A/N: Harry Potter is not mine! Not mine I tell you!

A/N: Thanks to all of my reviewers!

Eternalstupor: I see your point; I looked over that detail. Oh well, I'm still new! Anyway…please keep the reviews coming, please!

Chapter 6

Harry was standing in a white room…alone. He had that knowledge you get in dreams, so you never question why you are there; he was waiting.

"I'm here Harry," said a males' voice behind Harry. He turned around and saw a man with black, messy hair, oval glasses, and hazel eyes wearing a black robe. James Potter was standing in front of Harry; he looked so much like this son, but was about 7 years older.

"You wanted to see me?" Harry questioned his father; he was not surprised at finding him there.

"Do you know how important Time itself is Harry?" James Potter asked, looking at his son with sharp eyes, letting him know that he would know if Harry lied.

"Yes," he said immediately, "I could save you from being murdered with time. I can be able to have a proper family growing up with you and Mum with time. I--"

"Alright…I can see that you are thinking about this time, Harry, my time," said James with a hint of disappointment in his eyes as he continued to look at Harry. "I mean about all of time. What about your time? From my knowledge, you waste your time on the past instead of thinking of your future! You use up your limited time, alive, thinking of what should have happened instead of what did!" James said passionately with glistening eyes.

"I…I don't waste my time thinking of the past," said Harry in a small, nervous voice; he had never had the chance of him being yelled at by his father, and it scared him.

"Harry, my son," James said sadly, "You still do not know why I had brought you here…do you?"

"So you did bring me and Hermione here!" exclaimed Harry. "But…why are we here?"

James gave a tired sighed, and took off his oval glasses. He cleaned them on his robes while he closed his eyes. He did this to give his clueless son time to think…but Harry just stared at his father. James then placed his glasses back on, and looked at Harry with serious, hazel eyes.

"Harry…I know that you wanted a normal family growing up—don't interrupt," he said when Harry was about to ask how he knew. "But…earlier…you convinced yourself that everything would turn out perfectly if you had your Mum and me with you. But son…life isn't perfect, and you would be lucky to get all that you want with time." James then started to walk in a slow circle around his son as he continued to talk.

"You cannot have both Harry: the same relationship that you have with your friends, or any relationship at all, and parents--"

"I can, and I will!" Harry shouted determinedly. "I have come here to save you and Mum and Sirius—"

"I have brought you here to tell you that you cannot, because you will never have the same relationships with the Rubius Hagrid, Ronald Weasley, or Hermione Granger; and that is a cold, hard fact Harry!" James Potter was now staring at his son with fiery eyes that burned into Harry's own. Harry could not look at him, so he rested his teary eyes to the white floor.

He wanted his parents so badly, but he did not think that he could live happily without Hermione and Ron if they were not his best friends…or possibly more, in Hermione's case.

"Dad," said Harry softly, "will I be able to have them as my friends?"

"You will become friends with Ronald because I know the Wealey's…that is if I were to live. However," he said with sad eyes, "I do not think that you will become a friend of Hermione Grangers."

Harry thought of living through Hogwarts, and not having her there by his side. He knew that if he changed the past, he would have no knowledge of a girl named Hermione Granger. He started to feel his eyes burning with tears; he did not want to believe that he could not have both.

"Why do you think that Hermione will not be my friend?" he asked his father, but was not looking at him.

"The only reason that anyone thought of Hermione as a person was because she helped you gain the Philosophers Stone, and became your friend. If I think this out correctly," said James thoughtfully, "then she will never open up to let anyone in because she will be labeled as a know-it-all…and nothing else."

Harry could see the logic in that. Logic… is Hermione's specialty. Harry could not imagine going through Hogwarts without Hermione pointing out the logic in everything that could happen and that did. Harry's vision became a blur of white and black as he looked at his father. He now knew that he could not have both.

"You don't have all of the time in the world Harry," said his father, "You should tell her how you truly feel about her, because you never know when you will take your last breath."

"You sound like something bad is going to happen to her…" said Harry. His face then became serious through his tears, and his voice became deep with seriousness. "Dad…is something bad going to happen to her?"

"I don't know son," said his father, "But I died before I could tell Lily that I loved her…" He stopped, because the white that surrounded them was starting to turn a dull grey.

"Dad?" said a worried Harry, "What's happening?" Harry could see the white completely disappear and was now grey. The grey began to turn darker very quickly. Harry could see James fading away, and he could see the dark color through him.

"Harry," shouted James, but his voice was small and feeble, "I don't know if anything will happen to her, but I do know that you're waking--"

Harry saw his dad disappear, and suddenly, Harry became very cold. He could see his breath as the darkness turned blacker. Harry did not know what to do; he thought that you could not feel pain in a dream, but he could feel the icy breath burn his lungs as he tried to breath. Harry then heard a far-off scream echo in his brain. Harry felt something as cold as ice surrounds his neck, ever-so gently, like it did not want to hurt him. Harry clawed at the invisible coldness, but felt nothing unusual. He became blind from the cold and darkness, and became deaf as the scream grew louder…the he opened his eyes.

He was scared half to death as he stared into the face of a Dementor. Its hands were around his neck, ever-so gently, and its face was close to Harry's. Its eye-less face stared at Harry, but Harry had nothing to stare back at. Its mouth was close to Harry's, and its breath seemed to paralyze Harry with disgust and fear. Harry could hear his mother and his father scream cruses and pleas, which never stopped. The Dememtor was tilting his head up to meet its horrid face—

Harry reached behind his back to the little table, as he shut his eyes. Harry couls see horrible images flashed by in a white, cloudy blur: Hermione lying, unconscious, on the floor in the Department of Mysteries in 5th year; Ron was being dragged into the Whomping Willow in 3rd, his fingers trying to grab onto the grass; Mr. Weasley bleeding from the snake wound, slowly dieing…

Harry felt wood make contact with his numb and cold fingers just when his mind could only see choking white fog. He brought his wand in front of him, just as the Dememtor's mouth was to make contact with Harry's.

Harry could see Hermione standing in front of him in the white fog with a smile on her face; this was how Harry loved to see her. The fog started to clear and change into the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. Harry focused on her pretty face, and he could see Ron ahead in the background, his ginger hair flying around. Harry loved this memory; the time that Hermione kissed him on the cheek after he was praised for defeating Voldemort in the Great Hall. Just then, she leaned over to kiss him—

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry shouted at the creature before him. Brilliant white light erupted from his wand and hit the Dementor around its' middle. The cloaked figure was swept back by the white stag, and then flew out of the window and into the night.

Harry lay exhausted and shaking as cold sweat rolled down his forehead. The stag looked at him with concern in its' white eyes. Its head then snapped around to look at the wall ahead and its ears perked up; it was listening. Harry looked at the wall too, and remembered: the room next to his own was Hermione's…Harry jumped out of bed and ran to the door. He burst through it and ran to Hermione's. He pushed open the door to find a cloaked figure kneeling in a corner with its hands outstretched before it; it was holding something. Harry could see a pair of feet to the side of the Dementor: Hermione.

Harry raised his wand with an image of himself and Hermione together. He had a thought cross his mind before he screamed the spell: Am I too late to save the one I love…again?