Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

Chapter 3- Professor Turner

"How is the man faring, Poppy?" Albus asked once he and McGonagall entered the Hospital Wing.

"I feel it would be better if we sent him to St. Mungo's. I've never seen anything like it, Albus. Some of these spells are quite dark and I don't want to tamper with them," the medi-witch said, performing a series of diagnostic charms over the beaten man.

"I don't want to do that unless we have no other choice. This man materialized in the middle of the Great Hall looking as if he had come from the battle of the century. If we send him to St. Mungo's the Ministry would be on him in a heartbeat. I want questions answered before they are notified," Albus said, watching the boy intently.

To a normal bystander it looked as if he were concentrating on something, but Poppy new better. "Albus! Don't even think about it. I won't have you digging around my patient's mind while he's unconscious. If you want questions answered, you'll have to come back later when he awakens. For his benefit, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she ordered.

For a moment, she believed he was actually going to argue. However, he must of thought better of it and left with a quick pace. That man hired her for her not only for her skills, but for authority she held over her Wing. If he so much as toed that line, he would be in a world of curses and high shrieks from the stern medi-witch. Turning back to the man she flicked her wand to remove his shirt and trousers to get a better look at his wounds.

Minerva stepped forward. "Is there anything I can do, Poppy?"

Poppy jumped out of her skin when she heard the deputy headmistress. She had thought she left after the headmaster. "Yes, grab some Painless Potion along with some Disinfectant Brew. Oh, and while you're at it get a hold of some Muscle Re-growth tonic. It should be somewhere on my desk."

The Transfiguration teacher nodded as she rushed into her coworker's office for the supplies.

"Well, I've done all I'm capable of, Headmaster. There's nothing more I can do," Poppy said a bit wearily. The extent of the man's injuries was much more severe than she originally thought. There was a scorching jinx that had somehow made it down his throat. If he lasted much longer without medical care, he would have been lucky to talk again, and not the mention the amount of blood loss."

"Are there any lasting injuries?"

"Most of them were easy enough to fix. However if he lasted longer without help his injuries surely would have killed him. Most of them were received within the past six to twelve hours. It's amazing he was able to stand at all when he arrived. He had numerous scratches and broken ribs as well as a severely broken hip." She pursed her lips before continuing, "There are a few things I wanted to point out." She walked over to the man's bedside. Pushing the hair from the man's forehead with her wand, Albus could see a deep scar in the shape of a lightening bolt just below his hairline.

"What is this?" he asked.

The medi-witch sighed. "I'm not sure, but it refuses to close along with the animalistic scratches along his neck and torso. There's ancient magic embedded in it. I tried to remove it, but the curse seems to have manifested itself throughout his entire being. I cannot eliminate it without serious physical and mental repercussions. It seems as if he's lived with it his whole life…" she explained sadly.

The Headmaster walked up close to study the scar. "It looks like it has reopened recently," he observed.

"Unfortunately, I cannot explain that, sir," she replied with a hint of annoyance. She hated not being able to cure one of her patients, whether she was qualified to handle the seriousness of the injuries or not.

Albus hummed as he noted the injury for later. "Were there any others?"

She hesitated before speaking. "I – I'm not sure, sir. It is the darkest form of magic I've ever seen," she said before folding the blankets back further so he could see the man's chest.

His eyes widened as he took in what his eyes were seeing. A gasp escaped his lips.

"What is it, Albus?" Once again, the sound of Minerva's voice made Poppy jump in surprise. The woman had unearthly abilities to materialize out of thin air.

"Never in my life have I even heard of such a spell being cast…" The old man whispered, staring at the tattoo on the man's heart.

"Albus?" Minerva asked worriedly toward the unmoving man.

"Adligare Amatoria," was all he said before the man before them let out a long groan.


Soft voices. Although he couldn't hear what was being said, they sounded urgent.

Sweet Merlin! It felt as if he had been hit by the Knight Bus. His whole body ached, every bone throbbed in discomfort. Thinking it must have been his sleeping position, Harry shifted on the bed.

A bed? When Harry was finally able to open his eyes, he found a familiar sight above him. He knew those white stones anywhere for having spent most of his school years in this very bed, staring at that very ceiling for days on end, having a variety of foul tasting potions shoved down his throat. The Hospital Wing? That's impossible…

Before he was capable of further thought a sharp pain shot through every muscle and bone in his body. Biting his tongue to keep from crying out, Harry looked down to examine his wounds but to his surprise, there were none. Well, besides the fact that he was shirtless…and pantsless, he mentally added, it was completely healed. What the hell? He thought before another wave of pain enveloped him.

It was as if something was squeezing him from the inside, like he was being sucked into a vacuum. With every breath, the aching became more and more consistent – a lonely feeling that kept growing, tearing him apart from the inside.

Ginny… The feeling became worse as he thought of her, like he was traveling at light speed. He took a deep breath when stars began swarming his vision. He closed his eyes, willing the pain to recede yet he knew it was impossible. He would always feel like this, until the moment he died…

His train of thought was broken by the sound of a soft cough. Harry snapped his eyes back open, bolting upright in the bed once again. However this time he wasn't surprised when another wave of pain shot through his chest. He swallowed a shout, but he couldn't help the grimace that appeared on his face. He could control his pain, if only barely.

He glanced about the room and noticed his glasses had gone. He shifted over to the side of the bed when a woman to his right tutted. He froze.

"I wouldn't make one more move if I were you, sir. The bed's been charmed to place an immediate stunning spell on you if so much as lift one finger away from the bed's boundaries," the voice said.

He felt something soft land on his mattress. Grabbing for them desperately, he let out a breath of relief when he found his glasses. On putting them on, he almost wished he hadn't. He stared in shock as she stepped towards him, holding a bottle of murky blue liquid. It couldn't be, in fact it was impossible – no one could be brought back from the dead, yet Madam Pomfrey stood at his side pouring the unknown potion into a small cup as if she'd been doing it forever.

"Still hurting I see. Here, drink this. It should help with the stiffness," she said, handing him the cup.

Subconsciously, he took the offered cup his eyes wide with shock. It was real. He turned his gaze back to hers, not believing the proof that was right in front of him.

"How…?" he trailed off, not knowing what question to ask. What was he supposed to say?

"No talking, just drink. The headmaster is waiting outside. I refuse to let him come back in and badger you with questions before you are strong enough to sit up. However I can only hold him off for so long."

Questioning? Now Harry was utterly confused. Why was he being threatened to stay put? And why was Madam Pomfrey speaking to him like a stranger?

"Madam Pomfrey, I don't understand."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know perfectly well that I did not announce my title. How do you know my name?"

That shut him up. Well, that answers that question, he thought bluntly.

"Now, Poppy. I thought we agreed that I would be the one doing the questioning," an eerily familiar voice said from the doorway.

Harry almost had whiplash from the speed he turned his head. It couldn't have been. He saw the old man die in front of his very eyes. There was absolutely no way a person could come back from the dead.

If it were possible, Harry's eyes widened even more so. "Dumbledore…?"

"You know my name, yet we do not know yours," said the old man, puzzled. Usually, he could take a quick look through someone's thoughts without being detected, but this young man in front of him had strong occulmency shields around his mind, even when he was in a state of unconsciousness. Puzzling indeed….

"How – I don't…you can't be –" Harry's mind was thrown into a whirlwind of confusion. Before now, he thought that Madam Pomfrey had somehow escaped from the battle unscathed, but now…He had seen Dumbledore die, hadn't he? Of course he had, there was no denying that. He'd seen his Headmaster fall from the Astronomy Tower a little less than three years ago. Now the same man was walking through the hospital wing as if he'd been alive and kicking the whole time.

At this point, Dumbledore was as amused as he was puzzled. The man lying in front of him, who bared a striking resemblance to their very own James Potter, seemed to be just as confused as he was. "I must ask, sir. Are you related to a James Potter? We can't deny the resemblance is uncanny…"

Harry stiffened. James Potter? Why was Dumbledore asking who he was? And why was he bringing his father into this? His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you getting at?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You know just as well as I do that James Potter died nineteen years ago, and not to mention yourself and Pomfrey. So tell me again, just what do you think you're getting at, Dumbledore?" he spat the name out sarcastically.

They were supposed to be dead? That didn't make any sense in the headmaster's head. However, a nearly impossible thought threaded into his mind. "This might be the most absurd question…What is the date today, young man?"

Harry swallowed. He subconsciously realized the burning sensation in his throat was gone, but was replaced by a rather uncomfortable and painful feeling as if he had swallowed a mouthful of needles. He tried swallowing again to get rid of it, but unfortunately the pain was rather persistent. Unease settled in his stomach and began creeping up his throat. Adding that to the physical pain was making his head spin.

Date? Hell, I don't know. I stopped keeping track of time months ago… He looked out the nearest window and judging by the fading green of the trees, he'd say sometime in the late summer. "Uhh, August or September I'm guessing," he replied with a shrug, a sharp pain hit his lower back, almost causing him to pass out.

"And the year?"

His head snapped up and studied the supposed 'Dumbledore's' expression and what he saw made his very blood freeze. He finally began to notice what was in front of his face.

The man in front of him was Dumbledore, but at the same time it wasn't. The man standing by his bedside wasn't the man that Harry knew. In fact, this man seemed younger, more confident and somehow stronger, than the white haired wizard he familiarized himself with for ten years.

Then it hit him like he had accioed a ton of bricks. He remembered being engulfed by a hot light and suddenly appearing in the Great Hall. He remembered the students. The teachers. Madam Pomfrey. A younger Dumbledore. It all made perfect sense and it terrified him.

As realization dawned on his face, Dumbledore was almost sure of his suspicions. He just needed to hear one thing. "The year, my good man. What is the year?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Nine – Nineteen ninety-nine?" he said, however he phrased it more as a question.

His response earned a few gasps around the room. He swiveled his head and saw Pomfrey had not yet left and McGonagall was with them as well. Even though recent events still plagued his mind, he let his heart beat with a small thread of hope and joy as his eyes met his former Transfiguration teacher. The last time he had seen her alive was…when she sacrificed her life for Teddy's. Teddy…

The younger Dumbledore shook his head as if he suspected as much. "Sir, I'm afraid to tell you, you're incorrect. It is in fact, 1975."

Harry's eyes widened. That would mean…Don't pass out, Harry…don't pass out…

"Sir, I can only imagine how much of a shock this could be for you, but believe me I'm quite surprised myself. I may be old, but never have I met a time traveler before," the headmaster said with a smile, which faltered a bit as his eyes cast a quick glance at his chest.

The dark haired man would have caught the small slip-up if he wasn't in utter shock. I'm a time traveler…I traveled through time, and with my own magic! Oh sweet Merlin, you can't just let me be can you? I have one minute to deal with my grief and the next I'm traveling through time and space. My life could not be more complicated…Harry thought to himself. If he wasn't sure of the amount of pain he was in before, he sure was now. The air didn't seem to want to re-enter his lungs, increasing the utterly excruciating stretching sensation from which he was suffering.

"Apparently, you know my name, however we do not know yours," Dumbledore said, barely maintaining his attention.

"Uhhh…" His mind was in complete chaos. Should he tell them? What the hell are they going to do? Kill me? "Harry…Potter."

Another gasp swept through the room.

"Potter? As in, a descendent of James Potter?" McGonagall asked, shock written all over her face.

He shifted under the uncomfortable stares, literally on the verge of losing consciousness. "His son, actually."

That knocked them dead. Not literally of course, Harry added as a regretful afterthought. Wait a second, if it's 1975 then my parents would be…in their seventh year! That realization was just another shock to his rapidly frying brain. Of course it would be, because the universe just loves to watch me squirm.

"You have got to be kidding me," he groaned as he fell back into his pillows, finally submitting to the overwhelming darkness.


The doors to the Great Hall began to open and everyone turned their attention to the headmaster as he made his way through the doorway.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Students, may I have your listening ears one moment, please? I have an important announcement to make. You have just caught a glimpse of your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Harry Turner! He managed to get into a bit of a skirmish and will be in the hospital wing for a few days more. I will be substituting for the position until he feels better or Madam Pomfrey sees fit to release him from her clutch. I assume Professor Morgan has given the introductions in my place…Yes? Splendid! Now Heads and Prefects, could you please show our first years to their dormitories? Returning students, I strongly suggest you head to your respective common rooms for the night. Thank you."

With a wave of his wand the decorations for the ceremony disappeared and mysteriously so did any misconceptions of their new professor.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alrighty, sorry about the late update, guys and gals. Here's the new chapter, remastered!