Living inside Yesterday
Potter47

~ Part Four ~
Living for Tomorrow

"'The time has come,' the Walrus said,
'To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings.'"
~ Lewis Carroll

~ Chapter Twenty ~
Time to Live

Two days had passed, since the return of the four Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw. Two days of sneaking away from nosy housemates, prying Slytherins, and - in the case of Harry and Ginny - just sneaking away.

At breakfast, on the third day, Professor Snape rose once again, from the Headmaster's chair, and made his way down to the Gryffindor table. It seemed he had just made this trip yesterday, while it also felt like it had happened in a different century.

As he approached, he could see Potter and Miss Weasley sitting much closer than they were customarily sitting - something that wasn't all that difficult to do, as they were not normally sitting very near to each other at all - and he thought someone had to be blind, not to notice.

Weasley - the brother, that is - was staring at what, to the untrained eye, would appear to be space. But the Potions Master could tell that he was, in reality, gazing at the Ravenclaw table.

"Potter," he said, standing behind him, across from Miss Granger. Once he had the boy's attention (as well as his friends) he dropped his voice. "The Headmaster would like to speak with you. Miss Weasley, you as well. Apparently, he has some loose ends to tie." Thinking back to his last meeting with Dumbledore, he severely hoped that the old man wasn't about to spill his secret this time. Potter didn't need to know.

"Yes, Professor," Potter said, making a show of putting the last bit of bacon into his mouth, while surreptitiously dropping Miss Weasley's hand.

"But I'm not done yet..." she said, looking very much like her brother for a moment, as she eyed the remaining food on her plate.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Fine then," he said indifferently. "Next time you might want to concentrate a bit more on your meal, instead of-"

"Coming!" she said hurriedly, and loudly, jumping up from her seat.

Snape smirked. "Very well. I believe you know the way."

"Yes, Professor," said Potter. Develop a vocabulary, boy...

The two "friends" made their way out of the hall. No doubt holding hands once again, as soon as the door closed.

Snape turned his attention back to the table. Miss Granger had resumed her reading of the - Is that a potions text? - book propped against the milk jug. Longbottom was staring purposefully at his plate, as if trying to decipher a message hidden within it. Weasley was once again staring in the direction of Ravenclaw.

"Eat, Weasley," said Snape sharply. The Gryffindor jumped four feet in the air, and quickly shoved a hard-boiled egg whole into his mouth.

"Ron!" exclaimed Miss Granger, her gaze jumping up from the book.

"Huh?" asked Weasley, chewing the egg that - Snape could only imagine - must have been quite crunchy.

"That egg still had a shell!"

Weasley gulped, which may not have been the best idea.

* * *

Harry opened the door of the Headmaster's office, for what felt like the millionth time in the past few days. Harry thought that another ride on the stairs would drive him insane. Ginny followed him inside, and the door closed behind her.

"Good to see you, Harry," said Dumbledore from his desk. His eyes were much livelier than they were three days prior, and he almost seemed to be a different person. "You too, Virginia."

"What did you want to tell us?" asked Ginny, getting right to the point of the visit.

"Why don't you have a seat first?" Dumbledore asked, smiling, and gesturing to the two seats before his desk. They weren't the usual ones. They seemed very much...squashier. Rather like the one Dumbledore had conjured for himself at Harry's hearing.

"Er...alright," said Harry uncertainly. Dumbledore seemed far more....Dumbledore-ish today. But still, the headmaster had never changed the furniture before.

"I believe you remember our last meeting. I said that there was good news to tell, but that it would be told another day. Well, that day is today. I meant to speak with you yesterday, but I had the sniffles."

Harry had a hard time picturing Dumbledore being sick. It was like trying to think of Voldemort giggling. It just didn't happen.

"Now, first, I'd like to say that I believe everything happens for a reason. I believe in fate." He smiled oddly. "I suppose you could call me a fan of it."

Harry reckoned this was supposed to be a joke of some sort. But to him, it just sounded like the nonsensical words of a disturbed man. In other words; Harry didn't get it.

"The Department of Mysteries houses many unexplainable things," began Dumbledore. "Things that have been found over the years...over the centuries. And no one quite knows what they all do. That being, of course, why it is called the Department of Mysteries." He smiled once again.

"The bell jar, that fell atop you two, was found many years ago. By Muggles. It was quite the discovery; imagine, finding a glass jar that had a bird in it! A bird that constantly repeated the cycle of life, over and over and over. Everyone wished to see this miracle. After a while, the Ministry was able to obtain it. To study. To keep from Muggles.

"They have tried many things with that bell jar. Many, many things. They have put objects inside it; they've put small animals inside it. But, eventually, all departed, except for the bird that was found within it. Once, a man fell into the jar, and became a baby again. And grew once more. One of the more gruesome times was when a man fell in halfway. His upper half shrunk; it became that of a baby. But his legs stayed. Repulsive sight, I assure you.

"But only once before has that bell jar fallen. Once before you two. And, coincidentally, it fell on two good friends. Friends that, unknowingly, were fated."

Harry's cheeks lit up, and they matched well with Ginny's ears.

"They were not quite like you two, though. There was quite an age difference between them. Much more than just the one year that separates the two of you.

"She was actually a great deal like Miss Granger. A Gryffindor, very intelligent. The age difference between these two...well, it would be as if Miss Granger was to fall in love with Filius."

"Flitwick?" said Ginny, her mouth wide open. "Hermione and Flitwick?"

"Virginia, I do not mean to say that Miss Granger is going to fall in love with Filius Flitwick. Not even Sybill would have predicted that. I simply mean that the age difference is similar. Anyway, Filius is happily married. Has been for forty-seven years. No, if Miss Granger was to -"

He stopped short, an odd look in his eye. He shook his head, as if to clear it. But it didn't quite leave. He smiled a bit, his eyes twinkling, before continuing.

"Back to my tale. The jar fell upon them. It took them back in time. Just as it did for you. But them, unlike you, it took to three times. Perhaps two wasn't enough for them."

"But...you still haven't said why we went to those years," said Harry.

"Yes," said Ginny. "It's too much of a coincidence to believe that we just happened to land in years when Harry's family was here. And frankly," Harry smiled, "I don't believe in coincidences anymore."

"I was getting to it," grumbled Dumbledore, who seemed to want to enlighten them on the entire life story of this pair, before explaining what they wished to hear. It was how he worked. "I do not know how that jar works. I would like to believe there was a force guiding it. Perhaps fate. Perhaps God; which I also believe in. But I believe, that that bell jar brings whoever it falls upon, to the precise years they need to see."

"Need to see?" said Harry. "I think I could have lived without seeing tho-"

"You may have Harry, but Miss Lovegood would not have. And most likely Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger."

"How d'you mean?" he asked.

"If you hadn't gone to nineteen-forty five, Miss Lovegood would not have been rescued. Voldemort would have killed her."

"But," interjected Ginny, "if we hadn't gone back in time, they wouldn't have been in danger in the first place."

"Would they not have?" said Dumbledore. "Any one of you could have died that night in the Ministry. Ronald. Hermione. Luna. Neville, too. Either of you. Or the Order. Sirius could have been killed."

Harry swallowed. He didn't know if he could've lived with that. It would have been his fault, if anyone died. And if it had been Sirius...well, that would have been quite ironic.

"That's not the important part though," said Dumbledore. "I am simply stalling, as I wish this to be climactic." His eyes twinkled merrily.

* * *

Ron practically vomited the egg back onto his plate. He kept spitting little bits of shell for a while afterward.

Once his mouth was clear, he gulped down the whole of his goblet of pumpkin juice. Beads of orange liquid clung to his mouth, giving the impression that he had grown a beard and moustache.

Snape sneered down at him. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley," he snapped, "for your utter lack of manners." With that, the Potions Master swooped away from the table, his black robes billowing behind him, as he returned to the teachers' table.

"Git," muttered Ron, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "I'm not hungry anymore." With that, the Gryffindor swooped away from the table, his black robes billowing behind him, as he exited the Great Hall.

As soon as the double doors had swung closed behind him, a voice made him swing around.

"Hello, Ron."

"Bloody hell, Luna!" he exclaimed, pulse returning to normal. "Do you always have to sneak up on me?"

"I don't sneak up on you," she said matter-of-factly. "You just never see me coming."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You seem to be back to normal," he said. Luna hadn't seemed herself during their...adventures. She hadn't been saying random things, hadn't been giving her usual aura of dottiness. Of course, normal, wasn't the best way to describe her usual self.

"I find that I act oddly if my pulse rises above eighty," she said simply.

Oddly? Ron asked himself. What does she mean by oddly? He wasn't sure if she meant that she acted her usual self if she had a high pulse, or...not.

"Right," he said. "Well, what did you want to say?"

"Huh?" She quirked a pale eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You said, 'hello,'" he said uncertainly. "I assumed you were gonna say something else."

She smiled at him. "Never assume," she advised. "Never."

Why'd she have to smile? "Er..." Ron had hoped to make it through the conversation unembarrassed. But when she smiled like that... He could feel his ears heat up already.

"Luna," he began. "I've been meaning to ask you something for a while now..."

* * *

"Please, just tell us," Ginny practically begged.

"As I said, you needed to see those years. Something happened in those years. In only those years. Can you guess?"

They shook their heads, hoping that he would not repeat those years, one more time.

"In my tale, I told you that the time-travellers were destined to be with each other. The same is true for you two. You saw what you needed to see. The years you needed to visit. Now, can you not guess?" He looked, pointedly, as if he could see through the table, at their clasped hands.

Harry had an idea. He was relatively sure. But he wanted Dumbledore to say it. Ginny felt the same.

"It was in those years..." Dumbledore said, "nineteen forty-five, and nineteen seventy-eight...that Harry's grandparents and parents, respectively...fell in love."

They were right. Ginny squeezed Harry's hand.

"Professor," asked Ginny, smiling. Something seemed to have been on her mind, and now was as good a time as any to ask. "What is it with Potter men and redheads?"

Dumbledore chuckled a bit, and it almost sounded uncomfortable. He shook his head slightly, and murmured, "It's not just the men."

"What?" asked Ginny. She looked at Harry, who was redder than a Quaffle, and then back to Dumbledore.

"Potter women also seem to have a...thing...for red hair." He cleared his throat nervously.

"How would you know that Professor?" asked Ginny wryly.

"Well, Harry's great aunt Emily, she...er...fancied me," Dumbledore said very, very quietly.

"You're kidding!" cried Ginny.

"It's not that unbelievable!" muttered Dumbledore. "It's not as if no-one has had romantic interest in me over the years," he said. "In fact, back when I used to teach Transfiguration..."

He cleared his throat, smiling broadly. A smile that was warmer than any either had seen on his face in the years they had known him (and in the years they had met him). It was as if he, himself, had fallen in love.

Something clicked in Harry's mind. He asked Dumbledore, "Professor? Who was it, that it fell on before? Who were the two people?"

Dumbledore smiled again, and looked at his watch. "Heavens, look at the time!" he said. "I'm terribly sorry, Harry, Virginia. I have plans to visit St. Mungo's. I'm supposed to see..." he paused, still smiling, eyes still bright and twinkling, "a friend. A very good friend."

It was not until he was long gone, that Harry and Ginny realised that he was still in hiding. Must be important...

* * *

"Yes, Ron?" asked Luna curiously.

"I've just..." He stopped, trying to think of the right way to say it. He wasn't all that good with words. "At the beginning of this year," he started again, "you were in our compartment in the train-"

"Actually," interrupted Luna, "you were in my compartment."

"Whatever," he said. "You were in the same compartment as us. I hadn't seen you for..." he shook his head, thinking back, "five years. And I was surprised, to say the least. Ginny hadn't told me she still was friends with you. Hell, for all I knew, you were in Durmstrang."

She snorted softly. "Ron, Durmstrang is a boys school. Remember last year? No girls came here."

He wished she'd stop interrupting. This was important. "That's the point. I had no idea." Of course, he also hadn't realised that Durmstrang was a boys-only school. "After five years, you just appear again. And you're exactly like you always were. But I...I wasn't."

He stopped, and Luna looked at him expectantly until he began once again.

"Over the years, I changed. I was with Harry and Hermione all the time. I hardly even thought of when we used to go to your house. I even..." He was going to say fancied Hermione, but he didn't see any use of it. "Never mind. But this year, I didn't treat you very good." He stopped. "Well. Very well." Luna blinked. "See! Hermione has...drilled this stuff into my head since first year, and it's changed me. I didn't treat you like a friend. I treated you like...well, like you were just a strange Ravenclaw." He hoped she thought he'd said "estranged."

Students started streaming out of the Great Hall, and the silence was broken.

"Follow me," Luna said, and started striding down a corridor. Ron followed. And followed, and followed. He supposed she had someplace in particular that she thought no-one would find, but the empty corridors were...well, empty.

"Where are we going?" he called to her, jogging to keep up.

"You'll see."

He followed her, and it took him a while to realise where they were headed. They were going toward Dumbledore's office. In fact, Ron could see the stone gargoyle up ahead. Why is she bringing me here?

But they passed the gargoyle. She stopped on the far side of the stone sculpture, and placed her hand against the stone wall. She walked along the wall, counting under her breath, as she touched each different stone.

"Eight, nine, ten, eleven..." She slowed. "Twelve!" She pulled out her wand. She tapped the stone once, twice...twelve times, and muttered something under her breath. The stone seemed to be sucked into the wall, followed by its neighbours. The process repeated until there was a large enough hole in the wall for a person to climb through. She climbed in, and, before he realised what was happening, she had pulled him in as well.

"What is this place?" he asked, rubbing his forehead, which he had bumped on the top of the entrance.

"This," she said, lighting her wand, "is a hideaway my mother found."

"What?" Ron asked, looking around. "I thought your mother died."

"So?" Luna asked. "She came here too. I got a letter from Dad the day this whole thing started. He had started to clean out the attic and found a diary of my Mum's. He...he sent it to me, and I read it. I read pretty fast. She found this during her third year, and used to come here when she wanted to be alone." She stopped, and breathed in. "I can almost smell her here. I don't know if anyone's found it since."

Ron could see tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Of course, at the end of the letter, Dad says, 'I decided to stop cleaning the attic, as I know you'd love to do it yourself.' He knows I hate cleaning..." She shook her head, and wiped her eye. "What were you trying to say before?" she asked, as she lit a candle.

"Erm..." Ron hadn't expected this. This was special to Luna. The first time she'd been in this room of her mother's. He had a feeling her pulse had sped up, as she was acting normaler. More normal.

The room they were in was relatively small. It had two armchairs, a table, and candleholders lining the walls. Luna took a seat in one of the chairs, but Ron wanted to stand.

"You were saying?" she asked.

"Er...this past year, I didn't treat you very well. But then...the last few days... Everything seemed to change. It felt just like old times. Well, except for you calling me 'Ron.' It's just...I like being friends with you. A lot. I didn't really notice how much I missed it. I wish..." He was trying to think of a way to say it.

"Luna, could we... Could we just...start over? Just pick up where we left off? Like the last five years...didn't happen?"

Luna smiled slightly. "You want to start over?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

"So, you want me to call you 'Ronald' again?" she asked, pushing a stray bit of dirty-blond hair behind an ear. Ron realised she was wearing the radishes.

"I kinda liked it when you called me Ronald," he admitted, rather sheepishly. "Only my Mum calls me that, and that's only when she's mad. I liked having someone call me it without the anger."

"Alright then, Ronald," she said. "We shall start over. As if the last five years never happened." She held out her left hand. He shook it.

"Ronald..." she said, chuckling.

"What?"

"I didn't want to shake your hand," she informed him. "I can't get up."

"Oh!" Ron exclaimed, awkwardly pulling her from the chair. It seemed more like a bottomless pit than an armchair.

"Goodbye, Ronald," said Luna, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. Without another word, she quickly exited the little room.

He touched the spot on his face where Luna had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened.

~ That's All Folks! ~
Just Kidding!

There's only the epilogue left, and then the next instalment in the Yesterday Sequence will begin. "Believe in Yesterday," will focus on the summer after fifth year.

~ Next Chapter ~
Epilogue

"The most critical reader of all, myself, now finds many defects,
minor and major, but being fortunately under no obligation
either to review the book or to write it again, he will pass over
these in silence, except one that has been noted by others:
the book is too short."
~ Tolkien

~ Coming Soon ~