Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and I am making no profit.
Setting: This story starts a couple of weeks after the end of GoF, but after that goes a little AU.
………………………………………………………………………………..
Chapter 3: Turning Point
Breakfast the next morning could not have been more awkward. Harry's mood hung over the table like an elephant in a corner and no one seemed sure of what to say. Even Fred and George were strangely quiet, watching Harry in a way that had Molly suspicious. Were they simply worried or had they done something to his food? If they had, Molly feared she might never find out what it was. Harry listlessly stirred his cornflakes, not taking a mouthful.
The only one who seemed completely oblivious to the general vibe of discomfort was Percy, who was trying very hard to start a conversation about the political ramifications of Dumbledore's decision to break away from the Ministry. "Madness it is! 'Weak as we are divided' he says, and then he divides the entire light side of magic into two distinct factions! I know he's supposed to be a genius and everything, but really! He's going just a bit too far with this. Don't you think mother?"
"What was that dear?" asked Molly distractedly. Harry was now lifting soggy cornflakes from his bowl, slowly twisting his spoon until they slid off, and watching, fascinated, as they dripped back into the milk. She frowned in concern.
"Are you listening Mother?" demanded Percy.
"No," said George rudely. "She's not."
"Mother!"
"Oh. Sorry, Percy dear," said Molly, reluctantly returning her attention to her son. "What were you saying?"
"Never mind," Percy huffed. He stuffed one more mouthful of egg and bacon into his mouth before disappearing up to his room, mumbling something about a report that had to be done.
Fred snorted derisively.
"Dumbledore knows what he's doing," Ron stated defiantly, glaring at the staircase up which Percy had just disappeared.
"Of course he does," said Molly.
Harry's cornflakes dripped into his bowl again. Little drops of milk splashed out onto the table. Harry stared at them. Everyone else stared at Harry. "I'm going to go do homework," he stated abruptly and stood to follow Percy up the staircase. Molly watched him go helplessly, completely at a loss as to what to do next. She'd already piled food upon him, made sure he had enough blankets and pillows on his camp bed, suggested the boys spend the afternoon playing quidditch - all things that usually cheered him up after weeks spent with his relatives – but none of it seemed to be working.
"Well?" She demanded of Ron, as though Harry's mood were his doing.
"What?" asked Ron dumbly, his mouth full of mashed potatoes.
"Go see if he's alright!" she said crossly.
"But I'm eating," said Ron, with what appeared to be genuine confusion. Fred snorted again. Molly heard George stifle a laugh.
"Ron!" she said warningly, suddenly finding the lot of them extremely irritating.
"Alright, alright," Ron muttered, leaving what was left of his food in order to check on his friend.
"And you two seem unusually well behaved," Molly said to the twins as Ron's footsteps faded up the staircase. "What are you up to?"
Fred simply looked her in the eye, all humour forgotten. "We're worried Mum. Just like everyone else."
At this, Molly was contrite. "Oh. Of course you are dear … I'm sorry."
Fred grinned, "That's alright. We'll just make twice as much trouble for you after the crisis is over to make up for it."
Despite herself, Molly laughed quietly at that. "You'd better not!" she said.
"Got you smiling though," said Fred, still grinning.
Molly laughed again, her eyes dangerously close to spilling over with tears. "You two!" she said brokenly.
"It's okay Mum," said Ginny quietly. "We're okay you know."
Molly wiped her eyes. "You will be." She smiled, "Now you three at least should finish your breakfast. Go on then."
And so they did.
………………………………………………………………………………
Harry lay lethargically on his camp bed. He'd been left alone there while Ron went to have a shower. He felt odd: afraid of being left with his own morbid thoughts (the way he had been so often with the Dursleys), but also glad to be alone for a while. The worried glances and careful conversations were starting to get to him.
Ron - whose company Harry had missed terribly while stuck at Privet Drive - was beginning to annoy him. Harry felt certain that the question: Are you all right? was always on the tip of his friend's tongue. Ron didn't actually voice it - he was too afraid of upsetting Harry – but it hung in the air between them. Harry wished things could just go back to the way they were.
He wondered how Sirius was. Busy no doubt, rounding up 'the old crowd' as Dumbledore had called them. Harry worried that Sirius might be revealing himself to too many people in the process of recruiting them. After all, those Sirius had been sent to rally were no doubt devoted to the cause of bringing Voldemort down, and in the eyes of most of the wizarding community, Sirius was a Death Eater. Plus there was still a price on the fugitive's head - Fudge had seen to that - and Harry didn't think he'd be able to bear it if something bad happened to Sirius. He was Harry's light at the end of the tunnel: his chance for a happier home.
"Hey Harry? Are you in there?" called a voice from the other side of the door. Fred, thought Harry, or possibly George.
"Yeah," he called back, "Yeah, I'm in here."
The door opened and the twins waltzed in, taking up the small space of Ron's room as though they owned it.
"You know that gold you gave us?" said Fred smiling.
"Yeah, of course," said Harry. He brightened a bit. "Have you bought ingredients and stuff with it? Did you invent something new?" The thought pleased him. The impending opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was something Harry anticipated with hope. Something he'd been sadly lacking of late.
"Well, not invented," said George. "Not yet anyway. But bought? Absolutely. As our benefactor we thought you might like to come and see."
"Alright then," said Harry.
He followed them quickly down the stairs to their bedroom but stopped to stare as he entered. The room was strewn all over with bits and pieces of … well, everything. The floor was piled high with spellbooks, muggle electronics, potions ingredients, bubbling cauldrons, baking products, art supplies, order forms, and what looked like half of Zonkos dismantled over the floorboards. The twin's broomsticks leant against the far wall. Two unmade beds were barely identifiable under the chaos.
Harry stood still for fear of stepping on something that might explode. The twins however, navigated the room with confidant ease, and George was soon reaching under the closest bed for something Harry couldn't see.
"Close the door behind you," said Fred, motioning Harry further into the room. Harry quickly did as he was asked, then turned back to see George emerging from beneath the bed, pretending to hold something in his left hand. He presented the empty air to Harry with a proud flourish.
Sensing he was about to be pranked in some way, Harry felt himself become, at once, wary and glad. He was relieved that the twins felt able to joke around with him - their odd behaviour at the breakfast table had made him worried that they too were treating him like glass – but he was also loathe to be the victim of their fun. More than he ever had been before, he realised. Before Voldemort.
"What this?" he asked, suspiciously, trying to smile as he pushed the feeling away. He wouldn't let himself give in to it – give in to his torturer.
Fred pulled his wand out of pocket and pointed it at George's outstretched hand. "Unveil," he said, revealing that George was in fact holding a small, palm sized, wooden chest.
"What is it?" asked Harry, curious despite himself.
"This," said Fred, flicking the chest open dramatically and pulling out a tiny hourglass on a gold chain, "is a time turner!"
Harry regarded the object dubiously. Having once used a time turner to help Sirius escape from the law, he was more than aware of the legal implications of keeping one under the bed. An uneasy feeling began to creep into his chest.
Fred mistook Harry's silence for confusion and quickly launched into an excited explanation of exactly what a time turner was designed to do.
"No, I know that," said Harry, cutting him off. "I've seen one before. I was just wondering where you got it."
"Weird guy in Diagon Alley," said George, retrieving the object from Fred and holding it up thoughtfully.
"What're you going to use it for?" asked Harry, cautiously.
"Not sure yet," said Fred casually. "We didn't really think about it."
"Then why are you showing it to me?"
Fred and George shared a look. "We just wanted you to see it mate. You know, so that you could see that your money was well spent and everything. Thought it might cheer you up a bit." He grinned amiably, but it seemed to Harry that the grin was a little false. Something here wasn't right. He didn't grin back.
"What's going on?" he asked. "Other then you two buying illegal magical devices, that is?"
Awkward silence followed that. Fred and George seemed to be taking in turns to look at him sideways as they tried to figure out what to say next. "We were going to bring it up eventually anyway," said Fred to George eventually. George only nodded quietly.
Having rarely seen the twins wearing such serious expressions, Harry felt the uneasy feeling in his stomach begin to twist into knots. "Bring up what?" he asked.
"Well," said George, "We were sort of hoping to get to this subtly, but … look - last night Fred was sneaking downstairs to get hair curler for a new product we're cooking up, and … well …" he looked to Fred.
"I noticed you writing a letter," said Fred.
"Oh," said Harry, still unsure where this was headed.
"I saw who the letter was addressed to," said Fred flatly.
Harry felt the blood drain from his face.
"Look, Harry," said George. "We don't know exactly what's going on, but if you know where Black is you have to tell someone. Dumbledore, or even someone at ministry."
"And if you don't, then we'll have to," said Fred reasonably. It seemed to Harry that Fred was talking down to him. Like a child he thought indignantly. "We'll have to let the Auror department know you're writing to him at least," Fred finished.
"You don't understand," said Harry, beginning to panic as the implications of this sunk in. "You don't know what's been going on! You can't tell anyone about this! Especially not at the ministry!"
"Harry … " said Fred placatingly.
"NOT A WORD! D'YOU HEAR?!" Harry shouted, now too distressed to listen.
George looked taken aback, and opened his mouth to say something, but as he did, Harry took a step forward to emphasize his point and George's expression turned to one of fear.
"Harry look out!" he cried, too late, as the wetstart firework went off beneath Harry's foot. Whatever the twins had been doing to it had made it respondent to pressure rather than water and Harry found himself flying across the room, parts of his skin burning painfully as colourful sparks and smoke filled the air.
…………………………………………………………………………….
As George watched in horror, Fred, who had also seen the accident occurring in advance, leapt toward Harry as the firework exploded. The two crashed noisily across the junk covered floor, obscured from George's view by the festive Catherine wheels and smoke.
A second later, George was hit with a gust of air that threw him painfully onto his back. He heard the tinkle of glass as the time turner slipped from his fingers and smashed. He then caught a quick glimpse of Fred helping Harry to his feet as the smoke cleared.
And then it happened. George felt as though he was watching the scene through someone else's eyes – or else dreaming - as a thick red cloud began to rise from the broken shards and scattered sand, obscuring Fred and Harry from sight.
A second later there was a loud BANG, and when the smoke cleared, Fred and Harry had vanished.
George sat alone, covered in soot and too shocked to move.
