A/N: Sorry for the wait and the shortness. This is honestly all there is to this "loop." I really appreciate all the fantastic reviews I've gotten! Hugs to all! Enjoy!
7. Alone and Friendless
Harry ran, trainers pounding on the cool stone floor. Shouts and jeers from his classmates followed him, along with a bellowed promise of detention from Snape, but he paid them no mind. He had to get to Dumbledore.
He pushed past crowds of younger students still milling about by their classrooms before class officially started, eliciting some offended cries and more catcalls. He ignored these too and kept running, his lungs aching and his sides beginning to throb.
What did Snape mean? Was the whole world reliving Monday without realizing it, except for him? Was that what was going on? How could that possibly happen? Who would want to do that, and how could they?
After startling a fourth-year couple on the first floor and running through shortcuts and more hallways to avoid crowds and teachers, he arrived out of breath at the gargoyle statue.
"Fizzing Whizbee," Harry wheezed.
Nothing happened. Harry assumed that he hadn't been heard properly and took a few deep, steadying breaths before trying again.
"Fizzing Whizbee," Harry said, enunciating clearly. Still nothing.
"Fizzing Whizbee!" Harry shouted. Then, "Why won't you work? Fizzing Whizbee! Fizzing Whizbee!"
Something was wrong. Harry racked his brain for possible explanations, puffing out his cheeks and running a hand through his hair. The only thing he could think of was that maybe Dumbledore wouldn't change his password until right before McGonagall had told him what it was. So that meant he had about an hour, maybe an hour and a half until "Fizzing Whizbee" would work for sure.
Harry looked around wildly. What could he do until then? Did he dare to go back to Gryffindor Tower to acquire his essential tools, the Marauder's Map and the invisibility cloak? Or should he hover around by Dumbledore's office and try the password every so often, while waiting for Dumbledore himself or a teacher to walk by?
Harry decided with regret that it was too risky to go back to his room. There was no way of knowing when the password would work, and there was too great a likelihood that he would be caught on the way. So he sat down across the hall from the ugly statue and resigned himself to the task of saying "Fizzing Whizbee" every few seconds.
An hour later, Harry was compulsively checking his watch, repeating the mantra "Fizzing Whizbee" over and over again. No one had come by in all this time, and the fact that the password was not working was beginning to unnerve him. A dark thought entered his mind, but he did not allow it to fully form, preferring to leave it as a vague entity in his brain that wouldn't come together. The clues were there. The two hour loop and the fact that Snape had gone to Dumbledore twice and nothing had happened pointed to something sinister from the Headmaster himself.
Stop being stupid, he berated himself. Dumbledore wasn't the cause of this, the old wizard was in fact his only way to stop it. But where was he and why wasn't the password working?
More minutes ticked by. The time advantage in escaping from Double Potions was gone now, and Harry's frustration was real. He couldn't wait for Dumbledore anymore. He had to take matters into his own hands.
His entrance into the library earned him a stern glare from Madam Pince that clearly declared she knew he wasn't supposed to be there. He didn't care. This had to get done, with or without help from others.
He wandered through heavy tomes with titles such as "The Mysteries of Time" and "I Killed my Grandfather: Stories of a Time Traveler." All he gleaned from these books was what Hermione had already told him: The only way to travel in time was with a Time Turner. The "time travel" section in the library wasn't as large as he would have liked, and he wasn't sure where else to look. If this was dark magic, it was still time travel and should have been with the other time travel books. Harry was at a loss.
Fed up with the uselessness of the library, he carefully made his way back to Dumbledore's office once again, taking shortcuts and little-known routes to avoid any trouble. He stormed right up into the face of the gargoyle and said in a loud, clear, determined, tone, "Fizzing Whizbee."
Nothing happened.
Harry let out a howl and kicked the stone figure, lost and angry. He had to find someone who would know about these things. Who would know about this sort of highly advanced magic? Who in the school knew things the library didn't?
The list Harry came up with was short: Professors Dumbledore, Snape, possibly McGonagall, and possibly Flitwick. But McGonagall didn't seem to trust him lately, and Flitwick wasn't easily approachable with strange problems, either. With Dumbledore strangely absent, that left Snape once again.
Gritting his teeth, Harry set off for the dungeons. He wondered how he could possibly approach Snape this time, after running away from his class. And now he was skiving off his class with Umbridge, which didn't help his case, either.
As usual, the temperature fell dramatically as he entered the dungeon area. He shivered and pressed on, determined to end this. Summoning all his Gryffindor courage, or idiocy, as Snape would have it, he knocked on the door to Snape's office and half-hoped the snarly professor was there.
He was. The heavy wooden door swung open to reveal an absolutely livid Snape. The Potions Master looked down his long, greasy nose at Harry, his expression murderous and his tall, black-clad form threatening.
"Hello, Professor Snape," Harry began, ignoring the way Snape's cheek muscles were twitching, "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about time travel."
"I have already taken fifty points from Gryffindor for your display several hours ago, Potter, do not make it even worse for yourself," Snape said, his voice nearly quivering in anger.
"I've been going back in time about every twelve hours," Harry said, fingers closing around his wand in his pocket this time. It didn't hurt to be prepared, especially with Snape looking at him like that. "It starts right outside of your classroom around one in the afternoon, and then I reappear at the same spot eleven or twelve hours later, past midnight."
"I don't have time for this foolish game of yours," Snape said bitterly. "I'm giving you another week's worth of detentions on top of what I gave you before class. You will report to my office again at eight for your undeserved Occlumency lesson, and you will stay to serve out your first detention of the week."
"Fine," Harry said, not bothering to tell him about Umbridge. "But I'm not playing games. You're the only person who can help me right now. This is really happening."
"Leave!" Snape barked, making to slam the door. Harry hurled himself at it before it could close, fighting Snape on the other side.
"Professor, please!" Harry begged, his shoulder aching as he held the door open a crack, "Look into my mind, use Legilimency! Last time you used Veritaserum on me! Just do something to believe me! I need your help, I can't do this alone!"
"Get in!" Snape spat, releasing his hold on the door and allowing Harry to stumble awkwardly into the office.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said gratefully.
Snape stared at him with narrowed black eyes, still blazing with barely controlled hatred.
"I will use Legilimency," Snape said softly. "And you're not going to like it."
"Fine," Harry said. "I promise you, I'm not lying and I need your help, fast."
Snape's cheek continued twitching, and he didn't respond beyond a forceful spell. "Legilimens!"
Harry sank to the ground instantly. Snape had been holding back on him during all their lessons. This almost wasn't the same spell. This time, it felt like his mind was being raped.
His most terrible memories surfaced for Harry to relive in perfect detail. Memories of constant abuse from the Dursleys swam in front of his eyes, memories of stray punches and kicks, broken glasses and lonely holidays. He saw Voldemort and green flashes, heard screams, felt shame and fear and hatred so strong and so suddenly that it almost seemed alien to his brain, but in fact it was all from his own memories. It was like a dementor were near him now, dredging up all that which he would rather forget.
"Stop," he whispered. But the barrage of images and feelings only worsened. As he weakly cried out from the vivid memory of the Cruciatus curse, his eyes darkened and he blissfully felt no more.
There were lights and fuzzy shapes all around him. His head throbbed and his whole body ached.
"Get Potter to the hospital wing," a voice said.
"No," Harry said softly, trying to sit up.
"Shh, shh." Someone hushed him from above, touching a cool hand to his feverish forehead. "It's okay, Harry, we're taking you to Madam Pomfrey."
"Just Granger," the first voice sneered. "I'm sure she can handle it. Get in your seat, Weasley."
Harry's hurting head couldn't understand what was going on. It couldn't supply a reason for the sudden nervousness he felt when he heard the words, "Being clumsy again, Longbottom? Five points from Gryffindor for being an unwelcome distraction in the learning environment."
He knew it was bad, but he didn't want to remember why as soft curly hair brushed his face and gentle hands helped him up. He just wanted the pain to stop.