"Doubt thou the stars are fire,

Doubt that the sun doth move,

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt I love you."

-Shakespeare

Albus had dropped him off back at the three broomsticks and his room. He clearly remembered that.

So it was such that when he was jolted (or rather kicked) awake, he was shocked to see the shockingly familiar woman looking down at him, haughty and arrogant. Black hair, black eyes, heavy-lidded, but not wearing death eater robes. With a small gasp, he sprung up, feeling for his wand (which was enchanted to go back to his left pocket after some time), but found the woman twirling it in her right hand. In the darkness of early morning, the sight was rather eerie.

"Give me that." he said, or rather spluttered. But now that he had a better look, he found that the woman had kinder eyes and a rounder face then the woman that killed his godfather, and upon reflection he realized that Bellatrix could not have been born-yet.

"Why are you on my doorstep, filth?"she demanded, voice high and cold.

Black eyes met his green ones, and pierced him with a familiar stare that would have made in scream and go for the kill in his younger years. Being older, and realizing that Bellatrix Black was not even born yet, he calmly stared at the woman. Probably her mother, or at the very least an aunt.

"I said, why are you on my doorstep," she repeated slowly, voice full of menace.

Unfortunately for Harry, his mind had gone blank. He uttered an expletive, and that seemed to be the last straw.

"Flipendo!"

Groggy and only half-awake, Harry did not manage to dodge the hex in time, as he was pushed backwards by it, falling hard on the ground. Part of his mind noted hat he was farther away from the... he abruptly realized that he was not outside grimmauld place. He had not much time to dwell on the thought as a hex missed his ear by inches.

"Wait, " he began, only to have his left shoulder set on fire. Luckily, rolling around solved the problem, but the burn still ached.

As if on cue, he felt a by-then familiar weight in his left pocket. The look of shock on the woman's face was not even needed to tell himself what he had just obtained.

Springing up, he whipped out his wand. "Expelliarmus!Impedimenta!"

The two spells hit her faster than she could react-more proof that she was not Bellatrix, for the latter would have surely thrown up a shield. The disarming hex threw her backwards towards the wall, even as her wand clattered on the street, where Harry accioed it into his hand. The slowing hex prevented her fall, and he immobilized her arms so she couldn't do anything.

"Now,"he said, "Could we be more civil this time round?" He was tired, he was burnt, he was wondering why he had ended up in this situation, and he did not want to deal with this particularly troublesome woman.

"Do not talk to me in that insolent way, filth." the woman said defiantly.

That sounds like Bellatrix, all right, Harry thought in resignation. Attacking an innocent man found at your doorstep also stank of Bellatrix-ness, he reflected, but there was the mystery of him even being here in the first place. He decided to take a different approach. To fight fire with fire. If she was so aggressive, maybe she would respond to the threat of force. Years of being an auror had made him used to this by then, though it always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I'm holding a wand, you are not, and I am perfectly able of casting unforgivable curses," he snarled, leaning forward in (what he hoped was) a threatening way, prodding her neck with his wand. "I am not exactly in the best of moods, so you should tell me why I was rudely awoken by your kicking."

Her expression was nearly unreadable, he realised. In a perfectly neutral voice, she said "I found you at my front gate."

"So?"

"How were you even able to get that far?" the woman replied arrogantly, but with a tint of frustration and (could-it-be?) wonder on her proud, yet attractive features. "How were you able to breach the wards of the Noble house of Rosier?"

Rosier? He thought for a moment that this woman may actually not be related to Bellatrix, before he realized that he had seen the name on the Black family tree somewhere.

"I'm asking the questions here." he said, pretending to be annoyed.

"Fine, I found you outside my house, and having breached five layers of wards that my family set-up. I was wondering how you did it, and I was a little rude, OK?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to discern whether the woman was lying. Satisfied that she seemed to not be doing so, he tried to piece through everything from what he had learned. True, he was a powerful wizard, but not powerful enough to break through 5 layers of wards without even knowing so, especially when he was probably drunk. It didn't take a long time for him to figure out what had caused that to happen. His wards. He had wards set on his clothes by the most gifted arors in his department-Hermione, Depre, even some by Kingsley, and of course-himself. They were supposed to prevent any harm from coming to him, and had disabled many a trap (even muggle ones) while he was on some particularly dangerous missions. Apparently, they worked against the Rosier wards.

He sighed, knowing that he would probably not see his friends again, before a loud cough bought him back to the real world.

"Can you set me free now? It's only me in the house, if not I would have awakened my parents and my brother already."

Thinking about the Hogwarts he knew from the future-he snapped back his head, and for the second time in the wee hours of morning, green eyes met black. Immediately, he felt a sharp pain in his head, and tried to throw up his shields (which he had never been able to do well). However, it was too late. Either his shields were too weak or he had failed to react in time.

The women let out a gasp, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Holy shit," she whispered, "you are a madman."

He stared at her with a deadpan expression. He really needed to improve his occlumency skills, he reflected.

"You're not mad," she breathed.

"No," Harry shook his head. He eyed her briefly, seeing that she seemed too awestruck to attempt to hurt him.

"Finite" he whispered, threw her wand at the ground, and turned away.

She followed him. "Wait, wait," she shouted, as she caught up, wand in hand. "you're from sixty-four years in the future."

"Yes," he growled.

"I didn't manage to find out how you got here. Is it planned?"

He shook his head, struggling to maintain his neutral expression now.

"How? Where's your time-turner? Is it through the Ranel charm? I always thought that that was just hypothetical..." She continued, face flushed with excitement. She even seemed in awe of him.

Somehow, that expression reminded him of Colin Creevey, dead and gone.

He snapped.

He whipped around and pointed his wand at her again. "Look here, you already know so much about me, so can I know what is your name at least."

The woman spluttered for a moment before she amazingly recovered her composure, walked over, and took his hand. "Druella Rosier."

They shook hands hesitantly. "Well... I'm..." he suddenly realized that if he gave her his real name, he would damage the entire timeline, possibly irrevocably. He had already violated the first rule of time travel by going back more than fifty years, to hell with the time-turner dust. Then he cursed himself for telling Dumbledore his real name. The manipulative old coot always made you feel at ease around him. Since Dumbledore already knew that he was a "Harry", surely there would be no harm in telling Druella. "I'm...I'm Harry er... Alberts." he randomly invented.

She nodded, sceptical. Once again, he felt a sharp pain in his mind, but was prepared this time. ALBERTS ALBERTS ALBERTS ALBERTS ALBERTS, he thought with all his strength.

Druella nodded, seemingly satisfied, even as he pretended that he was in pain. The sadistic smirk did not escape his eyes, however. Like mother, like daughter indeed.

"Alberts...hmmm...there's only a small colony of Alberts in Holland." Druella thought out loud as Harry felt himself slip into his neutral expression again. Indeed, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and even Mrs Weasley had remarked that when he slipped into that expression, he was trying to hide something.

Seeming to abandon her thought, Druella stared at him quizzically. "If you've traveled sixty-four years into the past, your parents may not even have been born yet. But what about your grandparents? What will happen if you meet them." Her gaze made him feel as if he was a slab of pork waiting to be chopped with a knife.

He shrugged, but also realized that if Fleamont Potter looked similar to him, questions would be raised, that he would rather not answer.

"Well, come on then, Alberts."

Harry blinked in surprise at her sudden request. It seemed totally random.

"What? In your house?" he asked, suddenly noticing his own sloppy, stinky robes. On a whim, he magically checked them with his wand, and found that his wards were gone, with the exception of a minor shield charm. Yes, his clothes could use a change.

"No, of course not. We go... to shop. You, Alberts, look like a slob."

Totally disregarding the fact that it was extremely early in the morning, Druella set off at a brisk pace, as Harry followed behind. He thought about how he ended up in front of the Rosier house in the first place. He could remember drinking a glass or two of vodka (then receiving weird glances as he asked for a malts whisky), and had some butterbeer.

Dang, he really had to stop drinking.

The silence didn't last, however.

"Did Grindelwald win?" Druella asked, not even looking in his general direction.

And that was just the beginning.

A much, much younger tom the barkeep (the lad couldn't have been more than 15) and his father Tom Senior were able to provide him a room to wash up. For some reason, Druella did not want to go to the three broomsticks inn, and muttered a fair bit about the womanizing innkeeper. Harry had to hide a chuckle, as he thought about Rosmerta and her three broomsticks inn.

Aside from asking many questions about the future, Druella was also an impatient woman. Thrice she had shouted for him to hurry up and she even stuck her head in to see why he was taking so long to shower (to which he had been annoyed, and mortified). There really was no point in hurrying up, for when Harry had dressed fuly, the sun was just poking it's head out of the horizon.

He enjoyed the sunrise before another "Hurry up now!" from the bloody woman he had locked out of his room made him unlock the door.

He had then been dragged to Twilfitt and Tattings (Madam Malkin's did not exist) and had to endure another intense round of questioning, to which he mostly ignored, aside from a few "Yes"s, "No"s and the occasional "Ministry's still the ministry."

After that, she insisted that he buy a bunch of totally useless trinkets that "a pureblood would surely need", before asking him "You are a pureblood, right?" He had nodded then, but had regretted after he saw the items she stuffed in his robe. What was the point of a quill with the Hogwart's quest, or a fake wand that looked like a simple piece of wood.

At least she paid with her money.

Eventually, they stopped by the owl-post, where Druella had grabbed an owl-order form, and Harry had bought a Snowy-white owl that reminded him sorely of Hedwig. He had bought that with his own money, as Druella did not approve of owls.

Finally, they walked back towards Leaky Cauldron, Harry's trunk miniaturized and safely in his pocket. Surprisingly, Druella had stayed silent throughout the whole trup, and it was only as they were about to reach the inn that she popped a question.

"What was your previous job again?"

"Along the line of Auror work." he had responded, by now feeling grateful to her for getting him all his belongings.

Unexpectedly, she sighed and shook her head. Responding to Harry's questioning glance, she explained that he would have much trouble finding a job, as he needed identity papers, and she was no about to use her money on him (the only reason she had been doing so was because of the knowledge she deemed crucial), if that was so, he felt that he might have sorely disappointed her, for what he had told her would not have given anyone even the briefest idea about the future, much less use it to her advantage.

It was as they were reaching the inn when she let out a loud groan, motioning at the twenty or so young wizards in front of them, and the rest of the people giving them a wide berth.

Troublemakers.

A/N : Hey, it came out quicker and longer than last time. Regarding the "bashing" question, Albus will probably get bashed-a bit. Just a bit. A LIIIIItle bit. ;)

Apologies for the accidentally uploaded previous chapter, which was the incomplete version of chapter 3, actually. The interview comes up next, don't worry fam. Please read and review, follows help too.

Oh, and did anyone catch that Percy Jackson reference?