A/N: Thanks to Xirb for the first thing in this chapter. I can't tell you what happens yet, but it was her idea.
Chapter Fifteen
Previous Chapter: "Yes, I can. And I do." Harry sighed, standing up slowly from his chair, looking around the room at the bewildered faces. "Harry Potter never leaves his relatives house before starting Hogwarts. I know this because I lied to you all. I was never home schooled… I started my schooling at Hogwarts in 1991. I knew about Voldemort being back because it already happened for me."
He sat back down in his chair, reclining with his arms behind his head and his legs stretched out in front of him lazily. "I don't know how and I don't know why, but when Voldemort came back in time, I came with him. And I really want to go back to 1996," he added for emphasis, enjoying the looks of pure shock plastered on every face in the room.
There was total silence before chaos broke out.
Harry tilted his chair back on its legs, the way his Year Three teacher in Primary School always screeched at him for doing. "Keep your chair firmly planted on the floor, Mr. Potter!" she would shriek. He tilted back a bit further, smiling viciously at the memory. 'How do you like this, Miss Barnegat-' With a sickening crack, Harry slammed into the stone floor, the legs of the chair sliding out beneath him.
The silence returned as everyone stared at the-boy-who-had-just-dropped-a-bombshell-on-them.
"Arrest him!" Crouch cried hoarsely, raising a wand to point at Harry's crumpled form. Without hesitation, several Aurors jumped to his command and raced over to the disoriented teen.
Harry gazed up at the approaching men blearily. "For what? Improper Chair Decorum?" He rubbed his bruised head and winced. "I knew I should have paid attention in Primary School."
A short, burly man hoisted him up roughly by his shoulders. "By Order of the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you, Zachary Harrison, are under arrest."
"But I didn't do anything!" The man gave a disbelieving snort and muttered something. Thick metal bands encircled Harry's wrists and tightened painfully. He glared angrily at the smirking Crouch. "What are the charges?"
"Aiding and allying with Death Eaters," Crouch said smugly.
Harry struggled as the Aurors pulled his towards the door of the Hall. "But I haven't done anything! You don't have any proof!"
"I don't need to. You pose a threat to this convention, Harrison. It's my duty to protect the people attending it." He thrust his chin into the air self-righteously and gazed valiantly at the masses. If this situation wasn't threatening to land him in Azkaban, Harry would have laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all.
"So that's it!" he yelled, eyes scanning the masses for at least one welcoming face. "Guilty until proven innocent?" Remus stood up from his spot at the table, looking distressed. Harry shook his head slightly; he didn't want Remus to get involved. He'd never be able to live with himself if the older man was harmed.
Harry dug his heels into the ground, protesting as they tried to extract him from the room. "Come on, kid," the Auror whispered. "Don't make this difficult on yourself."
His eyes widened, resting on Crouch's look of triumph, as he got further and further away from the Head Table. He had to think of something. And fast.
"Sanctuary!" he blurted out suddenly.
"What?" Crouch bit out impatiently.
"Sanctuary!" he shouted with all his might. "Sanctuary!"
"What are you blathering on about now, Harrison?"
"In medieval times, accused criminals were given the right to prepare their defense as long as they remained in a certain place, such as a church. They fled there and were provided with asylum," he explained hurriedly.
Crouch regarded him critically. "Even if I believed you were persecuted," he said sarcastically, "there is one flaw to your plan. You are not in a church."
"This is a boarding school," he said, grasping for some shred of hope. "There must have been at least a few students who practice a form of religion before they came here and wished to continue while they were away from home."
"He's right!" Remus spoke up eagerly, wanting to help in some way. "There's an old church on the second floor. It hasn't been in use since 1789, but–"
"But it's still a church!" Harry finished enthusiastically. "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!"
"Shut up, Harrison!" Crouch barked and wheeled on Remus. "Who traditionally performed the services in that church, Lupin?"
"Er … the Headmaster, I believe."
"Then, as the leader of the establishment, it is the Headmaster who would decide if the right of sanctuary is to be enacted, am I correct?"
"Well, yes …"
Crouch turned to Dumbledore, who had been noticeably silent during the proceedings. "Well, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore turned his eerie blue gaze on to the bound teen. "Mr. Harrison," he began and Harry shuddered at the bland tone. "I am reluctant to cast judgment on a person with no evidence, like our present tribulation. However, since beginning your education here, you have done nothing but lie to everyone. I am not sure I can allow you and your dishonesty to remain in this institution and be at peace in my mind."
"No!" Harry finally broke away from the Aurors restraining him. "Please, Dumbledore! Please! You have got to let me stay! Please!"
Dumbledore looked down his long nose impassively. "I am truly sorry, Mr. Harrison."
Harry's mouth opened in despair and he fell to his knees in front of the table.
"Get him," Crouch ordered, smiling nastily. "We'll bring up some Dementors from the Island to watch over him tonight."
"Wait." Harry's calm, cold voice brought the advancing Aurors to a halt. He slowly stood up, struggling slightly with his still-tied hands, and looked Dumbledore straight in the eye. "I know I was wrong. I know I shouldn't have lied. But would you have believed me? If I had told you when I first arrived… from that very moment, would you have believed that I was from the future? Would you have even listened? I didn't know what else to do! But I swear, I swear, on my parents' graves that I am not a Death Eater. And I am begging you to believe me and let me stay."
"We're wasting time," said Crouch, rolling his eyes. "Get him out of here."
"No," Dumbledore declared finally. "He will stay."
Crouch looked incredulous. "Headmaster–" But Dumbledore's raised hand cut him off.
"But," he continued, addressing Harry, "you are on probation. One step out of line and I will be forced to remove you from Hogwarts. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Harry said, sighing with relief as the binds encompassing his wrists evaporated.
Remus walked into his small room, still slightly surprised that Harry had gotten out of trouble so easily. The boy was certainly lucky, that was for sure. He removed the tattered outer cloak he was wearing and reached behind him to shut the door …
… only to find a foot wedged in between the door and frame.
Severus Snape, the owner of that foot, pushed his way into the room and spun around angrily to face Remus.
"What do you know about Zachary Harrison, Lupin?" he spat, clearly disgusted to have to speak the werewolf.
"What do you mean?" Remus inquired lightly, finally shutting the door and moving to sit down on the couch.
"You know what I mean," he ground out impatiently, ticking off reasons on his long fingers. "You've spent a lot of time with him since his arrival and you jumped to help him during the inquisition out there. Why?"
"I know nothing more about him than you do, Severus."
Severus poked a finger into Remus chest sharply, pushing the werewolf farther back into the cushions. "Mark my words: if I find out that you lied to me, Lupin, I will be very unhappy. I do not like it when people know more about my students than I do." With a dramatic billow of his cloak, he was gone.
Remus dusted off his robes and rolled his eyes. "You're going to be unhappy either way," he muttered to the absent Snape. "Trust me."
The next morning, Harry lay in bed in his new guest bedroom, agonizing whether or not to make an appearance at breakfast. Dumbledore had packed him off to get some rest last night way before any of the Hall had the chance to react to the events. Now, however, they had a full night to let it stir, to let it sink in. He was afraid of the repercussions.
Sighing, he slowly stood up and stretched his arms high above his head. The Headmaster had wanted to talk to him. Maybe if the meeting took long enough, he could skip breakfast altogether …
For today, at least.
He wasn't hiding- no, he was just… making a calculated absence. Of course.
He decided to dress rather unobtrusively, slipping on a pair of worn jeans and a green sweater that resembled the one Mrs. Weasley had knitted him several holidays ago. Gazing in the mirror, Harry let the colored tips of his hair disappear, simply leaving black hair that was slightly shorter and neater than his own.
Luckily, he didn't meet anyone in the halls on his way to Dumbledore's office. Mumbling the password the Headmaster had told him the night before ("Acid Pops") and sluggishly moved up the stairs.
"Come in," the Headmaster greeted cheerfully at his knock. Harry pushed his way into the small office, only to be faced with not only Dumbledore, but a stern looking McGonagall and a murderous looking Snape. "Please, Mr. Harrison," Dumbledore bid, no trace of the smile Harry had heard in his voice present on his face, "have a seat."
Harry obeyed and stared stonily at Dumbledore. He could feel the edge of Legilimency probing at his mind. "I'd very much appreciate if you remained out of my mind," Harry said pleasantly and the Headmaster withdrew with a startled look on his face. "Thank you."
"How…"
Harry smiled thinly. "Anything you want to know you can ask me. I cannot promise I'll answer truthfully, but I will try."
"Don't you think your lying has gotten you into enough trouble?" McGonagall snapped angrily.
He shifted his gaze to the Professor. "I have found that sometimes the truth can get you into more trouble than being dishonest." McGonagall shivered under the intense look.
"Is your name really Zachary Harrison?" Snape asked sharply.
"I told you it was." Harry shrugged.
"That doesn't mean it is."
"You don't even trust us enough to tell us your name?" asked McGonagall softly.
"What reason have you given me to trust you?" Harry asked. "Trust isn't given freely, it's earned. I don't put my trust in people without being fully sure that it won't be broken."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, searching Harry's eyes without magic this time. "What happened last time you put your trust in someone, Zachary?"
"My godfather was killed," he replied blankly, not taking his eyes off the Headmaster's.
"I'm sorry."
'You should be,' he thought, but what he said was, "Thanks. It's been difficult. He was the only family I had left."
"How long ago was that?"
"Two months. He was murdered by Death Eaters."
"What about your parents?" McGonagall asked, horrified.
"They were killed when I was little. I barely remember them."
"By Death Eaters," Severus surmised grimly. "Why didn't you tell Crouch that last night? He might have believed you if you told him–"
"He wouldn't have."
The room sank in to a brief silence, the three teachers contemplating the mysterious student before them.
Finally, Dumbledore said, "Well, we must now decide what you are going to do with the remainder of you time here."
"I've been looking for the counter charm that will get me back to 1996," Harry explained, "but I haven't had much luck."
"Unfortunately, neither have we. We do, however, have several Ministry Departments and … an outside organization working on it."
"Did you have Mundungus Fletcher listen around Knockturn Alley yet for news?" Harry asked evenly and Dumbledore looked up piercingly.
"You know about the Order."
"I have some friends associated with it."
"Lupin," Severus said disgustedly. "He knew you were from the future long before anybody else did."
Harry shrugged. "Am I still required to attend classes?" he asked abruptly.
McGonagall and Snape exchanged looks, but Dumbledore answered. "No. Now we know that you are not a student, I see no reason why you would have to attend class. You may stay in the castle as a guest of the Convention."
"Thanks." He stood. "Now, if you don't mind, may I attend breakfast? I'm very hungry."
"Of course. In fact, I'll walk down with you." Harry cursed inwardly; he had been planning on stopping by the kitchen for a meal. Now he would have to face the Great Hall. "You're welcome to eat up at the Head Table with us, unless you wish to find a guest table you'd be more comfortable at."
"No, no, I'll be fine." He matched Dumbledore's stride as they walked to the Hall, followed closely by Snape and McGonagall.
Total silence followed as they entered the Hall. The occupants watched Harry closely, shooting him looks of curiosity and even loathing. Before he could sit at the Head Table, however, he was waved over by a grinning Lelia.
Harry tapped Dumbledore on the shoulder. "I'm going to go sit over with my friends. Is that alright?" Dumbledore looked over to the Slytherin table and, smiling, nodded.
He headed over to the group, sliding in to his usual seat. "Morning, Zach!" Lelia chirruped. "You're looking more socially acceptable today." Harry smirked.
"Except for the earring," Lex commented.
"What can I say?" Harry said, picking up an apple. "Some things never change." He raised an eyebrow at the empty chairs surrounding them. "Where are Jabez and Becker?"
Lelia and Lex shot each other pointed looks and gazed farther down the table. Harry followed their eyes, finally resting on Jabez who sat with some of the other visitors. The boy felt the stare and looked up, meeting Harry's eyes. His face twisted in to an unpleasant grimace and he mouthed, "Traitor." Harry looked away.
"I'm sorry, Zach," Lelia said softly. "He believes what Crouch said."
"What about Becker?"
"She … doesn't know how she feels. But, Zach," she put a hand on his shoulder, "we're sticking by you. We believe you. Slytherin means family to us and we don't turn out backs on family. No matter what." Lex nodded.
Harry smiled. "Thanks."
The next two days flew by, with Harry avoiding the population of the school and the school out looking for blood. Another attack had occurred and everyone was out looking for a scapegoat. Murderous looks trailed him where ever he went and he had to be extra vigilant while traveling through the school alone. Lex and Lelia stayed by his side as much as they could, but as they still had class to attend, there were many moments when Harry was by himself.
On the other side, the research into finding out how to fix the timeline and how it was changed in the first place grew exponentially. Group of experts were continuously traveling through the school, working in the library or holding discussions in the Great Hall. Harry had so far avoided being questioned by the brainy experts, but had finally succumbed to requests that he attend a brainstorming meeting.
It was on his way to the meeting that he was pulled out of the hallway and had a wand pressed against his temple. Again.
"I've got to stop ending up in this situation," he mumbled to himself and sent a kick at the knees of his captor, sending the figure sprawling to the floor. Harry recognized the man as a 7th year Slytherin name Robert who he had never spoken with. Three other stood at edge of the room, watching with interest.
Lex and Lelia immediately burst into the room behind him. "Sorry," Lex said drawing his wand. "We were about to catch up to you when we saw Zambini here try to kidnap you."
Zambini. Harry looked the boy up and down, searching for traces of his future classmate. They had the same eyes. "Zambini, eh? Say hi to Blaise for me."
Robert bristled at the mention of his younger brother and Lelia put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on, Zach. Let's just go."
"Stay out of this, Williams," growled Robert. "What would Daddy say if he knew you were protecting a blood traitor?" Lelia bared her teeth and started forward, only to be pulled back by Lex.
"Calm down," he whispered in her ear. "He's not worth it." Letting go of his friend, Lex gave the 7th years a haughty look. "We're going to be late if we don't leave now."
Out in the hall, Harry turned to Lelia. "What was that about?"
She sighed and leaned on the wall, closing her eyes. Lex remained silent, but gave her a compassionate look. "What do you know about my family, Zach?" she asked, not opening her eyes.
He gave her a confused glance. "Not a thing. Why?"
"The Williams are an old pureblood family," she explained. "Their views on wizarding life are the same as the Zambinis … or the Malfoys."
"Oh."
"You understand now?"
"What would you father think of you helping me?" he asked softly.
"He'd probably disown me," she stated bitterly. "But I've never cared much about what my father thinks." She straightened up. "Now, we've got a meeting to get to."
"I'm glad you could finally join us, Mr. Harrison," a tall balding man greeted as they entered the Hall. "I've been looking forward to what you have to offer to our research." He stuck out his hand and shook Harry's. "I'm Dr. Mashburn and I work for the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry."
Harry regarded the man critically. As far as Unspeakables went, this man seemed to be the most normal and friendly he had ever encountered. The more Harry felt at ease around the man, the more he knew he had to keep his guard up.
Mashburn pulled out a chair and motioned for Harry to have a seat. "Now, I would like you to start at the beginning. How did You-Know-Who manage to return to life?"
"Well," Harry swallowed hard, aware that the entire room was watching him, "it all started in a graveyard outside of Little Hangleton, the town where Voldemort's father had lived–"
The door banged open and Harry was glad for the distraction. That is, until, he saw Tonks enter with a very pale Harry Potter.
Dumbledore stood immediately. "Everything alright, Miss Tonks?"
Tonks shook her head, looking concerned. "He had a nightmare, Professor. And he said he wanted to talk to you." Young Harry took a couple steps forward.
Dumbledore approached him, kneeling down in front of shaking boy. "What was it, Harry?"
"A … " He took a shuddery breath. "A graveyard. And a man with red eyes."
Dr. Mashburn's eyes widened and he shot the older Harry a sharp look.
"The man was small," the boy continued. "And then … then he came out of a–"
"Cauldron," Harry finished and Dumbledore turned around to stare at him. Harry met his eyes. "He's talking about the return of Voldemort."
"How long have you been having these visions?" Dumbledore asked the boy urgently.
"Since my birthday," he sniffled.
"Did you do anything about them? Tell anyone?"
Harry shook his head. "I just wished … I wished that someone would come that could help me. I was scared. I wanted them to go away."
Dumbledore stood. "Miss Tonks, can you take Harry back to his room please." Tonks nodded and left. He turned to the older Harry. "Do you get visions?" he answered bluntly.
Harry stared down into his lap and nodded.
"And were you present at the rebirth of Voldemort?"
"Yes, I was."
"Are you trying to say," Mashburn asked, incredulous, "that all of this happened because a 6 year old wanted his nightmares to go away?"
"I am," he responded bluntly. "Mr. Harrison, would you mind assisting Harry with his visions so that there will be no more damage done? At least until we can find a more permanent solution."
Harry bit his lip. It would be nice to have reassurance that his visions would not be plaguing his younger self anymore, but … could he face himself everyday? Could he work and not have the urge to reveal the future? He thought of all the things he could have changed – Voldemort's return, letting Pettigrew go, Sirius' death … and he knew the answer, just as quickly as he'd thought to worry about if he could resist the temptation.
"No," he said suddenly, startling the spectators. "I can't."
"What–" Mashburn began, only to be cut off from an angry exclamation from the Slytherin table.
"Are you really that heartless?" Becker yelled. "You won't even help a child in need?"
"You don't understand–" he began desperately.
"No, you don't understand. After all that child has been through, you are going to make him suffer even more pain? You're even worse than his relatives."
Harry saw red. "You have no idea what you are talking about! Do you think I don't know what it's like? How horrible it feels to know that your own family doesn't give a damn about you? To be locked away for just being what you are? Trust me, I know all too well." He stood up stiffly. "I can't help. I'm sorry but I can't help everyone."
The door banging shut left a sickening echo in his bleak wake.