"This needs to stop."

Albus didn't even bother raising his head from his book. "What needs to stop?"

"This!" Aberforth exclaimed as he pointed in the stands the Quidditch pitch. "Stop coming to our trainings, Albus!"

Ever since the beginning of the Quidditch season, the prefect would come with a book and peacefully read in the stands while Gryffindor team would train. So far, he had yet to miss a single training session.

Albus started humming. "I seemed to be under the impression I was not bothering you and was even -dare I say it?- welcome here."

Aberforth glared.

"Now, I could be mistaken, I admit. I suppose I should clear that misunderstanding with your captain when she comes back and profusely apologize to her if you happen to be right. I had come to believe she did not mind my presence, you understand."

Of course she didn't mind it, Aberforth furiously thought. Boothby, like many witches here, was quite taken by his brother and liked to believe that, if she played her cards right, she could manage to snatch his heart.

Which was ridiculous because Albus did not have one.

"I know what you're doing," he hissed. "I'm onto you, Albus!"

His brother turned a page. "Are you now? And here I was thinking I was here to encourage my little brother and support our Quidditch team. Is that so wrong of me to wish you luck?"

"Oh I wouldn't mind if that was the reason why you were here. I'd even be happy, surprisingly. But you're not here to encourage us, are you. You're here to get an eyeful of the boys!"

The book fell.

Bullseye.

"W-What?" Albus spluttered, his cheeks rapidly turning crimson "Ho-How could you- How can you say such thing? A-As if I would ever-"

"Well, it cannot be the girls, can it? Pallas scares you and you barely look at Boothby. If it's not the girls..."

"Doesn't mean anything!" he snapped as he picked up The Picture of Dorian Gray. Hugging the book like a child would a toy he added, "And anyway! Is it wrong of me to spend time outside and enjoy the vie- I mean, good sportsmanship? It is not a crime as far as I'm concerned to enjoy Quidditch! Were you not the one saying I was spending too much time indoor? Here I am trying to spend more time with you and be a good brother and now you think I have my own reasons to do this and am in fact using you as my cover story?"

"Well… Aren't you?"

Albus spluttered and Aberforth allowed himself to enjoy this moment and relish in his brother's embarrassment.

It was not every day he had the upper hand after all.

He might even get something out of this entire situation if he played his cards right, he suddenly realized.

He smirked. "I wonder what my teammates would think if they were to learn your true intention." He pretended to think about it. "The great Albus Dumbledore, swooning over them like some muggle girl. Doesn't really fit with that image you're selling, does it?"

But Albus seemed to have recovered. And soon, deep blue eyes so like his own gave the Quidditch player a calculating look.

"I am sorry you feel this way, Aberforth," his brother slowly began and Aberforth couldn't stop a snort. "I do want to spend more time with you."

"To ogle my teammates."

Albus ignored the interruption, though some pink on his cheeks remained. "And I regret giving you the impression I would necessarily have ulterior motives. Is it really that queer of me to enjoy some well-deserved rest and watch you bonding with others?"

"Yes."

He flinched. After a moment's pause he sighed. "You are mistaken but I suppose your mind is set on the matter."

"'Fraid so. And I'm going to tell everybody. I am going to tell everybody unless-"

"Ah." His lips curled. "I should have known there was some ulterior motives behind this confrontation. Well then, I have nothing to hide but do name your price."

"You will not nag me into doing my homework ever again."

Albus idly laughed. "You do realize nobody is going to believe you, don't you Aberforth? I am willing to humour you but there is so much I am willing to concede.

Aberforth scowled and Albus smiled.

"This school year is doable, but I do not recommend pushing."

"It's March."

"Meaning you have four months of relative peace. No matter how bad your grades get I will not nag you. It will be quite relaxing for both of us, I do believe."

It would be, Aberforth couldn't help agreeing. If his marks in Defence and Charms were quite good, Transfiguration's and Potion's only got worse and Albus seemed to have decided he had to fix this matter at all cost.

Albus extended his hand. "So? Do we have a deal?"

Aberforth thought about it a moment. "Give me your watch and we do."

"Deal."

The two wizards shook hands and blue sparks left their palms.

"Try not to break that one too, will you?" Albus asked as he retrieved from his pocket the copper watch. "I will leave you in peace for the remaining year. That does not mean however you shouldn't try to get better in class."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled before taking the watch and pocketing it.

"Now I hope you will keep your end of the bargain."

Considering the vow they've just made, they both knew he would.

Albus brightly smiled. "Pleasure to make business with you, Aberforth."

That being said, Albus left the stand whistling and headed to the group of players leaving the pitch.

It was only then Aberforth realized Albus had never once promised he was going to stop coming and ogling the team.

When Albus heard his brother's scream, he couldn't stop a low chuckle.

"What's wrong with your brother?" Harry asked as he spotted Aberforth glaring from his armchair.

Albus' lips twitched. "Don't worry too much about it. He'll get over it eventually. Hopefully."

Harry raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

The prefect handed him his essay. "I do not see any glaring mistake. The second part is a little weak however so I believe you will either get an A and an E depending on Professor O'Connor's mood if you do not correct that."

Harry shrugged and thanked the prefect as he put the essay in his bag.

If Harry had managed to handle class before, the approach of their OWLs seemed to have pushed their teachers into giving them more homework. O'Connor for example had asked for them to write an essay on the switching charm and Harry had to admit he hadn't studied that peculiar charm with McGonagall.

His days in other words were not as free as they used to be. Adding to that his Quidditch training and Mesmer's lessons, Harry couldn't rest and search for a mean to go back to the future as freely as before.

The only good thing about this situation was that now that he was actually struggling with his workload the prefect had taken upon himself to help him with his homework.

It took Harry a moment to realize the prefect was looking at him with something akin to disappointment.

"Something wrong?"

Albus left out a little sigh. "While I did say you will either get an Acceptable or an Exceed Expectations, it is highly likely Professor O'Connor will lean toward Acceptable."

"Oh, okay."

Albus blankly looked at him and Harry fidgeted.

"I suppose I should warn you," he slowly began, "none of the professors at Hogwarts accept in their class a student who did not get Exceeded Expectations at the very least. I admit I do not know what profession you would like to pursue after school but I do not think you can afford not to consider your future."

Harry flinched.

His expression softened. "You are a good student, Harry. But that doesn't mean you should be complacent and not try to better yourself and get the most of your time as a student here. What do you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?" he asked him.

"I was thinking of becoming an Auror," he murmured.

Albus seemed to think about it. "From what I heard, they only take the very best. You will need to have five passing marks above Acceptable for your Nastily Exhausting Tests at the very least. And I do believe transfiguration is an important part of the Auror's curriculum. There is little doubt you can do," he reassured him with a smile. "You are more than able to become a very competent Auror. But for that, you need to give your very best starting today."

Harry heavily sighed and took his essay back. "Got it."

Albus pulled his chair to get closer. "You are being too quick when you state switching the two items does not mean they are being transfigured into each other," he explained. "You need to explain how you have reached this conclusion. Now-"

And Harry had thought Hermione was bad.

He got an Outstanding.

Harry didn't feel like he had actually said more but it seemed pretending you were some transfiguration genius and using very pompous words was the way to go. That and explaining everything as if the one reading the copy was very dumb without letting the corrector see he was.

Or, as Professor Mesmer usually said, it was all about appearances.

Harry sighed and put the copy in his bag, wondering if he would be able to use his marks from the nineteenth century if his OWL results were better than these from his time.

Because he had to face the truth: he was going to sit for these bloody OWLs. Mesmer, for how helpful he was, was more focused on helping him to blend him and explaining what he could and could not do than finding with him a way to travel to the future. Furthermore, with the growing workload and Albus being a real mother hen with his housemates and pushing them into doing their best in class, he had trouble these days to find time to research time travel.

His only hope to go home in other words currently relied on Albus having better luck on his side.

Harry sighed.

He knew Albus would have told him if he's had a breakthrough but he needed the reassurance what they have been doing hadn't been in vain. That, somehow, one of them at the very least had a real lead. His work on divination might have been good for his marks, it had yet to give him a some beginning of an idea on how to go home.

All it did was to 'inform' him of he would soon discover some betrayal.

Harry checked his timetable and noticed he had a free period. Remembering it should be the same with Albus he deeply inhaled and decided to ask once more what he had found out.

He looked around him and noticed the Gryffindor was already gone. Feeling he was heading to the library, he started walking there, well-decided to put down his meagre notes and compare them with his.

When he saw the prefect about to enter, he shouted out his name.

Albus turned his head. "Yes?"

"I know what we said but can you please tell me how you are faring with the ti-"

A hand fell on his shoulder.

Harry startled.

"My apologies," Professor Mesmer told the prefect with a smile, his hand holding Harry so tightly it hurt, "I need to borrow Mister Potter here for a moment."

And before Harry could say anything, Mesmer dragged him away.

"I do not recommend telling Mister Dumbledore about your situation," he said once they were in an empty corridor.

Harry finally freed himself and glared at the seer who only raised an eyebrow.

"What was that for?" he spat.

"You were about to tell him. I thought it was obvious but clearly not: this is not a good idea."

Before Harry could say anything, he began heading to the Divination Tower, making a gesture for Harry to follow him.

Glaring at the wizard for a moment, he finally followed him.

It was only when he closed the door of his office that Mesmer talked again.

"What did I tell you, Mister Potter? The less people know you are not from this century, the better. Do you know what happens to seers who are found out to be the real deal by the wrong people? Let me tell you: it is never pretty."

"But-"

"In your situation this is even truer. If somebody in the Ministry were to discover what you are, every magical government will go after you."

Harry opened his mouth to protest this point but Mesmer's electric blue eyes stared at him, as if daring him to just try.

"What do you think is going to happen if you are found out? Tell me."

"Well the Department of Mysteries-"

"These scientists?" Mesmer snorted. "They're nosy, I give you that, but it is always of politicians you should be wary. Because these people? They like divination a lot. They always want to know whether their policy will be accepted or not, what their political opponent is planning to do and so on. They always seek an advantage to stay in power just a little longer."

"Yes but-"

"A time traveller," he interrupted, "that has to be even better than a seer of Trelawney's caliber for them. Considering you legally do not exist, it would be very easy for one them to snatch you, drug you on veritaserum and make you spill what little you know about the future. And you would be stuck in the middle of a bitter and usually silent war between ministry employees or even magical races. As for what these people will do with that second-hand knowledge, it is better not to think about it. The results could be catastrophic."

Harry grimaced. "I don't see how Albus knowing-"

"Oh, you don't? Do you honestly believe an ambitious boy like Mr. Dumbledore will not be a tiny bit curious and use your situation to his advantage?"

"He's not that kind of man!" Harry snapped.

"And how would you know?"

"Because ever since I've told him, he hasn't asked me anything!" he exclaimed.

Mesmer suddenly stilled and Harry couldn't help feeling some vindictive pleasure at having caught him off guard.

The idea that anybody could even consider Albus Dumbledore would use his desperate situation for his own gain disgusted him. It didn't matter if the seer wanted to help, he wasn't going to let the man badmouth him.

"Has he now?" the seer carefully asked.

"He's even promised to help me months ago. He's known," he added, "from the very beginning. And he has not once tried to find out what I know."

But Mesmer didn't seem to listen. Eyes closed and a hand on his chin, he seemed to be deep in thought, as if he was trying to solve some very complicated problem.

He suddenly grimaced. "When did you tell him, exactly?"

Harry frowned. "I don't see-"

"Answer me. You didn't happen to tell him you were from the future on the ninth of September, did you?"

"How am I supposed to remember?" he exclaimed before dazedly shaking his head. "Look, I get that I cannot let anybody know I'm a time-traveller but I know him in the future. I trust him because I know what kind of man he is. And I know he wants to help me go home. He does not- He does not some kind of hidden agenda there. I can trust him."

Mesmer gave Harry an unreadable look that somehow made him feel very uneasy.

"I hope for your own sake that you're right and I'm wrong, Mister Potter. I really do."

When Harry entered the Common Room, that feeling of unease he's felt ever since that conversation with Mesmer was still there.

He knew the seer was wrong but something in the man's demeanor had made him restless.

Seeing Albus helping the First Years, he walked in his direction and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Can we talk?"

Albus startled and looked at the First Years. "Can it wait a moment? I was explaining them how-"

"No."

Something in his expression must have given something away because Albus quickly excused himself and let Harry drag him to an isolated area in the Common Room.

"Is everything alright, Harry?"

"What? Oh yes. He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, yes, everything's fine. Look, I know what you've said last time but how is our research going on your end?"

Albus blinked. "My research?"

"Yes, your research," the time-traveller impatiently answered. "It's not going very far for me but I- I need to know. Have you- Have you made any progress?"

Albus dazedly blinked and tilted his head. "Yes, but I don't see why-"

"Good. What have you got?"

Albus gave him a puzzled look.

"Are you quite alright?"

"Albus, please. Just tell me what you've got."

Albus was now looking at him as if he had quite lost it but thankfully executed himself.

Except instead of telling him about some very complex magical concepts related to time, Albus was talking about some bloody potion supposed to work as an alternative to bezoars he was currently calling 'Panacea'.

That's when he knew.

"You forgot!"

"You forgot!"

Albus couldn't stop himself from startling at the scream.

Nearby, a few students turned their heads in their direction.

"I'm sorry? What did I-"

"How can you forget something like that?" he exclaimed. "How is that even possible?"

"What did I forget now?"

"I asked you to help me. I asked you to help me with my problem and you said you were going to work on it! Ho-How can you, possibly, forget that I- that I-"

The Gryffindor spluttered and Albus couldn't stop a wince.

He wished he could defend himself but, the truth was, it wasn't be the first time he was confronted to this situation.

And no matter how much he hated to let somebody down and swore to himself it would never happen again it somehow always did.

"When did you ask me if I may?" he carefully tried.

"September!"

Albus winced. "I'm terribly sorry, Harry. I truly am."

Hoping he could somehow fix this he carefully asked, "Was your problem in some way time sensitive?"

Harry slammed the door on his way out.

Apparently yes.

Mesmer didn't even ask him why he came to his office. He only asked him how he liked his tea and checked his cabinet for tea leaves.

"If there is one thing I can give here, it's tea," he had remarked.

Once the man handed him a teacup, Harry finally told him Albus had entirely forgotten he was a time-traveller.

"How did you know it was the ninth of September?"

Because the seer was most certainly right: Harry must have told him that day. He didn't remember exactly but he remembered it had been more or less during the second week.

The man took a sip. "Does it really matter how I knew? More than that, do you actually want to know how I reached this conclusion?"

Harry looked at his teacup. "I suppose not," he murmured.

He didn't give a damn what strange power Mesmer had used to suspect Albus' amnesia, it wouldn't change the fact the Gryffindor had never been in the known and had never been watching his back.

Dumbledore had given him hope, only to cruelly take it away. He had thought the worst to be behind him, that there was a silver lining but this had only been a mirage.

The world now seemed darker than before and Harry had never felt so abandoned. He was lost in the dark and the light at the end of the tunnel had only turned out to be an illusion.

With a dead voice, Harry told the man he had asked Dumbledore to do something for him in the future. He said he had asked him to save his friends and how relieved he had been to know that, no matter what happened next, they were going to be alright.

Except even that wasn't true, was it? If he had forgotten about him being a time-traveller, then Dumbledore must have also forgotten he was to save his friends trapped in the Department of Mysteries.

"I'll have to ask him again."

Except it now seemed to be a Herculean task and Harry wasn't sure he was strong enough to do it again.

Mesmer grimaced. "There's no reason for you to hurry at the present moment. As you must have noticed, you have more than enough time to tackle this problem."

"I do, don't I?" he said as his lips stretched into a humourless smile. "I've got all the time in the world."

An entire century, in fact. Or rather, ninety-nine years.

Considering how desperate everything was, Harry might even have to go to the Department of Mysteries himself the long way round.

"You can cry, you know."

Harry's lips trembled.

"Many would break down for far less," Mesmer commented. "Moreover, it is rarely a good thing to bottle up these sort of feelings. It is very cruel, what is happening to you. And nobody would think any less of you if you were to weep over your situation. When was the last time you cried?"

The last time Harry had cried, it had been when-

Harry, I believe you.

And Harry shattered.

Months, entire months had been wasted because he had trusted him. Entire months when he had relied on the wizard only to be let down in the most cruel way possible. It was almost April and Harry was even less ready to go home than before.

He hit the desk with his fist and screamed.

Somebody had pulled the rug from under his feet and now Harry was on the ground. He was on the ground and nobody was going to pick him up.

Ugly tears falling from his eyes, he wondered how this could happen. What he had done to deserve any of this? Who would be cruel enough to lead him up the garden path like that? Why? Why?

Just…

Why?