Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.


Chapter 1
Entrance

Recall a dreamless sleep. Does it not seem as if just when you've closed your eyes at night, you're awake at the morning? In that exact manner, when the world closed upon Harry's conscious, it opened up again immediately.

He knew something was wrong before he opened his eyes. First, the pungent smell of death was absent. There were birds chirping about. And if his closed eyes were not betraying him, there was light shining on him.

He opened his eyes, to see himself basking in the warm glow of the sunlight. The problem was that the duel against Voldemort took place at night, and worse, in the winter. Was he asleep for months?

That's where something more puzzling emerged. His injuries were gone. His broken ankle? Felt fine. His sore chest? Perfect. Heck even his scar was non-existent in pain, which almost never happened. The pain from the killing curse was gone, too, having no after-effects.

He was still at Hogwarts, though. But his location there was even different. He was facing the lake. Last he remembered he was at the gates of Hogwarts.

He faced Hogwarts, and promptly gasped. The building was fine. All the demolished areas were rebuilt. In fact, they looked better than before.

Someone was running to him from the castle. Well at first, it looked like half a person, but upon closer inspection, the half body was revealed to be a little girl.

What's going on, here? Harry thought. Either this girl ignored the evacuation orders, or the orders were rescinded while he was knocked out. Just how long was he unconscious?

"Professor Potter!" yelled the little redhead.

Professor? Harry wondered. Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Now Professor!

"Please, dear," said Harry warmly. The girl looked agitated.

"Harry will be fine," he said firmly.

The girl's eyes widened in shock. She shrank back, and looked around for someone else.

"Sir," she persisted in the weird talk, "Professor McGonagall wants to talk to you, in her office."

"Okay," replied Harry.

If he was missing, why was McGonagall calling for him. What exactly was going on?

It was times like this when he remembered Professor Marcello's favourite sayings; when in absolute doubt, go along and wait until the truth comes to you.

The girl ran off after hearing him. Funny, when Harry does something right, people usually stare in awe. It's only after things go wrong when they run.

He shook his head in bemusement, and then headed towards the castle. He entered not meeting anyone, and was on the same floor as the headmaster's office when he saw him.

It was a pitiful disguise at best. It was two years since Harry saw him indirectly cause Dumbledore's death. Seriously, if you were infiltrating Hogwarts, one of the most fortified buildings in Great Britain, you'd at least dye your distinctive platinum blond hair.

Harry snuck up to him so silently, that he was sure his late Dutch professor was smiling in his grave. He grabbed Malfoy's right shoulder once they passed an empty classroom, and then shoved him roughly to the left.

Malfoy lost his footing and fell to the ground. By the time he looked up, the door was closed, and Harry's wand was pointed right between his eyes.

Harry expected shock, but this was plain weird. Malfoy looked at him like Harry went mad.

"Harry," he said (said, not drawled), "What the bloody hell are you up to? Help me up."

"What!" thundered Harry, "Just how badly did Voldemort torture you? I'm going to kill you, quite harshly, too. Dumbledore will finally be avenged. When I'm done with you..."

Harry stopped there. Malfoy looked different, but not disguised.

"I will ask you one question," he growled, "And if you wish to live, answer swiftly and truthfully."

Malfoy gulped, realizing Harry was serious. Why would he think otherwise?

"How old are you?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What year did you say this was, again?" asked a weary Harry.

Half an hour had passed, and they were still in the office. Harry was seating on the teacher's desk, while Malfoy stood by the door. After a bunch of insults and threats, not to mention a couple of punches, too (from Harry's side mainly), Harry finally believed Malfoy.

"I said it three times already," replied Malfoy, annoyed, "It's August 31st, 2005, Harry."

"Don't call me Harry. Potter, or Potty, or Pothead will do quite fine."

"Fine!" spat Malfoy, who looked hurt. "As we're repeating stuff, are you telling me you have no memory after 1999?"

"No Malfoy," said Harry wearily, "I have had no experience since 1999. I had just defeated Voldemort, and before I could say another word, Pettigrew Kedavra'd me. Bingo, before you could blink, I found myself here.

"Are you saying there's been a Harry Potter running around while I was unconscious!"

"Yes," said Malfoy for the umpteenth time. "You returned from the battle, and continued your life."

"What am I? And what am I doing here in Hogwarts, anyways?"

"Blimey, Potter! You're a Professor! I am one, to. So is..."

"What do I teach?" Harry interrupted, fascinated that he became what he never expected to be, a teacher. How Fred and George must have given him problems!

"Defense," said Malfoy, annoyed at the interruption. "Look, Ha... Potter. What are you going to do?"

"Firstly, you tell no-one of this. This is an unknown situation, and I always stay low in one. Secondly, I'm going to find a way to go back."

"You're not even going to tell Ron and Granger!" asked Malfoy, incredulous.

"They're here?" asked Harry. He felt something unclench his heart.

Ever since realizing he was somehow in the future, he was waiting for Malfoy to say one of the two, or both, was dead. That's the kind of luck he was used to.

Malfoy opened his mouth to talk, but Harry shushed him quickly. He felt someone's presence in the previously empty corridor. He did a spell on the wall, making it transparent. What he saw brought tears to his eyes.

Ron was on the other side of the corridor, heading in their direction.

He looked different, Harry thought. He snorted, different was an understatement. It was a wonder what six years can do to someone.

Ron seemed to have grown, if possible, and his hair was as long as his seventh year, when he decided to allow it to reach the back of his neck. He walked with an assurance Harry had never seen. His head was high and the steps taken with grace. He reminded Harry of someone.

Ron had his wand out, and pointed in many directions. Harry recognized that Ron was doing a variation of the spell he used to detect Ron's presence. But Ron was looking for someone. His agitated demeanor, and the spell of course, gave that away. Harry quickly muttered an easy counter-charm that made him invisible to the spell.

Now he realized it, he was walking just like Kingsley did.

But he forgot about Malfoy, and Ron detected the blond git.

Ron walked to the door and opened it, while Harry removed the revealing spell from the wall. He looked round and saw Harry and Malfoy. His

"Both your arrows were at Mortal Peril," he gasped as if taking a long run. He went up to Harry hugged him hard.

While Harry was already speechless (He and Ron only hugged like this once before), what floored him was when Ron went and hugged Malfoy next.

It's clearly a trap, thought Harry, taking out his wand and got ready for a duel. Moody would've been disgusted with him. He let his guard down to his enemies for such an elaborate trap. He was fortunate that they made such a muck-up like Ron hugging Malfoy.

Before Ron could pull away, Harry yelled, "Petrifcus Totalus," twice, knocking out the both of them.

He calmly walked up to their prone bodies, and rolled them over. He quickly took their wands from the robes. He squatted over Ron's imposter's face.

"Right," said Harry, in his interrogator voice. "I'm going to let your heads free from the spell. One attempt of escape and I'll kill the both of you."

He let the spell off their heads. At once, they both started babbling.

"Silence!" ordered Harry, and they both complied. "Malfoy, you go first. I want to see what you've got to explain this nonsense."

"Harry... I mean Potter. Don't do anything rash."

"What the bloody hell's going on?" growled Ron. "Harry, get us out!"

"I swear Potter, I told you the truth."

"Let's see," replied Harry, clearly enjoying the look of terror on Malfoy. Some things never changed.

"I'll ask this Ron two questions, and he has to answer them right. One: what happened on November at the astronomy tower in our third year, which you called an embarrassment of your life? Two, what's your middle name?"

"Percy was snogging Penelope," said Ron, still bemused. "Two, it's Bilius."

Harry was stunned. This Ron knew the answer to the first, a question so vague no imposter would think to find it out. The second was a trick question. It was Ron's emotions which Harry wanted to see. This Ron even gave the usual embarrassed look whenever someone asked him that.

Harry released them from the body-bind.

"Not in six years," he said, "not in sixteen, and not even in sixty years would you two ever be friends!"

"Just what the bloody hell are you talking about, Harry!" Ron yelled, his composure shattered.

"Let me get this straight," said Ron in disbelief. "You're telling me that your memories stop at Voldemort's defeat!"

"Not my memories," sighed Harry. They didn't seem to understand. "My experiences end there. I just defeated Voldemort, and then Pettigrew used the killing curse on my, and voila! I'm six years to the future."

"But you told us you felt some pain, and it ended. Nothing happened after that," insisted Ron.

"I said that?" asked Harry. "Wait a sec. How could I say that when I wasn't there? Heck, who was this Harry living all these years if I wasn't here?"

"Beats me," said Malfoy.

Harry glared at him.

"You're not helping, Draco," said Ron in annoyance.

"Draco? Since when was Malfoy Draco? If you tell me Hermione's all chummy with him, so help me, I'm jumping off the Astronomy tower."

Ron and Malfoy laughed at that.

"Speaking of Hermione, where is she?" asked Harry.

"She's around the castle," answered Ron. "She teaches Transfiguration, while Draco teaches Charms."

"Impressive," said Harry. "What do you do?"

"He's an Auror," said Malfoy proudly.

"Hey," said Harry. "How did that happen? You weren't interested before."

"After Voldemort fell, there was some confusion about the Death Eaters. You, Hermione and I became free-lance helpers to hunt them down. I was the only one who wanted to stay when we were done.

"Wait a sec…" continued Ron, puzzled. "If you still think Draco's the git from the past, why did you believe him?"

"Legimency," replied Harry, grinning.

Ron was impressed, "What! You can do Legimency? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I can do very little Legimency, but this would've been an extremely large lie, so I'd easily pick it up, as Malfoy isn't an Occlumens at all. Occlumency, on the other hand, I'm an expert at. I learnt it the two years I spent in continental Europe, among the other training. Why, didn't I tell you after the war?'

"You told us that you got teachers assigned by the International Confederation of Wizards to help you out, and that most were from Europe. You never mentioned Legimency. In fact, I'm sure you've mentioned once or twice that you wish you could be an Occlumens. They're illegal now, you know."

"Puzzling," said Harry. "We'll deal with that later. First, neither of you can tell can tell anyone. I mean no-one. Who knows what may arise if people gain the knowledge that this I've lost six years of my life. No, once I find a way to go back, and your Harry returns, tell the world for all I care."

"Not even Hermione?" was Ron's shocked reply.

"I wasn't going to tell you," said Harry, "until you got all romantic with Malfoy here buggered up my plans. I don't know either of you here. You must tell Hermione nothing…"

"Must not tell Hermione what?" was said from the door.

Harry looked at the doorway, and his mouth fell open.

Hermione was standing there, and she changed as much as Ron. Her wild, bushy hair was shortened slightly, taming it. Her face was different like Ron, just as mature. But what Harry noticed the most, was her figure. He always knew Hermione looked good, but she never acted like she knew herself. She leaned on the open door, standing with as much confidence as Ron.

Seriously, just how much can one change anyways? Harry thought angrily. Only six years had passed. His former best friends looked like bloody strangers. This confirmed that he needed to find a way to go back, quickly as well.

"Nice of you to meet us, Granger," said Malfoy. "We were just discussing a birthday party for you. It's at September, right?"

"When did you get so beautiful?" whispered Harry. It wasn't low enough to prevent the other three from hearing, though. The looks the others gave him made his face warm. Great, a twenty-five year old Harry was blushing after admiring his friend. Damn his adolescent mind.

"Oh, well," dismissed Harry, "keeping secrets from Hermione never worked out, anyways. Ron, go ahead and tell her. I have things to think about."

"Like what?" asked Malfoy.

"Like how to get back home."

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

Ron proceeded to tell her everything. Harry wasn't listening to him. He was watching his former friends intently, trying to absorb their faces into his mind, comparing them to his world.

His world. He clearly didn't belong here. Ron and Hermione changed, so had everything else. Harry wanted to go through the changes with them, not try to catch up. He got angry. After all he suffered, he was once again expected to sacrifice again. First it was his family, then his schooling, and now six years of his life. Why him? Why him?

There was only one person who he could talk to about this. But even he's gone, thought Harry viciously. Well... not exactly.

He slammed the table, startling everyone.

"Right," he said. "I'm off to see Dumbledore. Remember, no-one can know, until I say so."

With that, he walked out of the room, leaving behind three bewildered people.

"I thought you said his supposed loss of memory took place after Voldemort's death," asked Hermione.

"I did," said Ron, just as confused. "He should know Dumbledore's dead."

"Have you two forgotten Dumbledore was a headmaster of Hogwarts?"


Please review. Thanks.