Living inside Yesterday
Potter47

~ Part Two ~
Closer to Where I Started

"What has once happened, will invariably happen again, when the same
circumstances which combined to produce it, shall again combine in the same way."
~ Lincoln

~ Chapter Eight ~
Thicker than Water

Harry Potter did not exactly sleep well that night. He was plenty comfortable. Cushioning charms on the floor made sure of that. No, the reason he couldn't sleep was laying in that big four-poster bed.

Her name was Ginny Weasley.

And he was in love with her.

He was beginning to think that he was. He wasn't positive, but he was pretty certain. He knew one thing for sure: he did not feel like he used to around Cho.

What's different from Cho, you ask?

A whole lot of things. Ginny wasn't always crying (big plus). She was beautiful (not that Cho wasn't, it was...different). She had red hair (this just seemed really important to Harry for some reason). She actually had been through things. (Like the diary in her first year, and their current exploit. Cho had just...well, her boyfriend was killed. That's the closest she had come to evil.) Ginny understood.

And most of all, she was...Ginny.

And Harry wanted to kill Michael Corner.

"Which one was Michael Corner?" Ron demanded furiously.

"The dark one," said Hermione.

"I didn't like him," said Ron at once.

"Big surprise," said Hermione under her breath.

"But," said Ron, following Hermione along in a row of quills in copper pots. "I thought

Ginny fancied Harry!"

Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head.

"Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago..."

Used to fancy Harry...

Used to...

"Damn fate," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Mmm?" asked Ginny sleepily from the bed.

"Nothing."

Harry turned over and tried futilely to fall asleep, his head still full of thoughts about Ginny.

* * *

Luna woke up early the next morning, having fallen asleep early the previous night. As always, she dreamed quite a bit, and remembered each one. Most had been memories of her mother, or nightmares, in which she relived her death. But some...some had been memories of Ron.

Ron.

She liked that name.

In one dream, she relived the night at the Department of Mysteries. She had assumed that it was a nightmare.

She was wrong.

She saw the bell jar fall. She saw the Death Eaters, Malfoy and Lestrange. She saw the circular room. And the room that had opened for Ron and herself.

Then she opened the door to the space room. It was exhilarating, to fly in that room. No gravity. Nothing to keep her on the ground. Her mother had always told her of how she would be able to fly when she grew up, but Luna had assumed that she meant with a broom.

Luna should have learned by now: Assume nothing.

Then was her favourite part of the dream. Ron's Summoning Charm. But this time, when he caught her (or when she pinned him against the wall), he did not let go. Neville did not tell them to hurry up. The Death Eaters were gone. And he...

Well, he kissed her. For a long time. It seemed as though it would never end. She was lost in that kiss...

And then she woke up.

And she wanted to go back to sleep.

But she couldn't.

Damn.

So she dressed and went down to the Great Hall. She looked around the room. Empty. No teachers, no food, no Ron...

Crack!

Scratch that. There was food. But still no Ron.

So she went and sat down. Not at the Ravenclaw table, no. She hadn't felt like a Ravenclaw for three days. She sat at the Gryffindor table. Where she sat yesterday. Across from Ron.

And she ate.

It was a while before anyone else joined her. In fact, she didn't notice anyone come into the Great Hall at all.

Then, at long last, the door opened.

Luna, however, did not look up. So she didn't see the lack-of-person who had just entered the Great Hall.

She didn't see it walk to the Gryffindor table.

She wasn't even aware of its existence until it asked, "Would you like to play a nice game?"

And then she knew no more.

* * *

"My Lord," Wormtail said to his master, who sat in the great armchair, in the middle of the room. It brought back memories for Wormtail.

The Dark Lord had chosen the Riddle House for their current headquarters. He had said that since it was the first place someone would look, it was the last place Dumbledore would.

Wormtail didn't like it one bit. Too creepy...too many unfamiliar rats hiding in the walls...it made him extremely uncomfortable.

"What is it, Wormtail?" asked the Dark Lord, his eyes moving from his snake, Nagini, to his pathetic servant.

"My Lord, th-they have one already. The L-Lovegood girl. She woke up at some i-insane hour, and was the only person in the G-Great Hall when they arrived. Unbelievable l-luck, if you ask me." Even after all these years, Wormtail still stuttered when speaking to his master.

"Good," whispered the Dark Lord. Wormtail had to strain to hear, almost wishing he was Moony, with his enhanced hearing. "Keep me informed."

Wormtail turned to leave.

"And Wormtail?" the Dark Lord stopped him. "I wouldn't wish such things, if I were you..."

The servant scampered out of the room, and the Dark Lord laughed. "Three to go."

* * *

She's so beautiful when she sleeps...

Harry stood above Ginny's bed, intent on waking her, as it was getting late. He couldn't do it, however. He seemed to be frozen, standing there, watching her.

Once again, Harry had the strong urge to kill a certain Ravenclaw...

...or at least hurt him...

Harry shook himself out of his murderous thoughts. It wasn't Michael Corner's fault that Harry had been a dense idiot for nearly five years. It was no one's fault but his own.

He reached over and shook Ginny's shoulder. She didn't stir. She just lay there, breathing evenly.

"Gin," he whispered, shaking her shoulder again.

She still didn't stir.

"Ginny," he whispered, but it came out more of a half scream.

Her eyes did not open. Her breathing did not change. But he was sure...positive...that her mouth twitched, as though trying not to smile.

He had seen numerous times on television, at the Dursley's, people who feigned sleep, so they could miss school, and such. But never had he seen such a convincing act.

How did they wake them up?

Oh, yeah...

"HEY!" spluttered Ginny, sitting up in bed. Harry had dumped the water jug over her head, and it did a fine job of waking her. "What was that for?" she demanded.

"You wouldn't wake up," he said simply.

"Well, you didn't try very hard! You were just standing there for a half hour!" She shook some of the water out of her hair, so Harry was a bit wet as well. He didn't really mind, because he saw the smile that told him she wasn't really angry.

What did she just say?

"You were awake for a half hour?" he asked incredulously.

"So what if I was?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to dry herself off. "Would you mind turning around? This soaked through my shirt." He noticed that she had pulled the blanket up to her chin as soon as she sat up.

He then noticed what she just said.

"Oh!" He hurriedly turned around, realising he had been staring. His face was on fire once again.

He heard the rummaging of drawers, and the slam of the bathroom door. Surely he would not return to his usual colour for years to come.

* * *

When Ron, Hermione and Neville went down to the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, they noticed that Luna was not present.

"She's probably just sick," said Hermione, sitting down at her usual space at the Gryffindor table.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Probably..."

He stretched out his hand to take a slice of bacon, but a flash of fire erupted right in the middle of the Gryffindor table. Ron looked to both sides, but no-one else seemed to notice anything, save Hermione and Neville.

Once the fire had cleared, which took only a moment, Ron saw a single golden feather fall to the table. Along with it was a small note.

Hermione picked up the note and read, in a whisper, to her two friends:

"Nineteen seventy-eight.

No need to come to the office.

Be careful."

"Dumbledore?" asked Neville.

"Who else do you know that has a phoenix?" replied Hermione.

"So they're in nineteen seventy-eight?" said Ron. "I think I recognise that year..." He seemed to be thinking. "Charlie started Hogwarts that year," he said.

"Is that really all you can think of?" asked Hermione, rather pityingly.

"Er...yes?" Ron said. It was more of a question.

"Harry's parents left school in nineteen seventy-eight. I think that's a bit more relevant."

"Oh."

* * *

Harry and Ginny felt a bit uneasy as they made their way down to the kitchens for breakfast. It was not without reason, of course, as the last time they had gone to the kitchens it had led to Ginny's kidnapping. They were fairly sure, however, that Tom Riddle would not be eating a chicken and haggis sandwich in nineteen seventy-eight.

At least, not in Hogwarts.

They expected, once again, to be mistaken for Harry's parents. They were not expecting, however, to be -

"Mr. Potter! Miss Arden!"

"You've got to be kidding me," muttered Ginny.

"We are so very sorry, Miss Evans!" piped up one of the other house-elves. "We have been trying to make Wobbly realise that Miss Evans is Miss Evans and not Miss Arden for so long! Wobbly just won't listen!"

"It's alright," said Ginny. She definitely did not want to confuse the poor elves even more by saying that she was Miss Weasley.

"You two seem shorter..." said one of the other house-elves. A suspicious looking one, with very thick eyebrows.

"What would you like?" asked Wobbly.

"Er, just some breakfast. Eggs, or toast, or whatever..."

They were each presented what, to Harry, seemed enough to fill Dudley. No small task.

The two ate in companionable silence, for quite a while. They never really had eaten in nineteen-forty five, and they were much too tired the previous night. The thought of food had been quite far off of Harry's mind. Of course, most things were quite far off Harry's mind, if they were not redheaded with freckles.

They had actually made a small dent in the colossal mountain of breakfast foods, and were sure that whenever they left nineteen-seventy eight, they would still be full.

"I was wondering," asked Ginny. "Do you know when the smoke came? When we left nineteen forty-five?"

Harry had been thinking the same thing. "No," he said. "Sometime during the night. I'm not sure what time."

"So," she said, "when do you think we'll go next?"

"Dunno," he replied, "maybe back to my great-grandparents' school days, or their parents..."

"Or their parents. You never know."

"I was thinking," he said, "has this ever happened before? I mean, maybe someone else went through time...and they, I don't know, wrote a book. Maybe we should go to the library. I doubt anyone would be in there, as its nearly summer."

"Yeah," she said, standing up. "Let's."

So they both left the kitchens, headed toward the library. Harry hoped with all his being that it was indeed empty. It wasn't very fun to be mistaken for his parents. And now, since he and Ginny were a great deal shorter than the two, it would raise many more questions, should someone run into them.

Of course, some of the last people Harry wanted to run into were merrily chatting in the library, not a care in the world.

"It's about time, Prongs," said Sirius, turning in his chair to look at Harry. "We thought you two had forgotten about us and taken up in a broom cupboard."

Harry laughed nervously.

"Wait a minute," said Remus shrewdly. "You two look...different."

"What do you mean, Moony?" asked Peter. "They seem the same to me..."

The werewolf sniffed. "You smell different, too!"

"What?" Sirius turned to Remus. "They smell different?"

"That's not them!"

Harry was beginning to panic. Lupin was a werewolf. He could smell a whole lot better than most, and he could tell that they were not who the seemed. Not good.

"Who are you?" asked Remus. "Where's James and Lily?"

"Er..."

"We're right here," came another voice, from the opposite side of the shelf that was right behind Harry and Ginny.

"Er..."

Ginny seemed to be thinking fast as footsteps were heard coming around the bookshelf. Harry desperately hoped she could come up with a plan. He knew he couldn't.

James and Lily emerged from behind the bookshelf, and Harry was amazed at how similar the two did look to himself and Ginny. And John Potter and Virginia Arden.

"Who are you?" demanded Lily, coming to stand in front of Ginny. James stood next to her, across from Harry.

"My," murmured Ginny, "it's like looking in a mirror..."

Harry hoped that she had thought of something, and was not just speaking her mind.

"Who are you?" Lily repeated.

"Oh, you won't know me. But James will." She turned to Harry's father. Harry was now positive that she had thought of something. Otherwise she definitely would not have said that. But what had she thought of? And what help could it possibly do?

"Don't you recognise us?" Ginny asked Harry's father.

"Er..." James had an odd look in his eye. As though he wanted to believe something, but was sure it was an insane thought. "No."

The other three Marauders just sat and watched the two pairs, disbelieving looks on their faces.

"It's us, James," said Ginny. "Your parents. John and Virginia."

His what?!

~ Next Chapter ~
Family Reunion

"Everything I look on seemeth green."
~ Shakespeare

~ Coming Soon ~