Chapter 4 – Harry Potter
Silas didn't care that Dumbledore, Remus, the slimy man, Hagrid and the three students were watching. He only cared that he had found his father, he was alive, and they were in each other's arms again. His father was holding him so tight he couldn't breathe, and they sobbed silently into each other's shoulders.
After a while his dad held Silas away from him so he could look into his face. Silas hurriedly wiped his eyes. "I thought I'd lost you," he said.
His father hugged him again. "I'm sorry, son," he said. "I'm so sorry."
"Where were you?"
"The Forbidden Forest," his father grunted. "Of all the absurd places to end up – " he looked around him. "Dumbledore!" he greeted him. "Thank Merlin. Is Iris here?"
Dumbledore spread his arms in bewilderment. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
"What?" Silas' father exclaimed, trying to get up. "What do you me –" suddenly he seemed to notice the other people in the room. "Remus? Snape? Hagrid?" but you all look so –"
Then his eyes fell on the other three and he swore, loudly.
"How friendly," said the redhead.
But Silas' father was looking at the black-haired boy Dumbledore had called Harry, who, now Silas came to think of it looked an awful lot like his father, except his father no longer wore glasses since someone had invented an eyesight shield charm.
The two stared at each other for a while, until Silas' dad looked down at his bloodied robes, as though in recognition. Then he looked up at the boy again. "Please don't tell me you're Harry Potter."
Silas' eyes snapped from the boy to his father's face. Was he mad? He was Harry Potter – what was he talking about?
"Yes," said the black-haired boy, looking suspicious again. "What's it to you?"
Silas was about to reply scathingly at this blatant lie, but then his father thumped back on the bed and drew his hands over his face.
"Dad," Silas said, matter-of-factly. "You know he's lying, right?"
"What – godforsaken – year is it?" his father moaned through his fingers. Dumbledore told him, and he swore worse than before.
"Don't be stupid," said Silas to Dumbledore. "That was… thirteen years ago!" He was only ten, but he could count, after all, and he wasn't stupid. Had the whole world gone mad?
A look of understanding suddenly crossed Dumbledore's face, and he sat down, quickly. "Ah," he said.
The bushy-haired girl also seemed to understand what was going on. She said, "Oh," and put one hand to her mouth. "You've had some sort of a time accident, haven't you?"
"Accident?" moaned Silas' dad, "More like disaster."
"Time?" Silas croaked. "What… sort of time?"
"Thirteen years," said his father, not removing his hands from his face. "Thirteen whole bloody years."
"Future or past," asked the black haired boy.
"Past – or at least, we're from your future. As a matter of fact," he said, raising himself on his elbows to look the boy right in the eye. "I am your future."
The boy smiled. "I thought you might be." He held out a hand. "Harry Potter."
Silas' father shook it. "Harry Potter." They grinned at each other as Silas stared at the two of them.
"Time?" Silas whispered again. "How?"
Harry the elder looked back at him. "You saw me get hit by that Stunner, didn't you?"
"That was MY fault," Silas wailed, "I couldn't hold that… that shield…"
"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said. "You're ten years old."
"But if I hadn't come downstairs…"
Harry held up a hand. "No guilt trips please," he said.
"Yes, Dad," Silas said automatically.
"I don't get it," said the red-haired boy. "How could a Stunner send you back in time?"
"The Stunner didn't, Ron," Harry said. "This did."
Wincing, he lifted a chain from around his neck over is head. From it hung the remains of a tiny hourglass. Most of the glass was missing – it was a wooden frame with jagged edges.
The girl gasped. "Didn't that hurt?" she gasped.
"Not too bad," said Mr. Potter, looking at it in disgust. "There's a considerable amount of glass in my chest, though."
"Which I intend to resolve right now," said a woman who came bustling in from a room off the ward. "Out of the way, everyone!"
"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, lying back down, the chain dangling from his hand. The woman looked surprised that he knew her name but approached nonetheless.
"Off you pop, dear," she said to Silas, still sitting on the end of the bed. Silas looked worriedly at his Dad, who nodded, and he clambered off the bed.
Madam Pomfrey waved her wand, leaving Harry in his jeans and shirt. Another wave, the bloodstained shirt disappeared, and nearly everyone winced at the sight of what lay beneath.
Silas turned away immediately and found himself enveloped in the arms of the Hermione-girl. She smelled just like his Godmother Hermione. Silas hugged her back, then sneaked a glance at his dad again. He found he could bear it the second time.
Long jagged gnashes, some with glass still sticking out of them, crisscrossed over the old scars. It was a gruesome sight. Madam Pomfrey put her hands on her hips. "Are you some sort of daredevil?" she demanded.
Silas suddenly felt hot again. "He's a hero!" he said, angrily.
"Leave it, Si," said Mr. Potter, sounding very much in need of sleep. "I get enough of that from Ron and…" he yawned. "Iris." He groaned as Madam Pomfrey extracted a shard of glass fro his chest with her wand.
"Hermione going to – ouch – kill me," he said, breathing deeply. "That Time Turner… was her idea… she spent ages… begging Dumbledore… hours at the Ministry…"
"How come?" Silas asked.
"Same reason… we got that… Portkey," said his father, gritting his teeth. "Hermione… Ron... Remus... Iris… Dumbledore… all way too protective..."
He shut his eyes and bit his lip as a fourth shard delicately made it's way out of his flesh.
"How are you holding up?" Pomfrey asked him.
"Had… worse," Harry insisted.
"You're right," Silas concluded. "Auntie Hermione is going to kill you. You promised never to get on her bad side ever again." The girl behind him giggled.
"Didn't mean to," Harry moaned. "Bloody Death Eaters…"
"How is it that you arrived here?" the slimy man said. "A mere broken time turner would have projected you in time only, not distance. You should have stayed where you were, even at a different moment in time."
"I was trying… to apparate," Harry breathed slowly. "Dumbledore's office. Spell… got muddled… didn't mean to get… separated…"
"You can't apparate inside Hogwarts grounds," the man sneered.
Harry look up at him with dull eys. "Those rules don't apply to me… anymore, " he said.
"Well," said the boy-Harry, to fill the silence which ensued at this statement. "It's good you turned up when you did. We were all set to interrogate your kid on charges of being Voldemort's son."
"You WHAT?!" Harry and Silas both yelled at the same time.
"He's a Parselmouth," boy-Harry explained. "I heard him."
"He…" Silas' father looked at him with joy and pride in his eyes. "Si… you… well, imagine. My son a Parselmouth. You done good, kid." He beckoned to the ten-year-old and hugged him one-armed around the head.
"Careful, please," said Pomfrey, still busy with Harry's wounds.
"But," Silas started. "Uncle Ron said –"
"Your uncle Ron doesn't have to find out. He still hates it when I do it, for goodness sake." Harry winced as Madam Pomfrey rubbed cleansing potion into the raw wounds.
"Still?" said the boy-Harry incredulously.
"Hey!" said the red-headed boy. "I don't hate it. Well, I don't like it, I guess…"
The two Harrys exchanged glances.
"What about Mum?" Silas asked excitedly.
"Er… you'd better not tell her," Harry said. The glass was all gone now, and a bandage was wrapping itself around him carefully. "She was uncomfortable enough about your name…"
"She'll find out anyway," Silas said proudly. "Mum can See anything."
"Only when she knows what she's looking for," Harry muttered.
"All right," said Madam Pomfrey. "You can get up now. I wouldn't recommend any strenuous activity for a few weeks – or at least until those wounds heal properly," she added at the look on Harry's face.
