Disclaimer: Although this story is so well-written and getting so many reviews (hint, hint!), I am not J.K. Rowling. I wouldn't really fancy being a dishy blonde with ugly legs anyways. No, I have never seen her legs, but I'm assuming that they look like her face – ugly.

That was mean of me because she's not ugly…but you get the point: I don't own anything you have read in the Harry Potter books. You probably don't want to hear anymore of my cheesy sense of humor, so on to the story.

Summary:

Every 75 years, it is said that a portal opens at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry admitting students from 20 years into the future. What happens if the portal just so happened to open during the Marauders' seventh year? Partly AU.

Chapter 2- Getting The News: 1997

"I believe that is all, so students may head up to their dormitories. Seventh years, please stay behind," McGonagall finished addressing the students in the Great Hall. Looking around, she could see that numbers had drastically decreased since Dumbledore's demise; parents seemed to pull their children out of school more often. Thankfully, the Patil twins had managed to convince their parents to let them stay. Seamus had almost been taken out as well. He managed to convince her otherwise by telling her that she was "throwing away his future" by doing this.

Once the seventh years were the only ones remaining, McGonagall cleared her throat. The chattering died down, and the students gave her their undivided attention.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" It was Hermione. She was looking at the new headmistress with a mixture of curiously as well as concern. McGonagall couldn't help but smile at her thoughtfulness.

"Nothing is wrong Miss Granger. Not today, at least," she took a deep breath. "I realize that this is quite sudden, but I believe that this may take some of your minds off the war for a while," she glanced at Harry. "On this very day in the year 1977, a portal opened. This said "portal" opens every 75 years, and allows people from 20 years into the future to go to the year that the portal last opened. No one has ever had concrete evidence on this portal's existence until now – then. In 1977. Wait…" McGonagall broke off, realizing that she was only confusing herself. Students began giggling when they saw their transfiguration teacher confused. At that moment, Hermione spoke up.

"Does this mean we'll be going to the past?" she asked.

"Indeed it does," the headmistress regained her composure. "Since you are all seventh years, you will be able to spend one school year in 1977."

"No school for a year!" Seamus whooped.

"However," she continued, not paying attention to Seamus, "you will still have to go to classes as you normally do, take exams, and such." Seamus' head drooped.

"I must warn you though, many of your parents are in their seventh year in this time, so I must ask you not to reveal the future to them," she emphasized on the last part, knowing that a certain Harry Potter would be thinking of doing the opposite. Indeed, when she glanced over at him, he looked stumped. "It is vital that they do not know of what events took place here, such as…deaths and such."

"Why not? We can change the future and prevent the deaths!" Seamus argued, still not understanding the significance of time travel. Hermione and many of the Ravenclaws rolled their eyes.

"I will repeat myself Mr. Finnigan. Do not reveal anything about the future. One simple thing could change the course of history. However, some of you bear an uncanny resemblance to your mother or father, so it will be obvious in that case. That is fine."

Hermione raised her hand. "What about our last names? I don't think muggleborns will have to change them, but what about the purebloods and half-bloods?"

"We'll be keeping the same last names. It should work out." McGonagall scrutinized her students. "It is time for me to go talk to my past self about when she will be picking you up. I believe she would like to meet some of you as well: Mr. Potter, Padma Patil, please come with me. The rest of you are dismissed. Have a good night's sleep." She motioned for Harry and Padma to follow her as the rest of the students filed out of the Great Hall. Padma couldn't help but glance in Harry's direction, just to see him bid his friends goodbye.

"Fizzing Whizbee."

"You didn't change the password," Harry noted that she kept the same password Dumbledore had at the end of sixth year. McGonagall nodded. She hadn't been able to change anything inside the office either; she felt that it would dishonor his memory. It was his office first after all…if she had a choice, she would have stayed in her office next to the Transfiguration classroom.

The gargoyle opened, and the three of them stepped in. No one dared to break the increasing silence while they waited until the stairs stopped winding. Once it did, they entered. McGonagall headed over to the fireplace and threw an unusual red powder into the fire and yelled, "McGonagall's office, 1977!"

A relatively younger version of the transfiguration teacher's head appeared in the fire. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun, and her facial expression was as strict as usual but she seemed to have only a few strands of gray hair. Padma let out a giggle as Harry shot her a look, causing her laughter to immediately cease. He seemed to be refraining laughter as well, however.

Settling down in a seat while Padma did the same beside him, Harry watched as both McGonagalls exchanged words. Apparently the seventh years were leaving when dinner would begin the next evening. The professors were so wrapped up in their conversation that they did not notice the students until Harry cleared his throat. Padma looked over at him and blushed for no known reason.

"Excuse me, professor – or professors…why are we here again?" Harry asked. The elder McGonagall's eyes widened.

"Ah, yes! These are two of the students that will be with you – Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Padma Patil," she introduced them to the younger version of herself. Padma looked a bit uncomfortable while Harry ruffled his hair subconsciously and grinned charmingly. The Indian witch couldn't help but suck in her breath as her heart gave a small leap at the small action of him simply running his hand through his hair. Over the summer he had grown a few inches taller (but he still hadn't outgrown Ron) and acquired a slight tan, she noticed. He was the object of many girls' attentions now, and being built and muscular from Quidditch didn't help lower the looks from them.

Minerva McGonagall – the one from 1977 – could almost immediately tell that this was James Potter's son. He seemed confident of himself without passing off as arrogant, like James was. His emerald eyes held a hint of mischief behind them, and his hair was that of his father's – black and messy. She could tell that he had a habit of messing up his hair when he ran his hand through his hair again. Looking over him again, she did a double take when she saw his eyes…his emerald eyes.

Padma noticed her hesitation, but misinterpreted it.

"How famous can you become? Even people from the past can recognize you, Harry!" the girl exclaimed, causing Harry to blush lightly.

Famous? James Potter's son was famous? If the younger McGonagall wasn't shocked before, she most certainly was now. But before she could ask any questions, the elder version of herself stood up.

"It's getting late. You two should be getting to bed," she said to the students. Padma, who knew that she shouldn't have said what she said, bid her teacher and Harry good night, got up, and slowly left. Harry shot his professor a confused glance, but the look she gave him held its significance: she did not want it known when he arrived in the past that he was a celebrity. He too got up and left, leaving the two McGonagalls alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the current professor handing a letter to her younger version.

"It's getting late. You two should be getting to bed," the Professor McGonagall Harry knew said. Beside him, he heard, rather than saw, Padma getting up and leaving. He shot a confused look at his professor. Why was she asking them to leave so suddenly?

The look she threw back at him gave him the answer. She didn't want his status in the wizarding world known in the past. For a Ravenclaw, Padma was incredibly stupid to not notice that information about the future shouldn't be revealed.

Harry got and up and exited the office. After heading toward the Gryffindor common room for about fifteen seconds, he turned around and walked back toward the headmistress's office. He had a feeling they were talking about him. It just so appeared he was right.

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid…Padma had berated herself as she headed toward the Ravenclaw common room after leaving McGonagall's office. How could she have said something so stupid? God, even Parvati would be smarter than to say that. Not that she was stupid or anything. Just not as smart as Padma herself.

And now, Harry will never like me…

Where did that thought come from? Merlin's beard…nooo…it couldn't be! But it explained the feeling she had when she saw him in the headmistress's office earlier.

You fancy him…

Where was this conscience coming from? She did not like Harry Potter!

But he's single…

Argh! Stupid seductive voice in her head! Okay, so maybe she snuck a few glances at his frame, but still…

Padma decided to talk to her sister the next day about it. Little did she know, she had already fallen victim to the charm of Harry Potter during the span of one evening.

Once Harry left the office, the younger McGonagall spoke up.

"I take it that I am right in assuming that Harry Potter is James Potter's son?" The older McGonagall nodded, almost looking as if she was going to regret what the conversation would be about. "And he's famous?" she prodded. Again, the older version of herself nodded.

"Care to tell me why?" the younger McGonagall did not care if she was being rude. In her opinion, the future seemed to hold too many secrets…and deaths. Yes, she had noticed that not Dumbledore, but she herself occupied the office. That would mean one thing: he had somehow died. At first, she had deemed that thought impossible, but later realized that her mentor was not invincible. It was a depressing thought.

The McGonagall from 1977 was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she did not realize that the McGonagall from 1997 was telling her the answer to her previous question.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" she asked a bit more politely than before.

"I said, Harry Potter is famous for being the downfall of Voldemort, and meeting face-to-face and surviving Voldemort five times in his life." With that, the elder teacher launched into the tale of Harry Potter's life.

"Harry Potter is famous for…"

After hearing those words, he turned around and headed toward the Room of Requirement. He needed time to think alone. He was hoping that word of his fame wouldn't spread to 1977. Then he could pretend to be a normal student and maybe meet his mother and father. And see Sirius again. Remus had told him stories of them during their school years to try and cheer Harry up after Dumbledore's death. That had helped them become closer over the summer. But fate seemed to be against him once again. He could only hope that nothing bad would happen while he was in the past. Troublemaking and girls didn't count, only Death Eater and Voldemort stuff.

As much as it pained him to admit it, he had become a bit more of a troublemaker over the summer, and was often "up to no good". He, Fred, and George had taken it into their hands to scare half of the customers entering Weasley Wizarding Wheezes by performing trial runs on them for new products. Some order members had caught him with different girls in public…and in broom closets. Needless to say, those had been embarrassing situations. And, not to mention, he had to endure Ginny's wrath every time, which was always the same: how he was shagging other girls but refused to be with her in order to "protect her". What could he say to that? He couldn't help if he was a hormonal teenager. He didn't mean to put any other girls in danger, but Ginny was different. She meant more.

He wished for a bottle of firewhiskey, and the room offered it to him. With so many thoughts running through his head, he doubted that he would be getting much sleep that night.

A/N: Like it? Hate it? Please review it! No flaming though. This chapter was a little longer than the first – 5 pages to 4 pages (but yeah, it's still short!) I originally wasn't going to do any point of views in the future, but I thought it would be kind of relevant…and cool…and I was stumped on what to write for the next day in James's time. But that description I put in of him would be my dream version of Harry Potter…sigh I think I did this chapter justice though; originally, I had all this crap about Harry being sick of the façade he always put on. Then there was a whole bunch of cursing and McGonagall bashing. So yeah…I deleted that because it was way to serious (and stupid) for me, and it didn't go with my dream version of Harry Potter :) Ah, yes. Padma Patil has indeed been victimized by the fabulous charm of my dream version of Harry Potter, just like any other decent girl would. I'm going to stop now…this A/N is getting too long, and I'm just blabbing. Why, I bet you aren't even reading this anymore, right?

Check out my profile for update info and a list of all of the students who will be going to 1977! The last character is unknown so far, see if you can guess who!

Thanks to my reviewers and my beta, who gave me ideas to help expand the chapter.