A Matter of Time
by Dementis Scriptor
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dealing with loss is never easy, especially when half the world sees you as a savior, half as a Dark Lord in the making, and half as the man who took away their chance at world domination. Yes, that made three halves. Go figure.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm not making any money, either. Sad, isn't it?
Chapter Two: Adrift
"Time keeps everything from happening at once. Space keeps everything from happening to you." –Unknown
It was almost time.
His belongings were packed neatly in his old school trunk, which had been stripped of anything identifying it as belonging to Harry Potter. It sat on his kitchen table, the lid propped open while he added a few final items to it.
Hedwig was out for one last hunt before their trip, despite Harry's assurances that there would be plenty of mice where they were going. The stubborn owl had flat-out refused to consider staying behind, even knowing that, as far as anyone else was concerned, he would be gone for mere moments. At least, that's what he hoped would happen. The truth was that nobody had ever successfully done what he was going to do, so he had no idea how it would work out.
All his affairs had been taken care of, just in case he wasn't able to return. He tried not to think along those lines, but in all actuality the chances of him making it back were much slimmer than he would have liked. While he knew that he would make it to 1970 in one piece, his return to the present (or future, as it would be from the past) was far from guaranteed. The way he saw it, he had two options. One, he could cast the Extorqueo Tempus spell again, and hope for the best. He wasn't too fond of this option, because there were literally an infinite number of times he could land in, and only a very small number of them would do him any good. His hitting one of those at random was a virtual impossibility.
His other option was to stay in the past, and live out the years until his departure under the guise of Evan Esare. He didn't really think that this would happen, though. According to Dumbledore, all traces of Evan Esare had vanished around twenty years ago. To Harry, this was a good indication that he would either find a third option, or he would risk the Time Twister spell again.
Whatever happened, though, Harry was very aware of the fact that it had already happened. When the time came, he would do what he had already done. On some level, Harry found the thought comforting. It meant that he didn't have to worry about changing the timeline, since any changes he would make had already been made, and the world he knew was the result of those changes. On the other hand, he found the idea of not having free will a bit disconcerting. Not that his actions would actually be restricted in any way…it was just that all his decisions had already been made. Then again, he had been the one to make them…or he would be…
He really was putting way too much thought into this.
With a snap, he shut the lid of his trunk. A quick glance at his watch told him that he was slightly ahead of schedule – though, truth be told, his schedule was completely arbitrary. Not that it really mattered, since he could conceivably leave at any time and it would still be the right time.
He exited the kitchen into the main hallway. As he did so, his trunk sprouted four furry legs and hopped off the table, sneaking through the door a split second before it shut. In a few quick strides the trunk made its way down to the opposite end of the hall, where it promptly laid down by the front door and went to sleep.
Harry followed at a more leisurely pace, but rather than go to the front door, he turned to head up the main staircase. Once on the second floor, he moved into the master bedroom and looked around one last time, making sure he had packed everything he needed. If worst came to worst, he knew he would be able to acquire anything he left behind, but rather than go through all the hassle of buying (or conjuring) replacements, he preferred to just bring those he already had.
Not finding anything on that floor, Harry continued up to the next one, where he searched his study for misplaced items. When he exited a few minutes later, he had a small case in his pocket containing a spare pair of glasses.
A blur of white momentarily obscured his vision as he made his way back downstairs, and with a soft rustle of feathers Hedwig landed gracefully on his shoulder. Harry looked at her curiously, noting the absence of a dead mouse in her beak with some concern. It was a rare thing that she came back from a hunt empty handed (not that she had hands), and she would normally spend several hours after such an occurrence sulking in a tree outside. The last thing he needed was a self-pitying owl feeling sorry for herself the entire trip. She didn't seem upset this time, however. If anything, she looked rather smug.
The reason for this was made clear when he reemerged on the first floor. How she had managed it, he was sure he didn't want to know. If he hadn't been so keen to keep his ears in one piece, he might have even laughed at his eccentric owl's latest feat. Instead, he settled for an amused shake of his head.
"Only you, Hedwig…" he said, his lips twitching slightly at the edges.
Neatly lined up on top of his snoozing trunk, and obviously waiting to be packed for the trip, were at least a dozen dead mice.
"Only you…"
The air was warm as he made his way to the edge of his property. There was a small clearing a short walk from his home, and it was from there that he would be departing. In all probability, he could have left directly from the house, but he knew so little about this particular spell that he didn't want to risk interference from the wards.
He entered the clearing a few minutes later, followed by his trunk (which pranced in ahead of him, turned a full 720° and laid down) and his owl (who again perched on his shoulder, watching the trunk closely for any sign that it would try to eat her mice). Drawing his wand casually, Harry leaned over the top of his trunk and carefully traced a small runic symbol in shimmering silver flames. Straightening, he turned to Hedwig and drew an even more complex rune on her back. She gave an annoyed hoot in response, but seemed more resigned than anything as he ran his wand over her feathers.
When he finished with Hedwig, he moved the tip of his wand to his left forearm, just below the wrist. There he traced two runes, identical to the two placed on his avian companion and his canine luggage. He then drew a third rune, this one much larger than the other two – so large, in fact, that the two smaller symbols were completely enveloped by it. When he was finished, all three runes had been connected through a complex series of lines and curves. Had anyone seen it now, they would have mistaken it for a single, very intricate design.
These symbols, all written in the same silver flames, were part of a complex binding ritual meant to ensure that both his owl and his belongings made the trip with him. Theoretically, the bond forged would be so powerful that he could drop dead in that instant, and when he reached whatever afterlife awaited him, his owl and his trunk would still be with him. He hoped never to test that particular theory.
He completed the spell with a small circular motion of his wand, and all the runes flared brightly, obscuring his vision. When the light faded, the runes had vanished.
"Okay, Hedwig. There's no turning back now," he said. Hedwig gave an exacerbated hoot that he interpreted as "Just get on with it already."
Harry nodded, and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly in an attempt to clear his mind of unnecessary thoughts. Opening his eyes, he gave his surroundings one last look. It would be the last time he saw this place for quite some time.
His hand began to glow around his wand as his magic prepared for the spell. He had no idea how much power the spell would require, so his magic responded by providing far more than would probably be used. This had something to do with the fact that it was his magic, and as such it generally followed the motto of "Better safe than sorry." Most wizards subconsciously trained their magic to respond in certain ways, but Harry was sure he was the only one whose magic was conditioned to deal with Murphy's Law on a regular basis.
"Extorqueo Tempus!" he spoke clearly, his voice seeming to deepen just as he finished the incantation. It seemed that his magic had the right idea once again, Harry mused, as a wave of power rushed from his wand. It was so intense that the leaves on a nearby tree were blown right off in its wake.
At first, he thought the spell hadn't worked. Everything was exactly the same as it had been before he cast the spell.
It took him a second to realize the significance of that fact. Everything was exactly as it had been before…right down to the leaves which had just been blown from the trees. Instead of falling to the ground, they appeared to be hanging in midair, frozen before they had moved more than a few inches. For a long moment everything was completely still. Then the world around him rippled, as though the fabric of reality had become fluid and could no longer hold its shape. His surroundings blurred around him, colors swirled and blended together, and soon the entire universe had become a monotonous grey void.
He barely had time to register the lack of defining characteristics when the void lurched violently, sending him careening off into the nothingness. A feeling of vertigo overtook him, and suddenly –
He was everywhere.
Time was a funny thing.
You always had it when you didn't need it, and you always needed it when you didn't have it. It seemed to slow down when you were waiting for something; it seemed to speed up when you were dreading something. When we are young, we dream of the times that are to come; when we are old, we yearn for the times that will never come again. Our perception of time will never completely match up with anyone else's, even though, for all intents and purposes, everyone experiences the passage of time the same way.
For the most part, time is a constant.
For Harry Potter, time had just become a whole lot more interesting than that.
When the book had said "adrift on the oceans of eternity", he hadn't expected it to be quite so…literal. Not in the sense that it was an ocean, per se, but more the fact that he was most certainly adrift. Unseen currents swirled around him, more intense than anything he'd ever felt before. He imagined that the sensation was similar to what the sparrow felt flying into the hurricane.
Images flashes across his field of vision, too quickly to make out in any detail. They appeared to be little more than obscure flashes of color, changing too rapidly for him to get a clear look. Sounds bombarded his eardrums, fragmented and disjointed, interspersed with a silence so complete that you would almost think that no sound had ever existed. All his senses were in overdrive, trying to decipher a staggering amount of input the likes of which they were never designed to handle.
Every now and then, a scene would appear for just a split-second longer than the others, and it was all he needed to catch a glimpse of the world beyond. At one point he saw a planet wreathed in flames, the skies completely blackened by smoke. Another showed a thriving city he had never seen before, with buildings reaching high into the sky. And once, he even thought he saw a world inhabited entirely by white lab mice, but it was gone before he could even try to figure that one out.
His head began to pound beneath his temples, a predictable result of the sensory overload. A dull ringing filled his ears, growing in intensity with each throb of his head. The images were coming even faster, and though he knew he shouldn't try to see more, it was almost like watching a car crash. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't look away.
The currents that surrounded him were becoming more intense, if that were possible. He was drowning in this ocean that seemed to be made of everything and nothing all at once. Almost all sound had now been completely blocked out by the ringing in his ears, and a bright light was obscuring his vision. His head was spinning, and he was sure the headache would split it wide open at any moment.
It was too much. Too many sights, too many sounds…too much of everything. He couldn't make sense of it all…he didn't want to make sense of it all…
Then everything stopped. It was as though all his senses, so active just a moment before, had suddenly gone dead. There was just…nothing.
He didn't know how long he sat there. It could have been a second or an eternity, or possibly both at the same time. All he knew was that his headache had died down to a manageable level by the time something happened. And when it did, he was very thankful for this fact.
A point of light formed below him, so faint that he didn't even see it at first. Slowly, it began to move towards him, gaining in size and intensity the closer it got. It took Harry a minute to realize that the light wasn't actually moving; instead, it was he who was falling towards it. And he was picking up speed on the way down. His heart began to pound as the light became just large enough that he could make out an image within, and with a start he realized that his trip was almost over, in more ways than one. He was moving much too fast for any impact to be safe, and while he wasn't able to make out any specifics, he was fairly sure there wasn't anything there to break his fall. Then all of these things were taken out of his hands, as several things happened at once.
One, he fell right into the…pocket of reality below him. Two, he failed to slow down, and as a result crashed face-first into the landscape below. And three, with the sudden shift from an ethereal void to what seemed to at least be a corporeal plane of existence, he completely overlooked the fact that it looked nothing like 1970.
He came to his senses with a groan, and the first thing he noticed was that it was very cold. This was made abundantly clear by the deep layer of snow that had kept him from becoming nothing more than a splatter of red all over the ground. As he slowly rolled over and sat up, the cold was further evidenced by the fact that he appeared to have landed on a glacier.
The second thing he noticed caused him to forget the climate change entirely. It was a very large, very angry-looking troll-like creature, and it was charging straight at him, snarling and spitting, teeth bared and club raised high above its head.
A/N: Okay, here we go. The chapter two rewrite I promised you all a few weeks ago. It took longer than I expected, but here it is. There were no major plot changes, but I recommend reading it again anyway. I suppose I am a little bit OC (that's obsessive-compulsive, not original character), but I really couldn't continue the story until I was happy with this chapter. I am now happy with this chapter, and since I already have chapter three well on its way to completion, the next update shouldn't take more than a few weeks.
Thanks to Kinky Usagi, Lucy Grey, scotgirl, Larna Mandrea, and Beth5572 for reviewing chapter one.
-D.S.