A/N: For chapter 2, I apologize if I wasn't clear, but the incident with the cop and Hagrid took place in 1991.

Disclaimer: I don't own this, guys. If I was witty, I'd find a better/funnier way to say it. Till then, you'll have to deal with the occasional disclaimer every other chapter or so.

Unless you have an identical twin, you have absolutely no idea how bizarre it is to see yourself walking down the street. The first thought that crosses your mind is "if I'm here…" but then you remember the circumstances: either you have a twin or you've been using a Time-Turner. This was exactly what Lee and Angelina were feeling at that moment. What's even more peculiar is hiding from yourself. Then you kind of backtrack in your mind: will past-me step here or can I hide here? Is this safe? I'm pretty sure this is okay, I don't remember ever coming here before. And the worst part is it's so easy to make a mistake, and if you do, the result is a paradox in the space-time continuum and possibly the end of the world. No one really knows, but most expect the worst.

The solemn duo watched as the maybe-a-bit-younger-than-them-versions of themselves collided with the man in the trenchcoat. Then, they could predict it: he shrieked and his papers went everywhere, he scrambled away, Hagrid attempted to help Angelina, and finally Lee and Ang walked off. But as they stood there, they realized that it was near impossible to solve this. There was no way they could think of to prevent Hagrid from becoming late without revealing themselves to—well, themselves and therefore destroying the space-time continuum. All they could do was stand there and watch everyone disappear from that spot where the fiasco had just happened. It blew their minds how something so small could affect the whole universe.

In fact, Angelina thought, I don't think it could. She had, indeed, read A Sound of Wonder by Ray Bradbury one summer vacation when she was bored, and seen how one tiny little thing could change time travel. But this was too much. Hagrid's huge "delay" lasted a whole 30 seconds. She doubted this was the problem. But what was it then?

And then it hit her. Matter of fact, it didn't just hit her. It socked her in the stomach, jabbed her in the jaw, and made her feel woozy. …Okay, maybe not woozy but definitely idiotic. Why hadn't she seen this before? It was the man in the trenchcoat. Something about him, the way he was so uptight, so bothered by the upset of him and his precious briefcase. Why were those papers so important? It wasn't just a coincidence, she was sure of it.

She had been silent for a minute and a half now. She could see Lee was obviously in deep thought as well. The hush was broken finally by Angelina's jovial laughter. She humorously counted down

"5…4…3…2…1…"

"The man in the trenchcoat!" Lee sang right on cue, and Angelina giddily nodded. They returned to the "scene of the crime" as CSI would say, and found exactly what they were looking for. A single paper had been left behind.

It was a letter from a Mr. Brian Cabbage to the Ministry of Magic. Lee scanned it and found that it basically was an alibi for Dumbledore. The crime that Dumbledore had allegedly committed, however, was completely absent. It read that Dumbledore had been invited over for dinner with him and his wife on the date in question. The really convincing bit, though, was at the end. A P.S. read: "As proof, I offer only this: Touch your wand to this sentence and my Pensieve will appear. It only has one memory, and it is of the eve in question. You can see my wife's and my lovely dinner with Mr. Dumbledore. I realize there are flaws to this proof, but I have nothing else to offer, and I hope you will accept it."

"What do you think?" Angelina asked Lee after they had finished reading. "You think this guy's full of crap?"
"Does it matter?" Lee answered exasperatedly. The point is that Dumbledore had to have a cover story for something. Do you realize what this means? Dumbledore's being tried for a crime." Angelina opened her mouth, but Lee cut her off. "No, wait," he told her sternly. "And what seems like a really convincing alibi that might even save him is missing. That's why the world was such a hellhole! Dumbledore was convicted of a crime he didn't commit, so he must've gone to Azkaban. And Umbridge must've been in charge. But—like you said, something happened to McGonagall."

"Well," Angie replied, taking the reins back, "we can figure that out later. The point is—this could be catastrophic! We have to get this alibi to someone in power who can save him!"

"Let's continue being heroic and loud at the Ministry of Magic!" Lee thundered importantly, and Angelina couldn't help but laugh. Lee had gone, though. He had Disapparated as soon as he could. She sighed; this Apparating shit was getting a bit wearing. "Ah well," she mumbled to herself and disappeared as well.

Lee probably shouldn't have been standing outside the entrance to the Ministry of Magic motionless with his girlfriend on his mind. There was no need to wait for Angelina. She was resourceful and would probably find him quickly, so why was he still there? He was just standing right in front of the telephone booth wordlessly, as if he was waiting on line, but there was no one to wait for. That's why Angelina was a bit surprised. She Apparated a few meters away and at first thought something was very wrong. Her running up to him startled him, and he looked up. "Yes?" he uttered, as if she had called his name.

"Lee, you all right?" she held his shoulders. He shrugged them.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm just—" he sighed and rubbed his eyes as if he had just awoken from a long slumber. "Thinking. About—you know—"

"Katie?" she nodded sympathetically. He nodded, and sighed again mournfully. But it was a quick emotion and he seemed to kind of brush it off to work on the matter that might just save the human race. Angelina was already halfway to the phone, dialing 62442 or "MAGIC."

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," crooned a deep voice. "Please state your name and business," it continued, seemingly invisible yet crystal clear.

"Yes, Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan, here to speak to—erm—Dumbledore?" she half-asked, half-told the mouthpiece. The mouthpiece? she vaguely wondered.

"Albus Dumbledore…any other purpose?" the voice said curtly. "No," she answered, and the voice seemed annoyed, but eventually told them: "Visitors, please take your badges and attach them to the front of your robes." Angelina could've sworn she detected a trace of annoyance. She decided to give the undetectable voice the benefit of the doubt, though, and took the badges. Angelina's read: Angelina Johnson, visiting Albus Dumbledore and the two quickly pinned them to their robes before entering.

A cold gust of wind greeted them as they closed the door slowly. Lee had only been to the Ministry twice in his life, but it had never looked as melancholy and depressing as this. The fireplaces, for one, which were normally popping with people coming out, and the lines that once invited people to come in, were diminutive. Candles on an occasional table here and there gave the room a spooky light. The few people milling around looked considerably grimmer, older, and sadder than Lee had ever seen people. Any idiot could tell that the Ministry of Magic was corrupt, but worse than that, the people in power made no attempt to hide the sadness and hatred that reeked of the place. There were obviously more important things for Voldemort's supporters to do than keep up the façade of happiness. And this somehow gripped Lee the most. They just didn't care anymore.

The whole sight made him appreciate the world he had lived in with Katie…and Alicia…and—Fred and George. Ugh. Shouldn't have opened that door. He visibly shuddered; now was not the time. Once he got started, Angelina would start. And though he would never tell anyone this, he felt she had just a bit more reason to be sad than he did about the twins' (or at least Fred's) deaths. If something happened to Katie…

"Angelina," he whispered, gazing worriedly at her glazed-over eyes. "You realize we have to find Dumbledore?"

"What? Oh yeah. Sorry." She shook herself and tapped her pocket to make sure the paper was still in there. Everything seemed to be all right, Lee noted. "So where would Dumbledore or someone who has the power to save Dumbledore?"

"Well, who's involved in the Magical Law?" Lee wondered. Then, when he couldn't figure it out, "Ang, you got any idea?"

"Hmm," she muttered. "Who was that lady who recently died back in 1996? She had something to do with it, didn't she? What was her name? Remember, she was related to that chick in Harry's year—"

"Oh yeah, Bones. Susan Bones."

"But what was the lady's name? It wasn't Susan, it was, erm—"

"Amelia?"

"Yes! Amelia Bones. Wow, I hope she hasn't been killed in this horrible day and age."

"She bloody well may have. We'd better go ask someone," Lee said urgently. They rapidly found an Information Desk, and the irritable man behind it seemed just eager to make trouble. Fat, middle-aged, and pimply, he seemed to be one of those types who weren't gutsy enough to get into the fight, but egged the ones who would fight on. "Excuse me, is Amelia Bones—um, well is she, you know—around?" Lee stammered.

"Are you visitors?" he croaked in response.

"Why, yes, we are," Lee gave him his winning grin.

"Your badges don't say anything about Amelia Bones," he continued. "They say 'visiting Albus Dumbledore.'"

"Yes, well, actually, we were going to talk to Amelia—uh, Ms. Bones about Mr. Dumbledore, you see," Lee tried.

"Well, why should I believe that?" countered the porker.

"Will you just tell us where Amelia is?!" Angelina shrieked. A few people stared, but frankly, Angelina didn't give. And finally the man seemed shook up, frightened even. He reluctantly looked through a large book at his desk, and told them: "She's on level two. Ask someone down there," he retorted rudely.

"Thanks so much," Angelina said politely, as the two disappeared as quickly as they had come.

In the past, Minerva McGonagall would sometimes picture what her life would be like in the future. She did this when she was a little girl, and dreamed of becoming the first female Minister of Magic. Instead, she became a teacher at Hogwarts. She dreamed when she was a young adult, and imagined flying away to Egypt and starting her life all over again, ridiculous as it may sound. Instead, she kept her head down, studied what she was supposed to study, and ended up with her Hogwarts job. She would grow to adore it, despite her secret craving for adventure.

And she did this even after she had worked at Hogwarts for a long, long time, teaching thousands of students. She dreamed of what her future would be. Would she live as long as her colleague Albus had, to one hundred and sixty-two? Would she die before she hit her 70's (which were just around the corner)?

But she had never, ever imagined the kind of life she was having now. For that matter, she doubted anyone could ever think that they could have this kind of life. She had been in hiding for a year and a half, she thought. She kept a journal, and she guessed the date occasionally, for she knew the date she had been abducted. Oh, she knew it very well.

It had all started because of Albus's so-called "crime." At least Minerva thought of it that way. She would never see her friend as a criminal, no matter how many people, including her own family, tried to convince her otherwise. Nearly everyone thought he had done it. It was ridiculous, really. Albus Dumbledore himself, committing a crime? Albus Dumbledore, in a cell in Azkaban? Albus Dumbledore, accused of viciously attacking a Muggle farmer's goats and then killing the farmer himself with his own pitchfork? Actually, she couldn't believe that Scrimgeour had managed to convince everyone of that without too many questions.

At first, a lot of people didn't believe it either. But the trial was huge. Everyone devoured the articles in the paper next day, recounting every word he said. Someone even got the stenographer to sell him the transcript and then that was in the Daily Prophet the next day. It was insane, and Minerva had especially hated it. By the end of the trial, nearly everyone believed that Albus Dumbledore was a murderer.

Then, when Albus was safely locked up in Azkaban, the blackmailing started. Since Albus was no longer the Headmaster, it came to pass that the job would go to Minerva, right? Well, it should have, were it not for the blackmail.

She would get mail every day, even twice sometimes, that would threaten her, "If you take the job, we'll get you," one read. Another: "Don't return to Hogwarts, or we'll kill you upon sight." And they all wanted her to go into hiding. Minerva was no wimp, but even she was terrified when she got abducted.

She had stepped outside to run to Hagrid's hut briefly at around nine o'clock. She had forgotten to light her wand. It was shadowy and dim, and she could barely see anything but the lights of his hut far away. But when she was maybe halfway there, she felt something snatched from her robes pocket. She felt around, and realized too late that it was her wand. She felt herself being frozen by a spell, and then carried off. At night, she couldn't see who it was. The last thing one of them said to her was, "If you return, next time we'll kill you." All she knew was they had pilfered her wand and carted her off to a remote part of Wales.

There she lay now, in the attic of a medium-sized house. A nice Welsh Muggle family lived below her. They had six kids, so the house was always noisy. This was nice for Minerva, as she could occasionally listen to them and get some entertainment in her otherwise mind-numbing life. Someone, sometimes an elder child, but usually one of his or her parents, would bring up a meal for her three times a day. Other than that, she spent most of her time either writing in her journal, looking out the window at the scarce passersby, or rereading one of the seven books she had in the attic. In other words, she was desperate for someone to come save her.