Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling and nobody has ever mistaken me for her. I am merely playing with the world and the people that she has created.

2. The Time Turner

In the cupboard half-way up the stairs behind the Advanced Charms classroom, Neville was picking up a Time Turner. He knew how these worked in theory. He was nervous, but he ignored his nerves. He wasn't the pathetic little boy he'd been as a First Year. Just because this was tricky and Magical, didn't mean that he wasn't going to get it right. He had achieved a lot this year – culminating in beheading that snake – he needed to have more self-belief. He put the chain round his neck and looked down at the top of the hourglass. There were formulae carved into the wood surround and he took a moment to understand them. It looked pretty straightforward. He calculated how far back in time he wanted to go and then he began turning and counting.

He emerged into a narrow, stone staircase which could have been the one he had come from, except that the air was clean. There were no smells of smoke or blood or stone dust. Tucking the Time Turner out of sight into his shirt, he walked down and found himself in a clean, bright hallway full of students in their uniform robes. They were chatting happily amongst themselves. This was his school as it had been before the Battle. Not quite – there were the receptacles for collecting House Points with almost equal amounts of gems in each. The walls were free of decrees. The children were smiling. It was how it had been before the Carrows took over, before Snape became Headmaster, before Dumbledore's death. If he had got things right, though, it was now a long time before his schooldays. He hadn't even been born yet.

He needed to find his parents. He was going to tell them how things had been for him as a child, he would warn them about what Bellatrix Lestrange was going to do to them and then they would be able to avoid her. It was only that one small thing which he was going to change. It couldn't make too much difference, could it?

The happy students looked at him oddly as he went up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. He took a look down at himself and realised how unkempt he looked. They were clean and their clothes were neat, their hair brushed; he had snake blood drying on him.

Never mind. His parents might take him more seriously if he looked like he'd been in a battle. He scanned for the faces of his parents which he remembered from photographs, on the pupils who streamed past him on their way down to a meal. Judging by the grey light coming through the windows it was probably breakfast. He wondered how early his parents had risen when they had been teenagers. Perhaps they were already seated at the Gryffindor table tucking into their toast.

A group of boys was coming towards him. They wore Gryffindor robes and one looked very familiar: he looked like a taller version of Harry. It must be Harry's father. His heart skipped excitedly. What had he been called? James. It was Harry's middle name of course. So, this was James Potter. Neville decided to ask him if he knew where Frank or Alice Longbottom were. Not Alice Longbottom, she wasn't married to his father yet.

"Excuse me," Neville said politely, looking into the face which was just like Harry's except that there was no lightning-bolt scar and the eyes were not that intense green. "Excuse me, James Potter?"

The boy looked startled. He looked at Neville and fear crept over his features. His three friends took up protective stances.

"I'm not dangerous, I promise. I am sorry that I'm in such a state just now," Neville said. "You are James Potter?"

"No," the boy said. "That's my brother."

l8l

Hannah had watched Neville using the Time Turner and then quietly disappearing. He had been so intent on what he was doing that he hadn't noticed her standing at the curve of the stairs; but then he hardly ever did notice her. She took a deep breath. She could just wait and surely he would come back to this place and time in a moment. He would return to the point at which he had started out, wouldn't he? She had counted the number of turns. She could follow him. Why would she do that? Because for the last six months following Neville around had been what she did.

She climbed into the cupboard and examined one of the turners. She carefully positioned it the right way round and then she copied what Neville had done. She concentrated on the numbers to block out the nerves over where she was going, what she would find, and why Neville had decided to be there (or then, rather, she thought). When the numbers ran out she felt a strange pull which was nothing like Apparition and the door closed itself.

She took a deep breath. The door hadn't closed of course, it was just that she was in the same place at a time when the cupboard was shut. She hoped it wasn't locked. "Neville?" she asked tentatively. She didn't know how he was going to feel about her following him. There was no reply. He must have left the cupboard and shut the door behind him. Very sensible.

She ran a hand through her hair and straightened her robes by wand-light. She would get a better reaction from the students of this time (whenever it was) if she didn't look as though she had just been in a battle. She cast a few charms for cleanliness and smartness, too. It wouldn't hurt to look her best in front of Neville, either.

She pressed her ear to the door before opening it. It was a habit she had got into under the Carrows. All she heard was a distant murmur of voices. Carefully she stepped out onto the empty narrow staircase.

When she got down to the Entrance Hall, she found a steady stream of students going into the Great Hall. It was probably about supper time now. She stood back and scanned them for Neville but she couldn't see him. She wondered what year she was in but the timeless uniform robes gave nothing away.

Some of the boys had long hair, and a couple of the older ones had sideburns. Others had their hair slightly back-combed. There were a lot of fringes and flicks on the girls' hair. She only had a vague idea of Muggle fashions and knew that the Wizarding World often (but not always) lagged behind those. Some of the girls looked like they were trying to ape that old TV program about somebody's Angels (same name as one of the older Weasley brothers but she couldn't recall which one just now). Perhaps it was the future, though, and they were having some fashion revival.

She looked for Neville still but she was also looking for familiar faces now, ones she'd seen in newspapers and for similarities to people she knew. It gave her a strange jolt when she saw Harry coming down the stairs. No, not Harry, he was too tall and there was no scar. Looking at his companions she recognised a young Professor Lupin (or perhaps it was his son, the baby he'd left to come fight and die). One of the boys was tall, slim, dark-haired and devastatingly handsome. Not her type at all but she couldn't help reacting. They all looked to be about the same age as she was or maybe a little younger. When the handsome one laughed it looked enough like the snarl in the poster she'd seen so often a few years ago that she realised he was Sirius Black.

Now she knew when this was. Neville must have come looking for his parents. That was, therefore, what she had to do in order to find him. She swallowed and gathered up her courage. She would ask Sirius Black and his friends. She stepped forwards. The yellow on her robe caught her eye. They might take more kindly to a fellow Gryffindor. She slipped into the shadows again to charm on red and gold instead.

The four boys had gone into the Hall by the time she'd finished. She followed them.