CHAPTER 3
"We are gathered here today to pay tribute to those who are no longer among us. It's been eight years since Lord Voldemort's wrath has been defeated. It was right here, on Hogwarts grounds, that he drew his last breath and for that we are forever grateful. Therefore, this is as much a day to celebrate as it is to mourn. Mourn those who were brave enough to stand up against all prejudice and lost their lives in the process. The war was won. Victory was ours, but we need to remind ourselves of the costs."
Remembrance Day. Harry had been dreading this since… ever. He personally thought that mourning a loved one was such a private thing that doing a big spectacle of it in public didn't make sense. It was all just an excuse for the Ministry of Magic get even more attention, wear some fancy clothes, while photographers took their pictures and they appeared on the front page of the Daily Prophet, with fake tears and fake concern.
Pay tribute? More like great publicity.
Harry had tried to wiggle out of being part of this celebration since day one, but it turns out people seemed to notice if the Saviour of the Wizarding World skipped Remembrance Day.
Couldn't people just leave the past where it belongs? Why did they feel the need to drag their suffering wherever they went? Remembering? He didn't need an excuse to remember, he remembered every single day. It was forgetting what he craved. So, as usual, Harry tried to avoid the event, but hadn't been allowed to.
It's good for morale, Robards had said, although Harry felt like the Head Auror didn't care much for the memorial either.
So, this is how he was spending his Sunday morning. At Hogwarts, with people he didn't even know, talking about the dead. Tables with food and drinks were put near the Training Grounds, where first-year students use to have flying lessons. Every year, the people were summoned to hear pompous Ministry workers make speeches about the importance of unity and perseverance. There was a small stage in which all the important Ministry workers stood, while the crowd listened intently (some managed to get a seat in a set of chairs right at the front).
"Let us honor our loved ones and remember the lives of the people who fought here, exactly eight years ago, against the purest form of evil ever encountered, and failed. Let us remember the ones who stood up against the Dark Lord and faced his lack of mercy. Let us remember Alastor Moody, Amelia Bones, Bathilda Bagshot, Bertha Jorkins, Charity Burbage, Colin Creevy, Cedric Diggory, Frank Bryce…"
Kingsley Shacklebolt was a good Minister but he was still a fucking politician which meant that he had to do these things from time to time. His speech was taking way too long, though, and Harry was beginning to feel restless.
It had been almost three weeks since Harry received Janine's phone call. When he arrived at the Inn, he saw that someone had, indeed, broken into her room. The covers from the bed were on the floor, the drawers from the dresser were pulled open, the contents scattered all over the furniture and floor. Someone had been looking for something they apparently hadn't found, because Janine said that nothing was missing.
What were they looking for?
And who could possibly do that? A random thief? Harry didn't think so. This was someone who knew exactly where they were breaking into and what they were looking for.
Since keeping Janine at the Inn was no longer possible, and fearing for her safety, Harry had no choice but to get her out of there. She couldn't go to Godric's Hollow because it was in ruins, so he took her to one of the Ministry safe houses, used to protect people who were put in the Witness Protection Program. He still wanted to keep Janine's existence as secret as possible, so he'd conveniently forgot to inform the Auror Department. He wouldn't be able to keep her in the safe house for long, though. Sooner or later, it was going to be needed to house a threatened person providing testimonial evidence to the Wizarding's Legal System, but it would do for now.
How long do you plan on keeping me here?
As long as it takes.
He'd given Janine specific instructions to not leave the place and not talk to anyone. The less people she came in contact, the better. If she really came from the Past, God knows how much the timeline had already changed by her just being here.
"And now Mr. Harry Potter would like to say a few words." Kingsley's words interrupted his thoughts like a thunder. He rose his eyes to the stage and saw the Minister give him an apologetic look.
Seriously?
Reluctantly, Harry made his way onto the stage and took the Minister's place, addressing the crowd. And as he stood there, looking at those eager faces, he found himself speechless. What was he supposed to say? Simple things turned to complex issues when you're the Saviour. Words gain different meanings; people interpret them whichever way they want. That's why Harry dreaded public speaking. When his job required him to talk to the press, he always kept their encounters brief.
The silence prolonged itself, yet every person in the crowd kept their eyes glued to him. Waiting. What were they expecting him to say? Deciding to just wing it, he opened his mouth to speak.
"Cheers," said Harry, mostly because he didn't know what to say. He raised his butterbeer and took a generous sip, leaving the stage as quick as possible, before Kingsley had the time to rope him into doing something else he didn't want to.
The crowd was silent for a while, clearly expecting something else. They're always expecting.
Then, the sound of someone clapping was heard. Soon, more people started clapping until everybody was on their feet, clapping loudly and nodding their approval. As Harry was leaving the stage, he saw some familiar faces making their way towards him, which made him curse under his breath. They would never let him hear the end of it.
"Cheers, mate!" Ron Weasley smirked as he raised his pint.
"That was some standing in ovation," said George, as he patted Harry on the back. "From which Dark Wizard did you save the world this time?"
"He doesn't need to save the world anymore. Harry's reached a point in his life that all he has to do is show up and everybody cheers," observed Ron with a grin.
"Yeah," Charlie agreed, as he gripped Harry's hand in a firm handshake. "He could as easily have burped and the whole crowd would've gone wild."
"Stop pestering him! Honestly, you're a thirty-year-old man. Don't you ever grow up?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Hello, Harry, dear, how are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Molly," said Harry as he received a bone crushing hug from the Weasley family matriarch. He also received greetings from Percy, his wife Penelope and Hermione. "Where's Arthur?"
"Oh, he's standing over there with Bill, talking to Paul Wright, Bill's new boss," she said dismissively.
"We're just having a bit of fun with our brother, here," said George, casually lifting his right arm over Harry's shoulders. Harry would never admit out loud how his heart melted at hearing those words. The fact that the Weasleys still considered him family after all this time was something that astonished him, especially since he felt responsible for Fred's death. "We're admiring his many qualities, delivering speeches obviously not being one of them."
"People seemed to like it," Harry shrugged.
"That's not saying much. You could drop a turd and people would love it." Harry looked past the Weasleys and saw Ginny giving him a cheeky grin.
But Harry didn't have time to respond, because George started to carry him across the street, away from the crowd. "Come on, people. I don't know about you, but I'm famished. What if we continue this conversation around a steak and kidney pie?"
"I'll second that," said Ron eagerly.
"You just ate thirty minutes ago!" said Hermione.
"Bloody hell, has it been that long?"
Harry shared an amused look with Ginny. Some things never change. Harry could swear that Ron and Hermione's bickering got worse since they'd gotten married.
After lunch, Harry said goodbye to the Weasleys and, with the excuse that he needed to buy some groceries, passed by the safe house where Janine was currently staying. The small house had been placed under the Fidelius Charm with Harry as its Secret Keeper, so he found it easily and slipped inside. Janine was sitting at the kitchen table; the dishes washing themselves on the sink.
"Hey," he greeted, announcing his presence.
She looked at him, surprised but relieved to see him. "Hey."
"How are you settling in?"
"It's been a month. I settled in a long time ago."
Okay, guess he deserved that. He did bring her here and pretty much left her with no explanations.
"I've been busy," he said simply, as that explained everything. He honestly didn't know why he hadn't visited her before. He wasn't being purposely rude, yet he'd still avoided coming here. "And I didn't have any developments on your situation."
"Have you got some now? Developments, that is." She had a hard look on her face, but she kept her anger in check.
"No." Harry hold her gaze, refusing to bow his head in shame.
She was sizing him up. She didn't know if he could trust him to hold his word. And he hadn't made his mind up about her yet. The notion that this woman could be his mother still hadn't sunk in.
"I see."
She wanted answers, Harry knew. But he didn't have any answers. Only questions.
Suddenly, he realised why he didn't come here sooner. He was afraid of the answers for the questions he wanted to make. Because if they were true, what did it mean about his life?
The last time he cried his parents' death had been a long time ago. Although hard, he'd made a life for himself. He graduated Hogwarts, got a job, made friends, a girlfriend… Defeated Voldemort. Despite being an orphan, he pulled through. He had still been able to learn how to do everything.
His mother had not been there to wipe away his tears when Dudley's friends were stalking him around school, but that was okay. He had learned how to fight bullies on his own. His father hadn't been there to teach him how to shave when the first facial hairs started to appear. But that was okay too, because Mr. Weasley taught him the spell to make them go away. His parents weren't there to teach him all about the Wizarding World, yet he'd learned all about it anyway. He didn't need them. Not anymore. He was fine. There wasn't anything they could do for him now. Everything's already been done.
But he had been placed in Gryffindor, once. It was time to remember why.
"I'd like to know more about your story," said Harry as he sat down on the table with Janine. "All of it."
"What do you want to know?" she asked.
"What's your husband's name?"
"James. James Potter," said Janine.
"Where do you live?"
"In Godric's Hollow, a small village to the west. That's where I went when I first figured out something was… different."
"Yes, you said it was destroyed."
"It is. Did something happen?"
"Yes. A long time ago."
She didn't press and Harry was thankful. He wasn't ready to reveal everything yet. It may not be real, he feared. Or was it hoped? He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what came next.
"Was anyone else living with you there, besides your husband?" he asked.
"Yes, our son, Alex. He's sixteen."
Harry sighed inwardly. That didn't match reality. But his relief was brief, for when he looked at Janine closely, he saw a haunted look on her face.
"Where is he now?" he asked.
"At Hogwarts. He's a student, of course."
There was no way around it. He just had to do it. Before he changed his mind.
Like ripping off a band aid.
"Anyone else?"
It was instant, the way her eyes watered, face scrunched in pain. "No," Janine replied, avoiding his stare. When he thought she wasn't going to develop, she added "We had a son, but he died twenty-four years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault," she reassured, refusing to let her unshed tears fall.
"Whose fault was it, then?"
Harry felt bad, probing on Janine's grief like this, but he had to know. This was no time to be soft.
She fixed her gaze on Harry's. "Who said it was anyone's fault?"
There was that look again. She had it when they first met at the Auror Department. Cautious. Wary. Like she was trying to make the pieces of really complicated puzzle fit.
"I have a feeling there's a story there," he said.
"A feeling?"
"Yes. Kind of like the feeling you said you had about me. That you could trust me."
Harry saw recognition in her eyes, but she didn't look thoroughly convinced.
"You want me to trust you, when it's perfectly clear you don't trust me," she observed.
"I trust that you believe you're telling the truth."
Janine must have thought that explanation was enough for now for she didn't say anything.
"Voldemort killed him," she eventually said.
"Why?"
"He saw Harry as an enemy. That was his name, Harry." Harry tried to keep an impassive expression, refraining from showing any emotion that might give his thoughts away. "Like yours."
He ignored that last part. "You said he died twenty-four years ago. That means he was just a baby when Voldemort killed him. Why would he feel threatened by a baby?"
"A prophecy was made about him and Harry."
Neither can live while the other survives.
"Yes." Janine looked surprised.
Shit. Had he said that out loud?
"Do you think there's a possibility that you may be confused?" suggested Harry.
"You just said that you trusted that I believe I was telling the truth! Now you think I'm lying?" Janine looked angry.
"No."
"I said my piece. Now it's time for you to tell me yours."
Harry ran a hand through his hair and gave a frustrated sigh. He didn't know what to think of this. He hadn't known since she first showed up at the Ministry.
"You were at the Department of Mysteries when you figured everything was different," he started.
"Well, yes. But I opened a door that led to the atrium apparently," explained Janine. "That's when I realized things weren't as I remembered them."
"It's called the Department of Mysteries for a reason," Harry stated. "Nobody knows what happens there. Everything's pretty much a big mystery."
"So?" she dared him.
"So, if you're using a Time-Turner, you can only stay in the past for five hours at a time, without messing up time itself."
"You think someone used a Time-Turner," Janine said. It wasn't a question. "But you said Time-Turners can't be used anymore, that they were destroyed in some battle."
"Yes. Well, I found out recently that the Department of Mysteries may have gotten their hands on a Time-Turner, a usable one, and is doing experiments with it."
"What kind of experiments?"
"I don't know yet. And it might not even be true. It's just a theory."
"That you believe," she accused. "Otherwise you wouldn't be telling me this."
Harry got a sudden surge of anger. How would she know what he would or wouldn't tell her? She didn't know him. She didn't know anything about him.
"I don't belong here, do I?" Janine muttered, oblivious to Harry's internal monologue. "That's why everything is familiar, yet different, somehow. Why I don't remember things that supposedly happened. Because they didn't happen, not yet."
"We don't know if that's the case yet."
"Well, what other explanation could there be?"
"Yes, the theory fits, but-"
"But what?" Janine was desperate for answers. Harry understood her completely, having a hard time dealing with the unknown himself, but she had to be patient.
"There are inconsistencies between your version of events and what really happened in the past," he explained.
"What inconsistencies?" she asked right away. Harry avoided her gaze.
"You know me," she accused, finally catching up. "The Lily from the Present, you know her!"
"I don't know you," said Harry, sounding angrier than what he would like to show. "But do I know about you."
"What do you know about me?" demanded Janine. When Harry didn't say anything, she got frustrated. "I've been here for weeks, I have no idea what happened to my husband or the world, for that matter. I've been scared beyond my mind. I know you know things." She pointed a finger at Harry. "Things you won't tell me. And I haven't asked, but I'm starting to lose my patience."
"I just have to be sure first," Harry mumbled.
"Of what?!"
"That you are who you claim to be."
"So it's about trust. I told you everything about me, things that no other person should know about! Secrets. But you can't do the same?"
Harry laughed bitterly. "Don't even try, Janine. You can't fool me."
"Fool you? What makes you think that I want to fool you?"
Harry lost his temper. "Oh, come on! I have a feeling you can be trusted? You just met me! You really think I believe that shit? You don't trust me, you're desperate. God knows I have a lot of flaws, but if there's something I've always been proud of is that I'm an excellent judge of character."
"So you think I'm evil?" she assumed.
"No," said Harry. "I think you're smart. You've been analyzing this the whole time, ever since you arrived. And you came to the conclusion that I'm the best bet you've got, if you want to get you back to whatever the hell it is you came from."
"Don't flatter yourself." Janine folded her arms and leaned back in the kitchen chair, seemingly unimpressed. "I can just as easily go to another Auror. You're not that special. You just happen to be the one your secretary led me to."
"Why don't you go then?" He was starting to really lose it. "Go find another Auror, if you think I'm that useless!"
"Really?" Janine dared. "I may just do it. But that wouldn't be good for you, would it?" She got up and started pacing. "I'm not stupid. I know you've been keeping me here under the radar. You don't want anyone to know about me."
"True," admitted Harry. "I have my reservations. But so do you."
"Believe me, I have no reservations. I'm desperate, isn't that what you said? I just want to go back to the world I know as soon as possible. I'm an open book."
"I'm guessing whatever you were doing in the Department of Mysteries wasn't exactly legal. You want to keep this as low profile as possible."
Harry had figured her out. Her innocent exterior was just that, an exterior. On the inside she was something else. She was not as naïve as she wanted him to perceive her as. No, she was cunning, she had a plan. Plus, she was desperate. She already lost a son, now her husband and child were missing? Janine had nothing left to lose. And that made her dangerous.
"So what now?" She was changeling him.
"Now, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. We don't need to trust each other."
It was a mutual agreement.
"I know why you're keeping me here," she accused him. "You don't want me to run into your Lily, the one from here."
Yes, that's exactly it.
"Imagine the colossal disaster if somebody significant saw you," he explained. "We don't know the consequences it would bring, I'm sure you can understand that."
"I do," she agreed. "I will do what you say, Harry, but sooner or later, you're going to have to answer to my questions."
Let's hope that day never comes.
xxx
The talk with Janine had drained all the energy out of Harry's, more than he'd anticipated. But appearing tired was not that uncommon (being an overworked Auror and all), so the fact that he spent the rest of the day in his head, wrestling with his thoughts, and barely acknowledging his girlfriend's presence didn't raise too much suspicion at home. Apart from a sarcastic comment about the invisibility of the groceries Harry had supposedly gone to buy, she left him pretty much to himself.
Harry was grateful because that way he didn't have to lie to her. She was good like that. Never pressed and God knows she probably deserved to. But she seemed to know exactly that was the last thing he needed. She always knew how to handle him. That's probably why they had been together for three years. Harry knew he wasn't an easy person to be around. He had mood swings, was always working, and was emotionally closed off. But she loved him. At least, that's what she said.
Later that day, at night, when Harry was preparing himself for bed, he thought he saw something from his bedroom window, when he went to close the curtains – a shadow by the lamp post. But as he looked closer, he saw nothing there.
"What is it?" he heard his girlfriend ask. She was already in bed.
"I think I saw someone out there," he said, still looking out the window.
"Who?"
"I didn't see his face. Only a shadow."
"Then how do you know it was a person?"
"I-"
"Let me guess, you have a feeling?" she asked.
Harry took his eyes of the road outside and focused them on his girlfriend.
"The war's over, Harry," she added wisely.
"I know."
She gave a heavy sigh. "Sometimes I don't think you do. Come to bed. It was probably just a dog."
Harry wanted to say that the last time he saw a dog at night, it turned out to be his godfather, who he didn't know he had, that had escaped from Azkaban. But he decided to keep that to himself. He didn't need another family member jumping out of the shadows and rope him into another chaotic mess. He'd had enough trouble for a lifetime.
xxx
The next couple of weeks, Harry tried to discover something more about the Department of Mysteries. He wanted to find out if what Neville told him was true: if the Department of Mysteries was really doing experiments with Time-Turners and what they were hoping to achieve. Much to his frustration, though, he didn't find any. There was very few information about the department in the Ministry Archives.
Harry checked in on Janine a couple of times, talked a little bit. It was more to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't do anything stupid that would expose her. She didn't press him for information again, yet Harry could see she was on edge. She hadn't been outside for a very long time, had nothing to distract her besides an old muggle television Harry had found on a dumpster once and had it fixed.
He wasn't much better himself either. The pressure was starting to get to him; the disappointment of not being able to confirm his theories was driving him mad. He barely slept, couldn't concentrate at work. His girlfriend started to ask questions. Harry had blamed it on the job, saying he was having a tough time cracking a case, which wasn't a lie. Hermione started to notice too. She kept giving him these side glances that drove him up the wall. Even Ron made a comment about the fact he'd been even grumpier than usual. He wouldn't be able to keep this charade much longer. Something had to happen, fast.
He entertained the idea in his head of just going to the Department of Mysteries himself and demand answers. But he knew the second he got there, he would have no idea what to do or where to go.
Harry had only been to the Department of Mysteries once, when he was fifteen, and it had not been a pleasant experience. He still felt his memory foggy when he tried to remember specifics about that place. Behind the black door, which led into the Department, was the Entrance Chamber, which was designed to disorient any unauthorized personnel who entered it. It was a circular room with a dark marble floor that looked almost like standing water, candles emitting a cool blue light, and twelve handleless doors. Whenever a door closed, the walls would rotate, making it impossible to determine which door was which. There was only one way Harry could get into the Department – get an authorization. For that, he'd have to reveal the nature of his visit to Robards, which was out of the question.
Then, one Friday evening, completely out of the blue, Harry had an epiphany. He was at the Leaking Cauldron (he and Ron had agreed to meet there for drinks). He was scanning the pub, looking for his friend, when he saw her at the counter talking with a friend, which Harry recognized as being Parvati Patil.
Have you been talking to Lavender?
Neville's words echoed in his mind. Yes, the theory of the experiments with time came from the Auror Department's receptionist. Normally, he wouldn't give her the time of the day, but Harry was feeling desperate. He needed to solve this, so Janine could go back and everything could go back to normal.
And it was the best plan he had. Even if Lavender were to open her mouth about their conversation, it wouldn't matter. The probability of anyone paying attention to what the ditzy blond was saying was very low anyway.
When Parvati went to the loo, Harry decided to take the opportunity and approached Lavender.
"Oh, hello, Harry," greeted Lavender, as she flipped her hair with her hand, showing her perfectly manicured nails. "Can I help you with something?"
The effort it took to not roll his eyes was overwhelming, but Harry managed to do it. He wanted to get on her good side.
"Hi, Lavender. I just wanted to see how you were doing."
"Oh." She looked positively surprised. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. No one really does that at the Department. It's like I'm invisible, you know? I'm actually really excited about our wedding! Sean and I are planning to have this huuuge chocolate fountain and we're going to have doves spreading flower hearts all over the guests while Celestina Warbeck's You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me plays in the background! Oh, and Sean and I are going to write our own vows! There'll be a huge slideshow of photographs of us portraying our love for each other."
"It sounds lovely," Harry lied.
"I know, I'm a genius," Lavender giggled and Harry found himself, once again, refraining from rolling his eyes.
God, even her laugh is annoying.
It looked like he wouldn't be able to keep this conversation going for much longer. Besides, Parvati could come back any minute and Harry didn't want her here for this. Best to keep it short. He just had to find the right way to approach the subject.
Lavender was still laughing. "Anyway, enough about me! How are you doing?"
There was his opening.
"Well, not so good to tell you the truth," said Harry, with fake weariness.
"Oh, no. What happened? Trouble at home?" she asked, thrilled at the prospect of having fresh gossip to spread.
"No," Harry answered promptly. "It's about a case, actually. I'm interviewing this suspect who's accusing the Department of Mysteries of some really shady things," he added casually.
"Oh, really?"
Harry nodded.
"What's he saying?" Lavender asked.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to bore you with the details," said Harry. "Besides, it's kind of top-secret stuff. I'm not supposed to tell you."
Lavender was leaning forward, her interest obviously growing exponentially. "Oh, I won't tell a soul."
Harry made a show of looking around him, hoping to look like he was indecisive. "I don't know. I could lose my job… Okay, I will tell you this. This bloke seems to believe the Department of Mysteries has found a Time-Turner and is doing experiments with it, which is a load of rubbish, of course. Everybody knows Time-Turners don't work anymore."
"All but one."
Harry made a fake surprise face. "Really?"
"Yeah, it seems not all Time-Turners were destroyed in 1996."
"And how do you know this?"
"Oh, you know Ivan Azarov? Gorgeous, but a bit grouchy. He's an Unspeakable. He told me once, after sex. For a man of few words, he did let it all out that night. I mean, we were going out for two weeks and he still wouldn't tell me what he did for a living. Parvati used to urge me to get away from him, she'd insist he was hiding something and was probably going to murder me in my sleep," Lavender laughed. "Isn't it crazy?"
"I thought your fiancé's name was Sean," said Harry.
Lavender made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "I dated Ivan four years ago, way before Sean. Had to let him go, though. I mean, he was gorgeous, but a bit grouchy," she repeated. "And no fun. Always looked like he had this giant stick up his arse. Oh, kind of like you."
Lavender laughed again, which made Harry close his eyes and count to ten mentally.
"Anyway," continued Lavender. "He finally told me he worked at the Department of Mysteries, after a particularly wild night, if you know what I mean. He was under a lot of pressure, didn't agree with the things they were making him do. I guess he had a falling out with his boss. It was only months after our break up that I heard that he was on leave and ended up in St. Mungo's."
"St. Mungo's," Harry reapeated. "Did his boss get physical with him?"
"Oh, no, he was in the ward for the Maladies of the Mind," Lavender shrugged. "Apparently, he went cuckoo and jumped out of a fifth floor."
"Why?"
"No idea. But it didn't surprise me. Ivan always seemed rather conflicted. Anyway, he was the one who told me about the experiments they did in the Department. They were obsessed with Time, wanted to control it."
Harry wanted to ask what for, but he saw Parvati coming back from the loo and decided to end the conversation. "I have to go, Lavender. Thanks for the talk."
"Oh, did it help with your case?" she asked, distractively.
"Uh, yeah. I'll see you at work."
Harry left the pub in a hurry, barely sparing a glance to Parvati, who didn't seem all too pleased about being ignored. His heart was racing and his mind kept telling him he was onto something. He had to know if what Lavender had just told him was true.
Thinking he would make it up to Ron later, he apparated immediately to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and made his way to the lift, completely ignoring the receptionist's plea to stop. He got out on the last floor, the ward for Maladies of the Mind, where he was stopped by a thin, black-haired woman. She had a long face and lantern jaw, which was shut, reminding Harry too much of his aunt Petunia.
"Hello, can I help you?" asked the woman in a stern voice. Her name tag read Patricia Harris, Healer.
"Yes, I'm here to see an Ivan Azarov," said Harry, hoping the Petunia look-a-like wouldn't be an obstacle.
"I'm sorry," said the Healer who looked anything but sorry. "But visiting hours are over. You'll have to come back tomorrow sometime between 2 and 7 p.m."
"This is urgent. It can't wait till tomorrow."
"Yes," said Patricia. "That's what everyone says."
"My name's Harry Potter, I'm an Auror," insisted Harry, reaching for his Ministry identification. "I need to speak with Mr. Ivan Azarov as soon as possible."
"Are you family?"
"Uh, no."
"Then you're going to have to come back tomorrow between the hours of 2 and 7."
Shit.
"Harry?" Another woman approached them and Harry was surprised to see the face of Hannah Abbot.
"Hannah? What are you doing here?" asked Harry.
"I thought that was you. I'm a Healer in training, so I help out here sometimes," she explained. "What are you doing here?"
Harry couldn't remember if Neville ever mentioned that his girlfriend was studying to be a Healer, but, in that moment, he was glad to see her.
"I need to speak to a patient here," he answered. "Right now. It's urgent."
"Yes, well," said Patricia. "He's going to have to wait until tomorrow, because rules stipulate that-"
"It's okay, Patricia," interrupted Hannah. "I'll handle it from here."
Patricia Harris seemed to be offended by the dismissal, but didn't say a word and left.
Hannah turned to Harry. "Do you have special authorization from Robards?"
"I left it at home."
Hannah looked at him, obviously not believing the lie. "Is it important?"
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."
"Who do you want to talk to?" asked Hannah, motioning for him to follow her.
"His name's Ivan Azarov," answered Harry as they walked through a long corridor. "He's supposed to be on this ward."
"Azarov? Are you sure?"
"Yes. Why?"
"No reason," said Hannah. "I just don't see how useful he can be. He's been in and out of St. Mungo's for years. Stays for a month or two, then gets discharged. Goes home, seemingly better, but eventually ends up here again."
"What happened to him?"
"His chart says he first arrived to St. Mungo's due to a mental breakdown and was diagnosed with Burnout Syndrome. Can't get two sentences out of him that make sense. Erratic speech, anxiety, paranoia. He worked at the Ministry until he was fired."
Hannah led him into the Day Room, where the patients of the ward spent their day doing activities like painting, writing, playing chess or Exploding Snap, or just socializing with each other.
"What was he fired for?" asked Harry as his eyes scanned the room, trying to spot Azarov. He'd been here before interviewing witnesses so he was familiar with the place.
"Don't know. He was an Unspeakable, so that information still remains classified. Here he is."
They approached a man sitting in the back of the room, looking out of the window with an apathetic expression.
"Hello, Mr. Azarov," greeted Hannah. "This is Auror Potter, he'd like to talk to you for a little bit, is that alright?"
Ivan Azarov was a tall bald man. His eyes were almost as black as his beard. Harry had a hard time believing this man used to work in the Department of Mysteries. Unspeakables were usually imposing people, who stayed pretty much to themselves, but still looked like they could beat someone up if they wanted to. Azarov, with his limp body and lifeless eyes, looked like he wouldn't be able to hurt a fly.
Noticing that he hadn't answered Hannah's question – or reacted to her presence at all – Harry pulled up a nearby chair and sat in front of what was left of this man.
"I'll leave you two. Call me if you need anything," said Hannah and left.
"Good evening Mr. Azarov. My name's Harry Potter, I'm with the Auror Department. Is it okay if I ask a few questions?"
Since Azarov didn't give any recognition of hearing what he said, Harry tried again. "Would you be more comfortable if someone was here with you? Healer Hannah, perhaps?" Azarov didn't move a muscle. "Would you like for something to drink?" Azarov barely blinked.
Harry gave a frustrated sigh.
"God, what am I even doing here?" he mumbled o himself.
He was beginning to doubt his instincts, the adrenaline leaving his body, his whole theory collapsing before his eyes. What did he expect? Honestly, did he really think he was going to crack this thanks to Lavender fucking Brown?
"You must be pretty desperate for coming here." Azarov's voice woke him from his self-deprecation. His eyes still looked lifeless but his posture seemed more alert.
"Why do you say that?" asked Harry, feeling hope entering him again.
"I used to be like you. Focused, relentless, never afraid of going after what I wanted, damned the consequences. Now I'm just a bloody parasite of society. Can barely hold a job, family and friends don't know how to treat you. They look at you and see a stranger. You lose your colleagues' trust, no one takes you seriously, you're a joke. You don't even recognize your reflection in the mirror anymore." Azarov looked lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, he seemed to remember Harry was there. "It's going to get to you."
"What is?"
"This." He made a vast movement with his hand. "The job. Sooner or later, it's going to get to you. The secrets, they eat you alive. You try to leave the job at work, but you can't control what happens when you sleep. That's how they get to you, through your dreams. Until you can't stop thinking about it." His eyes were suddenly wide. "And you know things. But you're not supposed to know it, no sir! You be a good boy and look the other way. It's above your paygrade!"
"Did you find something out at the Department of Mysteries? Something you were not supposed to know about?" asked Harry.
"I warned them. It didn't end well the first time, or the second, or the third, so it wasn't going to end well this time either."
"Are you talking about the experiments with Time?" asked Harry eagerly. "Did they managed to control it?"
"You can't control Time," responded Azarov as if Harry's question was completely ridiculous. His eyes were so wide Harry thought they were going to pop out at any time. "Not without going completely insane!"
Azarov started to chuckle, slowly evolving into loud fits of laughter, until his whole body shook, tears coming out of his eyes. "It doesn't matter anyway; they couldn't do it! Not for that long," he added cryptically.
Harry was confused. Were they still talking about the same thing?
Azarov continued laughing. "They're here, aren't they?"
"Who?"
"They have to go, they don't belong here!"
Was he talking about Janine? Did Azarov knew she was here?
The other patients were staring at them and moving around, starting to get anxious with the sudden noise which interrupted the once calm environment. Harry felt his whole body tense as he saw the transformation of Ivan Azarov.
Harry's eyes were fixed on him, trying to understand his words, though he still could see Hannah and another Healer hurriedly making their way to them.
"Mr. Azarov, I'm going to have to tell you to, please, calm down, you're scaring the other patients," said Hannah in a failed attempt to contain the situation.
"Sooner or later, you'll become me! They'll see to it!" Azarov was now fully agitated and moving around like he was fighting invisible enemies.
"What happened to you?" asked Harry with horror in his voice. It occurred to him he might be staring at madness itself.
"They didn't want anyone to know!"
"Mr. Azarov, please calm down," repeated Hannah.
"What? What didn't they want anyone to know about?" asked Harry. He was so close, he could feel it. "Was it the experiments? Were they bringing people from the Past?"
"Not the Past," said Azarov. He was still withering. "The Present!"
"What?" asked Harry while Hannah called out an anxious "Ivan!", trying to control the patient.
"Harry," interrupted Hannah. "You're going to have to leave."
"There's more than one!" Azarov continued shouting.
"One what?" urged Harry, ignoring his friend.
"Harry!" Hannah screamed.
Azarov stopped moving and was suddenly quiet.
"It's all happening at the same time, Harry Potter" he whispered, before allowing Hannah and the other Healer to drive him away, laughing like a maniac.
Soon Ivan Azarov was gone, leaving Harry with more questions than answers.