Harry sighed as he closed yet another book on charms in the library.
He had no idea what he was doing. But looking at Albus working so relentlessly ever since he's told him he was a time-traveller, he couldn't help feeling something akin to guilt. For this reason, as he was relatively ahead of his peers in class, the time-traveller had decided to use whatever free time he had to at least try not to come empty-handed when Albus would show him what he's managed to learn.
Not for the first time, Harry wondered if it wouldn't be better for the two of them to work together instead of what they had decided to do. Dumbledore had explained that it was more effective as they would tackle the problem from two different sides, but it looked like he was still stuck in the starting line.
Harry glanced at his meagre notes on what he knew about time travel. Besides a few empty generalities and a couple drawings of butterflies, it was still desperately empty.
He groaned as he tiredly pinched his nose, the real butterfly flying in front of him and finally landing on his notes.
How was he supposed to find something on time travel when time travel had yet to be invented? It was like answering a question before it was even written!
Harry suddenly stilled.
Hadn't Professor Mesmer managed to just do it that time he gave them this impossible test?
He hadn't finished that thought that the butterfly which had decided to follow him left the table and slowly flew in the direction of the divination section. After a few seconds, Harry pocketed his notes and went there as well.
Divination may be a lot of rubbish, he started thinking as he searched for a book, it still was the closest thing to what he was seeking he had. At the point he was in, it couldn't hurt to look at what this subject could teach him.
Taking the grimoire on which the butterfly had landed, he went back to his chair and began reading.
What is time?
The question has been haunting sentient beings ever since they have been able to measure it. But if we have in some ways managed to count it down to the second and use it to regulate our lives, we have yet to tame it and it is in fact highly possible that we never will.
If time is usually defined as a progression of events from a point we call 'past' to another we call 'future', the existence of seers strongly challenges the belief it is unidirectional. To these beings, the question takes an entire new dimension that can in some circles even approach the divine.
Regardless of all these considerations, it is evident to those learning divination above a certain level that the classic understanding of time needs to be rejected as past and future become so intertwined cause and effect may very well be one. For these reasons, it becomes necessary to redefine our understanding of the world we live in and change our process of thinking to even approach the glimpse of an answer.
Only then will we be able to travel safely in the flows of time.
Harry's heart sped in excitement and he hurriedly turned the page, thinking that maybe he could do it.
He quickly changed his mind when the author started talking about philosophical concepts he had never heard of such as determinism, libertarianism and compatibilism.
It was going to take a while.
Weeks passed and, before Harry realized, November was gone and students were preparing to leave for Christmas.
Harry naturally wrote his name on the list of students staying for the holidays but it was with some surprise he saw Albus' as well.
"You're not going home?" he asked him.
The prefect shook his head. "It is a very important year and I have many projects to attend and very little time. I'm afraid I cannot allow myself to become complacent."
Harry sighed. "You should really rest. That cannot be healthy, what you're doing."
Albus smiled at him but Harry got the distinct feeling he was actually far from happy and was even annoyed. "I appreciate that you worry about me, Harry. Truly, I do. However, I do believe I know my limits better than you do. So please, there is no need for you to bother yourself with my wellbeing."
Before Harry could say anything else the younger Dumbledore walked in his brother's direction in a foul mood.
"You're not coming home," he accused.
Albus sighed. "As I've just told Harry, I cannot. You understand, this year I must pass my Ordinary Wizarding Level tests and-"
"-and the great Albus Dumbledore, the cleverest man in the world is so scared he isn't going break some record he cannot even spend two weeks home, is that it?"
"Aberforth, please…"
"Two weeks. Two little weeks and you can't even do that? You're going to miss Christmas again?"
Harry uncomfortably shifted as Albus sighed again.
"Must we really do this in the middle of the Common Room, Aberforth?"
Aberforth bristled. "She is looking forward to us spending Christmas together," he accused. "The whole year, she has been waiting for it. And you can't even give her that?"
Albus glanced at Harry a second. "I know. But I am sure our mother will understand once you will explain the situation to her."
If the mood in the Common Room had been tense after Aberforth's arrival, it was nothing compared to how it was now. Looking at Aberforth, Harry would be hard-pressed to describe the look he was giving his brother as anything but murderous and he genuinely believed for a moment the younger wizard was going to jump on his brother and hit him.
But Aberforth sharply turned and headed to his dorms, making a point to slam the door as loudly as possible.
Albus tiredly pinched his nose and sighed. "I am terribly sorry you had to witness that. I know my sibling wishes I could go home but that is just not possible at the present moment. Maybe next year."
Albus then changed subject and Harry gladly let him.
There was a Hogsmeade trip the very next day and when the students went to the carriages, Harry headed to the one-eyed witch statue. After tapping its back, he took the secret passage heading to Hogsmeade.
The secret passage had been narrow when he had been thirteen but it was neigh impossible now for him to take it. Cursing all thorough the secret passageway, he swore to never use it again as it was clear now it had been made by a child who hadn't quite managed to wait to be old enough and somebody older was not meant to make the trip.
Finally, Harry reached the staircase leading to Hogsmeade and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath.
The lack of permission slip hadn't bothered him that much as he hadn't really considered going to Hogsmeade before but, with Christmas approaching, he hadn't help being wistful and restless the day before and he had suddenly felt trapped within Hogwarts' walls. So against his better judgement, he had decided to escape the castle, if only for a few hours.
Harry deeply inhaled and walked the two-hundred steps leading to the trap-door. He then carefully opened it and slowly took the wooden staircase leading to the main shop.
He wasn't supposed to be there. But he should be fine. He just had to avoid the prefects.
The first thing Harry noticed when he was at the top of the staircase was that Honeydukes existed in this time and was already selling its famous chocolate.
The second thing Harry noticed was a far too happy Albus Dumbledore with his arms full of sweets.
Harry cursed under his breath.
Thankfully, it seemed like the prefect was more focused on a reindeer made of chocolate flying over his head than what was happening around him and after a few scares Harry managed to leave the shop unnoticed. Once he was outside Honeydukes, he shakily breathed.
He… really didn't know why he was surprised.
Harry lowly chuckled and looked at the street he was in.
Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card in the snow and Harry was once again shocked at how everything seemed unchanged in the Wizarding world. It was like the clock had stopped sometimes in the nineteenth century and nobody had bothered to fix it. As if time had no hold in this world.
Harry idly walked in the street, trying to spot the differences between this Hogsmeade and his if only to remind himself this wasn't his time.
The shrieking shack naturally had yet to be built and the spot where it would one day stand was nothing but land where a few cows and goats were grazing. The Three Broomsticks was already here but was called The Broomstick and there was no Zonko's but instead some gift shop.
Harry pensively looked at the gift shop where a couple Christmas stockings were hanging. Remembering something from a long time ago, he took the two sickles he's won in his bet and looked at them. Finally, he entered the shop.
Two sickles lighter, he left the shop and headed back to the secret passage, walking in front of a ruin where he knew the Hog's Head would one day be. In front of the sorry excuse of the house threatening to fall at the merest breeze stood a sign where For Sale was written.
He wondered who the mad man who had bought it was.
When the winged horses and the carriage landed, the first thing Aberforth did was to shout at the man who opened the door: "You're a lousy driver!"
"Am not!" a wizard barely older than eighteen protested. "I'm very good at ma job."
"No, you're not!" Letting go of the handle he had been holding for life all through the travel, he shakily left the Brougham. "You hit Nelson's statue!"
"Fixed it good, didn't I?"
"The clock tower!"
"Details, details."
"I spent more than two hours upside down!" he screamed.
"Look, I brought you 'ome, didn't I? Godric 'ollow, safe and sound."
"Safe?" Aberforth strangled himself. "You call this safe? When somebody travels, he wants to go home in one piece, not- not that!"
"Oh, ya lot never get it! When your travel it's the journey that matters, not the destination! Better a dangerous life than a borin' one, I tell ya! And who cares about safe?"
"I do!" he shouted.
The driver glared at him and Aberforth glared back. "I brought you 'ome. So now you pay me, and I go away."
Aberforth glared a few more seconds before finally taking five silver coins from his pocket and handing it to the driver, trying very hard not to throw the coins to his face.
The wizard made a mock salute. "Thank you, sir. And don't forget to tell your friends about Phaethon Knight and his flying Brougham."
"Believe me, I won't!"
The wizard laughed as he went back to the Brougham. "Merry Christmas!" he cheerfully shouted as the brown winged horses took flight.
Alberforth watched as the magical creatures turned and the Brougham hit the Prewetts' window. The shards stopped falling and, without even turning his head, the driver repaired the damage he had just caused with the flick of his wand.
He seriously doubted this Phaethon Knight had any future in the travel business.
With a sigh, Aberforth took his suitcase and headed to Hallow Street.
If they were to ask him, he honestly didn't know if he should qualify his time at Hogwarts as good or bad. On one hand, he had possibly made a friend, he had joined the Quidditch team and it looked like they had a very good chance of winning the cup. On the other hand however, his marks were as terrible as ever and he couldn't stop thinking about that prophecy. Sometimes he would even wake up shivering, Trelawney's grave voice ringing in his ears.
He was most certainly overthinking this. A first Albus would most certainly say, but Aberforth couldn't stop the nagging feeling that prophecy was concerning him, somehow, and Potter's grave face hadn't reassured him in the slightest. He wished somebody would just listen to him, and tell him everything would be alright and he didn't need to fear what Trelawney had said.
Maybe she would.
He sighed as he reached number seven and knocked.
He waited for several minutes. Finally, he heard noise on the other side of the door.
"Who is it?" a feminine voice asked.
"It's me. It's Aberforth."
There was no answer and Aberforth waited as the one on the other side of the door lowered the numerous charms on it. Finally the door opened and a haggard-looking woman with hair pulled into a high bun appeared.
His heart tightened when he realized his mother had even more white hair than three months ago.
"Aberforth?" Kendra Dumbledore slowly blinked. "Why on earth are you here?" Aberforth didn't answer and realization slowly drew on her face. "Don't tell me today is… Oh Aberforth!" She put her hand over her mouth as she let him enter. "I'm so sorry! It's completely slipped my mind! With everything here I just-"
"It's okay," Aberforth tried to reassure her. "I get it."
"You didn't have any trouble coming here from King's Cross at least, did you?"
Aberforth grimaced at the memory of his travel and shook his head. "It was okay," he told his mother as he took off his cloak and hand-knitted scarf. "A bit… A bit unique but it went well."
She sighed in relief and frowned. "Albus isn't here," she stated, her voice not betraying anything.
Aberforth grimaced. "He stayed at Hogwarts for his OWLs."
"His owl? Is Archimedes sick?"
"Not his owl, his OWLs. It's- it's how I call the Ordinary Wizarding Levels."
She dazedly blinked before shaking her head. "Only you, Aberforth." Glancing at him, she stated, "She is not going to like it."
Aberforth heavily sighed. "I know. How-" He hesitated, "How is she?"
Kendra Dumbledore didn't answer for what couldn't have been more than a few seconds and yet felt an eternity. "She's fine." For now went unsaid. "She hasn't left her room since the beginning of the month but she's in a festive mood."
"I'll tell her hello."
"You will not," Kendra Dumbledore sharply said as Aberforth was about to walk up the stairs. "You will let her greet you during dinner and you will under no circumstance go to her room."
Aberforth uncomprehendingly looked at his mother's impassive face. "Why not?"
Kendra Dumbledore looked away. "It is bad manners for a wizard your age to go to a lady's room," she informed him.
He frowned. "Really."
She nodded. "I have yet to feed the goats. Be a good boy now and make yourself useful. I will call you when it is time for dinner."
Aberforth suspiciously looked at the staircases. "Of course, Mother," he said as he took his coat and his scarf.
"Thank you."
It was only when he was feeding Grumble that he realized why he had really been banned from his sister's room.
And when he did, he chuckled.
"Not allowed there until Christmas, am I?"
Now that most of the students were gone, the people in the castle seemed in a cheerful mood and Harry could have sworn he's even seen Professor Prince whistling.
"Headmaster Black always goes back to London with his children for Christmas," Albus explained. "He may not look like it but he is a family man and he readily leaves the castle whenever he can." His lips curled. "Many students strongly think his absence in the castle is the greatest Christmas present we receive. One very few have the pleasure to enjoy as most of them leave for the Christmas festivities."
It was true the castle was neigh empty. In Gryffindor for example, only Albus and Harry had stayed and there were so few students it was decided they and the few teachers still here would spend the Christmas dinner on the same table.
Naturally, Albus took the occasion to discuss with the professors and soon enough he and Professor O'Connor were engrossed in some highly complex transfiguration concepts, the Ravenclaws on the table leaning not as discretely as they probably believe themselves to be in order to overhear the conversation.
Harry had to admit he was pretty bored by all this. In fact, he was feeling quite let down and couldn't even bear staying there.
"Leaving already?" Albus wondered as Harry left his chair after dessert.
Harry waved his hand. "Don't mind me. I'm… I'm just tired and-" He faked a yawn. "And I think I'll go to bed."
Albus looked at him as if he didn't quite believe him but then shrugged as if to say 'suit yourself' and went back to his conversation.
When Harry was back in the Common Room, he couldn't help glancing at the Christmas tree facing the fireplace.
It was only then that he realized why this Christmas had been so unbearable ever since people had started talking about it. And Harry couldn't stop a broken laugh at that realization.
Of course he couldn't be happy. After all, it was not as if there was going to be a Christmas jumper waiting for him tomorrow.
Or anything, really.
"Merry Christmas, Harry," Harry whispered in the safety of his bed the next morning.
He didn't want to get up. He wanted to stay there until it was 1996 again. And, the more he was thinking about the future, the more he realized what else had been taken from him.
He wasn't fifteen anymore. He didn't know when that had happened exactly but sometimes during October, Harry had turned sixteen and he hadn't even noticed.
Harry was so done with this whole mess he decided there and then to pick the 31st as his supposed date of birth.
Not that anybody had asked him. They had all asked him where he was from, where he had learnt magic, what his presumed sight had showed him, but nobody had ever cared asking when he was born and nobody had wished him happy birthday.
He looked at the ceiling for several minutes, trying to find there a reason to get up. Finally he sighed and difficultly left the bed, thinking that ceiling was as interesting as the one from his time.
"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Albus jovially greeted as he had finished dressing himself and entered the Common Room.
"Merry Christmas, Albus," he mumbled as he saw the unwrapped gifts under the Christmas tree.
"I'm afraid I could not wait," he said with a sheepish smile as Harry looked at the pile of books next to the red-haired.
He pointed at the five or so books. "That many?"
"Oh that?" he said as he turned his attention to them. "One man can never have too many books, in my honest opinion. My friends know that and are kind enough to offer me several. Take this one for example," he remarked as he took the one on the top of the pile. "This one has barely been released but I am on good terms with the author so she had the kindness to offer me one. Looking at the title, I have no doubt this will one will my favourite. Look."
On the cover of the book was written in golden letters: Hogwarts, a History.
Harry thought he was going to shatter in a million pieces there and then.
Albus put the book back on the pile, his attention back to his presents. "Now, what else have we got here?" he whispered, not noticing the despair on Harry's face. "It looks like there are no more books so let's see then..." He shook his head and put one badly wrapped box on his knees. "That one is Aberforth's, no doubt."
The box contained coal.
"Definitely Aberforth," he murmured as he put the box aside. "We'll see what I can do with it. And now," he said as he took the penultimate gift, "the present we are all waiting for…"
It was a pair of socks.
Harry startled and abruptly shook his head. "Socks?" he numbly said, forcing himself to focus on that.
"Yes." He raised one green sock on eye level and hummed, "The goat still needs to see its proportions revised, but it is definitely a pair of warm woollen socks. I always receive a pair for Christmas."
Harry suddenly felt very stupid.
"I suppose this is all for me," he said with a smile. Seeing the last present on the Christmas tree, he took the note on it and smiled. "I suppose that is one is-"
He stilled and Harry prayed for the ground to swallow him.
"It looks that one is also for me," he stated, his face betraying no emotion, as he started reading the note on which the seller had written 'For Albus'. "Is that… Is that one from you, Harry?"
"Who me?" Harry said, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as he looked away. "No, no. Not at all."
"Harry," Albus' voice softly said, "don't lie to me, please."
Harry tensed. "I know it mustn't be easy for you to look after me," he slowly began, refusing to look at the prefect. "And I must be quite a burden for you."
"You're not. I don't mind at all."
"So I- I suppose I just wanted to say 'Thank you'. That's all."
"Oh. Oh," he numbly repeated.
From the corner of his eyes, Harry saw the other wizard looking at the now empty Christmas tree.
"You… You didn't have to, you know."
"I wanted to," he murmured and winced as the other boy slowly took care of the wrapping paper. When Albus Dumbledore looked at the pair of red socks with stags on them, he winced.
When he had seen them in the showcase, he hadn't helped remembering a conversation he's had with Professor Dumbledore a long time ago. But it was obvious now he's got it wrong, and he should have played it safe and just bought some stupid book with the money he's won from his bet with Elphias.
Albus' cheeks reddened and he looked away. "I'm very touched, Harry."
"You don't like it."
"No, no," he weakly protested. "It's not that at all. It's just…" He swallowed.
Suddenly, staying here was unbearable. "Merry Christmas," Harry mumbled before fleeing the Common Room.
When he was finally outside, he shivered as he leant against the cold stone and shakily breathed.
He didn't belong there. He had always known that but never before had he felt that gaping hole in his chest so keenly.
He was trapped. Completely and utterly trapped in that place that at first glance looked like his home but missed the mark on so many points it was nothing but a farce of it.
Harry then began walking for several hours around the school ground like the lost soul he most certainly was. Distantly, he knew he should go back to his Common Room and grab something warm but he couldn't even bring himself to lift his wand and summon a cloak.
Why would he go back inside anyway? It was not as if the people he truly wanted to be with were waiting for him.
The sun was setting when Harry finally went back inside. As he entered the Common Room once again he noticed all the presents had been moved and that Albus had left and had yet to come back. With a weary sigh, he decided to call it a day and just pretend for his own sanity that today had never happened. When he entered his dorms, he blinked.
There was a little box and a note on his bed.
Harry numbly looked at them and slowly took the note. It wasn't signed, but he recognized the narrow, loopy writing.
A little reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.
A Very Merry Christmas to you as well.
Harry let the note fall and took the little box. Removing the silver bow and the light blue wrapping, he looked at what was inside the box.
It was a snitch.
He made a move to take it but the snitch suddenly left the box. With a small smile slowly forming on his face, he let it fly above his head. Finally, he chuckled when the green butterfly flew and attempted to follow it, as if it was trying to catch it.
It seemed like, no matter the era, Albus Dumbledore just knew what to give him for Christmas.
"Mother," Aberforth slowly began as the two of them were washing the dishes, "I was wondering… Did you receive my letter? You've never replied, so…"
Kendra Dumbledore sighed as she put the plate down. "I told you not to write about these matters, Aberforth."
"Yes, but-"
"What if somebody had intercepted the owl? Have you even thought about that, Aberforth?"
"I didn't mention anything!" Aberforth protested. "And-"
"-and letters can be intercepted or read by anybody," she interrupted. "So yes, I read it. I read it, and so did she."
Aberforth winced.
"How do you think she reacted, Aberforth?"
The boy looked away. "What did you tell her?"
"I told her I was going to think about it." She sighed. "She didn't like it at all."
In fairness, whenever their mother was telling them 'I'll think about it', the answer was always no.
"And?" he tried nonetheless. Kendra Dumbledore raised a hand over her face but he kept pushing. "It could be good for her. And Enola would never-"
"If it was just going to be letters," Kendra interrupted him with a sigh, "then it would be more than alright for her to write. I would be even rejoiced."
"It's just letters!"
"No, it's not. Oh, it will begin like this but eventually Enola will want to see her. And we cannot let that happen, we just cannot. It is true she can sometimes keep the change but never for long. If Enola were to come and see what she has become, she will panic and warn the Aurors. And when she does, what do you think is going to happen next?"
"She's not going do that! They're friends!"
"That was five years ago. People change, Aberforth."
"She would never-"
"Of course she will," she sharply cut him off. "Do you really think she will not tell anybody what happened to her? How gullible are you, Aberforth?"
Aberforth's throat tightened. "Mum, please," he begged.
He didn't even know what he was asking for anymore.
Her shoulders dropped and she tiredly pinched her nose. "The outside world is dangerous, Aberforth," she murmured her held-long belief that Aberforth had heard almost daily ever since that day. "She is dangerous."
"She's not!"
"We both know she doesn't mean it," her voice wavered, "but she can be very dangerous and it's time for you to accept that fact. We are family, so of course it doesn't matter to us. To everybody else however? Who could look at her and still decide to be her friend if they knew what she is? What she did? Who Aberforth? Who can, possibly, accept her?"
Something shattered. And, from the other side of the door, both mother and son heard an inhuman scream.
Kendra's legs gave out.
"Not again," she whispered. "Why? Why?" she cried as ugly tears fell on her face. "Why is it always like that? Why is everything like that? What did I-What did we do to deserve this?"
But Aberforth ignored her and, wand already in hand, he headed to the door. "I'll talk to her. Just- It's-" His lips stretched into a humourless smile. "Don't worry, Mum. Everything's gonna be alright."
He hoped that was the truth and not another lie in the long list that had become their lives.
