A/N: It's rubbishy that I should have a plot bunny hop into my head in the middle of studying Chemistry. I'm not too sure why it did either actually, just that at one point, I glanced up at my clock to see how long I've spent on the chapter, and the next thing I knew, "poof" out hops the plot bunny. *sighs* I would never have been able to continue studying in peace with that bunny hopping around in my head. So I finished off the chapter and came to write a little before I, hopefully, get back to studying.
Note: (to myself, if and when I continue this, and to anyone reading) The scene in the prologue takes place sometime before the last evening at school and after Ron and Hermione had left the hospital wing. Probably somewhere during the time period which was described in the book as: "Hermione kept showing signs of wanting to talk about Sirius, but Ron tended to make 'hushing' noises every time she mentioned his name. Harry was still not sure whether or not he wanted to talk about his godfather yet; his wishes varied with his mood."
Oh, and one last thing before I start this, I wouldn't be surprised if someone else already has a fic with a similar main idea written. I haven't actually read any, but the idea is easy enough to think of. The details and events will probably be different though. Heh, I certainly hope they are. Now, finally, on with the story!
Disclaimer: Blah blah. You know. I know. Harry Potter and its characters belong to the wonderful (no, I'm not being sarcastic here really) Miss J.K. Rowling. This is a non-profit fanfiction written by a fan for the enjoyment of other fans. So, no suing.
Remembering What Did Not Happen
By Yukirei
Prologue
"Harry," Hermione said finally. The three of them, Harry, Ron and herself, have been sitting in silence in the long-empty Gryffindor common room. It was past midnight, but none of them had made a move. Mainly because Harry didn't, choosing instead to remain seated in his chair, staring at the dying flames in the fireplace.
"Stop beating yourself up like that."
Ron gave Hermione a pointed look, which Hermione chose to ignore completely.
"It's really not your fault that Sirius-"
Ron coughed loudly. Then, standing up from his chair and stretching, a little too exaggeratedly, he said, "It's getting very late. Let's turn in."
Hermione frowned, standing up herself and turning slightly to face Ron.
"Look, we have to get him to talk. Or he'll never get over it," Hermione spoke in a low tone.
"Who says he needs to get over it?" Ron retorted, keeping his voice down as well.
"Harry, we have to talk," Hermione said in her normal voice, striding past Ron, apparently having disregarded his previous question.
"We care about you, and we don't want to see you like that." She glanced at Ron to check if he acknowledged her use of 'we'.
Ron let out a half-sigh in defeat and walked over. In a soft voice, he spoke, "Harry, we understand if you don't want to talk about it. But if you would like to, we're here for you." He paused for a moment, then continued, "It might be better to pour out what's in your heart sometimes."
Harry said nothing, his eyes remained on the fireplace.
Hermione laid a hand gently on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, are you there?"
Harry turned his head slowly to look at Hermione. Then at Ron, then back at Hermione. The look in his eyes still seemed faraway.
"It's not good to keep everything bottled up Harry," Hermione whispered, her tone far gentler now.
Harry blinked, then turned back to the fireplace. "Sometimes, I half-expect his head to pop up in there, you know? Grinning at me, telling me it's alright." His voice was barely audible.
Hermione gave Harry's shoulder a small squeeze. "There's nothing you could have done, Harry."
"Isn't there?" Something unfathomable in his voice.
Hermione gave a firm nod. "There isn't. You couldn't have gone back and prevented his death."
"We've done it before" was the whispered reply.
"What?" Hermione uttered softly, her eyebrows creasing slightly.
"We've prevented his death before," Harry repeated.
Hermione remained silent.
"Oh!" Ron exclaimed, a look of enlightenment dawning on his face. "The time when you guys went back in time to help Sirius and Buckbeak escape!"
Hermione glared hard at Ron. "Don't give him ideas," she said harshly.
Ron looked mortified.
Harry's lips curved upwards in a bitter smile. "I tried, you know."
"What?!" Hermione shouted, a horrified look on her face as she whipped around to face Harry. Then suddenly remembering that it was the middle of the night, and most, if not all, in the Gryffindor Tower besides them were asleep, she refrained from further yelling, and instead questioned anxiously in a hushed whisper, "What do you mean you tried? Where did you get the Time-Turner from?"
"From the Ministry of Magic of course," Harry replied calmly.
"But, oh Harry!" Hermione cried, sounding eerily like Mrs Weasley. "You could have been caught!"
Harry turned his head swiftly; his eyes stared into Hermione's. "I had to take the chance. You do understand that, don't you?" His eyes searched hers, imploring her to understand.
Hermione sighed, then nodded her head. "But… nothing's changed?"
Harry closed his eyes and nodded.
"Then… what did happen?" Ron asked, finally finding his voice.
There was a pause. For a moment, Harry seemed to be struggling to hold back his tears. But the moment passed, and Harry opened his eyes again.
"The question, Ron, is what did not."
TBC
A/N: And there we go, the prologue of what may be a short or long story, depending on how it turns out. Be warned that I'll probably not update for some time, I'm estimating three months (perhaps shorter?), as I need to study for my NEWTs, or the Muggle term used, "A Levels". But when that's over, I'll be back to continue this. I've a basic idea of how the story will go, so there's a high possibility that I will continue. In the meantime, I can only ask for your patience and understanding. Thank you for reading this extremely short prologue.