Chapter 1

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR

Summer had passed Harry by all too quickly. And now, autumn seemed to be doing the same thing. The painted leaves on the aspens, rowans, and birch were already starting to fall off their mountain-side canvas, and the first snows of winter were sneaking up behind them. It seemed like only yesterday that Harry had left behind the trials and terrors of his fourth year. Yet here he was, eating breakfast in the dining hall as the drama of his fifth year was revealing itself like an ill-tempered oraculum scroll unfurling as it bounced and rolled down an ever-steepening flight of stairs.

Harry truly loved the breakfasts at Hogwarts. The tables were always filled with unlimited amounts of bangers, bacon, and ham. Platters full of eggs were prepared in several different ways. He could choose from toast, waffles, scones and so much more. However, as much as he was loving his breakfast, he was loving just being here more, even with the increasingly oppressive intrusions of Dolores Umbridge, his fifth and latest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and apparent adulator of the increasingly paranoid Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

Harry was concerned that something had gone wrong with Fudge's mind following the death of Cedric Diggory and his announcement that Voldemort was back. A couple of years ago, when he inflated his abhorrent Aunt Marge up into a balloon during a moment of uncontrolled anger, Fudge blew it off as no big deal, just something requiring more self-control in the future. Now, two years later, when he used magic to save himself and Dudley from an unprovoked attack by a pair of dementors, Fudge subjected him to a full-criminal trial. Only the skills of Dumbledore had prevented him from being expelled to protect the self-deluding belief of Fudge about Voldemort not being back.

The very presence of Umbridge was very unsettling. She was clearly here, as Hermione had pointed out, to watch and interfere with things at Hogwarts on Fudge's behest. This was more than enough to create unwanted stress for Harry. However, today was even more stressful than usual. Today was quidditch against Slytherin. That meant a confrontation with his more immediate enemy, Draco Malfoy, the school's rich boy bully, and resident Potter hater. In addition, most of the school was against him, or at least suspicious of him because of the things coming out of the Ministry in the Daily Prophet about him being part of a plot by Dumbledore to seize control of the Ministry. He had suffered through the same prior to winning the Triwizard Tournament. Now, his popularity for winning the Triwizard Tournament was proving fleeting as much of the school was once again lining up against him.

As he was idly poking at his last banger, a cheerful voice from behind said, "Hello, Harry Potter."

He turned and was pleased to see a cute, petite girl with prominent, silvery-blue eyes and an overabundance of dirty blond hair. It was Luna Lovegood, the oddly interesting girl he had met on the train earlier in the year. They were casual acquaintances at best. He had only spoken with her on occasion, that being because of the friendship she had developed with Hermione and Ginny.

"Oh hi...uh...Luna," replied Harry in a somber, remote voice as he barely making eye contact.

"How are you, Harry? You looked stressed."

"I am stressed, Luna," was his response. "I have to play quidditch this afternoon against Slytherin and Draco."

"Oooo. I imagine that is quite distressing," said Luna. "When I'm stressed, I like to clear my mind in a quiet place I found on the seventh floor. I like to go to do puzzles and solve riddles and mysteries to distract myself. I find it extraordinarily relaxing."

"I might need to ask you to show me that place one of these days," breathed Harry.

"Yessss, you will like it…oooo yessss. Anyway, I am going for a walk, now…goodbye."

Luna disappeared through the giant doors of the dining hall. A moment later, Harry had finished his food. He got up and walked out of the hall in the same direction as Luna. He was going to battle Malfoy in a few hours. Even with all of his practice, he was never ready to go head-to-head with Malfoy.

Harry aimlessly wandered the halls and stairways for over half an hour, finally winding up in the less familiar heights of Hogwarts. Before long he found himself in a corridor standing in front of a curious tapestry of someone named Barnabus the Barmy. "I wish I had a place I could go to and escape this world like Luna was talking about. I could really use a place where I could forget about things for a while," he thought. Then he thought he heard someone coming and turned back, still thinking about a hiding place. A few seconds later the sound of the person disappeared. He thought the heck with it and turned to continue on his original path.

Suddenly, there was a grating, grinding noise behind him. He turned to see who had walked upon him. All he saw was a pair of massive, ornate wooden doors that had somehow escaped his eyes as he had passed by them seconds earlier.

"I am really out of it," he thought. "I wonder what's behind these doors? I never even saw them. How could I have missed them?"

Now full of curiosity, Harry approached the doors. They were very ornately decorated. The brass handles had a fancy RoR vertically embossed on them.

He pulled them open with a groaning creak from the huge, brass hinges to find a large room with many paintings and unusual items hanging on the walls and standing on pedestals. It looked a bit like a museum. It was, in fact, interesting enough to draw him in for a closer look.

As soon as he took his first steps into the room, a strange dizziness began to fall over him. He collapsed on the cold, stone floor and fell into a deep, trance-like sleep. When he finally awoke, he found himself standing in a strangely familiar, but genuinely unfamiliar place. It looked a lot like London, but clearly, a part he had never visited. The people passing by were all dressed in old fashion clothes. The smells of the food were good but seemed almost foreign, All things considered, something did not feel right.

After a couple of minutes of just looking around, he started to slowly walk amidst the flow of pedestrians and carriages. Nothing familiar presented itself save for Big Ben tolling the hour. None of the store names rang a bell, nor did the street names. He could not find a sign for the tube or any other landmark that would help him get oriented. Then he saw a disheveled, but new-looking newspaper on the ground against a storefront.

Walking over, he picked up the paper. It looked old-fashioned, more like The Daily Prophet than a normal muggle newspaper like the ones he saw his uncle reading in the morning. That added to the oddness of the situation.

The headline screamed "Another Dear Boss Letter" with a smaller subheadline under it reading "Jack the Ripper Continues Taunting Scotland Yard". The paper was titled 'The Times', followed beneath by 'London. Saturday, November 10, 1888'.

"This must be some kind of souvenir paper they sell to tourists," he thought as he tossed it in frustration back onto the ground. It was then he noticed his clothes for the first time. They were definitely not his clothes. He was dressed similarly to everyone else. "What the bloody hell is going on? No wonder I haven't drawn any strange looks from the passersby. Is this really 1888?"

A wave of fear and apprehension ran up his back and into his head. He suddenly felt strangely out of place in his clothes. They fit well enough and were comfortable, but they were not his. He almost wanted to rip them off.

After a moment, he started rifling through the pockets. He found his wand, the apple he had taken from breakfast, a galleon, a few knuts, and a couple of sickles. Then he found a strange, little pouch he did not recognize. Looking inside, he found a fairly large amount of old-fashioned muggle money.

All of the money was in coins similar to modern pound coins, but with Victoria on them. He assumed it was Queen Victoria he had read about in his muggle school. All of the coins were somewhat worn and had dates in the 1880s. Things continued to get weirder and weirder.

Finally, he walked up to a lady looking in the window at a bakery. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said. What is the date?"

"The tenth, lad," she replied. "Saturday the tenth."

"Thank you," he said as she turned to walk into the bakery.

Harry followed her and his stomach into the bakery. It had lured him in with smells from its fresh wares. He found it to be full of tempting treats. He purchased a couple of large slices from a bacon badger and a custard tart for dessert all on the recommendation of a girl of about his age who was waiting on him. She gave him a flirty smile that might have piqued his interest in a different situation as she handed them to him. He smiled back at her as he paid.

He consumed his pastries as he walked down the street. The girl had steered him right. They were delicious. It also helped that he was actually quite hungry, but had not noticed until he took the first couple of bites. They were gone almost too quickly.

He continued walking in hopes something familiar would present itself. But it was a walk in vain. He had not felt this out of place since his first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. Why was he here and what was he supposed to be doing?

As the day passed, he kept hoping for something to finally start to make sense. But by dinner time he was still completely at a loss for his situation. He found a respectable-looking restaurant and stepped in. It was busy, full of muggles enjoying their meals. He took this as a sign the food was probably going to be good. Maybe he could figure something out on a full stomach.

Because it was Saturday, he was offered a bowl of white soup followed by roast beef, pudding, and carrots. It also had a slice of very crusty bread and a sizable piece of cheddar cheese. For dessert, he was served a sweet, spiced pudding with raisins and almonds.

As he dined, he overheard some of the patrons at the next table were speaking of someone called Jack the Ripper. It did not seem to mean much at the time. Other than that, nothing else presented itself over his dinner beyond the notion he should probably find a room for the night.

The mysterious pouch he had found in his pocket was apparently providing him with an endless stream of money. That was a very agreeable situation. When the waitress brought him the bill, he asked her for a recommendation on lodging. She suggested an inn on the other side of the park. He thanked her and headed off in that direction after paying and leaving her a nice tip.

Darkness was beginning to fall as he passed between the park and several drab, nondescript buildings. Suddenly, some movement in an alleyway caught his eye. It was a man crouched over a woman. He appeared to be attacking her.

"What are you doing?" shouted Harry in a loud voice, as he stepped forward, his wand at the ready.

"Mind yer own business, boy," snarled the man as he looked up at him.

He saw a glint of light from what appeared to be a knife blade. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted. Nothing happened, but it seemed to startle the attacker who stood up and started to flee down the alley.

"Stupify!" shouted Harry. Again, nothing happened. Apparently, magic did not work here...wherever here was.

Harry hurried toward the woman only to almost vomited when he got to her. Blood was everywhere. Her throat had been slit ear-to-ear. Her clothes had been pulled up and apart, and she had been sliced open from the waist to her breastbone. Several of her internal organs, including her intestines, liver, kidneys, and pancreas had been pulled out of her body. One of her kidneys was separated from the rest and sitting to the side.

Harry ran back into the street yelling for help. Several people ran to him. After a moment, a pair of bobbies arrived and started blowing their whistles. The situation soon bordered on chaos as everyone was talking about this person they called Jack the Ripper.

It took some time, but once Harry answered all of the questions from the detectives and things calmed down, he made it to the inn suggested by the waitress. He paid for the night and went up to his room. It took what seemed to be an eternity, but he finally finished washing the blood off his hands and arms. He was surprised it had not gotten onto his clothing. As he got into bed, his mind was awash with fear and wonder about what tomorrow would bring.

In his young life, he had already faced Voldemort twice. He had fought a basilisk and a dragon. He had saved his godfather through fights with a werewolf and dementors. However, none of this prepared him for what he had witnessed that night. He felt truly alone for the first time since coming to Hogwarts.

As he tried to go to sleep, Harry wished someone was there to help him. Even though he was mad at Ron because of a prank he played on him last night, he wanted him there to crack a joke. Where was Hermione's incredible brain when he needed it? She might be able to make sense of all of this craziness? He even thought of Luna, whose unique ways of looking at things just might help.

It took some time to clear the ugliest parts of the horror of what he had seen from his mind. Eventually, he drifted off into sleep wondering how he had gotten here.

End of Chapter 1 Notes

The serial killer in this chapter was Jack the Ripper...also known as Red Jack, the Whitechapel Murderer, and Leather Apron. He is one of, if not the most famous serial killers of all time.

An Oraculum is an illustrated calendar of all of the days of the world, each having a special name and meaning which inhabitants take as prophecy.

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