Chapter 1
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR
Summer had passed by all too quickly. And now, autumn was doing the same. It seemed only yesterday Harry had left behind his fourth year. Yet here he was, eating breakfast in the dining hall as his fifth year was revealing itself like an oraculum scroll rolling down a steep flight of stairs. The painted leaves had already started to fall off their mountain-side canvas, and the first snows were sneaking up behind them.
Harry loved breakfast at Hogwarts. The tables were always filled with unlimited amounts of bangers, bacon, and ham. Platters full of eggs were prepared in several different ways. He could choose from toast, waffles, scones and so much more. However, as much as he was loving his breakfast, he was loving just being here more, even with the increasingly oppressive presence of Dolores Umbridge, the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and apparent minion of the increasingly paranoid Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.
Harry was concerned that something was wrong with Fudge. A couple of years ago, when he inflated his abhorrent Aunt Marge up into a balloon during a moment of uncontrolled anger, Fudge blew it off as no big deal, just something requiring more self-control in the future. Now, two years later, when he used magic to save himself and Dudley from an unprovoked attack by a pair of dementors, Fudge subjected him to a full-criminal trial. Only the skills of Dumbledore had prevented him from being expelled to protect Fudge's delusions about Voldemort not being back.
This is more than enough to create stress for Harry. However, today was even more stressful. Today was quidditch against Slytherin. That meant a confrontation with his more immediate enemy, Draco Malfoy, the school's resident rich boy bully, and resident Potter hater. In addition, most of the school was against him, or at least suspicious of him because of the things coming out of the Ministry in the Daily Prophet about him being part of Dumbledore's plot to seize control of the Ministry. His popularity for winning the Triwizard Tournament had proven fleeting.
As he was idly poking at his last banger, a chipper voice from behind said, "Hello, Harry Potter."
He turned and was pleased to see a cute, petite girl with prominent, silvery-blue eyes and an overabundance of dirty blond hair. It was Luna Lovegood, the oddly-interesting girl he had met on the train earlier in the year. They were casual acquaintances. He only spoke with her on occasion, that being because of the friendship she had developed with Hermione and Ginny.
"Oh hi...uh...Luna," replied Harry in a somber, remote voice as he barely looked up.
"How are you? You looked stressed."
"I am stressed, Luna," was his response. "I have to play quidditch this afternoon against Slytherin and Draco."
"Oooo. I imagine that is quite distressing," said Luna. "When I am stressed, I like to go to a quiet place I found to clear my mind up on the seventh floor. It's a place where I can do puzzles or solve a mystery to distract myself. I find it quite helpful."
"I might need to ask you how to go there one of these days," breathed Harry.
"Yessss, you will like it…uhhhh…yes...I am going for a walk, now…bye."
Luna disappeared through the giant doors of the dining hall. A moment later, Harry got up and walked out of the hall in the same direction. He was going to battle Malfoy in a few hours. Even with all of his practice, he was never ready to go head-to-head with Malfoy.
Harry wandered aimlessly for over half an hour, finally wandering up into the heights of Hogwarts. Before long he was in an unfamiliar corridor with a statue of someone named Barnabus the Barmy. "I wish I had a place I could go to and escape this world like Hermione was saying her friend Luna was talking about. A place where I could forget about things for a while," he thought. Then he thought he heard someone coming and turned back, still thinking about a hiding place. A few seconds later he thought the heck with it and turned to continue on his original path.
Suddenly, there was a noise behind him. He turned to see who had walked upon him. All he saw was a pair of large, ornate doors that had somehow escaped his eyes as he had passed by them seconds earlier.
"I am really out of it," he thought. "I wonder what's behind these doors? I never even saw them."
Full of curiosity, Harry approached the doors. They were ornately decorated. The brass handles had a fancy RoR vertically embossed on them.
He pulled them open to find a large room with many paintings and unusual items hanging on the walls and standing on pedestals. It looked a bit like a museum. It was, in fact, interesting enough to draw him in for a closer look.
As soon as he took his first steps into the room, dizziness fell over him. He collapsed on the floor and fell into a deep, trance-like sleep. When he finally awoke, he found himself standing in a strangely familiar, but unfamiliar place. It looked a lot like London, but a part he had never visited. The people passing by were all dressed in old fashion clothes. Something did not feel right.
After a couple of minutes of just looking around, he started to slowly walk amidst the flow of pedestrians and carriages. Nothing familiar presented itself save for Big Ben tolling the hour. None of the store names rang a bell, nor did the street names. He could not find a sign for the tube or any other landmark that would help him get oriented. Then he saw a newspaper on the ground against a storefront.
He walked over and picked up the paper. It looked old fashioned like The Daily Prophet instead of modern. That seemed odd for a muggle newspaper. The headline screamed "Another Dear Boss Letter" with a smaller headline under it reading "Jack the Ripper Continues Taunting Scotland Yard". Then date on the paper was 13 October 1888.
"It must be some kind of souvenir paper they sell to tourists," he thought as he tossed it in frustration back onto the ground. It was then he noticed his clothes for the first time. They were not his. He was dressed like everyone else. "What the bloody hell is going on? No wonder I haven't drawn any strange looks from the passersby. Is this really 1888?"
A wave of fear and apprehension ran up his back and into his head. He felt strangely out of place in his clothes. They fit well enough and were comfortable, but they were not his. He started rifling through the pockets. He found his wand, the apple he had taken from breakfast, a few knuts, and a couple of sickles. Then he found a strange, little pouch he did not recognize. Looking inside, he found a fairly large amount of muggle money.
It was all coins similar to modern pound coins, but with Victoria on them. He assumed it was Queen Victoria he had read about in his muggle school. All of the coins had dates in the 1880s. Things were getting weirder and weirder.
Finally, he walked up to a lady looking in the window at a bakery. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said. What is the date?"
"The thirteenth, lad," she replied. "Saturday the thirteenth."
"Thank you," he said as she turned to walk away.
Harry followed his stomach into the bakery. It had lured in with smells from its fresh wares. It was full of tempting treats. He purchased a couple of large slices from a bacon badger and a custard tart for dessert all on the recommendation of a girl of about his age who was waiting on him. She gave him a flirty smile that might have piqued his interest in a different situation as she handed them to him. He smiled back at her as he paid.
He consumed his pastries as he walked down the street. The girl had steered him right. They were delicious. It also helped that he was actually quite hungry, but had not noticed until he took the first couple of bites. They were gone almost too quickly.
He continued walking in hopes something familiar would present itself. But it was a walk in vain. He had not felt this out of place since his first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. Why was he here and what was he supposed to be doing?
As the day passed, he kept hoping for something to make sense. By dinner time he was still completely at a loss for his situation. He found a respectable-looking restaurant and stepped in. It was busy, full of muggles enjoying their meals. He took this as a sign the food was probably going to be good. Maybe he could figure something out on a full stomach.
Because it was Saturday, he was offered a white soup followed by roast beef and pudding with carrots. It also had a slice of crusty bread and a sizable piece of cheddar cheese. For dessert, he was served a sweet, spiced pudding with raisins and almonds.
He overheard some of the patrons at the next table were speaking of someone called Jack the Ripper. It did not seem to mean much. Other than that, nothing else presented itself over his dinner other than the notion he should find a room for the night. It seemed his pouch was providing him with an endless stream of money. He asked the waitress for a recommendation on lodging. She suggested an inn on the other side of the park. He thanked her and headed off in that direction.
Darkness was falling as he passed between the park and several drab buildings. Suddenly something caught his eye in an alleyway. It was a man crouched over a woman. He appeared to be attacking her.
"What are you doing?" he said in a loud voice, as he stepped forward, his wand at the ready as the man looked up at him.
"Mind yer own business, boy," snarled the man.
He saw a glint of light from what appeared to be a knife blade. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted. Nothing happened, but it seemed to startle the attacker who stood up and started to flee down the alley.
"Stupify!" shouted Harry. Again, nothing happened. Apparently, magic did not work here...wherever here was.
Harry hurried toward the woman only to almost vomited when he got to her. Blood was everywhere. Her throat had been slit ear-to-ear. Her clothes had been pulled up and apart, and she had been sliced open from the waist to her breastbone. Several of her internal organs, including her intestines, liver, kidneys, and pancreas had been pulled out of her body. One of her kidneys was separated from the rest and sitting to the side.
Harry ran back into the street yelling for help. Several people ran to him. After a moment, a pair of bobbies arrived and started blowing their whistles. The situation soon bordered on chaos as everyone was talking about this Jack the Ripper.
It took some time, but once he answered all of the questions from the detectives and things calmed down, Harry made it to the inn. He paid for the night and went up to his room. He finished washing the blood off his hands and arms. He was surprised it had not gotten onto his clothing. As he got into bed his mind was awash with fear and wonder about what tomorrow would bring.
In his young life, he had already faced Voldemort twice. He had fought a basilisk and a dragon. He had saved his godfather through fights with a werewolf and dementors. None of this prepared him for what he had witnessed that night. He felt truly alone for the first time since coming to Hogwarts.
He wished for help. Even though he was mad at Ron, he wanted him there to crack a joke. Where was Hermione's brain when he needed it? She might be able to make sense of all of this craziness. He even thought of Luna, whose unique ways of looking at things just might help.
It took some time to clear the ugliest parts of the horror of what he had seen from his mind. Eventually, he drifted off into sleep wondering how he had gotten here.
End of Chapter 1
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