The young Dumbledore thankfully didn't say anything about him still being here when he entered the Common Room. No, 'I told you so' or 'I tried to warn you', he just kept going as if nothing was wrong at all.

Harry packed his bag with a heavy sigh and shakily pinched his nose.

Nothing had changed really. The DA coin had just been a gamble from a desperate man. One that didn't pay off. If Harry wanted to go home, it was now clear there would be no easy path for him to take.

Harry tried to imagine how, on earth, he was supposed to find a way to travel to the future when time travel had yet to be invented and grimaced.

Somehow, he doubted he would manage to even present the beginning of an idea when he and Albus were going to compare notes.

"Albus, I'm really counting on you," he said under his breath. He then grimaced when he realized what he had just said.

It's not as if he really had a choice there, Harry tried to justify himself. Either the fifteen years old Dumbledore managed to find the mean for him to go home, or Harry was stuck in the nineteenth century.

But was it really alright to put such weight on his shoulders? he couldn't help wondering. If this Dumbledore was older, if this was Professor Dumbledore, then Harry wouldn't feel so uneasy. Was it really alright to let a boy his age shoulder such an enormous task?

Not quite ready to ponder this question, Harry left Gryffindor Tower and headed for the Great Hall.

It was not as if he didn't have other problems to deal with, he thought as he sat next to Albus. If there now was one person who knew he was a time-traveller, Harry was perfectly aware the less people knew, the better. He couldn't allow anybody else to find out, even by accident. Especially not by accident.

Meaning, and everything seemed to come back to this, that Harry needed to learn Occlumency.

Harry groaned over his plate.

With all the books on the subjects taken by Professor Mesmer, this wasn't going to be easy. And Harry might have some basis, he was aware he needed to get better. So, either Harry could find a way to get a few books on occlumency from his Divination Professor, or Harry needed to find a proper teacher.

Harry stilled and slowly turned his head.

Albus was peacefully eating, a book in his hands and the toast floating in front of him and flying to his mouth every few seconds. Feeling his glaze, he turned his head. "Is anything the matter?"

The toast hit his cheek and Albus sighed as he took his napkin to wipe the raspberry jam off him. "Needs more work, I suppose. Is there anything wrong, Harry?"

Harry considered the idea in his head for a few seconds. Finally, he shook his head.

He couldn't ask the young Dumbledore to solve all his problems. Moreover, he tried to reason, if the young Dumbledore were to waste his time on trying to teach him occlumency –and Harry didn't even know if this Dumbledore knew occlumency- then he'd waste precious, valuable time.

Besides, if Harry couldn't find a way to go home, the least he could do was to finally learn occlumency on his own.

"It's nothing."

He'd just have to find a way to get these blasted books from Professor Mesmer and teach himself. Do it seriously this time and finally master this mind art instead of slacking off and thinking he knew better.

It was because he hadn't managed the first time he was in this mess after all.


"Sir?" Harry tried after his luck after class. Professor Mesmer raised his head. Seeing Harry, his lips twitched.

"I was wondering…" Harry closed his eyes and deeply inhaled. "I've heard from the librarian that you've borrowed a few books regarding occlumency."

His lips twitched again. "I have," he confirmed. "For some reason, I had a sudden urge to read about it."

"I was wondering…" He carefully tried to choose his next words. "When do you think you will finish reading them and give them back to the library?"

"Oh, I've already read them all," he informed him. "I just like reading them to my leisure whenever I fancy and I have frankly no idea when I will be properly bored." Seeing Harry blankly looking at him, he chuckled. "I suppose you are interested in learning more about occlumency." Harry didn't answer. "I suppose it is to be expected," he began musing. "Still, I have to ask: why exactly do you want to learn this noble art?"

Harry didn't answer, and for a couple of minutes, the two wizards looked at each other.

Finally, Harry sighed. "I've had… visions," he slowly began and the other man leant to hear more. "I think they are right. About me knowing… things about the future."

He had thought about his problem during the entire lesson. How he was supposed to get these books and how he would manage to hide the fact he was a time traveller from the rest of the school who seemed intent on watching his every move ever since that duel against Dumbledore.

Ultimately, he had decided being considered a 'seer' by almost everybody was, in a rather strange plot twist, probably a blessing in disguise. He knew something about the future? He was a Seer, that was to be expected. Let them think they had the right idea, it was close enough to the truth he didn't need to create some convoluted story.

And if he could manage convince to the Divination Professor he was a real seer, then maybe he could just convince him to give him these bloody books.

Professor Mesmer's lips twitched. "That is clearly not what you told me yesterday."

Harry bit his cheeks and, as he shook his head, tried to channel his best imitation of Professor Trelawney. "I suppose I was afraid of the truth. Having the Third Eye... It is a heavy burden."

"It has its perks sometimes, but yes… I suppose so."

"And I was running away from the truth. I… I See that now."

Considering the man's face, he had head the capital just fine.

Harry dramatically sighed and, trying to channel all the bluffing skills he's acquired in Divination, he added, "But I am afraid that… some wizards would try to find what I know. Terrible dark wizards who would try to use divination to further their goals and I just-" He paused a second. "I just want to protect my mind and the messages the Greater Beings will send me."

Professor Mesmer crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling. After a few deep breaths, he said, "You're making a valid point," he slowly began. "A very valid point." He took a book on his desk and handed him to Harry. "I suppose I can lend it to you. Still," he said as he suddenly took the book back, "I wish to have some proof of this Third Eye. So, can I finally have a prediction? I was rather disappointed last night and I need some reassurance you do know a few things about the future and are not trying to nab me."

Harry's mind went blank.

"Oh, I do not know if I should-"

Professor Mesmer's electric blue eyes seemed to stare at his soul. "I insist."

For a few seconds, Harry looked at his new Divination Professor, mind racing to find a way out.

And suddenly, he knew what he just needed to do.

"Professor Binns is going to die." Professor Mesmer raised an eyebrow but Harry continued, "He will die and become a ghost. And he will keep teaching History of Magic, as if there was nothing wrong in the world and generations of students will have to bear with him."

Mesmer's face was thoughtful. "Is he?" He closed his eyes and sighed. "That'd be a horrible fate for these poor students," he said as he opened them again. Finally, he gave him the book. "I suppose we will find out soon enough. You still need to work on your skills, but I suppose this is satisfying enough for the time being. Now, you should go before you are late for your next class.

Harry thanked him and took the book.

"Oh and Mister Potter?" he suddenly said as Harry was about to close the door. "Fifteen points to Slytherin."


The book was dry and, no matter how hard he would try to focus, he couldn't help yawning or trying to find some excuse to just avoid spending more time on it.

Still, he persevered and took the habit of reading it whenever he could, a charm Hermione had showed him when Umbridge had banned the Quibbler allowing him to make it pass it as his potion book. It's not as if he had a choice, really. After all, even if there hadn't been the time travel problem, there still was the Voldemort problem.

Harry grimaced and unconsciously rubbed his scar.

He hoped this hadn't been real but, considering his current luck, he had the feeling this was unfortunately very real. And if Voldemort was in his head, then his only defence was occlumency.

So Harry kept reading that blasted book, hoping that this time he would manage to clear his mind.

It seemed to be even worse than when Snape was teaching him, sadly. No matter how hard he'd try, some thought would inevitably catch his attention and he'd start worrying, unable to think of something else. He'd wonder why he had seen Voldemort during that hypnosis séance, why Professor Dumbledore hadn't looked at him in the eyes for an entire year or told him he'd travel back in time, how long he'd be stuck in the nineteenth century.

So many questions, and he knew he wouldn't have any answer before a very long time.

Sometimes, Harry would even start thinking about that prophecy in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry sighed, posed the book on the bedtable and sat on his four-posters bed.

If he could just… forget all his problems, if only for a minute, then Harry had no doubt he'd manage to get the hang of it. Or at least be on the right tracks.

Enjoy your time here. Not necessarily see it as a punishment for your mistakes, Harry suddenly remembered Dumbledore telling him.

But how could he possibly enjoy his time in the past when there was all this to worry about? Even if that wasn't urgent, he knew this was, somehow, very important.

Harry sighed in his hands.

He just wished he could have a way to know he was on the right path, a way to know that he wasn't fucking everything up. A sign everything was going to be alright. Anything, at the point he was in, Harry wasn't going to be picky.

That's when he saw it .

Later, Harry would think he should have known better and shouldn't have tempted Fate who seemed to have chosen him as her favourite chew toy. But right now, Harry just blankly looked at what was on his pillow.

The green butterfly was back.


Albus looked at the butterfly. "Yes, it's the same one. No doubt about it."

The pattern on his wings was the same the one Albus had noticed when he had healed the poor animal. Moreover, for how much they've tried to heal the animal to the best of their abilities, the left wing hadn't completely healed and now had a zigzag-like mark.

"B-But why is he here? Why would he-"

Harry spluttered as the animal flew in his direction to delicately pose on his right shoulder.

"I suppose that means this good fellow likes you," he concluded with a smile. "And, he now has decided to stay with you."

"So what?" Arthorius snorted. "That means Potter has a pet now?"

A few girls nearby giggled and Harry shakily hid his face behind his hands.

The emerald butterfly flew on his head and the boys in the Common Room all snickered.


The new student was rather down, Albus couldn't help thinking.

Ever since he had entered the Common Room on Thursday morning, it had been obvious something was wrong. When Albus had asked him what it was, the boy had looked around them and, after considering their housemates, had just sighed he was homesick.

Albus had sympathetically smiled but, having never felt homesick himself, hadn't known what he was supposed to do. He had considered asking him what he missed but hadn't been sure it wouldn't actually make it worse. So he had pretended not seeing, hoping his mood would lift on its own.

Sadly, even if he seemed to be slightly better, the melancholy had yet to leave him. And, whenever he wasn't reading some book Albus had yet to read the title, he was either blankly looking at the butterfly who now seemed to be following him everywhere or heavily sighing.

Harry sighed.

Albus hesitated and ultimately closed his book on transfiguration. "I suppose you have a rather good understanding of the vanishing charm," he finally decided to say after a session where Albus had tried to help him with his homework. "So I should probably stop bothering you with it. Is there anything you want to do in particular?"

Harry imperceptibly shrugged. "Not really."

"There is something you like to do in peculiar when you're not working, I'm sure." Seeing Harry mutely shaking his head he insisted. "Now, that is just not true. There must be something you enjoy doing."

The wizard paused for a second. "I used to love flying."

"Used to?"

Harry shrugged. "Long story."

Albus frowned and was about to ask for clarification when he spotted Aberforth intently looking at a note on the wall.

"My apologies," he told him, eyes still on the Third Year. "I've got to verify something."

His brother reading anything was never a good sign.

When Albus finally read the note, he just said, "Ah."

Aberforth startled and glared at him. "I'm going to do it," he declared, his tone breaking no argument. "Whether you like it or not."

Albus slowly nodded. "It could be good for you." Seeing the younger boy startling, he sighed. "Did you really think I was going to say you shouldn't?"

Aberforth seemed to find the note rather fascinating. "I don't have the best marks in transfiguration," he admitted after a few seconds. "So I thought you'd tell me..." He didn't finish his sentence.

Albus sighed. "You don't," he acknowledged. "But I also think you should find a more productive way to spend your time. Fighting every Slytherin who says something you don't like must be rather repetitive after a while."

Aberforth mumbled something under his breath.

It could be good for him, Albus privately thought. Having some extracurricular activity where he could channel all his energy in a more productive way. And who knew? With some luck, Aberforth might even become a well-adjusted member of Gryffindor House, one he could call his little brother with pride.

Albus considered the idea for a few blissful seconds. Finally, he shook his head. "The twentieth eh?" he pretended musing. "I suppose I can be free for the twentieth."

Aberforth startled and glared at him. "If you come, I'll kill you!" Albus lowly chuckled and the glare intensified. "Now, go back to your books and leave me alone!"

Still chuckling, Albus walked back to Harry who seemed to have been observing them. "What is it about?"

"Oh, my brother just wants to join the Quidditch Team." Harry suddenly raised his head, a gleam of interest in his eyes and he elaborated, "I have to say, the odds he will get the spot he is no doubt seeking are rather in his favour. Will Aberforth joining the team be enough for Gryffindor to win the Cup however..." He sighed as he sat on his chair. "I suppose we will find soon enough."

For a minute, it looked as if the other was trying to pretend he was not curious at all. Finally, he asked, "Is the team any good?"

Albus sighed. "As a Gryffindor myself, I suppose I am obliged to answer by the affirmative. Our chasers are rather skilled."

"But?"

He hesitated. "But if we can be honest for a minute, that does not mean much considering how the game is being played." He raised a hand at his outraged face. "A goal from a chaser is only worth ten points," he explained. "Catching the Snitch is worth one hundred and fifty. Meaning, that if the Seeker is not good, or if the opposing team has a far better seeker, the team has a rather serious handicap to overcome. The chasers must lead the other team by at least sixteen goals to go around that problem."

"That's possible," Harry protested.

"Maybe," he acknowledged. "But unfortunately, a good seeker usually catches the snitch before that happens. And it has to be acknowledged that Slytherin's seeker is very good and has a broom superior to most. Ever since he has entered the Quidditch Team, he has never failed to catch the Snitch." He sighed. "I suppose this is rather pessimistic of me, but I am rather confident that Slytherin will win the Quidditch Cup this year again."

"You just need to find a good seeker then," he fought back and Albus sighed at the Gryffindor's stubbornness. "And have a good strategy to deal with the other seeker."

"Problem is, a good seeker will not be enough. Victor Higgs is very good from what little I understand and we need at minimum a seeker just as talented as he is to stand a chance. Somehow, I doubt we will find the right wizard to be that seeker."

Harry frowned. "Victor Higgs?" After seemingly considering the name he shrugged. "Never heard of him."

"And yet he is rather well-known, at least at Hogwarts. It is thanks to him that Slytherin has won the Quidditch Cup for the last four years. He has been elected Quidditch Captain and it is said that he will be recruited by the Chudley Cannons themselves, in other word, the best Quidditch Team in England, before he even leaves school."

Harry blankly looked at him. "The Chudley Cannons are a top Quidditch Team."

Albus nodded. Granted, the last four years have not been very kind but according to Aberforth that was because the last four coaches had been terrible. Now that they've replaced the last one with Jones, there was little doubt they would rise again, stronger than ever.

Or so he's heard.

Harry suddenly snickered. "Seriously, why are you so sure he's some great seeker?" he asked between two chuckles.

Albus sighed. "He is the youngest Quidditch player in a century."

Harry stopped chuckling.