Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Press and Warner Brothers, not me.

A/N: Does anyone else think Harry, Ron and Hermione should've been a little (i.e., a lot) freaked out by the existence of Memory Charms after Lockhart tried to wipe Harry and Ron's minds? I'd have had nightmares about it for years! And yet it took until Book 5 before Occlumency was ever brought up, and even then Dumbledore had to twist Harry's arm to get him to train up even a bare modicum of mental protection …

Chapter 2 – I've Got a Little List

31 October 1994

Harry shook his head. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it! One year, was it so much to ask for one measly year of being left alone? Maybe Ron was right and he really was Fate's chew-toy. The boy could only stew in silence, barely aware of Madame Maxime leading the Beauxbatons Champion Dela-something-or-other out of the room through one exit while that Karkaroff jerk swept the Durmstrang Champion Victor Krum (of all people!) out through the exit on the opposite side.

Oh the irony, Harry thought bitterly. It just had to be a Morgana-be-damned Confundus Charm cast on the Goblet of Fire, of all things. Well at least I know the relevant arithmantic components of the spell that's just royally screwed me over … I s'pose that counts for something …

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, affable as ever. As if this weren't the third or fourth murder attempt (so far) on Harry's person during his short scholastic career. Harry's opinion of the ancient wizard – which had raised to new heights after masterminding their successful rescue of Sirius and Buckbeak – sank to the floor, now that it was clear his 'brilliant' solution to Harry's most recent bout of mortal peril was to shrug his shoulders and shove Harry into the lion's open mouth. Fantastic.

"I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you," the useless old man continued to patronise him. "It would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Harry shot an irritated glance at Cedric Diggory, the actual Hogwarts Triwizard Champion, who nodded, and they left together. The two boys ambled through the deserted Great Hall, the few flickering candles warping their shadows into giant grotesque abominations on the walls. The darn Jack-o-Lanterns were all leering at him, seemingly mocking Harry's latest dilemma.

"So …" The Hufflepuff was sporting the kind of plastic smile Harry'd seen plastered over Aunt Petunia's face every time she had to host one of Uncle Vernon's 'handsier' business clients for dinner. He idly wondered why the older boy was even bothering to be cordial to his unexpected rival. "We're playing against each other again!"

"I s'pose."

"So...tell me... How did you get your name in?"

"I didn't," said Harry flatly. "I was telling the truth."

"Ah ... okay …"

"And weren't you paying attention back there? Moody said it was a bloody Confundus some-bloody-body cast on the bloody Goblet. And you know what the worst thing is?" Harry consulted his watch in disgust. "It's just past 9pm, which means the earliest I can check is 4 in the afternoon. Hah! The Great Hall was crowded all afternoon – who'd be stupid enough to cast a Confundus in broad daylight in the middle of a crowd of witnesses? Nobody, that's who! So there's really no point in bothering. Maybe I'll send Dobby just in case. But I'll tell you what – whoever it is who's responsible, I may not be able to catch them red-handed, but one of these days I will find them. And when I do, they're going to wish they'd been magically forced to compete in a death tournament …"

He trailed off. Harry stiffened, abruptly realising that he'd been thinking aloud, and right in front of a fellow student to boot!

"Yes, right ... see you then." Cedric gave a bewildered wave and dashed down the stone steps, away from Harry as fast as his legs would carry him.

Uh oh. I sure hope he didn't put two and two together and realise I'm the one with the Time Turner. Thank Mordred Cedric's a Hufflepuff, not a Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Or worse, Hermione Granger. Fingers crossed that he just thinks I'm a raving nutter.

"Dobby!" he called. The elf dutifully appeared. Harry gave a quick glance around the Great Hall to make sure they were alone, then passed the Time Turner over. "Do me a favour would you? Use this to go back as far as you can and watch the Goblet of Fire like a hawk. If you see anyone casting any spells at the Goblet, especially the Confundus, at any time before my name came out of it, you let me know. It's a long shot, but it's worth a try. We could get lucky."

"Dobby understands!" the elf chirped.

"And once you get back to this moment in time, I want you to watch Cedric Diggory real close for the next week or two. If he talks to anyone, or writes anything, about time travel or Time Turners, tell me immediately. I may have to do some obliviations in the worst case scenario."

Dobby nodded, and began turning the hourglass. With a puff of magic, he was gone.

Having done all he could reasonably do in this situation, Harry decided to bite the bullet. He ascended the staircase and entered the Gryffindor common room.

"HURRAY!"

The sudden cheering had him recoiling in shock. Multiple hands grabbed him and dragged him into the midst of the crowd of merrymakers. Someone started singing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow', which was quickly taken up by everyone else. It seemed like everyone in the house wanted to shake his hand or down Butterbeer slammers with him. Eventually the chanting, toasting, screaming, applauding, back-slapping and whistling had finally settled enough for Harry to be able to hear the ringing in his ears.

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" somebody shrieked in his left ear.

"How the heck did you pull it off?" someone yelled in his right ear, slinging a Gryffindor banner around his shoulders like a cape.

After a few attempts to explain that he hadn't entered and wasn't feeling particularly festive right now, Harry finally gave up and decided to enjoy the moment with everyone. Maybe getting blitzed out of his brain with Butterbeer alongside his friends and housemates would help him forget about his awful evening.

What the heck, none of this will've happened once I change the timeline. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, Harry rationalised. He allowed himself to be dragged forward to join Katie Bell in doing Firewhiskey body-shots off Angelina's taut abs.

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13 November 1994

The past fortnight saw increasing chaos and confusion spread throughout Hogwarts. The existence of two Hogwarts Triwizard Champions divided the student body into three factions. Gryffindor House staunchly supported Harry, its members frequently inquiring in loud voices as to why there was any dispute at all over which champion was clearly the superior pick for Hogwarts. Ravenclaw House remained in its default state: completely indifferent to the school's affairs. Hufflepuff and Slytherin Houses united (for the first time in two centuries) in order to shun and decry Harry. The Snakes and Badgers teamed up and sought every opportunity possible to mock the Boy-Who-Lived and (whenever there were no professors present) to fling hexes in his direction. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students and teachers opted to boycott all four Hogwarts Houses, deeming the entire school to be cheaters who'd somehow fraudulently engineered a double chance at victory at their schools' expense. Not that the two foreign schools would deign to join forces with each other! There was still that legacy of hundreds of years of rivalry and animosity between the Latin and Germanic-Slavic magical communities. The venerable seat of learning was transfiguring into a madhouse.

Harry did his best to stay out of the fray. He stuck together with groups of fellow Gryffindors, for safety in numbers. With other bodies all around him, there was much less chance of being hit with a curse. He stayed in the Lions' common room as much as possible, busily practised his Occlumency and other mind magics, did his schoolwork and, whenever he had spare time, continued to memorise all the information he had available to him about the design of the DoM in preparation for the upcoming Ministry tour.

His temper finally snapped when the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs began distributing badges that proclaimed 'POTTER STINKS'. According to the rumour mill, Draco Malfoy was the instigator, and Harry couldn't say he was surprised to hear that.

Speak of the devil. As Harry was wolfing down his treacle tart that evening, the blonde irritation himself sauntered over to the Gryffindor table and loudly proclaimed, "Like them, Potter? They're pretty popular, I'm all sold out and it's only been one day!"

Harry didn't deign to turn from his meal and acknowledge his existence, but he could hear the howls of laughter from other students who were also flaunting their new badges. He gripped the edge of the table tightly to prevent himself lashing out and making the situation worse.

"Oh very funny," Hermione snapped from beside him, "really droll, Malfoy. If you're seven years old and learning-impaired."

Whatever Malfoy's 'witty rejoinder' may have been was lost to history, as the Snakes' attention suddenly shifted to Ron Weasley. Silently he had arisen from the table and approached the green-garbed group. Reaching out, he plucked the badge from the blonde's fingers and attached it to his own robe before sitting down again and resuming his meal. A hush fell on the scene. Harry ground his teeth.

"Well, it's good to see at least one Gryffindor has sense," Malfoy found his voice back. "Looks like even a filthy blood traitor can't abide Potter's blatant cheating. Want one too, Granger? I can let you have this one. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Harry finished the last of his tart, wiped his mouth and stood up. Ignoring the Slytherins he strolled over to the other end of the table where the Gryffindor Prefects congregated. The group had been quietly observing the altercation from a distance.

"Hello," the boy began. "I think the Snakes and the Badgers have had the run of the place for too long, don't you think?"

"What've you got in mind?" asked Alicia.

Harry produced a length of parchment with a list of names. "I've had a friend of mine write up a list of all the worst offenders. Hexes, curses, jinxes, sabotage, slander, you name it, they've done it. Ranked from bad to less bad."

The list was a compromise with Dobby. The little fellow had been apoplectic at the Great Harry Potter's treatment by the majority of students, forcing Harry to find him busy-work to prevent his friend from meting out his own version of 'elf-justice'. Remembering Dobby's over-enthusiastic attempts to 'help' him during his second year, the wizard shuddered at the thought of what the elf might do to students in the name of 'discipline'! 'Reasonable and proportionate use of force' was not a phrase in this house-elf's vocabulary. Since the plan to find the culprit who'd entered Harry's name into the Goblet was a bust, and since Cedric had shown no signs of cottoning on to Harry's time travelling shenanigans thus far, Harry decided to instruct Dobby to spy on the entirety of Slytherin and Hufflepuff Houses instead. Compiling and ranking a list of his tormentors should keep the creature busy enough to stay out of trouble. Unsurprisingly, Draco Malfoy was right at the top.

The Prefects reviewed the list of names.

"I think you can add anyone wearing one of those badges to the list too," Harry added helpfully.

A seventh-year boy with a mop of curly hair whose name Harry couldn't remember stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It is our duty as Hogwarts Prefects to ensure that proper behaviour is maintained at all times," he said slowly.

"And if some students choose not to follow those norms," Angelina supplemented, "then it only stands to reason that the Prefects have an obligation to teach them the error of their ways.

There were mutterings of general agreement amongst all present. The curly-haired boy stood and announced in a loud stentorian voice that Gryffindor would be holding a special House meeting after dinner. A ripple of excitement fizzled through the Lions.

"Oh before I forget." Harry took back the parchment and scribbled one more name onto the bottom of the list: Ron Weasley. "There you go." He returned the document.

Alicia's eyes widened. Then she nodded. "The Pride doesn't tolerate traitors."

From the next day onwards, teams of hard-faced Lions patrolled the school, pouncing mercilessly on anyone who made the list. The Badgers and Snakes soon fought back, forming their own 'hit squads' to jinx random Gryffindors. As the week progressed, the corridor battles continued to escalate, and children feared to walk the hallways alone. The Infirmary was filled each day with numerous cases of students transfigured into a variety of animals or plants, stuck together, expunged of hair, lost the ability to speak English, could only see in infra-red, grew extra limbs, or had their skin turned into a kaleidoscope of brilliant and dizzying colours. Ron had been transfigured into a giant canary six times already. Draco had been turned into a ferret eight times.

"Oh Harry what have you done?" Hermione lamented as they surveyed the carnage.

"It was already going on," he shrugged. "I just brought it out into the open."

"And what about Ron?" the girl demanded.

"Serves him right for being such a berk."

"Don't you get it?" she groaned. "The reason he's been so … tense around you ever since Halloween – he's jealous! From his point of view, you already have wealth and fame, and now you're hogging the glory of being a Triwizard Champion to boot! That's why he keeps insisting that you cheated to get in and is hurt you didn't help him get chosen by the Goblet too …"

"Frankly my dear," Harry replied, "I don't give a damn."

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21 November 1994

The big day had finally arrived! It was a grey and blustery Saturday morning, but most students didn't care about the weather, today represented an escape from the cold war of the castle to enjoy the delights of Hogsmeade! An exodus of children bundled in scarves and mittens swarmed out of the main gates and down into the village below.

Harry on the other hand, double-checked to make sure he had his Invisibility Cloak, backpack and Time Turner firmly tucked away in his pockets, crept past his sleeping dormmates, then made his way swiftly up to the Headmaster's Office where he met Arthur and Percy Weasley. A brief Floo journey brought the trio to the Grand Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

"Wow!" Harry eyes sparkled as he admired the large vaulted room dominated by the giant golden statue adorning an enormous fountain and pool. Streams of water poured forth from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and the house-elf's ears.

"Impressive isn't it?" Percy beamed. "The statue represents the harmony of all wizards and magical creatures, under the wings of the Ministry of course. If you'll direct your eyes to the archways to our left, you'll notice an inscription dedicated by Damocles Rowle, the second Minister of Magic …"

Harry made the appropriate enthralled noises as the younger Weasley continued to discuss in exacting detail the architectural features of note. Arthur looked on, smiling indulgently at his third son's enthusiasm. It was clear that Percy had studied hard in anticipation of Harry Potter's first tour of the Ministry.

"So Harry," Arthur finally got a word in edgewise as they waited in line at the Security Desk, "what's happening at Hogwarts? It feels like a warzone over there. All the students were walking around in groups with wands raised the whole time. And I don't remember there being so many holes gouged out of the walls and floors when I was there as a lad."

Harry chuckled nervously. "Well it is the Triwizard Tournament at the moment. People are pretty excited about it. Youthful high spirits and all that …"

"I understand," the Weasley patriarch nodded sagely. "I used to be quite the wild child myself when I was a teenager. A real firecracker; my nickname was 'Whirlwind Weasley' – my parents and teachers were at their wits' end more than once, haha."

Harry and Percy shared a disbelieving look. They reached the Desk and handed over their wands to the watchwizard for weighing and recording, which saved the boys from the burden of devising a diplomatic reply.

"Isn't the First Task coming up soon?" Arthur continued as they cleared security and entered the Ministry proper.

"Yes sir, in three days."

"Do you feel prepared?"

"Absolutely," lied Harry. He hadn't the slightest intention of sticking around long enough to compete in whatever grand death-battle the Ministry sadists had cooked up, and so hadn't bothered to do any Triwizard-related research. Bread and circuses were all well and good, so long as they were kept far from him! If the bloodthirsty crowd thought that the Boy-Who-Lived would happily shed his blood for their entertainment, they had another thing coming. "Um, before we get started, do you mind if I go to the bathroom?"

Percy looked rather put out by this utterly unforeseen complication, but Arthur genially directed to the restrooms. Harry barricaded himself in one of the cubicles and called for his partner.

"Dobby!"

'Pop'!

"Yes, Dobby is here," he whispered.

Harry pulled out the Time Turner and slung the chain around both their necks. "Ready old friend? Let's go! 1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … 5."

The world shimmered and spun away, hurling the pair backwards five hours. Once the swirling colours resolved back into focus, Harry carefully checked to make sure the toilets were empty.

"Tempus! 3:43am, we're right on time," Harry hissed.

He wrapped himself and Dobby in the Invisibility Cloak, and together they crept out into the hallway. Step by step, eyes and ears peeled for the slightest sign of other people, the duo made their way to the row of lifts. The wizard pressed the closest 'Down' button and a minute later one of the lifts arrived.

"Now it's up to you, Dobby. Remember, DoM should be level 9, and if you run into any trouble, pop back to my side immediately."

The house-elf nodded and entered the car. The golden grilles shuddered and closed, and the lift gradually descended out of sight. There was no choice but to send the little guy first. Harry was a fourth-year student, and had no skills to detect wards or traps. Only Dobby's elf magic had a chance of locating and deactivating whatever unpleasantness the Unspeakables had set up to protect their treasures. Harry crossed his fingers that they hadn't thought to put up elf-specific protections.

This should work out fine, Harry tried to reassure himself. When I arrived in a few hours from now, there didn't seem to be any emergency alerts or fenced-off crime scenes or Aurors investigating a break-in …

After what felt like an eternity, a soft 'pop' announced his friend's return. "Exalted Harry Potter sir, Dobby has checked the doors and corridorses and has removed the nasty magics! It is safe for good wizard to enter now!"

Harry felt his tense body slump in relief. He didn't want to imagine how difficult this little heist would've been without his trusty partner as backup. Summoning another lift, the pair descended to floor 9. An inorganic female voice announced, "Level 9. Department of Mysteries," as the car rattled and shuddered to a halt. Passing through a plain black door, they proceeded into the heart of the DoM at last.

"What is this place?" They entered a large room whose wall formed a circle. There were a dozen identical, unnumbered black doors interspersed along the wall at equal intervals. Blue candles shrouded the place in an eerie light. It looked more like a place for satanic ritual sacrifice rather than a government-funded research institute.

"This way!" Dobby proclaimed, seeming to have no difficulty with his sense of direction. He led the way to one of the featureless doors. Their footsteps clicked loudly on the black marble floor. The boy gasped in wonder at the room beyond. Unlike the rest of the floor, this place was filled with brilliant sparkling light and drowning in an ocean of ticking, clicking and whirring noises. The gigantic hall was filled with clocks, hourglasses and other mechanisms too bizarre to understand with the naked eye. Every bookshelf, desk and spare patch of floor was piled up with timepieces. Some small enough to mistake for a pinhead, others large enough to reach the ceiling

"We've hit the motherlode," Harry breathed. Extracting his backpack, he handed it to Dobby. "Grab every device small enough that I can hold in one of my hands," he instructed. While his partner proceeded to ransack the place, Harry wandered about aimlessly, seeing if anything special caught his eye. He eventually drifted to the far side of room, towards a large crystal jar that appeared to sprout from the depths of the floor. Inside the jar, floating in mid-air, hung a small hourglass device, seemingly made entirely of gold and crystal. "And Bingo was his name-o," he muttered. "This has gotta be it. Dobby! Do you think you can snatch it?"

Dobby approached and gave the container the ol' gimlet eye. "Maybe," he replied dubiously. "It be taking Dobby some time though …"

"That's fine, finish collecting the rest of the loot first, then come back to this baby. While you're doing that, I'm going to explore over there." He gestured towards a small door behind the crystal jar. "Uh, it is safe to go through there, right …?"

"Yes, Master Harry Potter sir."

The next room was at least twenty times the size of the Time Room. More blue candles adorned the walls, but their flickering light was enhanced by the dim glow of shelf after shelf of luminous blue crystal globes. Harry debated exploring amongst the shadowy aisles between the rows of shelves. But spying a chest of drawers, he opted to see if there was any information on what these balls represented, and if they could be useful to him. The chest turned out to be a filing cabinet, bolted firmly against a wall. A faded sign nearby announced, 'The Hall of Prophecies'. Well well well, doesn't that sound intriguing …

Perusing the files, Harry quickly realised that it was a catalogue, sorted by name. Hmmm, I wonder if there's anything about the Boy-Who-Lived and all that rot in here, he wondered with mild curiosity. To his surprise, the name 'Potter, Harry James' was in fact listed, with a single entry. Well now I have to go check it out, don't I? Let's see, Row 97, shelf 5 ... His footsteps echoed loudly in the dark cavernous space of the Hall of Prophecies. After a while, he located the correct shelf and the correct blue, dusty orb. Underneath was a label:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
Dark Lord and (?)Harry James Potter

Harry stared at it. It's got my name on it – so that means it's kinda my property, right? Right. ... Ah, what the heck, I'm already pillaging the DoM for its time machines, what's one more bit of larceny on top of that? Hesitating then no longer, the wizard reached out and lifted the globe free of its resting place and slipped it into one of the pockets in his robe. I'll examine it later. There was no further reason to remain in this creepy giant room, so Harry returned to the Time Room to supervise Dobby's progress.

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"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Harry asked in concern. "That looks pretty heavy."

"Dobby is fine," the house elf grunted. He carried the large backpack, easily triple his body size, stuffed to the gills with Time Turners of various shapes and sizes.

"Uh huh," Harry murmured, but his partner seemed determined to lug all the booty back to Hogwarts on his own, so who was he to object? The boy threw the powder into one of the many fireplaces in the Atrium and whispered, "Honeydukes!" The fire flared green in response.

"Dobby will be hiding the loots and awaiting the Grand Wizard Harry's return!" With that, he dived into the Floo. Honeydukes was the closest unsecured fireplace to Hogwarts that they knew of. While there were fireplaces in the Headmaster's office and the hospital wing, both required approval from both ends of the Floo connection before people could transfer across. Going to the sweets shop in Hogsmeade allowed Dobby to pop the short distance to Hogwarts with his load, or (if that were too strenuous) he could carry it through the secret passageway into the castle.

Sneaking back into the men's toilets under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry made sure to ensconce himself in a different stall than the one he'd used previously, and settled down to wait. It'd be another two hours before he was ready to 'emerge' and re-join Arthur and Percy. Shifting his rear around on the uncomfortable seat, Harry pulled out his Splinter of the Mind's Eye and began his mind magic drills again.

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Mordred's tail, that was tedious, Harry sighed to himself as he finally bid his farewells to the two Weasleys at the front gates of Hogwarts. The sun was dipping over the horizon as he trotted over the path up to the castle. I can't believe we spent the entire day there. I must've visited every single office and met every single employee of the DIMC thrice! At least Percy enjoyed himself ... I could've done without all the photography sessions though …

Entering the Great Hall, the subtle scent of sulphur tingled in his nostrils. "Hmm. The Hall's looking a bit more singed than it usually does …" he mused. "Maybe Hermione's right, perhaps this situation really has gotten out of control … But if that's the case, why in Merlin's name aren't the teachers doing anything to clamp down on it?"

Either way it was difficult to dredge up too much emotion. Ever since Halloween, Harry had found himself drifting away from his fellow students, becoming more and more indifferent to the inhabitants of the castle. All his attention was focused on the stash he and Dobby had 'liberated'.

Turning around a corner, the tired wizard came face to face with Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones and Zacharias and Sally Smith. The two sides froze. Harry's gaze drifted down the POTTER STINKS badges the quintet were sporting. He raised an eyebrow. Abbot flinched and Bones looked away, but the others held firm, staring him down defiantly, wands clasped in white-knuckled grip. Harry ever-so-slowly let his own right hand slide down towards the wand in his pocket …

"Harry! There ya are!"

The Mexican standoff was abruptly broken by the appearance of the groundskeeper.

"Bin lookin' all over for ya," Hagrid continued cheerily, a wide grin on his face, oblivious to the tension humming in the air. He leaned his enormous face down towards the teenager and whispered, "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that special cloak of yers."

"Hagrid, what's going on?"

"Not here, ya'll find out." The half-giant gave a giant conspiratorial wink, then looked around. "Where'd all yer little friends go?" he blinked.

The corridor was deserted. The Badger sett had seized the opportunity to flee.

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22 November 1994

A bleary-eyed Harry stumbled into the Great Hall at the crack of noon. As if in a trance, the black-haired zombie drifted over the Lions table and mechanically shovelled bangers and mash into his gullet.

"Afternoon Harry. Long night?" Hermione asked in amusement, spreading margarine delicately over her toast.

His glazed green eyes gradually focused on his bushy-haired friend. "It's dragons, Hermione," he hissed, once his vocal chords had warmed up enough to do more than croak. "Bloody dragons!"

The girl's eyes widened. "The First Task?" she whispered.

He nodded wearily, biting into an apple. "Hagrid took me into the Forbidden Forest last night to take a gander. Crunch! There are four of the brutes hidden in there. Crunch! Charlie Weasley and his mates are supervising. Crunch!"

"Dragons …" she muttered, materialising an enormous textbook from who-knows-where and leafing through the pages with great intensity. The Gryffindors had seen this sort of behaviour at mealtimes so often nobody batted an eye.

"Guess I'll leave the two of you to get better acquainted; wouldn't want to be a third wheel," Harry said drily, returning to his dorm to retrieve his Invisibility Cloak. Hidden from sight, he walked up to the seventh floor – sneaking past half a dozen pitched battles raging in the hallways – and found the painting of dancing trolls. "Dobby!"

'Pop'!

"Greetings, Wonderful Wizard Harry Potter sir!"

"Hello," he replied wearily. "So where's this great hideout of yours?"

"Elves be calling it the Come and Go Room. Good wizard must walk three times in front of wall thinking about what he wantses. Thinks about 'Dobby's Secret Hideaway'."

Harry gave it a try, and sure enough, the blank wall mysteriously resolved into a large doorway.

"Neat!"

Dobby's Secret Hideaway was a large furnished flat with a merry fire burning in the fireplace. A king size four-poster bed was in one corner, a kitchenette was in another, and an open door leading to a bathroom was in the third. The final corner was dominated by a large table filled with the stolen Time Turners. Harry examined their booty. The elf had organised the devices into neat rows. Each group was helpfully labelled with the length of time displacement it was capable of, ranked from least to greatest.

"Hmmm. One hour. Three hours. Five hours. One day. One week. … Garbage!" he muttered. Then a thought occurred. "Dobby, how did you figure out how far back these Time Turners could go?"

"Dobby knows the Great Harry Potter's desire for proper testing of shiny doodads. So Dobby has been testing them!"

"What!? You mean by trying them all out yourself one by one!?" Harry demanded. He rubbed his temples in disbelief. "There have to be dozens of timepieces here. How long would that take?"

"Dobby has been busy for seven and a half months!" the little creature beamed happily.

Harry sagged down onto the floor. "Seven months? Seven months' worth of going back in time and then waiting until today just to do it all over again with another Turner?" he said weakly. "Seven months since I saw you yesterday morning? … Hermione can never, ever, ever find out about this …." He fingered his S.P.E.W. badge unconsciously. I don't even want to know how many Dobbys have been running around this castle …

Seeing the elf's glowing and expectant face, the boy sighed and gave him a wide grin. "Well done, Dobby! I am very proud of you. Thanks for all your efforts, I couldn't have done it without you!"

His partner preened at the praise, fat tears of joy trickling from his bulging eyes. Which just made Harry feel even more guilty.

"This be the shiny gadgety that be the best!" Dobby presented the winner with a flourish. Unsurprisingly, it was the golden hourglass that had been locked away in the crystal jar.

Harry accepted it carefully. "So what's this one's limit?"

From what he could glean from Dobby's excitable semi-coherent explanation, it seemed that this was the exact Turner he'd been after all along – no limitations on how far it would take you to the past; multiple settings for increments of years, months, weeks, days and hours; and best of all, after a set period of time in the past, it would automatically return you to your starting point. It was perfect!

"Finally! Finally!" Harry laughed. A powerful surge of manic energy swelled up inside him. Seizing Dobby's hands, the two danced around in circles cheering and whooping with joy. Eventually they collapsed in an exhausted pile on the carpet.

"Tonight is Go Time," Harry panted. "I just found out what I have to face in the First Task in two days, and there's not a chance in Hel I'm going to battle a gigantic fire-breathing serpent to amuse a bunch of idiots. With my luck, there's no doubt I'll end up having to go mano a mano with that Hungarian Horntail." He shuddered in horror.

"Dobby understands. Dobby will have the potions ready."

"How long of a window do we have once we get to the past? What's the maximum amount of time we can stay there?"

"Five minutes."

Harry sat bolt upright, ignoring his aching muscles. "Are you kidding me? We only get five minutes!?" He flopped back down onto the floor. "Of course. I am really am Fate's chew-toy after all." He lay there cogitating for a while, chewing his bottom lip. "So be it. We'll have to modify the plan – we don't have the time (literally) to lurk around Hogwarts under the Cloak waiting for our chance to strike. Which means we've got to hit the bastards in a place we know for sure they're going to be. That really only leaves their dorms. Dobby, we'll grab 'em in the middle of the night when they're fast asleep!"

Dobby shuffled around awkwardly. "Before we grabs the nasty wizards, Dobby has favour to ask," he mumbled, eyes lowered.

"Of course! We're partners aren't we? I'd never have gotten this far without you! What do you need?" Harry was pleased he could finally give something back to his little friend.

"Is about Winky … Winky not be doing so good …"

"Winky?" Harry frowned. "That name sounds familiar."

"Winky is losing her family, so has been living in Hoggywarts with the rest of the elves, but … Winky be sad. Be drinking lots of Butterbeer. Misses her old master …"

"Oh that's right – didn't that Crouch jerk fire her at the World Cup? But what is it you want me to do about it?"

"Can you use magics to take away Winky's bad thoughtsies?"

"Say what? You want me to Memory Charm your friend?" he asked incredulously. Dobby nodded firmly. The wizard hemmed and hawed for a while, but in the end couldn't resist the elf's giant puppy-dog eyes. "Fine," he grumbled. "But only if she agrees." Hey figured there was no way any sentient being would be willing to have their own mind wiped clean, which got him off the hook nicely.

Once Dobby had dragged in the miserable, shabby and Butterbeer-soused specimen, he proceeded to force-feed her coffee powder and cinnamon until she was coherent. Presented with the option of a blank slate or continuing to wallow in unending family-less, service-less, honourless misery, Winky readily agreed that ignorance would be bliss, forcing Harry into a corner again.

"I s'pose I do need to have a practise-run on a living thing before we do it for real …" he said grudgingly. "Last chance to change your mind, Winky ..."

The female elf straightened her spine and met his gaze with determination, in a fairly convincing impression of not being incredibly hungover. "Winky is ready."

"Merlin, I'm really living up to the principles of S.P.E.W. aren't I?" he shook his head. "Making one elf spend months of his life testing time machines, and memory charming another … forgive me, Hermione. Here goes nothing, Obliviate!"

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Harry crept into the Library. He carefully avoided the reading table occupied by his bushy-headed friend, which was stacked high with tomes on magical creatures.

Harry was torn. He appreciated all Hermione's efforts to help him escape yet another mortal threat, but one part of him wanted to tell her that her frenetic research was pointless since the Triwizard Tournament wouldn't even exist after tonight, while another part wanted to let her be just in case the plan was a fiasco and he really did have to fight a dragon after all.

The wizard made himself scarce in a corner table. Out of his pocket came Potter's List of Enemies; the most recent version contained 11 names. The top 11 people who'd most wronged him or his family and friends:

Voldemort.
Lucius Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
Severus Snape.
Peter Pettigrew.
Cornelius Fudge.
Vernon Dursley.
Petunia Dursley.
Dudley Dursley.
Piers Polkiss.
Peeves.

Harry immediately eliminated the Muggles. There didn't seem much point bothering with revenge, after he changed history they'd probably never even know each other. He crossed out Peeves. The poltergeist was already dead, and he had no idea how to make a spirit suffer. There was no rush anyway – the school ghosts had been clanking around for centuries, there was plenty of time to come up with something later on. He crossed out Draco. Once he shanghaied Lucius, the bigoted ferret would hopefully disappear automatically. That left five names.

Harry considered a bit more before adding a final person: Bellatrix Lestrange. According to the Hogwarts rumour mill, this crazed Death Eater was responsible for doing horrific things to Neville's parents. Not wanting to make a similar mistake as he did with Sirius, Harry pored through history books and back issues of The Daily Prophet for whatever information he could glean. The results were chilling: Lestrange was the de facto second-in-command of the Inner Circle of Death Eaters, who'd gleefully murdered, maimed and tortured her way through magical and Muggle Britain for decades. She'd probably killed more people than Harry met in his entire life! Several books proclaimed her as the most dangerous witch in Europe. And her final victims – Frank and Alice Longbottom. The paper didn't detail what Lestrange had done to them, but did state they'd been admitted to long-term hospitalisation in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's, which sounded very bad. That settled it! There was no way he could allow this mad dog to cause mayhem throughout history! She belonged on his little list without a doubt.

"And they'll none of them be missed," he said. "Now to work out the right year …"

Harry decided to strike while they were firsties at Hogwarts. He was only a 14-year-old wizard with mediocre magical skills, tangling with the most dangerous wizards of the 20th century – he wanted every advantage he could get. The less magical knowledge and physical strength his opponents had the better. Along with the element of surprise, and house elf support, he hoped it'd be enough.

Voldemort's information was straightforward: in his second year, Harry had learned that Tom Riddle killed Moaning Myrtle with the basilisk, framed Hagrid and got the award for special services in 1943. He was a sixth-year Slytherin Prefect at the time. That meant he was a firstie in 1938. For the other five targets, Harry consulted The Pure-Blood Directory of Cantankerus Nott and the Hogwarts Year Books to find the relevant birth dates and graduation dates.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. Slytherin. First year 1938.
Bellatrix Lestrange. Slytherin. First year 1962.
Lucius Malfoy. Slytherin. First year 1965.
Cornelius Fudge. Slytherin. First year 1961.
Severus Snape. Slytherin. First year 1971.
Peter Pettigrew. Gryffindor. First year 1971.

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The Slytherin common room was abuzz with excitement. The First Task of the Triwizard Championship was nearly here, and the betting pools had reached fever pitch. The odds on Potter being flambéed by a dragon was running hot at 2:1, while the more prosaic being-flayed-alive-by-its-claws-or-tail trailed behind at 4:1. Draco Malfoy was doing gangbuster sales with his new line of POTTER STINKS scarves, banners and T-shirts. In a corner, seventh years with a flair for healing magic were soothing the injuries of their less fortunate housemates who'd caught the receiving end of Gryffindor hexes during the day.

Nobody noticed as the second Hogwarts Champion and two house-elves shuffled invisibly through the doorway behind a cluster of giggling second-year girls. The team sneaked around the edges of the room and up the stairs into the first-year boys' dormitory. They pressed themselves into an unused corner and waited.

Harry used the waiting time to mentally double-check that he had all his cherished belongings on his person: wand, Firebolt, photo album, Invisibility Cloak, Marauder's Map, Gringott's key, mind magic books, bag of Time Turners, potions. He didn't want to risk these items vanishing from existence once the timeline changed. It was a pity he couldn't bring Hedwig along, but he promised himself he'd go buy her again as soon as possible.

When he was satisfied all the firsties had bunked down and fallen asleep, Harry removed the Cloak and drew his wand. "Silencio! Colloportus!" The door was silenced and locked to prevent unwanted interference. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" A burst of red Stunning Spells struck the six boys, rendering them unconscious for the next few hours.

"Okay team, let's review the plan," Harry whispered. "Winky turns the Time Turner. Do you have the parchment with the number of turns?"

"Here, Master Harry!" she produced the document with great pride.

"Good. Whatever you do, don't lose it!" It had taken Harry hours to calculate the correct number of years, months, weeks, days and hours to input into the hourglass in order to get them to midnight of November 22 for the respective years.

"When we arrive, we have five minutes to act before the Time Turner yanks us back to this moment now. I'll charge in wands blazing and stun everyone in the dorm, while Dobby and Winky check the nameplates. Once we've found the right one, we double-check the appearance to be extra-sure we've got the right person. Dobby's in charge of detecting and dismantling any wards or traps around the bed. I doubt any firsties are capable of putting them up, but these are Slytherins so you never know. Then we grab the kid and Winky puts the chain around the four of us so we get transported back to 1994. Rinse and repeat. After we've got the four boys, we head over to the first-year girl's dorm and do the same for Bellatrix. If it's anything like in Gryffindor I can't go up the stairs, so I'll use my Firebolt." Harry tapped his trusty broom. "Then we drag the five of them to the Come and Go Room and dose them up with the Draught of Living Death that Dobby 'borrowed' from Snape's storage closet. Then we head to the Gryffindor first-year boys' room and go get Pettigrew. Any questions? No? Good – hands out."

The three conspirators reached out and overlaid their hands. "Go team!" Harry whispered.

Operation Riddle Me This was a go!

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23 November 1994

"Great and Wonderful Master Harry Potter sir, what are we being doing with nasty baby wizards now?" asked Winky, handing him his cup of hot chocolate.

Harry sighed. "You don't have to give me titles Winky, just call me Harry. And I'm not your master."

The little elf looked bewildered.

Harry rubbed his temples. It was bad enough that he'd had to erase Winky's memories to ease her misery. Now Dobby had not only taken advantage of the situation and somehow managed to convince her that Harry was her master, but was busily brainwashing her into the same kind of hero-worship he lavished on the Boy-Who-Lived at every opportunity. Harry didn't know how much more obsequious adulation he could handle.

"That aside, it's a good question." The two looked down at the unconscious bodies of the six 11-year-olds they'd abducted from their original times, lined up in neat rows on the carpet. "We need to find them foster homes. But that can wait – the Draught of Living Death will keep them in suspended animation for months before it wears off. I want to go find my parents first! Do you think you can find something to carry them and the rest of our stuff in?"

"Winky can be doing that!" 'Pop!'

He finished his cup and set it on the bedside table. Climbing out of bed, Harry yawned and stretched luxuriously. Dobby's Secret Hideaway was one of the most comfortable places he'd ever stayed in. He wondered how it would compare with his bedroom at the Potter home. The very thought made his body tremble with excitement. Only a few hours now and he'd be reunited with his long-lost mother and father! The anticipation was killing him!

Dobby and Winky returned as he finished his shower. "Master Harry, we be bringing the biggest expanding trunk we can finds. It be shrinkable as well!"

Harry peeked into the trunk and marvelled at the cavernous space inside. "It's like the Tardis." He shook his head in amazement at the wonders of magic. "Okay, load up our guests and all our stuff. It's time to get this show on the road."

They finished the task before Harry finished dressing himself. With a snap of Dobby's fingers, the large trunk shrank to the size of a matchbox. Harry tucked it into his front pocket. "Where did you find this thing anyway?"

"Come and Go Room also be storage place for everythings little wizards lose or throw away in Hoggywarts," Dobby explained. "There be many trunkses in the Room of Lost Things."

Under cover of the Invisibility Cloak, the trio slunk through the halls to the statue of the one-eyed witch, through the hidden passage to Honeydukes, and out into Hogsmeade.

"Doesn't Master Harry Potter have school today?" worried Winky.

"Oh yeah, Monday already," Harry realised. "I doubt I'm a Triwizard Champion anymore, so I probably don't have a class exemption – whatever, I'll take the detention. The most important thing is finding my parents!"

Harry couldn't help humming a jaunty tune and skipping a bit as they walked along the cobblestone road.

"Blue skies smiling at me, nothing but blue skies do I see!
Bluebirds singing a song, nothing but bluebirds all day long!
Blue days all of them gone, nothing but blue skies from now on!"

He'd done it! In spite of all odds, he'd ensured there was no Lord Voldemort, no Death Eaters, no British civil war, no dark wizards trying to kill him or the rest of the Potters, no carnage and destruction, no more being Fate's chew-toy! Take that Hermione! Take that Dumbledore! Take that Ministry! The future was nothing but bright! From now on nothing could possibly go wrong for Harry James Potter!

Next Time on ATTR: Chapter 3 – Things Go Wrong