CHAPTER FOUR: THE FUTURE COMES BACK TO HAUNT

He flickered back, to see a tall, brown-haired girl drag a shouting, red-faced Lily away from James. "Come on, Lily," said the girl. "Hexing him won't solve anything. Tell McGonagall. You've got a room full of witnesses that heard him admit it."

"Admit what?" said James, making a show of surprise. "That Prewett is a wanker? Yes, I freely admit I said that. Someone had to."

The girl glared at him, and Lily said, "Listen to me, Potter, that is if you can get this through your thick head. I would much rather go out with a Death Eater than you."

The room collectively gasped, making one loud sound.

James' eyes widened, and his mouth dropped. He looked as if he'd been Stunned. "What? You…I can't…Surely I'm…A Death Eater?"

Lily's green eyes glittered with venom. "And I'm a mudblood."

Harry jerked back, and the book on his lap slid to the floor with a resounding thump. Lily spun on her heel, and stalked towards the girls' stairs, with the brunette trailing her. James stood in the middle of the room, with the same stunned expression on his face.

Wormtail, and a first year boy went up to him. The first year boy got there first, looked at James with an earnest expression, and said, "She can't have meant that. I believe you when you said that you didn't curse Prewett. I mean, how could you? Did I ever thank you for saving my life from those Slytherins? Well, I know I did, but I'd like to thank you again. She'll figure out you didn't have anything to do with cursing the—"

James looked down, and seemed to pull himself together. He flashed a reckless smile, that seemed stiff around the edges. "Thanks, Ackerby. That's nice to hear." He looked around the Common Room, tousled his hair, making a show of shrugging. "Girls. Who understands them, anyway?"

Some of the boys in the room laughed, while some of the girls glared. Harry buried his face in his hands, feeling the heat of his flush. James and Wormtail went out of the Common Room. He could hear Ackerby, the first year, turn to a friend, and tell the tale of how James rescued him.

Harry felt his face grow cooler. His father must not be too bad if he saved a first year. He was just overly enthusiastic in his pursuit of his mother. No matter how many times Harry told himself this, the image of Lily's furious face and the tone of her scathing voice crowded his head. He wondered whether, if James were a stranger, and had acted that way around Hermione or Ginny, or any other girl he knew, he would have helped hold James down while they hexed him.

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On one of the most beautiful, sunny days left to autumn, before it became bitterly cold, most of the student population were out by the lake or at Hogsmeades. Except for four Gryffindor sixth years, who were in a cramped, dusty library. In the morning and afternoon, Sirius had applied himself to research with a dedication he normally reserved for pranking Snape, but now that it was early evening, he'd since drifted off, and had taken to working on the Prophet's crossword puzzle in between looking through books. Peter was slumped over the table, with a book hiding what would be his shut eyes. James's eyes had slid off the page, and he was now staring into space, twiddling with a quill. Remus was the only one who was still working.

Sirius balled up a piece of parchment, and James caught it well before it reached his head. James straightened up, and said, "What do we have so far?"

Peter made a sudden motion, causing the book in front of him to fall down. He sat up, blinking. Remus rummaged around the pile of parchment, and dug a piece out, and read off the list.

"Could be Snivellus," said Sirius. At Remus' skeptical look, he continued. "The greasy git's practically a Death Eater." James winced, but said nothing. Sirius scowled, and said, "He could be messing with your head for practice for later on."

"Not even Snape has the gall to do something like that to Kettleburn as well," said Remus.

"What? What?" said Peter, rubbing at his eyes.

"Remember, Wormtail?" said Remus in a patient voice. "I talked to Kettleburn, and he didn't even remember giving me detention, let alone the incident. He thought it was just a rumor going round in school. He even laughed."

"We might as well start a new list of suspects," said James, frowning into space, and ruffling the back of his head.

Remus took out a fresh piece of parchment, and dipped his quill in ink. "I still say it's not Snivellus."

"Put him down, anyway," said Sirius.

"Who else?" said James.

"I can't think of anyone who dislikes me enough to go so far as to hex a professor," said Remus. "The hippogriff wasn't that dangerous, or humiliating. This doesn't feel like revenge."

"Maybe someone wanted to get you to do something recklessly foolish?" said Peter, biting his nails.

Remus raised an eyebrow, and looked to James and Sirius. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Yes, Moony, I thought you needed to stop being a swot and have more fun, so I slipped something into your pumpkin juice," said Sirius, tilting his chair back.

"Then I'll put you down," said Remus in a dry tone, and a gleam in his eye.

While Remus was writing, James looked over his shoulder, and laughed. "That's accurate."

"What?" said Sirius, bringing his chair back down.

Remus held up the parchment, which read, 'World-Class Git.'

That deserved a parchment ball to his head. The research session dissolved into a four-way parchment ball fight until Madam Pince kicked them out of the library. They then raided the kitchens, then Sirius and James decided they wanted to prank any couples in the Astronomy Tower; well past midnight when they headed to bed. Crowding into their dorm, Sirius vaguely wondered when the bed in the corner had appeared. But no, that was Harris, the exchange student. He'd been there for a week, hadn't he?

Sirius fell into a deep, satisfying sleep. This week, he'd been feeling short on sleep, despite having gone to bed at a reasonable hour. He was having a dream about playing quidditch with all the bludgers being replaced by bunnies, when he heard his name. At first, he thought it was part of his dream, but then he kept hearing it. The dorm was silent, save for someone thrashing in their covers. He shut his eyes, when he heard it again.

"…not dead…get him…Sirius…"

He sat up in bed, and heard someone whimpering in pain. "Mum…Dad…he's here, he's killed… come and help me…you've got to help…Sirius…"

He slid out of bed, and followed the sound of someone moaning in their sleep. When he reached James' bed, he was surprised to find that the noise was coming from one bed further. He blinked at the new bed…Oh yes, Harris. He'd always thought that Sirius was a unique name, and that no other family was arrogant enough to name their children after celestial bodies. But perhaps Harris hadn't meant, "Sirius," but "serious".

"He hasn't gone! Sirius, come back!"

Sirius felt a chill of fear run down his spine. He hated feeling fearful. He strode over, and wrenched the bed curtains open, and started shaking Harris' shoulder. "Now look here, Harris, I know people have nightmares, but quiet down, will you? Harr—"

The boy thrashed into a sitting position, and seized his arm. "Sirius?" said a hoarse voice. "I knew it had to be a nightmare—no one believed me—I knew it couldn't be true—"

"What's going on? What's the racket?" James' voice. Light flared from the tip of his wand.

Sirius looked into a face that looked familiar, before his mind filled with a white, buzzing noise. A distant memory rose up, something falling on him, herbology…

"N-nothing. Just a nightmare," said Harris. He withdrew his hand from Sirius' arm.

"Well, keep it down," said James, covering his yawn.

"I've got some dreamless sleep potion in my trunk, if you want," said Peter from his bed.

Harris stiffened, and reached for his glasses and wand. "No. No thank you."

Remus drew back his curtains. "Sometimes it helps to talk about your nightmare."

"I, er…" Harris glanced at Sirius, a strange expression passing across his face, then scrambled to the other side of his bed. "I think I'll go sleep somewhere else."

"For Merlin's sake, just take Peter's potion," said James. "No need to go to that much trouble." But the boy was already out the door. James stretched, and glanced towards Sirius who was still sitting on the bed. "Since we're all up, we should see what else is. What do you say, Padfoot?"

"No. I think I'll go to bed," came Sirius' wooden reply.

Sirius got to his bed, and pulled the covers up to his chin, and stared at the darkened canopy. He hadn't been getting much sleep. Not surprising, if he'd been kept awake by someone shouting in the middle of the night. Except he didn't remember being woken up before. And for a moment, he'd looked at the new boy, and seen…someone else? Who? Sirius was almost sure that he didn't know a Harris family. He wasn't even sure if the Harris' were of wizard stock, sounded a bit like a Muggle name, or perhaps a half-breed…. Sirius fell into a troubled sleep.

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Harry wasn't cold, but he couldn't stop shaking. He'd heard Sirius' voice in the dark, and for one brief, beautiful moment he'd thought it had all been a nightmare, and that he was back in Grimmauld Place, and Sirius had come to wake him, and talk to him a bit. Except he had, hadn't he? Only, it was the wrong Sirius.

He paced the corridor outside of the Room of Requirement, and stepped through the door into a room with two twin beds, and a blank painting on the wall. He climbed into bed, and half-expected his Sirius to come through the door. He dozed off, thinking he'd get out of bed, and search for him. Yes, Sirius himself was unable to sleep, and he'd be in the kitchen, or in Buckbeak's room…

"We've got what we could," he said, and pointed a wand at a cowering couple. "Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"

The couple fell to the ground, lifeless. He turned away. "Get rid of them."

"Yes, My Lord," said a robed figure he hadn't noticed before.

"We take Innsmouth on the seventh. Yes, that will give us enough time," he said.

He laughed, cold and high, enjoying the backwash of the spell. His scar burned, and he woke to find himself sliding to the floor, clutching his head. He rolled onto his stomach, his legs falling off the bed still entangled from the blankets.

"Bloody hell," he said.

He'd forgotten to Occlude his mind before he slept, as had been his habit. He was still connected to Voldemort. Twenty years into the past, and the scar created five years in the future, and he still couldn't be rid of the bloody bastard. He pounded the floor with his fist.

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After breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry slipped out to confront Dumbledore in the corridors. "Professor, I need to talk to you."

Dumbledore gave him a sharp look, and nodded, leading him to the headmaster's office. He sat behind his desk, and folded his hands. "What is it, my boy?"

"First, I need your advice on whether I should be telling you this," said Harry, rubbing his forehead, then making himself stop.

"If it's about the future, then you shouldn't tell me," said Dumbledore, an emotion flickering in his blue eyes.

"It's about now. I found something out just last night, but I wouldn't have found out if something hadn't happened in the future that allowed me to find out now. I thought it would have disappeared in the past," said Harry.

Dumbledore blinked. "You shouldn't be here in this time. I would advise you not to tell me."

Harry nodded. "I suppose it's best, not altering the timeline. Voldemort might end up staying in power." He glanced at the clock, and started rising in his seat. "Thank you, Professor. I'd better go before I'm—"

"Voldemort?" said Dumbledore, leaning forward. "Is this information you'd just found out about Voldemort?"

Harry blinked, unsure why Dumbledore was asking the obvious, when he remembered this wasn't his Dumbledore. Twenty years hadn't done much to change the man. "Er, yes."

A great battle seemed to pass through Dumbledore's eyes. "You say that you found this out in the present? This is not something you knew before you got here?"

"No," he said, hovering in his seat, unsure whether to sit back down or stand up.

"I suppose…I would find out eventually," said Dumbledore, something uncertain but eager flickering across his eyes. "Sit down. I will write you a note for the class you will be missing."

Harry stayed in the headmaster's office, going over the details of his dream, remembering things that he didn't think he'd remembered. When they were done, Dumbledore wrote him a note to give to Professor Inchaunt.

He slipped into class right when the students were packing away their things. When Professor Inchaunt read the note, she frowned, then scanned the classroom. "Ms. Evans, could you come up here?" When Lily came over, the professor said, "You're one of my best students. That's why I wanted to ask you if you could arrange to let Mr. Harris copy your notes, and give him a minor demonstration of what we learned today. You don't have to, of course. I can ask someone else."

"No, that will be fine," said Lily. She turned to Harry. "How fast are you at eating?"

"Er, pretty fast," said Harry. He'd had to be, living with Dudley.

"Good," she said, nodding to herself. "Then if you like, we can meet in the Great Hall after we both finish our lunches, and then go to the library."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks," he said, drinking in the way she held herself, the expression on her face, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Well, see you, Harris," she said, and frowned as if her mind were already on something else. She turned away, rubbing her temples.

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Lily still had a headache, despite having taken Pomfrey's foul tasting potion. Her ears rang, and there was a dull roaring in her head, and her vision had gone grey. She felt she ought to be friendlier to the new boy, Harris, but she couldn't make the effort. She poked at her lunch, and snapped at Dorcas when she asked her what was wrong. Dorcas pointedly turned away, and spent lunch chatting with Helen.

"Evans, I was wonder—Erck!"

Lily had shoved her wand into Potter's solar plexus. "Sod off!"

Potter stepped back, rubbing his chest, protesting, "You didn't even know what I was asking."

"I won't go out with you," she said, thinking of how she'd spent weeks getting the courage to approach Prewett.

"Maybe you did know what I was going to ask," Potter said.

She deliberately turned her back on him, and glanced towards Harris. "You done?"

"Er, yeah, I am," he said. He stared at his hand on the table, wondering if it was a bit transparent.

"Come on," she said, grabbing her schoolbag, and tapping her foot while she waited for Harris.

At the library, she searched her bag, and got her notes out. Harris applied himself to copying her notes, so she could sit at the table, shut her eyes, and rub her temples. She sighed, and tried another dose of the potion, grimacing at the nasty taste.

"I'm done," said Harris, sliding the notes across the table.

She nodded, reaching to take her notes back, her hand half covering his, skin to skin—and her head exploded. She looked across from her, at Harris, he was the clearest thing in the dim library, bright as if he stood in sunshine, the warmth radiating from his skin seeped into her, into her blood and resounded with her magic.

Harris snatched his hand away, and stared at her with surprise.

She came back to herself. Her head was clear. She stared at Harris as if seeing him for the first time, and she was. "Who are you? What did you do?" Untidy black hair, thin face, lean build. "You…Potter, is this some sick joke?"

"I'm not…" He shook his head, then said in a firmer voice. "I'm not James Potter. My name really is Harry."

And his eyes, his eyes were a brilliant shade of green. They were the same shade as her father's eyes. "I believe you. On that account. But what did you do?"

"I'm not sure." He looked uncertain. "I didn't know that was going to happen." Something flickered on his face. "I don't know what that was."

"But you have a better idea than me," she said. She slipped her hand in her pocket, and gripped her wand.

He hesitated, then nodded. A look of pain crossed his face. "You cast a spell on me, a powerful one. A protection spell. I think it…reacted to you. I'd only felt something like this once before, in my first year, when it…activated."

"Tell me the truth!" She took out her wand. "I've never seen you before in my life."

His smile was bitter. "You wouldn't. I haven't been born yet."

"Explain," she demanded.

"I'm from the future," he said, meeting her gaze, and the expression in his eyes resembled her father's, forthright and direct.

She nodded, and pocketed her wand. "I suppose that explains your resemblance to Potter. I assume you're related to him."

"His son." Unknown to anyone, faster than the eye could register, he blinked out of existence.

"But not why being near you gave me headaches."

His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "This is the first I've known of it."

Lily frowned, then shrugged. "I'll figure it out later." She relaxed. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you're Potter's son. I suppose it must be kept secret. I never thought I'd get along with Potter enough to put a very powerful spell on his son." She stopped speaking, and looked at the evidence staring her in the face. With her eyes, no less. "No," she whispered. "NO."

"What?" The evidence blinked in bewilderment.

"Who's the mother?" she said in a frightened whisper.

"You are," he said in an apologetic tone.

"Me? And…Potter? JAMES Potter? With children. Together. No, there's no way that would ever—There's nothing on earth that would possess me to bear that arrogant, that toerag, that—Bleagh!" She ran from the table as if Death Eaters were after her.

Harry dropped his head onto the table, and groaned, wondering if things could get worse. The world faded out, before snapping back.

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Author's Notes:

I'd like to thank BabeBunny, Misstoxic, Rubberducksrfun and Britni Puccio for first encouraging me and asking me to update. :)

Tinker1704, I agree that time travel is nothing new, but I hope the way I tell it is new. Newish. :) Glad you like the Unremarkable Spell.