It was a very happy Harry who woke up on Wednesday.
Telling Albus Dumbledore had truly relieved him. Now that Harry knew Albus Dumbledore knew he was a time traveler and that the future Headmaster was going to go save his friends in his future, it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe more easily. Even if the DA coin didn't send him home today, at least he had the certainty his friends were safe.
And, no matter what happened next, Harry now knew he was not alone in this blasted nineteenth century.
It was when Harry entered the Great Hall that he realized he had been whistling.
As he sat next to the blonde Weasley, Harry wondered if he shouldn't outright skip class and go some place safe for when he would be sent back to the future.
And then Harry remembered Dumbledore had sighed at that suggestion the other night.
"You do not know if this will work," he had reminded him. He had paused for a minute and added, "And if it does, do not forget your friends will most certainly choose the best hour to tear you away from the past."
Meaning, Harry sighed as he summoned the pitch of pumkin juice and started eating breakfast, that it should be before or after class but not during class. Most probably after.
"Correct," Dumbledore had nodded once Harry had told him that. "And it will undoubtedly happen tomorrow if your plan works. But if it doesn't-"
"If it doesn't, that means it failed, right?"
Dumbledore had slowly nodded. "You have to consider that possibility. This is why you need to operate with the assumption it will not work. Harry,' he had softly told him before the time-traveller could say anything, "when you make such plan, you need to cover all your bases, consider the possibility your first plan will fail and have a contingency plan in such case. And if that second plan fails, you need to have a contengy plan for your contengy plan. And so on until one of them ultimately comes to fruitition."
The fact the wizard had a point didn't mean he had to like it.
Harry sighed and left Gryffindor table to go to class, wondering if anybody would actually notice him vanishing if it happened during History of Magic.
He supposed he would never have his answer for he hadn't vanished in History of Magic.
When Harry entered the Divination classroom, he tried to remember what they had said they were going to do if if wasn't home tomorrow.
Dumbledore had closed his eyes when Harry had told him they would find another mean to travel back. "That is hardly going to be easy, Harry. You're operating blind and there is at the present moment no lead reguarding time travel. More than that, it is extraordinarily dangerous to deal with this kind of magic when one does not know what they are doing. You could severely injure yourself or die."
Harry hadn't said he was used to danger. "I don't even think I will even have the beginning of an idea," he had just said, which was also true.
Ultimately, they had both decided to research separatedly what to do and to compare their findings at the end of the school year if they were still at a dead-end.
"You'll tell me if you've got something before that, right?"
"O-Of course."
Elphias Doge stared at his hand. "I'm not really sure what to make of your life line," he finally confessed.
Harry shook his head and tried to mentally banish Dumbledore's face. "I'm probably going to die after class."
Elphias blinked. "Why would you say that?" Harry shrugged. "Sir?" Elphias raised his hand and the Divination Professor walked in their direction. "I've got problems reading his palm," he told him.
"Alright, let's see what the problem is." The wizard took Harry's hand and raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's not you, Mister Doge. What have you done to your poor hand?" he asked Harry. "That's way beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. You should find a less difficult partner for today's class, Mister Doge."
Harry glanced at his own palm while Elphias left to join the blonde Weasley and shrugged. "Looks normal to me."
"Of course you do, it's your hand." He intently looked at him and told him, "Now, I'm not a chiromancer but it looks like you've got a rather complicated relationship with death."
Harry thought about it and shrugged. "I guess so."
He took Harry's other hand and slowly shook his head. "At least it's clear which divination branch is best for you. An advice for you: never show your hand to a talented chiromancer, or anybody believing in divination."
Harry tried not to roll his eyes. "What's so wrong with my hand?"
"You've died seven times," he finally said and Harry blinked. "And, apparently, you'll die many more times, I admit I didn't bother counting. And that's not taking into account all the life and death situations you've been or will be in," he told Harry who was now staring at him. His lips curled. "It's either that, or you found it funny to rewrite your own lines and mess with your poor innocent classmate. Now, which one is the truth?"
He didn't wait for an answer and got up. "Open your book page 89 and read chapter seven. Also, it is highly inadvisable for you to skip detention this evening."
Harry frowned. "Wait, detention? It's tonight?"
He nodded. "Now that you're staying here, they're no avoiding it."
Harry opened his mouth to protest but stopped at the sight of the man's electric eyes.
"You will be here this evening," he told him, his tone breaking no argument. "Is that understood?"
Harry closed his mouth and reluctantly nodded.
It was with much energy that Albus walked to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom after his passage in the library during lunch.
Professor Merrythought was without a doubt a highly competent witch. Indeed, after some persuasion, he had learned from his professors that the witch was a former Auror who had only left active service to marry and have a family life. Meaning that, while she didn't quite know how to handle a class yet, she was incredibly talented in the art of defense against the dark arts.
Albus knew Hogwarts was the best magical school in the world for a reason, but even he had to admit he was impressed they had managed to hire her.
But then again, it was Defence Against the Dark Arts. And if Dumstrang was well-known to study the Dark Arts, Hogwarts was well-known to have some preference concerning Defence Against the Dark Arts and whoever got the spot was guaranteed to have good recommandation to publish their work and a good salary.
No, if Albus Dumbledore could be sure about one thing, it was that there will never be a problem for filling this position with competent teachers. It should have been a given their teacher would be somebody of her caliber.
Albus stopped whistling the Nutcracker opening and opened the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Seeing Harry was already inside, he smiled and walked in his direction. "Good afternoon, Harry."
Harry turned in his direction and gave him a small smile. "Afternoon. I didn't see during lunch. Or breakfast."
"Yes, yes." Albus considered telling him about his brief passage in the infirmary and ultimately considered it wasn't important enough to bother the new student. "I had to do some research so I skipped lunch," he smoothly replied.
While it was true his potion was unsalvageable, he still had other projects to complete. With his current timetable and the responsabilities he had as a Prefect, he had to optimize his timetable the best he could so he needed to move on and go to his next project.
"Oh. Oh." Harry turned his head and strangely looked at him. "I see". After a few seconds when more students started entering the classroom, he hesitantly added, "You should take care of yourself though. Like… it's not good to spend all your time working. Enjoy your time here."
Albus fought a sigh and instead calmly said, "It is very important, Harry. Far more important than class or a few skipped lunches."
If Albus wanted to do anything with his life and have a rather good situation before he turned thirty, he needed to cover his bases and have all the good cards in his hand. That meant he had to work hard and show everybody he was good at what he did. If he wanted to go past the stain his father has put in the family name, he couldn't afford any moment of frivolity like his classmates and had to work harder than ever.
The wizard's cheeks slowly reddened. "I-I know. Like- I know. I know you work hard and I'm … I'm just saying," he told him, "that you should also take care of yourself."
Albus smiled at him. "Duly noted."
Their conversation stopped at the entrance of Phineas Black. Harry grimaced and told him he had accepted to partner with him in Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"You don't mind, right?"
Albus shook his head. "Not at all," he told him, even though he had to admit a tiny part of him did. "I-I'm glad to see you're making friends outside Gryffindor," he added. That was evidence that the wizard was now feeling more comfortable at Hogwarts after all.
The new student smiled at him and left him to join the Slytherin prefect.
The Headmaster's son might look utterly bored to the untrained eyes, Albus knew his classemates enough to know he was very pleased of himself. Why he was, Albus didn't actually know but he supposed that was because he had managed to befriend the new student first.
Or maybe there was something slightly more sinister at work. Phineas Black Junior may not be a bad person, he was still a Black and a Slytherin, a person who would use the people he had under his hand to reach whatever goal he had decided to set. Maybe he was only using Harry and pretending to be his friend for utterly selfish reasons.
The Slytherin turned his head in his direction and, noticing he had been staring, winked.
Albus' left eyebrow twiched.
"Good afternoon everybody," Galatea Merrythought said as she went to the front of the classroom. "I hope you all had a good weekend. Now, I suppose we should begin with our weekly duel. Does anybody want to volunteer and go to the duelling circle?"
Albus smiled and slowly raised his hand.
Even though he and Harry were not partner in class, Professor Merrythought may choose them again if nobody volunteered. Today might just be day Albus would manage avenge his honour.
But the witch ignored his hand. Seeing nobody else had raised theirs, she started musing, "I suppose I will have to choose. Let's see… Mister Black and Mister..." She pointed at a Slytherin with straw blonde hair. "I'm afraid I do not have your name," she admitted.
"Slughorn, ma'am. Horace Slughorn."
"Mister Slughorn, you will duel Mister Black. Now, if the two of you would please go to the dueling circle."
From the corner of his eyes, Albus noticed Black facepalming and muttering something to Harry before walking in the center of the room with as much enthousiasm as a man going to the guillotine.
Horace on the other hand jovially went to the duelling circle. "Is it not jolly that we are the ones to open the second duel this year, Black? Why, I couldn't have asked for a better partner for what our new and rather talented tea-"
"Sluggy, shut up."
'Sluggy' just grinned. "Now I have to say this. I know how talented you can be with cursing. So be gentle with me please?"
Phineas Black pretended to think about it for a second. Finally, he smiled.
Everybody shuddered, for it was the very smile Headmaster Black had whenever he was in a 'good' mood.
"No."
"You're a terrible lucky charm," Black remarked as he started casting the disarming charm. Harry's wand flew to his hand. "Absolutely terrible."
The duel had barely lasted two minutes and by the time he was done, Slughorn was unsconcious and had to be sent to the infirmary for his burns.
"You weren't supposed to make him K.O."
"K.O?"
Harry paused. "Knocked out."
"Listen, Potter. Incapacitating your opponent is a valid move in duelling. It's not my fault he burned himself!"
One of the first things Phineas Black had done was to send a rather powerful blast of water in the other Slytherin's direction. Once he had done so, he had transfigured the water to ice and trapped the wizard. In order to free himself, Slughorn had casted a powerful incendio on himself, forgetting he was most probably going to burn.
Black had then casted several spells in his direction and the boy had tried to avoid them.
Problem was, the water on the floor had been also turned to ice.
He threw the holly wand to Harry. "I wonder, how would you have fared had you been Sluggy?"
Harry absolutely didn't know. And, he thought as he swiftly casted the disarming charm, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have made the same mistake.
Professor Merrythought during the reviewing had explained that Phineas Black's tactic, while unorthodox, had been ingenious. After all, he had taken control of the duelling circle and put a handicap on Slughorn who couldn't from then operate freely. She had then asked what Slughorn should have done.
"Maybe he shouldn't have tried to free himself," he had proposed to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor who had just nodded. "I mean… he could still move his hand."
Harry got two point for his answer but, Harry was aware, it was easy to see that when you weren't actually dealing with this problem.
"No clue."
Black's lips twiched. "At least you're honest."
Harry raised his wand to cast the disarming charm but the Slytherin swiftly waved his wand and Harry's wand was the one which flew away.
Surprisingly, it was not his duel against Albus Dumbledore but the one he had just seen which showed him how far he still had to go. Not everybody would spam curses Harry would just need to dodge, not everybody would be stupid enough to give him an opening. Not all Death Eaters would be like Malfoy. And Voldemort was most certainly a far, far better duellist than Black or any of his followers.
"What would you have done?" Black blinked but Harry repeated the question, "Had he been the one thowing this charm at you, and had you been the one trapped, what would you have done?"
Black blinked once more. "What would I have done?" For a second, it seemed like he was at loss. "W-Well I suppose…" he started musing, "I suppose I would have- no, that'd be a terrible idea. Maybe I'd -not that either."
For a few seconds, the wizard seemed lost in thoughts and Harry wondered if he remembered he still had Harry's wand.
But finally it in his direction and Harry hurriedly grabbed it before it could fall on the floor.
"Had I been Sluggy," he began, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, "I would have replied in kind and trapped him too. After all, if both opponents have the same handicap, it's as if there is none at all."
Never had Harry been so happy to leave to leave Defence Against the Dark Arts.
It was not that the class was bad. It was very good in fact. But now, Harry knew he could go home at any time.
True, he had detention. But even if Harry were to suddenly vanish right in front of him, it wouldn't be the end of the world.
Harry considered once more skipping it but Dumbledore's warning the previous day reminded him it would be a terrible idea.
Harry sighed and slowly began heading to the Divination classroom, hoping that he'd suddenly vanish and be brought back to 1996 before he reached the top of the tower.
But reaching the top of the tower he did, and Harry entered the room where the paintings of eyes stared at him.
Professor Mesmer raised his nose from the book he was reading and blinked. ""It's already five?" He closed his book. "Oh well. It does not really matter, I suppose. You're here at least."
Harry's eyes looked at the cover and he couldn't stop being slightly annoyed at the realization this was one of the books on Occlumency Professor Mesmer had borrowed him right before he could.
"What am I supposed to do, sir?"
"There's a pen on the table in front of you," he began as he took his satchel and opened it. He retrieve several sheets of parchement. "Because I'm a dark and very evil wizard, your punichement is to do this test."
"Wait, what?"
"Well, I don't know where you are in your studies," he replied. "Did your former teacher teach you tassomancy? Oneiromancy? Chiromancy? Osteromancy? Lithomancy? Dictiomancy? I need to know that, so..." He put the test on the table. "Good luck." He glanced at the test and grimaced. "You'll need it. You'll really, really need it."
Harry sighed and morosely took the pen.
And stared when he saw the first question.
"Sir, what is abacomancy?"
"Oh, it's another term for amathomancy." Seeing Harry's puzzled face, he explained, "That is the noble art of interpretating patterns in dust, dirt, silt, sand, or even the ashes of the recently deceased to see the future."
And to that Harry just said, "Ah."
His lips twiched. "Like I said, I have no idea how you were taught divination. There are many means to read the future. For example, I prefer pallomancy and oculomancy but I know some who have predispositions for cleromancy, stichomancy or even haruspicy." The older wizard who finally smiled when Harry stared. "There are so many means to read the future, Mister Potter. And we have given a difficult name for all of them."
Harry looked back to his test. Slowly, he turned the first page.
Maybe question two was going to be better.
It wasn't.
Three hours later, Harry weakly gave his copy back.
Professor Mesmer glanced at it. "My Third Eye tells me you've got a Dreadful."
The sad part in all that was that Harry believed him.
"You're not going to get your Outstanding in Divination if you do not work hard, Mister Potter," he concluded. "Even with your predispositions, you won't. Especially with your predispositions." Harry frowned and the 'seer' explained, "I myself barely passed my Ordinary Wizarding Level in Divination after all." He summoned a cristal ball. "So, try to tell me the future. You will only leave once you start foreseeing something."
Harry looked at the cristal ball. Weakly, he asked, "What?"
"Foresee something and you're free to go. Don't and you stay here until dawn."
"P-Professor Mesmer," Harry slowly tried. "I am not a seer."
"With spectacles like yours, I've figured."
"I cannot see the future," he insisted. "I'm sorry but I can't."
He raised an eyebrow and intently looked at him. "And why?" Harry considered telling him nobody could see the future. "Ah, I see." He nodded and pointed in his direction. "You're one of these. A non-believer. You think nobody can know what the future is going to be like. But then I have to ask this question: if nobody can possibly know what tomorrow is going to be like, why are you here?"
Harry hesitated. "I know that some can have visions or make... or make prophecies."
At the last word, the wizard's face hardened.
"But that is because they are Seers."
"Prophets. Only prophets can make prophecies," he tightly corrected.
But Harry ignored him. "If you do not have that gift... then it's pointless to try."
Professor Mesmer blankly looked at him.
Finally, he snorted. "So basically I'm being paid to teach you something that cannot be taught? Anybody can foresee, Mister Potter, given some basic training." Seeing he wasn't convinced, the wizard's lips twiched. "Alright then, let me ask you this: do you play Quidditch?"
Harry blinked at the non-sequitur. "W-Well..."
"I'm sure you do. Now, do you remember your last Quidditch match?"
At the memory of that fateful Quidditch match when Umbridge had banned him to play Quidditch for life and taken his Firebolt, Harry's face darkened.
"You do, don't you? If you close your eyes I'm sure you could remember the other Seeker, the crowd's screams…"
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Harry shook his head, trying to chase the memory of Slytherins' cursed song. "Yes."
"Funny things, are they not? Memories. Good memories, bad memories, anything can spark them and bring us back to the instant they happened. But that moment is gone, is it not? It is gone and it will never come back. So let me ask you this: what is the difference between foreseeing and looking back?"
Harry stopped and incredulously looked at him. "What?"
"Foreseeing. Looking back. What's the difference?" Harry spluttered and Professor Mesmer smirked. "Nothing really. Only the direction. So all you need to do is just to turn your head."
There was something incredibly wrong with that sentence.
But Harry couldn't figure out what.
Two hours later, Harry weakly left the Divination classroom.
After bluffing like crazy, he had managed to escape his detention. First he had tried to tell him he was going to die in atrocious circumstances but the wizard had just rolled his eyes and muttered something about blind owls. Then Harry had told him he was going to travel far, far away and that he was not going to be in class tomorrow.
"No, you stay here," he had replied.
Then had begun an insane guessing game where Harry would say the first thing in his mind and the other man would put him down.
It was with great difficulty that Harry headed to the seventh floor, and it was mumbling he really had enough of this blasted century that Harry started walking three times in front of where he knew the door leading to the Room of Requirement was. When Harry opened it, his heart stopped.
In his hurry, Harry had asked the room to bring him home.
And the room had done just that, for it was the DA room that was on the other side.
Harry slowly closed the door behind him and couldn't help walking in the middle of the room where the large silk cushions the DA used to sit on were. Would use to sit on.
For five entire minutes, Harry honestly believed he had done it. For five entire minutes, Harry thought he was back in 1996 and that Hermione would at any moment open the door and ask him what they were going to learn today, pointedly ignoring Ron right behind her telling her they were not in class.
And then common sense came back. One look at the title of the books on the wooden bookcases showed they were not the ones Harry had used. Probably because these books would not be written before a very long time.
Even the Room of Requirement's magic, it seemed, had its limits.
Harry sighed and took the DA coin in his pocket and raised it above his head.
"Please, work."
He had seen how uneasy Dumbledore had been at the sight of the DA coin. He knew he must have looked desperate -probably because he was- but, he had then tried to reason, Hermione had loosely based the DA coin on the Dark Mark. And Harry knew, for he had seen it, that the Dark Mark could be used to summon other Death Eaters. Not one word, and yet they had all known where they were supposed to apparate.
Harry suddenly wondered if he was supposed to leave the castle. One couldn't apparate at Hogwarts after all.
Probably not. If Harry had to be somewhere, he had to be somewhere where they would know he was going be.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry sighed and sat on a silk cushion and began looking at the grandfather clock that had appeared on the wall.
Ten thirty. There was still time. All Harry had to do was to wait and he'd be home with his friends safe.
As he waited, Harry suddenly regretted not saying goodbye to the young Dumbledore. The wizard had been kind enough to help him and he seemed rather intent on finding a way for him to go home and Harry hadn't even bothered doing so little when he was doing so much.
He'd have to apologize to the old Dumbledore, wherever the old man was.
At eleven thirty, It suddenly occured to him that Professor Dumbledore had known this was going to happen. From the very beginning, he had known.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He supposed he would be able to ask him soon enough. Why he had let him get stuck in the past without any warning, and why he hadn't managed to look at him in the eyes the entire year. For how grateful he was of the young Dumbledore, he had to admit there were things he needed to say to the old one.
At eleven forty-five, Harry suddenly remembered what Dumbledore had told him before leaving the Common Room to do this reverse forgetfullness potion.
"Harry, I do not want... I don't want to worry you, but it may just be possible that it will take some time for you to be in 1996."
"The DA coin-"
"Harry... It..." The prefect had looked pained. "I know you are putting all your hopes in this but it... It is a very long shot. You have to at least acknowledge that." Harry had pretended not to listen and he had sighed. "Even if I could help you find a way to go home, it would not happen overnight. Do you understand that, at least? We may be talking weeks here. O-Or months. I just want you to-"
He had then stopped talking and swallowed. "I know you miss your friends terribly, Harry," he had slowly begun. "I just... I just want you to know that you should not refuse to enjoy your time here because they're not with you. I just think that you should also... Enjoy your time here. Not necessarily see it as a punishment for your mistakes."
Harry had then snorted. "What? I'm supposed to think I'm on holidays?"
"J-Just think about it, will you? F-For me? It-It doesn't have to be a death sentence for you, being here."
Eleven fifty, and Harry was finally willing to admit this may not work at all.
He knew Albus was working really hard to find a way to bring him home. He knew he didn't have to do that for him. He knew he was trying to waste as little time as possible. All of that, he knew.
And Harry also knew it was wrong of him to put all this burden on the prefect's shoulders and be ungrateful. He was not his house-elf, and Harry should not push him into working himself into the ground.
So maybe, just maybe, for Albus' sake, Harry should respect his wish. Maybe he should just try not to be an ungrateful ass like he often was and bother him every five minutes with his problems. And it was not like it was completely awful there. Like, there was no Ministry of Magic to slander him and no Voldemort trying to kill him in the near future. And with Albus Dumbledore having his back, maybe he could allow himself to relax just a tiny bit.
When Harry woke up the next morning, he was still in 1896.
And, although Harry couldn't stop feeling disappointed and slightly upset, he just sighed and swore he'd at least try to respect Dumbledore's wish.
