CHAPTER THREE

"I'm going to Pomfrey to see about this raging headache I've got," Lily Evans told her best friend, Dorcas Meadowes, and got up from her chair in the common room to head towards the infirmary.

Not one hundred yards from the Gryffindor entrance, the headache dissipated, and her head was as clear as a bell. She scowled, and headed back towards the common room.

Dorcas looked up from her transfiguration textbook, and said, "That was fast."

Lily shook her head in confusion, and sank into her seat. "It cleared up."

Dorcas frowned, and twirled her quill. "Maybe you should see Pomfrey anyway. That's been happening a lot these couple of days—these sudden headaches of yours."

"Maybe I will," Lily said, picking up her quill. "After finishing this transfiguration homework."

In the middle of working out the difference between transfiguring metals into plant matter, and plant matter into metals, Lily felt someone staring at her from behind. At first, she ignored it, thinking it was Potter being his usual annoying self, but then it got on her nerves. She turned around, and from across the common room, saw that it wasn't Potter, but Harris. Instantly, two competing impulses sprang up: one part of her was shouting in flaming thirty foot letters, while another part of her was telling her that there was nothing to notice.

Her head pounded. She rubbed her temples.

"Headache again?" said Dorcas. "Come on, let's go to the infirmary."

Lily shook her head. "It'll just clear up in five minutes."

"But it'll come back," she said, and before Lily could argue, Dorcas hoisted her up from the chair and pushed her towards the entrance.

Pomfrey listened to her symptoms, examined her, then nodded to herself. The mediwitch went away, before coming back with a vial of lime green potion. "Take this whenever you get a headache. That should get you through it, you poor thing."

Lily took the potion, and swirled the green liquid, causing it to ooze in a disgusting manner. She shuddered. "But what's causing my headaches? Will it go away any time soon?"

Madam Pomfrey avoided meeting her eyes. "I can't say."

"Please?"

Pomfrey hesitated, before saying, "It's not anything to do with your health. It's more…something in your environment—that's temporary. Now run off, the both of you, I'm swamped."

Lily glanced at the empty infirmary, before leaving. Out in the corridor, she said to Dorcas, "She knows something. But she won't tell me." She took another look at the potion, before grimacing and pocketing the vial. "I won't take some nasty thing if I don't have to."

"Pomfrey said that it had something to do with your environment," said Dorcas. "That means it's magical. Perhaps someone put a hex on you?"

Lily shook her head. "I think if it was something of the sort, Pomfrey would just tell me, or take it off of me. There's something strange going on. If only I knew what."

They got to the staircases, and saw Mott and Lucas, two fifth year Slytherins, dangling what looked like a first year over a staircase, laughing and jeering. Lily scowled, and whipped out her wand. "Put him down, now!"

Mott turned around, and said, "Don't mind if we do," and let go of the first year.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The first year floated up and landed on the staircase. Lily saw the red face of David Ackerby, a Gryffindor first year. He looked at her, and panted out, "Thanks, Evans."

But Lily shook her head. "That wasn't me."

"But I'm sure she would have got there a second later," said a familiar, hated voice behind her. Lily turned around, already knowing who she'd see. Potter was climbing the stairs behind her, smirking at her.

"Thanks, Potter," said Ackerby, beaming at him. "If you hadn't been there, I'd have been a goner."

"Of course," said Potter, then said, "You all right?"

Ackerby nodded. "Yeah. Just a little out of breath. But if you hadn't been there…" He shuddered and fell silent.

Lily glared at Mott and Lucas. "Do you know what you two almost did? How dangerous that was?"

Lucas shrugged. "Not really. That wasn't more than a little scare."

"He could have fallen—"

"We'd have caught him in time," said Mott. "We usually do."

"Ten points from Slytherin," hissed Lily, frustrated that she couldn't take away more points. "And detention. I'll be sure to tell Professor Adder about you two."

Mott and Lucas scowled, and looked as if they wanted to do something more, before looking from Lily to Dorcas to Potter. They nodded and left. Dorcas bent down and questioned Ackerby on what happened.

"So, Evans," said Potter from her left side. "I think I should get a reward for such a good deed," he said, and gave her a suggestive look. "How about going out with me to Hogsmeade?"

"That was a nice thing you did, Potter," she said, and Potter looked expectant, "So I'll just leave off the insults, and say no," and Potter deflated.

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After the hippogriff incident, Harry was called to Dumbledore's office. The headmaster looked uncharacteristically solemn. Harry knew it was serious when Dumbledore didn't offer him a lemon drop, and the ever present twinkle from his eyes was gone.

"I don't think I impressed upon you the importance of discretion, the last time we spoke," said Dumbledore, looking grim.

"I know I'm not supposed to change anything, tell anyone anything about the future, sir," said Harry.

"Yes, but you have to do more than that," said Dumbledore. "You must keep a low profile, and avoid drawing notice, like you did last Thursday in Care of Magical Creatures. While that sort of mischief may be acceptable in your own time in that it would merely result in disciplinary measures and a trip to the infirmary, in this time it draws needless attention that could have unseen, drastic repercussions on the timeline."

"I'll remember that the next time," said Harry, chastened. "I just didn't think it would be a big deal. Ha—er, the professor in my time let us ride hippogriffs when we studied them during my third year, and I didn't stop to think that Professor Kettleburn might not have, er, approved."

"I see," said Dumbledore, softening somewhat. "Harry, you still have to be careful. Even more careful this time, since I need to modulate the Unremarkable Spell I placed on you."

"What?" said Harry.

"I put too much force behind it, which has affected the other students. Mr. Lupin couldn't remember his detentions. The students you partnered with in your classes couldn't recall their lessons, and the professors didn't remember to grade your work. A Gryffindor student complained of headaches to Madam Pomfrey." Dumbledore opened a drawer, and pulled out a thick book. "I managed to procure this from the Unspeakables."

"What is it?" said Harry.

"Their case files of time travelers and their mishaps," said Dumbledore, pushing the tome towards him.

Harry checked the last page on the back; the book was more than a thousand pages, and the print was tiny. He didn't need to read them all, he knew some of them. Between the summer of their third and fourth years, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had camped out in the paddock outside the Burrow, built a fire, and told each other scary stories. Harry had told tales from what he remembered from watching the telly before the Dursleys noticed he was in the room, Ron had told the most elaborate grisly tales with plenty of blood and gore, and Hermione told stories about time travelers changing time in a low, fearful whisper.

"I understand," Harry said.

"Keep it for awhile. Read some of it," said Dumbledore. He folded his hands on top of the desk, and looked at him over the top of his spectacles, and his eyes gained a bit of a twinkle. "On other matters, I've looked into the spell you did. Your two friends should have been pulled into the same area of time as you."

Harry sat up straight in his seat, stomach twisting in anticipation. "You mean they're here?"

"Not now," said Dumbledore, with a shake of his head. "Since the three of you did not perform the spell with time travel in mind, you were all flung back in time inaccurately. I think you were the one who arrived first, temporally. The others may arrive later."

"Do you have any idea when?" said Harry, his heart in his throat.

"No. Perhaps this very minute, or next week, or perhaps even a year from now," said Dumbledore. "Hopefully it is not too far. I think we need to get all three of you together before we can think about sending you back."

Dumbledore launched into a lecture on the consequences of using the Interstitial Spell, but Harry hardly heard him, wondering if there might be a fourth person who might show up. The Interstitial spell was supposed to cut through space and time, and locate Sirius—if the man was alive. That was what had convinced Hermione and Ron to agree to attempt the spell. If Sirius, who had fallen through the Veil, was alive, then they wouldn't be meddling with life and death, but saving a man from being lost in the gap between space and time. Harry felt sick with hope.

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Harry made his way to the Common Room, in a thoughtful mood. He settled into a chair by the fire, with the book a heavy weight on his legs, and flipped to the table of contents. The section entitled, "Lost Existences," caught his eye, and he flipped to that one. Time was based on probabilities. It was impossible for a person to go too far into the past, for the farther back, the more unlikely the person was supposed to have been born. If a person traveled to a time before they were born, they flickered in and out of existence, subject to the probabilities of their being born, or not born. Harry read the last sentence about the flickering existence, puzzling out the meaning.

The slamming portrait jostled him out of his reading. Lily Evans, wearing a green dress and make-up, burst in, her wand in hand. Her eyes scanned the room, and located James Potter. "Potter, you git, I know it was you!"

"You wanted me, Evans?" James stood up from his seat on the sofa, where he'd been sitting next to Wormtail.

"Take the curse off of him," said Lily, leveling her wand at him.

"Don't know what you're talking about," said James, giving her a bland look.

"You're taking the curse off Gideon, if I have to Stun you, and drag you there myself," said Lily.

"I will if you go out with me," said James, ruffling his hair.

"After what you pulled, cursing my date—"

"He's a wanker. You can do better than that," said James.

"Get this through your thick head, Potter," said Lily in a scathing voice. "You're a great big, bullying git. I'd rather bathe in acid than spend one more second in your company. Now tell me how to take the curse off Gideon."

Over in his seat, Harry's face flushed so hard that his glasses began to fog up, and he squirmed in his chair, and wondered how he'd managed to get born in the first place.

James' face had flushed. "There isn't a counter-curse. That tosser will just have to suffer for a week."

Harry didn't know what happened next, because he flickered out of existence.