Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Press and Warner Brothers, not me.
A/N: I always wondered why Harry was so blasé about discovering the existence of time travel in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and subsequent books. ATTR is how I imagined he should've reacted to this shocking revelation.
I've tried to avoid any character bashing where possible, but Harry is an unreliable narrator so his own biases and misconceptions may still filter through.
Comments and criticisms welcome.
Chapter 1 – Why So Sirius?
6 June 1994
"I'm sorry Harry. I do believe you, but I am one only man, a fellow mortal such as yourself. I have no power to make other men see the truth, nor to overrule the Minister of Magic …"
Harry stared up into the aged and wrinkly face of his mentor who returned his grim gaze. It felt like the entire world was disintegrating all around the young wizard, and it was only by the barest automatic reflex that his body didn't simply collapse boneless into the bed. He had grown used to the idea that Dumbledore could pluck the solution to any problem imaginable out of the air. And now his final hope had shattered. A cynical voice began to whisper in the back of his mind, for the first time questioning where that assumption had even come from in the first place, whether the Headmaster had ever actually solved any of his problems for him in the past.
He hasn't lifted a finger to prevent me going back to live with the Dursleys every year. He didn't save Norberta or free Dobby. He didn't keep Sirius out of Azkaban or get Pettigrew captured. He didn't stop Voldemort from killing unicorns or stealing the Philosopher's Stone, or possessing Ginny, or unleashing a basilisk, that was all me, he only came in afterwards to tidy up all the mess! He didn't prevent my parents from being murdered. And now he can't save my godfather from the Dementor's Kiss! Can I really rely on this person? Has Hermione's hero-worship brainwashed me …?
Harry's rebellious thoughts continued to tumble around chaotically in the washing-machine of his brain, while only keeping half an ear on the continuing discussion between said Headmaster and his best friend.
"Now, pay attention," said Dumbledore, snapping the boy's attention back to him. "Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the 7th floor. 13th window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, both of you: you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law, you know what is at stake: you. Must. Not. Be. Seen." Harry didn't have a clue what was going on. Had Dumbledore finally gone senile? "I am going to lock you in. It is," the ancient wizard glanced at his pocket-watch, "five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."
"Good luck?" Harry wondered as the doors of the Infirmary shut and the lock clicked, leaving he and Hermione (and an unconscious Ron) alone. "Three turns? What's he talking about? What are we supposed to do?"
Hermione ignored his babbling, dragging him close and pulling a long gold chain from under her robes. "Ready?" she asked, slinging the chain around both their necks. Her delicate fingers fumbled with some strange contraption.
"What are we doing – ?" Harry's question died as the world dissolved around them. His stomach lurched and the dizziness of vertigo overwhelmed him, feeling the sensation of falling backwards at tremendous speeds while a kaleidoscope of psychedelic colours swirled about the two wizards. Suddenly everything snapped back into focus again, and they felt the softness of the ward's beds underneath them again. He looked wildly around him, but the Infirmary appeared completely normal … except for the golden light of the afternoon sun shining through the windows and the mysterious disappearance of their redheaded schoolfriend.
"What the – ?"
"Come on, Harry! In here!" Hermione seized his arm and dragged him bodily out of the room and into one of the innumerable broom closets that adorned the Hogwarts hallways, the golden chain cutting painfully into his neck.
Heh, my first time in a broom closet with a girl, a part of his mind idly commented. Ouch! Damn buckets! I don't get what all the hype is about … the Twins and McClaggen must've been having me on … 'loads of fun' indeed!
"We've gone back in time. Three hours back," Hermione explained in hushed tones as she recovered her chain. Harry found his own leg and gave it a very hard pinch. It hurt a lot, which seemed to rule out the possibility that he was having a very bizarre dream. "Listen! Someone's coming! I think, I think it might be us!" Hermione's ear pressed against the door.
"Are you telling me," Harry said slowly, "that we're here in this cupboard and we're out there too?"
"Yes, I'm sure it's us. It doesn't sound like more than three people … and we're walking slowly because we're under the Invisibility Cloak … we've gone down the front steps …"
But Harry couldn't care less about the alleged movements of his alleged past self. Ignoring the anxiety radiating from her body, he demanded a few answers from his cagey companion. Under his silent insistence, Hermione reluctantly produced the magical device for his inspection. It was shaped like a little black metal pendant surrounding an hourglass filled with what looked like glowing golden sand.
"It's called a Time Turner," she conceded as Harry reverently turned the tool over and over in his trembling hands to examine it from all sides, "I got it from Professor McGonagall on our first day back. I've been using it all year to get to all my lessons. Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I'd never, ever use it for anything except my studies. I've been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that's how I've been doing several lessons at once, see?"
The boy's mind was awhirl, thoughts spinning wildly in all directions. A time machine … sweet merciful Merlin, the Ministry of Magic has actually invented a freaking time machine! Why have I never heard about this before!? This has gotta be the greatest invention of all time, pun intended! Except maybe the Philosopher's Stone … But this is far more practical. The things I could do with this … it's a complete cheat item, a game-breaker …
Hermione was still jabbering on, unmindful of her friend's distraction. "But Harry, I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How's that going to help Sirius?"
Harry stared at her shadowy face. He simply couldn't believe it. A Morgana-loving time machine, the most incredible discovery since cavemen realised smacking rocks together produced fire, and what does the Ministry do with this phenomenal monument to human ingenuity? Loans it out to 13-year-old witches so that they could increase their school workloads to unhealthy levels!? And McGonagall was the instigator? Was every authority-figure in the magical world either certifiably insane or such gibbering idiots that they'd make Dudley seem like Einstein by comparison? I mean, I love Hermione to death, but giving her access to super-powers just to let her over-indulge in her studying obsession … really!?
Her fingernails clenched urgently around his forearms, and Harry was forced to break free of his musings on the bizarre state of wizarding mentality and focus on the matter at hand. He became aware that he hadn't answered her question. There was no more time to stall.
"There must be something that happened around now he wants us to change," he theorised uncertainly. "What happened? We were walking down to Hagrid's three hours ago …"
"This is three hours ago, and we are walking down to Hagrid's," said Hermione. "We just heard ourselves leaving …"
Harry scowled in thought, screwing up his whole brain in concentration. Mustn't get distracted … must find a way to save Sirius … but how? What was it the Professor said as he was leaving? "Dumbledore said we could save more than one innocent life … Hermione, we're going to save Buckbeak!"
"How will that help Sirius?"
"Dumbledore said — he just told us where the window is, the window of Flitwick's office! Where they've got Sirius locked up! We've got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak — they can escape together!"
Hermione's eyes gleamed in excitement. The course of action agreed, the pair made their stealth-filled way out of the castle and towards Hagrid's hut. Along the way, Harry couldn't help but feel hot guilt clenching in the pit of his stomach. Less than half an hour ago he had been mentally condemning the old man for being useless at solving Harry's problems, while he'd simultaneously been giving Harry hints for saving Sirius and Buckbeak from their executioners! I suppose Dumbledore has helped us out in some ways, he conceded grudgingly to himself. I should cut him some slack, the man's probably extremely busy looking out for everyone in the school … But the seed of doubt deep inside continued to niggle at him. Even so, I still can't figure out why he doesn't just fix things directly himself. The Professor's certainly clever enough to have come up with a way to spirit away Sirius and Buckbeak while giving a plausible excuse to the Minister. Why is it always me that has to jump through hoops? But the gentle quiet of the gloaming provided him with no answers.
The sunset began to fade behind the rolling hills of the Scottish highlands while the duo crept through the trees until they saw Buckbeak, who was tethered to the fence around Hagrid's pumpkin patch.
"Now?" Harry tensed, readying his muscles for action.
"No!" Hermione hissed. "If we steal him now, those Committee people will think Hagrid set him free! We've got to wait until they've seen he's tied outside!"
"That's going to give us about a sixty second window," mused Harry, a bit dubiously. Although he was the one who'd suggested this plan, he was having second thoughts. This was starting to seem impossible.
"That's Hagrid breaking the milk jug," Hermione whispered, as the sound of crashing echoed from inside the cabin. "I'm going to find Scabbers in a moment—" Sure enough, a few minutes later, they heard Past-Hermione's shriek of surprise.
Harry's doubts about the feasibility of this operation continued to grow as they waited. His eyes couldn't help drifting down to the dim glint of gold around his friend's neck, the only part of the gold chain visible. Now that they had access to a bona fide time machine, the number of options available to them had suddenly skyrocketed at an exponential rate. Perhaps they should ditch this scheme and come up with a better one. Perhaps this was the time to think more creatively ...
"Hermione?" Harry decided to sound her out on some of the ideas percolating through his skull. "What if we … we just run in there and grab Pettigrew —"
"No!" the witch immediately objected in a terrified whisper. "Don't you understand? We'd be breaking one of the most important wizarding laws! Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody! You heard Dumbledore, if we're seen —"
"We'd only be seen by ourselves and Hagrid!" Harry riposted, annoyed that she wouldn't even consider the idea. Why was Hermione suddenly getting cold feet about breaking the law now? He couldn't even count the number of laws the trio had broken since they'd first met on the Hogwarts Express. Sure, it's one thing to break wizarding laws willy-nilly with no regard to the consequences, but that's not the case here. We're doing this for very good reasons – we're trying to save innocent lives, for Mordred's sake!
"Harry, what do you think you'd do if you saw yourself bursting into Hagrid's house?" asked Hermione in a patient tone that she usually reserved for explaining the bleeding obvious to rambunctious lower-year Gryffindors.
"I'd — I'd think I'd gone mad, or I'd think there was some Dark Magic going on —" he replied grudgingly.
"Exactly! You wouldn't understand, you might even attack yourself! Don't you see? Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time! Loads of them ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake!" Her sharp little fingers jabbed deeply into his chest. Harry flinched away from the assault.
"Okay! Fine! I get it, alright! It was just an idea …" Harry backpedalled hastily. It was clear that Hermione was going to be of absolutely no help whatsoever in this matter. Once again it seemed it was down to Harry alone to fix everything. Why me? he sighed internally. Why does Hermione have to become pigheaded about this issue of all things? Why does nobody else ever get what I'm trying to do?
But his brief self-pity-party was interrupted as Hermione nudged him and pointed toward the castle. In the distance, Dumbledore, Fudge, the old Committee member, and MacNair the Executioner were exiting the main doors of Hogwarts castle and proceeding down the path towards Hagrid's cottage. Harry resigned himself to sticking with the original plan. He'd have to bide his time and wait for another opportunity.
I
IIIIIII
I
Sirius Black continued to stare down at his godson. The chilled wind snapped around them. "How can I ever thank —"
"GO!" Harry and Hermione shouted together.
"Fine, fine," the fugitive assented, rolling his eyes at the teens' dramatics. Climbing onto the Hippogriff's back, he seized the reins and prepared for flight. "We'll see each other again. You are — truly your father's son, Harry … Hiiyah!" With a stirring cry, Sirius' heels dug into Buckbeak's sides, and the creature unfurled its enormous wings and launched them into the air!
Harry and Hermione watched from the top of the battlements as the Hippogriff and its rider became smaller and smaller in the distance, then a cloud drifted across the moon, and the two tiny dots were gone, swallowed up in the infinite black abyss of the night sky.
Harry's heart overflowed with tingling elation! And not simply from the joy of knowing his last living magical relative and an abused animal had found their deserved freedom. They had done it! He and Hermione, a pair of underaged wizards, had managed to manipulate Time Itself to change the world for the better! Two innocent lives had been saved, exactly as Dumbledore had hinted at. It was as good a proof-of-concept as could be wished for by anyone! By extension, if two innocent lives could be saved by means of a Time Turner, then theoretically, tens of thousands of innocent lives could also be saved! Including the rest of his lost family members! Heck, the entire wizarding world could be re-made! As long as he came up with a suitable plan … I can see this is going to need a lot of careful thought …
"Harry!" Hermione tugged at his sleeve, interrupting his giddy thoughts. "We've got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us before Dumbledore locks the door!"
"Okay," Harry wrenched his gaze from the sky. "Let's go."
They slipped through the doorway behind them and down a tightly spiralling stone staircase. As they reached the bottom of it, they heard voices. They flattened themselves against the wall and listened. It sounded like the Minister of Magic and Snape were discussing the Black case as they trotted along the corridor at the foot of the staircase.
"… only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties. The Kiss will be performed immediately?"
"As soon as MacNair returns with the Dementors. This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to informing The Daily Prophet that we've got him at last …"
Harry clenched his teeth. He caught a glimpse of Snape's smirk as he and Fudge passed their hiding place. He couldn't believe the conversation he was hearing! That vile and greasy bastard was actually gloating – GLOATING! – at the thought of Sirius being given the Dementor's Kiss! Harry'd had his issues with the berk over the past three years, and there was certainly no love lost between them, but even so, the boy was shocked to his very core that the Potions Professor was so openly gleeful about the cold-blooded murder of Harry's godfather and last remaining family-member! He'd never have believed it if he hadn't seen and heard it first-hand.
A deep and cold fury swelled up from the innermost depths of Harry's soul, overflowing through his entire being. At that moment he vowed to do whatever was necessary to destroy Snape. Just you wait, Severus Bloody Snape, he glowered, you've just made Harry Potter's List of Enemies! Before very long, I'll be the Master of Time, and no potion in the world and no Headmaster in the world will be able to save you from the wrath of Potter! He suddenly realised his entire body was trembling in rage.
Their footsteps died away. Hermione, oblivious to his rampaging moods, seized Harry's hand and dragged him in the opposite direction. Down one staircase, then another, along a new corridor … The red mist gradually dissipated from Harry's mind as they ran through the depths of Hogwarts. Eventually he was able to return to the most pressing of issues — how to get his hands on the Time Turner without Hermione or anyone else figuring out that he had it. Flipping through numerous scenarios in his head, Harry rejected them one after the other.
One thing's for certain, I have to get hold of it tonight. There's no way to know when Hermione has to return it to McGonagall, and there's no guarantee she'll let Hermione use it again next year. The poor girl's been practically falling apart from stress the past few months, I can't believe our Head of House would condone it for four more years! And who knows what sort of rules the Ministry has for loaning out the Time Turner to people? Maybe they only let you borrow one for one year per person. Come to think of it, is there only one Time Turner in existence, or a whole bunch? If there's only the one, then it's even more critical I get hold of it now. Argh, I'd love to interrogate Hermione for more details, but she's too clever. If I show any interest in the subject it'll definitely tip her off that I'm the culprit. That means I can't do any research in the Hogwarts Library either, Madame Pince's record-keeping abilities are legendary, and I wouldn't put it past McGonagall to check to see if any students have shown an unusual interest in time travel …
Harry pondered if he should wait until they fell asleep later in the night and then filch it. But abandoned the idea after a bit more thought. Hermione would likely check the device when she changed into her sleepwear, and if it were missing in the morning, the only suspects would be himself, the unconscious Ron and Madame Pomfrey, and Harry somehow doubted the latter two would be under much suspicion. He could wait a few days for the dust to settle and then find an opportunity to swipe it … No, Hermione was a fastidious person in the normal day-to-day, and she'd be especially careful about not losing sight of a priceless piece of state property entrusted to her care. No, this top secret escapade of theirs to snatch Sirius and Buckbeak away from the arms of the law was hands-down the best opportunity for Hermione to 'accidentally lose' the Time Turner. In all the chaos, who could blame the girl for not noticing it was gone? He just needed the right opportunity …
Then they heard a cackling ahead.
"Peeves!" Harry muttered joyfully. This was his chance! He grabbed Hermione's shoulder. "In here!" He pulled a nearby door open with his right hand and shoved the girl's back with his left, propelling her into the dark deserted classroom. As Hermione squawked and stumbled forward, he whipped out his wand with lightning speed, aimed and whispered, "Stupefy!" A brief flash of red light, and Hermione collapsed unconscious onto the stone floor.
Harry quickly closed the door behind him just in time. From the sound of it, Peeves seemed to be bouncing along the corridor in boisterous good spirits, laughing his head off. He could barely make out the words but it was clear that here was another excited about the imminent demise of the Notorious B.L.A.C.K. Harry ground his teeth. That was another one who'd just made his List. He waited until Peeves' gloating voice had faded into the distance, then returned his attention to his insensate friend.
Stupefying his best mate in the back in order to rob her wasn't exactly Harry's finest moment, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He consoled himself that her temporary discomfort was all for the greater good. Pulling the chain free of the witch's clothes, a moment of exertion tore the hourglass device free. He quickly tucked the broken chain back under Hemione's shirt. Hopefully she wouldn't notice the difference for some time.
Harry then realised that he'd forgotten a very important element – what to do with the booty? There would undoubtedly be a search of Hogwarts, and there was no way it could be found on his person. He'd have to find a hiding place, and fast! He hurriedly scanned the classroom. Inside the cupboards or desks were possibilities, perhaps behind the bookcase or in the corner underneath a pile of books … none of these options were satisfactory. The risk of being discovered was too high, even for a day or two. And what then? He probably shouldn't take the Time Turner home in his trunk or in his pocket, that was just asking for trouble. So what did that leave him with …?
I need to hurry, he thought frantically, we've got to meet up with Dumbledore in a few minutes. If only I had someone who could hold onto this for me; an accomplice who was totally trustworthy but have no desire to use it themselves. That rules out Ron or Neville … unless …
Harry's famous luck and/or talent for improvisation once again reared its welcome head – the green-eyed wizard was struck by a sudden brainwave. "Dobby?" He called uncertainly. If this doesn't work, I'm royally screwed …
To his immense relief, the sound of a magic 'pop'! and a cry of "Great and wonderful Master Harry is needing Dobby?!" came to his ears. Harry swept the startled house elf into a warm hug, causing the creature to burst into joyous tears at the unexpected honour.
"Look Dobby, I don't have much time to explain so don't say a word – could you please do me a huge, enormous favour?" he said quickly. The little elf nodded with great energy, grabbing his long ears and twisting the ends into knots in excitement. "Brilliant! I need you to take this and hide it somewhere no-one will ever be able to find it. And tell no-one where you've hidden it, not even me!" He thrust the hourglass into Dobby's hands. "It's called a Time Turner and everyone will soon be looking for it, so I'm counting on you to make sure that nobody knows that either you or I had anything to do with its disappearance. Do you understand? It's very important!"
"Dobby is understanding!" the elf declared. "Dobby has had to hide many secret nasty items for bad old master, and has never told!"
"That's great! In a couple of weeks I'll be back at home and I'll call you. We can decide what to do from there. How does that sound?"
Dobby gave an enthusiastic girls scout salute (where on earth did he learn that?) and vanished.
Harry repositioned Hermione to be sprawled out face-first on the floor and then, with a silent apology to the girl, half-lay on top of her as if he'd fallen too. With his wand out he whispered, "Renervate!" She stirred and regained consciousness.
"Oof!" Hermione grunted. "Gedoff me, Harry!"
"Sorry." Harry sheepishly scrambled upright and helped her to her feet, his wand disappearing into his pocket.
Hermione checked her watch, absentmindedly dusting off her robes with her free hand. "Three minutes, Harry!" she hissed in alarm.
The duo fled down the hallways at maximum speed until they reached the end of the corridor with the hospital wing entrance, just as Dumbledore exited.
"I am going to lock you in, it is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck." The doors shut, the lock clicked. The Professor looked up, and beamed as his two students ran up to him. "Well?" he whispered.
"We did it!" said Harry breathlessly. "Sirius has gone, on Buckbeak …"
"Well done! I think —" He listened intently at the door. "Yes, I think you've gone too. Get inside, I'll lock you in."
Harry and Hermione slipped back inside the dormitory. It was empty except for Ron, who was still lying motionless in the end bed. The lock clicked behind them once more, Harry and Hermione crept back to their own beds, none too soon as Madam Pomfrey burst out of her office and strode over to them.
"Did I hear the Headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?" she grumbled, passing out pieces of chocolate. The children accepted them meekly.
Harry could hardly swallow, careful to avoid eye contact with Hermione. He maintained a neutral expression but inside was dancing in jubilation! In one night he'd successfully freed Sirius and Buckbeak from the executioner's blade, snubbed Snape, frustrated Fudge, obtained a house elf ally, and best of all – acquired the key to getting his loving parents back! Now he had to hold the line, long enough to escape back to Privet Drive where he could formulate his next brilliant plan. He just had to endure whatever chaos was about to erupt with nerves of steel …
Show time, Harry thought, as a distant roar of fury echoed through the castle from somewhere above them …
I
IIIIIII
I
3 July 1994
Harry carefully shut the back door behind him and slipped out onto the street. In the middle of the night, with only the stars and several sputtering streetlamps for light, Privet Drive had a pensive, calm atmosphere that never failed to soothe Harry's nerves. Every since he was eight, whenever he couldn't sleep, he would take to wandering the neighbourhood, enjoying the peace and quiet that only night could bring. But tonight he was out for a far more important purpose, his destination a bridge about a kilometre away from Number 4. The boy slid down the embankment and hid in the shadows under the overpass. The old stream had long since dried up so there was plenty of space to settle down.
"Dobby?" he called, after making certain there were no living souls anywhere in the vicinity. With a 'pop'! his partner-in-crime appeared, producing the purloined Time Turner with a flourish and a grin. "Well done! Are you sure nobody suspects us?"
"Dobby is sure, Wonderful Wizard Harry Potter sir! Old Professor Whiskers be calling on all elves to search Hoggywarts, but Dobby was clever and no-one found out!"
Harry nodded in satisfaction, accepting the magical hourglass. The final three weeks of the term had certainly been exciting. The disappearance of a condemned Hippogriff and the country's most-wanted felon from Hogwarts had kicked off a firestorm. Harry and Hermione had ended up in a shouting match with the Minister of Magic, Snape demonstrated his maturity by throwing the mother of all tantrums, and Dumbledore was relegated to the thankless task of peacemaker. Then before the melée had a chance to blow over, Hermione discovered that her chain had broken and the Time Turner was missing, immediately kicking off another firestorm. Dumbledore had mobilised the entire teaching staff, as well as Filch, Hagrid, the school ghosts, elves and portraits to search the school grounds from top to bottom. The investigation had even included students' trunks and other personal belongings, making Harry extra-glad that he hadn't gone with his original thought and hidden the thing in his robe pockets. A simple Summoning Charm from a Professor (which they were dishing out like candy) would've immediately brought it to light.
Poor Hermione was slapped with a disciplinary order from the Ministry for negligent handling of national assets. Harry wasn't sure what that involved, but from the way the witch reacted you'd think she'd been forbidden from ever reading a book again. He'd felt so guilty about causing her predicament that he'd spent many hours helping the frantic witch to search all along the route they'd taken on that night-which-shall-not-be-named, to no avail. In the face of her distress, he could only clench his teeth and remind himself that her suffering was for the sake of a better world for everyone.
"Hopefully this fiasco will teach those numpties at the Ministry not to hand out powerful magical tools to teenagers like they were trick-or-treats," Harry sighed. "But somehow I doubt it. I mean, these are the same people who invented time travel, then passed a bunch of laws banning anyone from using it to do anything helpful! What's the point!? 'Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody!'" he imitated sarcastically. "Doesn't Hermione doubling her course load count as changing time, Dobby? For all we know, a couple of extra O.W.L.s on her record could be the sole difference between her becoming Minister of Magic or not! I guess Uncle Vernon was right about government bureaucrats after all …"
The house elf nodded fervently, though the boy could tell he had absolutely no idea what Harry was talking about.
"I have to do something nice for Hermione, though, she didn't deserve any of that ... I'll start by changing the timeline so that she doesn't have to live in a world where she gets petrified by basilisks or almost murdered by mountain trolls!"
"The Great Harry Potter is truly the most magnificent wizard in all of history!" Dobby cheered.
"Does that mean you'd like to help me end magical Britain's Dark Lord problem and ensure a happy life for everyone?"
"Dobby does! Please let Dobby help the Great Harry Potter's magical crusade! Please!"
"Alright!" the wizard declared, "That makes us partners! Put 'er there, Partner."
The two shared a manly handshake, signifying their firm agreement to abuse the laws of time and space for the greater good.
"Now that that's settled, it's time for us to polish our grand plan. I've spent the last month pondering, and here's what I came up with." The human and elf found comfortable seats in the soft earth as they began to plot. "Okay, my first thought was to go back to Godric's Hollow that Halloween night when I became the Boy-Who-Lived and warn my parents to flee before Voldemort arrives. That way they'd both survive and I'd never become an orphan and never have to live with the Dursleys. But then I remembered that they were hidden under a Fidelius Charm, so I'd never be able to find them. And even if I did, why would they believe some random 13-year-old claiming to be their son from the future? They'd probably think it was some trick of the Death Eaters and attack me or something. And even if by some miracle I could convince them, then Voldemort would never be vanquished by my mother's sacrifice, and would still be running around the wizarding world killing people. He might well murder my parents later at some other time, and I'd have no way to predict when that might happen. And then there's all the other people Voldemort and his minions have killed, raped, tortured, maimed, enslaved, and so on. What about them? Could I really be happy saving only my own family and doing nothing for the suffering of everyone else?"
Harry shook his head decisively. The thought of grabbing his parents and fleeing the country for Australia or Tahiti and leaving everyone else in Britain to the tender mercies of the worst Dark Lord in centuries made his stomach squicky. There's no way he could abandon the Weasleys or the Grangers or the Longbottoms or Sirius or Lupin or Dumbledore, not when he had the ability to remove their troubles too. The very idea was deeply discomforting. He nervously twirled the Time Turner between his fingers like a coin.
"So I decided that plan wasn't ambitious enough. Heh, did you know that the Sorting Hat said I could be great in Slytherin? But I didn't want to listen. Maybe it'll be happy I'm finally embracing my ambitious side." Harry and Dobby shared an awkward chuckle. The elf doubtless had few good experiences with the residents of that House, whether past or present. Harry decided to push on past the uncomfortable moment. "Er, anyway, that brings us to Plan B. When I was little, my aunt and uncle used to watch this TV show called 'The Twilight Zone', and in one episode this guy goes back in time in order to kill Hitler … um, he was a terrible man, kinda like a Muggle Dark Lord. The idea was, if you removed this evil guy from history, then all the people he killed are no longer killed, and everyone could live happily ever after and so on. It's a pretty good idea. So I thought we could do the same thing. But then I remembered what Hermione told me about how lots of wizards who went back in time accidentally killed their past selves, or their parents or grandparents etc, snuffing them out of existence. We don't want that to happen, right?"
"Right, Grand Wizard Harry Potter!" Dobby agreed earnestly.
"So just to be on the safe side, we won't be killing anyone at all. Nobody dies, that's our motto! So we'll limit ourselves to a bit of child-abduction instead. Why kill Voldemort when we can kidnap him when he's young and unable to fight back?" Harry smirked. "For most people, that would be impossible since the man keeps his background so secret, but yours truly happens to know that his real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle and that he received an award for special services while he was a student at Hogwarts in 1943! That means we have an exact time and location to nab him. And voilà! No more Tom Riddle in the timeline which means no more Voldemort, no more British civil war, no more Death Eaters, no more murdered parents, no more Dursleys! Everyone gets to lie happily ever after."
Dobby applauded politely.
"I take it that means you agree?" Harry grinned. "Good. Since our goal has been decided unanimously, let's begin the testing of this little tool." He held out the hourglass. "Best to take it for a few trial runs to make sure we understand how it works before going all the way back to the 1940's for real ... I wasn't sure if using this device would trigger the Ministry's sensors and tag me for underage use of magic, that's why I chose this out-of-the-way place instead of doing it in my room at home."
Harry pulled out an old, faded silver chain about a metre and a half in length that he'd purloined from the bottom of Aunt Petunia's jewellery case. He'd never seen her wear it, and it was so unfashionable he doubted she'd ever know it had disappeared. But for his purposes it was ideal. It was the work of a few minutes to attach the Time Turner to its new chain.
"I sure hope the chain doesn't have to be gold, or magical in some way, or else we're gonna be in a whole load of strife."
Harry stood up and leaned out from under the bridge to catch a glimpse of the face of the clocktower in the distance. Its presence nearby was the second reason this spot was ideal for experimentation.
"Okay, it's currently 1:17am on the 3rd of July, 1994. Let's try going backwards for one day, shall we?" He slung the chain around his and Dobby's necks. "Now, Hermione and Dumbledore said something about turns being equivalent to hours, so 24 turns to begin with. 1 … 2 … 3 …"
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"Merlin's beard, you've got to be kidding me!" Harry cursed, pacing backwards and forwards, hands clenching in agitation.
Fortunately, the test was successful. Apparently a muggle silver chain was perfectly acceptable for the hourglass to transport a human and elf back in time together. They had also determined that the device could move people in time, but not in space. The time travellers would always appear at the same location in the past that they had just left. It was also determined that it could only transport people one way, into the past. It could not return users to their original time.
Less fortunately, the Time Turner turned out to have a very strict built-in limitation that Harry had not been aware of.
"Five hours! Five freaking hours!" he grizzled. "No matter how many times you turn the blasted thing, it only lets you go back a measly five hours! How in the nine circles of Hel is anyone supposed to do anything with only five hours to mess around with!" He fell to his knees. "So close …" he whispered in desperation. "I was so close to getting them all back … Mum … Dad … I'm sorry …" Tears dripped onto the soft earth below.
Dobby wrung his hands, frantically trying to think of anything that could possibly cheer up his dejected partner.
After rolling around in the dirt for another half-hour or so, Harry slowly took to his feet. "I'm going home," he muttered in a broken voice. "Need to sleep. I'll see you round, Dobby."
He strode away, not even bothering to clean his dirty clothes. Leaving a mournful solitary elf in his wake.
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13 July 1994
"Dobby!"
'Pop'!
"Is the Imperial Wizard Harry Potter feeling better now?" Dobby asked cautiously.
"I am, thanks," he nodded, sitting cross-legged on his bed. "I'm done wallowing and being a moody git. Sorry you had to see that." He squirmed in embarrassment. "Ahem, anyway, I've been doing some more thinking and realised I jumped off half-cocked without doing any proper research beforehand. That was a mistake. So I'm going to make like Hermione and do my due diligence before we do the next test run. First of all, I made a mistake in assuming that there's only one type of Time Turner in the world, the five-hour type. Think about it, Dobby: suppose you're an inventor of magical doodads and doohickeys, and one day you stumble upon the greatest achievement in history, a time machine. But then you realise it can only take you back for a piddly five hours. Would you really stop there? If the Ministry inventors are anything like Hermione – or any of the Ravenclaws – they'll keep making more and more prototypes until they crack it. Now I've had time to reflect, it seems silly to think that the government would loan its most advanced Time Turners to Hogwarts students. In fact, it's a lot more likely that they only lend out the most low-tech, junky versions and keep all the really good ones locked up somewhere in the Ministry."
Dobby nodded. It did seem like something the big wizards would do. "Does that mean we is being returning this Time clock to its owners?"
"Uhm, no, I don't think so," Harry hemmed and hawed, refusing to make eye contact. "It could still be useful, at least until we get our hands on a better one. Hem hem! Anyway, the mission now is to find out everything we can about, one: the nature of time travel; two, the details of time travel devices, Time Turners or otherwise; three: where in the Ministry they are kept and how to find our way in and nab some; and, four: Memory Charms."
Dobby blinked. "Memory Charmses?"
Harry nodded firmly. "That's right. You remember that fop Lockhart from two years ago? You know, the idiot who vanished all the bones in my arm after … well, you know ..."
Neither of them said the words. It happened, of course, after Dobby had charmed a bludger to attack Harry during a Quidditch match, and subsequently shattered his arm. Dobby rushed across the room and began to bash his head against the wall.
"Bad Dobby! Is very bad Dobby who hurt the Kind and Wonderful Harry Potter!"
"No, Dobby, stop! It's fine, it's all in the past!" Harry wheedled and soothed, chasing after the distraught creature. Even with all his efforts, it still took a good 10 minutes to drag the elf away from the wall and finally calm him down. After much encouragement, the conversation was finally able to get back on track.
"What I was trying to say," said Harry, sitting back down on the bed and strong-arming Dobby to sit beside him, "was that Lockhart was a master of Memory Charms, that's how he got all his fame and fortune. Darn near wiped Ron's and my minds to a blank slate." He shuddered at the near-miss. "It strikes me that that's exactly the kind of skill I need to deal with our budding Dark Lord. You reckon Tom Riddle is gonna take kindly to being yanked out of his timeline and being forced to be a good little wizard from now on?" Harry snorted. "Yeah right, he'll most likely kick up a heck of a scrap! And I don't much fancy removing a wannabe Dark Lord from the past only to set him loose on the present. So the only options are to either kill him, or use Memory Charms to wipe his mind clean. With a properly empty mind, we can adopt him to some nice Muggle family to raise him right, with good, honest family values. White picket fences, pet poodles and everything." He couldn't help chuckling at the mental image of Voldemort living a life of domestic non-magical bliss.
"There is magics to take aways all the bad thoughts in bad wizardies' minds?" Dobby breathed in wonder.
"Yep. Magic is a wonderful and terrible thing, isn't it? … Unfortunately, my aunt and uncle are hosting a dinner party on the weekend so I have to spend the next few days cleaning the grout in both bathrooms and the garage; that means I can't get away to go book-shopping. Did the Malfoys ever send you out to shop for them?"
"Oh yes, Mighty Mage Harry Potter! Dobby be doing lots of shoppings for bad old masters. Most wizardie families with elves make elves do their shoppings for them. Excepts for important or special things."
"Brilliant! Here's the key to my Gringotts account. You can spend up to, um, say 1000 Galleons. It's pricey, but it's worth it if I can get my family back! I want you to scour all the bookshops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade: Flourish and Blotts, Obscurus Books, WhizzHard Books, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, etc. Also check the junk shops and the post office; you never know, you might get lucky. Heck, you can even check the dodgier shops in Knockturn Alley. Places like Borgin and Burkes, Cobb and Webb's and the Coffin House probably have books the Ministry doesn't want people to know about. Ah, don't mention my name, willya? Last thing I need is to get a reputation for buying up shady literature about time travel and memory modification."
"Dobby promises to keeps it a secret!"
"Thanks I appreciate it." Another thought struck Harry. "Elves have free rein at Hogwarts, don't they? Before hitting the shops, could you sift through the school library first, especially the Restricted Section? Bring me those first. That way, we won't have to buy any books that the school already has copies of."
"Dobby understands … er, Dobby doesn't know how longs it will take to search entire Hoggywarts Library and all the bookstores …"
"That's fine," Harry replied in an encouraging tone. "You can take as long as you need, there's no deadline. We have all the time in the world … hehehehe. In fact, why don't you borrow this." Harry passed the Time Turner to the creature. "If you start to feel stressed, you can always give yourself a few extra hours here and there."
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24 August 1994
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sprinted through the narrow hallway that zigzagged (with a randomness that could rival Hogwarts castle itself) through the heart of the Burrow. As they journeyed through the mysterious second floor, a door popped open to reveal a pale face sporting horn-rimmed glasses, causing the group to break abruptly, the moment causing them to tumble into an undignified heap.
"Hi Percy," greeted Harry, prising himself free from the human tangle.
"Oh hello Harry. I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know I've got a report to finish for the office – and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs."
"We're not thundering, we're walking, " snapped Ron. "Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic going on in the highly-secured facilities of Prefect Percy's bedroom."
Ministry of Magic? Harry's ears perked up. After spending the better part of the last month and a half reading up on every scrap of information about the bureaucratic workings and the physical layout of the Ministry that was available (which was depressingly scarce), he was chagrined to realise that he'd overlooked the most obvious approach – to exploit his relationship with the Weasley family. Arthur was a Director-level official after all, the highest-ranking public servant Harry had ever met (besides Minister Fudge), and now it seemed like Percy was following in his paternal footsteps. There was no way Harry could allow this avenue of information to lay fallow!
"What are you working on?" asked Harry with interest. He mentally crossed his fingers. Please be related to the Department of Mysteries, please be related to the Department of Mysteries … After much tedious research, he and Dobby had determined that the enigmatic DoM was in fact both the source of time travel and the sole storage location of time devices. And yes, to Harry's eternal relief, there were indeed numerous types of Time Turners that had been produced, although the specific properties were a closely-guarded secret.
"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Percy smugly. "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin; leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost 3% a year …"
Harry's heart sank. He tuned out the ensuing sibling arguments and pondered whether or not there was some other way to get some benefit out of this.
"You might sneer, Ron," Percy began heatedly, "but –"
"Excuse me for interrupting," Harry interjected, wanting to get a word in edgewise before the dispute escalated to its usual Weasley level (i.e., nuclear), "but I was wondering if Percy could take me on a tour of the Ministry some time? When you're free, of course."
Silence. Harry found himself the focus of four bright blue and two deep brown Weasley eyes, surrounded by three shocks of bright red Weasley hair and oceans of freckles. The intensity of the staring (and the red hair) was disconcerting. Hermione had wisely already made herself scarce.
"You … you want Percy to take you around the Ministry …?" choked Ginny in disbelief.
"Of course," Harry nodded pleasantly. "Mr Weasley too, if that's possible. I think the work sounds fascinating, and I for one think that only Percy and Mr Weasley could show an outsider like me the real meat and potatoes of how the Ministry of Magic really works. I have to admit that it seems like a confusing puzzle to me …" He shrugged helplessly.
"Ahem, quite right, Harry," Percy shook himself out of his stupor and puffed up grandly. "The Ministry is truly incomprehensible for those unfamiliar with its workings, but rest assured everything that is done is done for a very good reason, no matter how bizarre or foolish it may seem to the ignorant public. Perhaps after the Quidditch World Cup we can owl each other to set a date when we're all free?"
"I'd like that. See you round, Percy," the green-eyed wizard gave a cheery wave as he was dragged off to Ron's bedroom.
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1 September 1994
"It's creepy, mate, is what it is," Ron shook his head. Harry raised an eyebrow. "How buddy-buddy you've been with Perfect Prefect Percy. It's unnatural, I tell you …"
The carriage swayed, gently rocking its inhabitants back and forth as the Hogwarts Express wended its way through the Scottish countryside towards Hogwarts castle.
"Oh honestly Ron," Hermione huffed, blowing wisps of her chocolate-coloured curls out of her face. "We just saw the finals of the Quidditch World Cup, your hero Victor Krum caught the snitch, there's some mysterious event coming up at Hogwarts this year, and – oh yes, that's right! – not one week ago there was a public anti-Muggle riot where somebody fired off the Dark Mark! I think there are far more important things for us to worry about than Harry exchanging letters with one of your brothers!"
Their redheaded friend shook his head vehemently. "If it were any other brother, that'd be fine and dandy. But this is Percy we're talking about. Percy! The boy's so uptight his broomstick has a broomstick up its backside!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to perusing the most recently-released revised edition of Hogwarts: A History.
Harry was glad to see that his best friend's personality had finally bounced back to normal after the fallout from the end of last term. He much preferred Snarky Hermione to Distraught Hermione or Gloomy Hermione. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect that someone had obliviated the entire traumatic incident from her mind. Perhaps there was something in those family vacations to France her family kept taking her on ...? Maybe he should try an overseas vacation to unwind at some point? Mordred knew, he was stressed a lot of the time. After I've saved the world, he promised himself, I'll take Mum and Dad along with me. I'll get Hermione to write up a list of all the best places to visit; that girl sure loves her lists ...
"As it happens," Harry said absently, "Percy and I happen to see eye-to-eye on a few matters. And for your information, I'll being going on that tour of the Ministry with him and your dad on the day of the Hogsmeade visit. They already got Dumbledore's okay."
"Ugh!" Ron's grunt revealed his opinion of that idea. "I wouldn't even mind so much," the gangly redhead continued, unable to read the atmosphere as usual, "except that it's having a really bad influence. All Percy's worst traits are starting to rub off on you!"
"Such as?" Harry asked, turning another page and not bothering to make eye contact.
"Such as all the reading! Every spare minute at the Burrow you were flicking through some book or other. You've even spent the entire train ride with your nose in that textbook, for Merlin's sake! That's never happened before! It's like … it's like there are two Hermiones with me all the time now!"
"Are you saying there's something wrong with that?" Hermione's silky purr raised the hairs on both boys' arms.
Ron finally sensed the danger and confronted it like a man – he backpedalled as fast as possible and changed the subject to the latest (unimpressive) exploits of the Cannons this season.
Harry sank back into his book and continued to read, ignoring their ongoing banter. The cover said The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, but the contents were of far more interest to the young wizard than their fourth-year textbook. Dobby's energetic expeditions to find useful literature for his partner had yielded disappointing results. Interestingly enough, the results from the Hogwarts Library and the collective wizarding bookstore industry were about equal: each source had provided approximately half a dozen books that were of any practical value for Harry's quest To Right All Wrongs. All of Hogwarts' contributions had been found in the Restricted Section, while half the remainder had been bought (after copious house-elf-nagging) from (of all places) Borgin and Burkes. Who knew they had a secret bookshelf available to 'select' customers for perusal?
The dozen tomes were now packed safely in his school trunk along with his other most prized possessions – the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father, the family album Hagrid had gifted him, the Firebolt broomstick he had gotten from Sirius, the Marauders Map he had received from Fred and George last year – except for the one he was reading and the one laying on the seat beside him. Wrapped in covers that declared it to be Intermediate Transfiguration, the latter was in fact entitled A Wrinkle In Time, a particularly handy study of the various time travel mechanisms that had been invented in different countries, including helpful tips to aid the reader in bypassing some of the more restrictive laws.
The text he was currently reading was called Splinter of the Mind's Eye, a fascinating guide to the most useful mind magics. In addition to Memory Charms, there were detailed instructions on how to cast Confundus (to make people believe what you wish them to, typically used by Ministry-appointed obliviators on Muggles, in order to maintain the Statute of Secrecy), Compulsus (compulsion charms seemed to be milder versions of the Imperius Curse), and Legilimens (a mind-reading spell). Harry vaguely remembered Snape going on about the Confundus Charm during the teenagers' confrontation with Fudge a few months back. It was good to finally put a face to the name.
The two books were not only practical, but also shared an amusing defence charm: to any Muggle reader, or undiscerning wizard, the texts appeared to be super-generic Muggle fiction novels, but the correct password revealed their true contents.
He'd only asked Dobby for books on mind magic as a side-project for his true goals. He hadn't intended to do much with the information until they had, in fact, captured themselves a Dark Lord in need of obliviation – but after delving into the subject, he knew he couldn't afford to ignore it. The knowledge that wizards could use spells to extract the deepest secrets of his mind, or control his thoughts and actions, scared the bejeezus out of him! It was bad enough having a magical scar that hurt all the time and occasionally sent him disturbing visions, but this was the rotten cherry on top of the whole dung sundae!
The only counter to these mind magics seemed to be a practice called Occlumency. After a lot of meditation and magical mental gymnastics, an adept would be able to create a shield to block others' mind spells, or show them selected memories, or even deceive them with fake memories. Naturally, Harry had put everything else on hold and desperately focused on Occlumency training every day. Unfortunately the results were slow-going. At the current rate of growth, it would be a long time before he'd be comfortable with his mental defences. With a soft sigh, the boy closed the book and began his daily meditation exercises.
With any luck, this year would be nice, quiet and tranquil. A year that wouldn't interrupt his important mind studies and his even more important time travel schemes. One peaceful year, that's all he needed.
Next Time on ATTR: Chapter 2 – I've Got a Little List