Pitch a few minutes before, talking animatedly about their chances to squash Gryffindor this time, considering that a certain Tom had never played as seeker before. Harry had felt a familiar excitement rise in his chest at the prospect of taking a glance at a game of Quidditch, but the hope had been demolished with one glare from Snape. Knowing that Hermione would never miss a game on a lovely sunny day, there they were, waiting for her to show up; the girl may have been allergic to brooms, but she loved following games as much as he and Ron did.

"Are we sure she isn't in the library-" Harry started to ask, but Nott shushed him, pinching his arm for good measure, when a group of Hufflepufs walked dangerously close to their corner.

So Harry answered his own question that, yes, of course she wasn't in the Library, Snape and Luna had double-checked. So where was she? The game had already started.

Feeling someone's elbow push into his side, Harry turned to his right to stab Nott with an angry glare of his- the other boy was trying to grope for his wand, making the cloak covering the two of them slip over their heads. Snape, who had become much more vigilant after the book's disaster, had forced Harry to share his cloak with his new enemy, to make sure that Nott couldn't get anywhere without being noticed by at least one member of their little companionship.

Found his wand, Theodore cast a Muffliato around them and Harry mentally kicked himself for not thinking about that particular precaution himself (and before a Slytherin could make him feel stupid too.)

Harry's legs were starting to ache for the lack of movement; they had been standing in that bloody courtyard for quite a time now and, despite the presence of the sun high in the sky, the air was still chilly. It was January after all. January 29th, 1944.

Apparently something was wrong with the Time-Turner because it didn't matter how many times they had tried to turn the loops to go back, the object kept transporting them forward. They had wasted so much time...

I wonder if the spell broke something, Harry mused, placing a hand on his grumbling stomach. It didn't hurt like before, but twinges of pain took his breath away every time he moved after remaining in the same position for more than ten minutes – yes, Harry Potter hated Slytherins.

If only we could ask someone where she is...

"Zaiden, wait!"

His head snapping upwards, Harry saw a girl and a boy rushing towards them. He frowned and then tended his ears to grasp the echo of cheers and vulgar choirs coming from the Quidditch Pitch; the cringe between his eyebrows deepened when he heard a distant noise: the Snitch hadn't been caught yet.

Then, why-

"Hurry, Evelyn!" the boy called the other girl over his shoulder, running across the courtyard. "The galleon's burning!"

The galleon's burning...? Harry narrowed his eyes, the instinct to run after the two students kicking in.

"Nott," he hissed in the boy's ear, "we should follow them-"

"Evelyn!"

Nott's body tensed up, his eyes staring ahead, unmoving from the two Ravenclaws dashing into the castle.

"Theodore, let's go after them!" Harry exclaimed under his breath, but Nott wasn't listening.

Snape, who was leaning against the wall beside them, seemed to perceive Harry's need to chase Evelyn and the other boy. Pushing off the wall, he removed the Disillusionment Charm to shoot Harry a threatening look.

But Harry wasn't a kid anymore, he wasn't the boy who hadn't known where to find a bezoar, who hadn't been able to close his mind to Lord Voldemort... those intimidating looks didn't work on this Harry Potter. That's how he shook his head, sending the Potions Master a hard look, and grabbed Nott by his wrist to dart forward. He heard Snape and Luna do the same, the first muttering insults about 'Gryffindor foolish behaviour and need to get killed at least thrice in their lives'; Harry didn't care though, not when they were following the two Ravenclaw students of the past throughout the corridors, running down the stairs, their gasps for air fortunately silenced by Nott's charm... but they were still too far behind. When Harry and Nott turned a corner and reached the marble staircase, the two students in front of them had disappeared.

"Fuck!" Harry slammed his fist into the wall, panting and uncaring of the few bruises he had just decorated his knuckles with. His instincts had told him to run because the answer to everything was ahead, but here he was again, ready to give up and endure the scolding that Snape was surely rehearsing in his head, and only because they had lost sight of two kids.

He was about to turn and face the consequences of his 'foolishness' when a sound cut the silence. A whimper. It was close.

"This way!"

A visible Luna charged forward and the other three followed her into the Entrance Hall, frantically looking around for the source of that strangled sound- they heard it again. Someone was moaning in pain.

"There," Nott said in an urgent whisper, jerking his head towards the oak doors. They were ajar, a slice of light cutting its way onto the tiled floor. Strange that no one was guarding the Entrance Hall today, considering that most students weren't in the castle but down at the Quidditch Pitch; for what they had seen in the past days, or hours, Aurors and teachers patrolled the castle and guarded the main entrances at all times...

Without thinking, Harry took off the cloak and let it fall at his feet; he looked back his shoulder and saw his three companions wear three unreadable expressions on their faces. Taking slow and tentative steps ahead, he reached the door and pushed it open-

What he saw made him stumble back in his own feet.

She was sprawled across the steps with an arm stretched towards the door, the other bent in an awkward position under her body. A curtain of chestnut hair hid her face, but- he knew. He knew that hair, he would have recognised it anywhere.

This wasn't the way he had imagined meeting her again. There was no happiness bursting in his chest and the relief he had felt at the distant hint of her hair was suppressed by worry and questions flooding his brain. And anger. Anger because she was bleeding from her nose and her mouth and other blood soaked through her white blouse- and her skirt. He didn't want to know what that meant, not now, or else he didn't even want to begin to imagine what he could do to whatever was the responsible.

She whimpered again and her outstretched arm twitched; Harry was standing by the door, frozen, when she lifted her head with great difficulty, her eyes not able to look past his shoes. Her limbs twitched again. At last Harry snapped from his trance and anger overwhelmed him, in some way clearing his head to spur him into action.

He knelt beside her and carefully slipped his hands under her armpits, pulling her to his chest; she tried to fight him, but he kept his arms firmly around her, adamant that he wouldn't let her go, ever.

He finally understood what Luna had said the day before: dawn had been red the day they had travelled to the past- and now it was too late. Blood had already been shed.

"Hermione." His voice came out in a hoarse whisper and she stilled. Minutes passed before she found the strength to look up from his chest and bore her eyes into his. Hers were red and tired and disbelieving.

Her voice was broken.

"Harry?"

.


.

The question is always the same.

Will you show me mercy?

The storm is assaulting the drawing room. Splinters of glass fly throughout the place. Shards are stuck in the wooden walls.

I drop on my knees in a pool of blood and, lowering my head, I see my face staring back. Scared. Broken- like the chandelier, its drops scattered all over the floor.

Their bodies are beside me, drowning, and he's standing behind me, sneering. I can see it, the sneer, I can feel it on my own face, tilting the corners of my lips.

I wish I couldn't hear him over the windstorm. I hate his voice: he sounds so condescending, so reasonable, so right. He sounds like me.

"You wanted this."

I wanted it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted it.

"You did this."

It hurts, my chest. He's suffocating me, chocking me with his claws around my throat, but I can only let him because my body is paralysed.

"This is what you love. The sense of freedom you get from feeling their dirty blood on your hands... it's quenching."

It's true. I love it. But I wish he would leave me alone.

"You are alone."

It's true. I'm alone. With him.

Why is he here, again?

I'm sprawled on the floor, yet I don't remember moving. I gasp when he removes the hand from my throat to pick up a bloody shard of glass. Always the same one.

I know what he's going to do, this is the only way to wake up. So I let him.

I want to believe this is a kind of mercy.

.


.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait, but, at last, here it is, chapter 8! I was dying to write this chapter from the very start. When I was writing the prologue, I kept muttering to myself, "Okay, but when do I get to write my favourite part, when Harry goes back and saves the world?!"

And we finally know what really happened to Bullock's book and what's behind that accident in Slughorn's classroom! You thought I'd forget to explain those two things, right? Absolutely not, I always pay attention to details and adore dropping hints here and there. And what I love the most is playing between my lovely three POVs (and, I promise, no other POV will be added, because if I go insane myself at writing different characters, I can only imagine how annoyed and confused readers can get at the sudden change from one POV to the other.)

So, what do you think about this chapter? Like it or hate it? You know how much I love reading your reviews. As I'm a few chapters ahead in the writing, I might update next week instead of waiting my usual fourteen days - but only if you encourage me through your comments and critiques.

Last question. What do you think happened to Hermione? Feel free to share your theories (: