World Enough and Time – Chapter Two
The Headmaster's Office
"We were hoping, Albus, that you would have any sort of explanation for us. As it seems that is not the case we will wait for your parents to arrive to discuss the matter further."
It was clear from Professor McGonagall's tone and the rare use of his first name that she was deeply troubled. Although her voice was steady there were clear signs of strain on her face and in her posture – the pursed lips, the short breathing, the stiff shoulders. Albus looked away and instead studied his knees.
As he continued to stare down at his lap his dark hair fell forward in front of his eyes. It was inky black and untidy like his father's, one of the many similarities the two of them shared. It had always been apparent that he bore more resemblance to their father than either James or Lily. Even had he not been able to see it clearly for himself people were always telling him so – that he looked so like his father, right down to the green of his eyes. He was the only Potter child to have inherited the bright green shade and because, unlike his father, he did not wear glasses it was quite noticeable. It matched the green of his school tie, and the crest on his robes. Also unlike his father, and unlike James and Lily, Albus had been placed in Slytherin.
James and Lily had both been placed in Gryffindor, and both were a more even mix of their parents' physical features. Both had their mother's brown eyes. Lily had their mother's red hair, the classic Weasley shade but stubbornly messy. James was always ruffling it further to annoy her.
Al's thoughts lingered on his siblings, and to keep from thinking too much about Lily he wondered what James was doing now. He was probably still sleeping – the sun was not quite up yet. When would he hear about Lily? What would they tell him? What would he say? Albus wished that he was still in bed, blissfully ignorant of his sister's sudden and mysterious disappearance.
Instead he remained in the Headmistress's office, Professor McGonagall and Professor Longbottom seated in chairs similar to the one he occupied and the three of them waited in silence for Al's parents to arrive. Neville had dispatched a Patronus to them a few minutes before but Albus did not know the exact content of the message. Since then Albus had felt unaccountably nervous, as though he would be in trouble for losing Lily when no one had any idea what had happened to her. He did not envy Professor McGonagall breaking the news to his parents and, from the extremely unsettled look that was frozen on his face, neither did Neville.
The box that McGonagall had handed him still sat in his lap and he stared at is as if the parchment and sand inside could reveal all the secrets to Lily's whereabouts. He had no idea where the time turner had come from or why it was found with the map or where – no, when – Lily was. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she was not asleep in her dorm or else roaming the castle halls. She was not anywhere in the world at the moment and that thought terrified him. Some part of him did not really want to understand the grim reality that was pressing in on him from all sides. His little sister was gone and he had no idea whether or not they would be able to get her back. As he continued to stare at the map he fought the urge to pull out his wand and search for her labeled dot on the parchment but then he realized that in his half-awake rush out of his dorm he had not even bothered to grab his wand.
"Albus, you're sure that you can't tell us about that parchment," Neville asked in a surprisingly knowing voice. Al looked up at him with no idea of how to respond. His first instinct was to tell them, to tell them and to search the map and find Lily. But he could search the map just as well on his own and if Lily truly had disappeared then revealing the map's secret could not help her.
Neville continued to stare at him and Albus sighed. "It… I think Lily may have been looking for it and that's why she was out of bed in the middle of the night. I think… I know that Filch had it in his office."
Neville raised his eyebrows and Albus struggled to keep eye contact. He avoided looking at the Headmistress but could easily picture her frown and narrowed eyes. He had been neither helpful nor entirely truthful.
"Professor Longbottom, if you would kindly fetch Mr. Filch? Perhaps he would be able to give us some more information on the matter."
This was, of course, the last thing Albus wanted at the moment and he knew that McGonagall was calling his poor bluff. As Neville stood and turned toward the office door Albus had a brief internal struggle before he said quickly, "No, there's no need. I know what it is."
Neither professor looked surprised to hear this and they watched him expectantly, waiting for further explanation. With no other course but to lie, which would almost certainly be spotted, Albus sighed and told them. "It's a map, a map of Hogwarts."
Professor McGonagall raised one dark, graying eyebrow. Neville remained expressionless. Al shifted awkwardly in his seat. "It doesn't just show the castle though," he continued in a somewhat hollow voice. "It shows everyone in the castle. Where they are, what they're doing… and it's never wrong."
While he had shown no reaction to the revelation of the map this new information did seem to surprise Neville. McGonagall too looked shocked and, reluctantly, impressed.
"Al, do you realize-"
But Albus cut Neville off. "What I realize is that if Lily's in the castle, she's on the map. But you've said she's not in the castle, so I don't really see how this helps us." This did not, of course, stop him from hoping that they had missed something.
Expecting further argument Albus was surprised when neither adult pressed him for more information. Neville returned to his seat and they settled again into silence. He hoped that they would not ask him to operate the map – despite his hope, the possibility of further disappointment in the absence of a dot labeled Lily Potter would surely be too much to handle. He wished his parents would arrive, though he dreaded their reactions upon hearing their daughter had disappeared.
His only comfort lay in the fact that, so many times before – how many times had he heard the stories? – his dad had done the impossible. He was Harry Potter, that had to count for something, didn't it? If anyone could bring Lily back surely it would be him. And they had to get Lily back. Considering any alternative was unacceptable.
Nevertheless Albus was truly scared for his sister. He continued to shift his weight around in the uncomfortable wooden chair, his eyes staring blankly at a spot on the floor but not seeing it. He repeated again and again to himself that Lily would be fine – she was a good witch and she had a sharp mind. She had quite a lot of magic under her belt for a fifth year and she was not afraid to use it.
Light was beginning to creep into the sky and the dark shapes of the grounds and the Quidditch pitch were becoming more distinct. The office was slowly lighting up with a gentle, yellow glow, the soft natural light a nice change from the torches that had been lit before. Suddenly another light added to the scene – a bright flash of green flames sprung up in the fireplace and Harry Potter stumbled slightly as he stepped out of it and onto the carpet. Al almost smiled. His dad never had gotten the hang of floo powder. But a moment later the levity of the situation was gone as if it had never been there and he looked back at the floor. He avoided meeting his father's eye but this was easy as a moment later the green flames sprang up again and Ginny Potter stepped out of them, much more gracefully than her husband. Only when the two of them were standing firmly on the office carpet did Al's father turn to the rooms other occupants. He looked worried, but not overly so. They did not know yet and Albus envied them.
"What's going on?"
The question was posed by Al's mother, her voice wary but cheerful enough. This was not the first occasion that the Potters had been called into this office since James (and even Teddy) had started at Hogwarts. Al looked up and watched his mother's smile falter as she took in the grave expressions of himself and the two professors. He looked away again.
Albus did not move as his father walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He did not look up as he heard his mother speak again.
"Is… Albus in trouble? Is he okay?"
"I'm fine," Albus said quietly. "I'm not in trouble. It's… ." But he could not bring himself to say Lily's name. He did not want to be the one to tell them. His father squeezed his shoulder and Al felt only slightly comforted.
"What is it? What's happened?" Albus looked up again as his father spoke, saw the concern on his face and the impatience.
Professor McGonagall stood and walked around the desk. "It's Lily," she said quietly but firmly. Neville stood as well.
"Is she all right," his mother asked frantically. "Where is she?"
His father turned towards his old school friend. "Neville?"
Don't say it, Albus thought frantically. Don't tell them. Lily's fine.
But Neville appeared to be stealing himself, he visibly swallowed and said, "Lily is… well, it's more a question of… when she is."
As he said this Professor McGonagall summoned the box from Albus's lap with a quick wave of her wand before she handed it to Al's father.
"We found these outside of the Great Hall. We have searched the entire castle and she is nowhere to be found." Albus could hear how much it pained the Headmistress to say this, to admit that a student vanished under her care. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know where she is."
Al took one brief glance at his parents' faces before he turned away, fighting the sudden urge to vomit all over the floor.
Lily was feeling more nauseous with every moment that passed but she did her best to ignore this and instead gazed with interest at fascinating office. Lily had been in this office on a number of occasions though she knew it to be far less eccentric than what she was looking at now. There were all manner of odd objects throughout the room, strange silver things and whirred and hummed, cabinets filled with odds and ends that looked nothing like anything Lily had ever seen before. There were also the books and portraits that always covered the walls, all but two particular portraits that were noticeably missing.
Albus Dumbledore was not immortalized on canvas in the office but was sitting in front of her where she was used to seeing Minerva McGonagall. Or, it certainly seemed that way.
Most of Lily's current discomfort was in the unwavering stare of the man across from her, his blue eyes focused intently on her. She shifted under his gaze and leaned back in the large cushioned chair that he had offered to her upon their arrival.
After hearing her name the Dumbledore look-a-like had suggested that they continue their conversation in his office and Lily understood such a suggestion to be more of a polite demand. Throughout the quick journey from the Hospital Wing to the Headmistress's – Headmaster's? – office Lily had looked for any inconsistencies in all her memories of Hogwarts but everything seemed much the same as the castle that she had lived in for almost five years. Everything except this office.
As each uncomfortable minute ticked by, relentlessly counted by the watch still clasped to her wrist, Lily became increasingly inclined to believe that the man seated at the desk in front of her was, as he claimed, Albus Dumbledore. She had, of course, never met the man, but she felt as though she knew him. It probably had something to do with all the stories that her dad would tell, but whatever it was, there was something familiar about his face, his mannerisms. That twinkle in his eyes.
The would-be Dumbledoredore leaned forward in his chair slightly, one arm covering other. Lily fiddled absently with her watch. Dumbledre followed her movement and asked, "Do you happen to have the time, Ms. Potter?"
Lily's eyebrows rose and she blinked at him for a second before glancing down at her watch. "It's… almost ten."
But as soon as she had said it, it sounded wrong. She knew it was wrong. She had looked at her watch after waking up in the Hospital Wing and it had been half past eleven. "No," she said, unaware that she was speaking out loud. She looked down at her watch again, more closely this time. The hands clearly indicated that it was seven minutes until ten. She peered at it more closely still and gasped. The second hand was moving steadily with its usual tick tick tick… in the wrong direction. She looked up at the man in front of her and, all qualms over his identity forgotten, said in a tone of amazement, "My watch, it's going backwards."
"Fascinating." He paused. His eyes were twinkling. "Perhaps it is merely trying to set itself to the proper time."
Lily narrowed her eyes skeptically. "You mean, it's actually earlier than my watch thinks it is?"
"Much earlier," Dumbledore agreed. "I'm afraid it could take years for it to catch up."
He was leading her. But Lily was not in the mood for vague puzzles and hints. She tapped at the glass coving the watch face, frustrated that it was inexplicably and persistently moving in the wrong direction.
"What year do you think it is, Ms. Potter?"
Lily paused in her mental berating of the shoddy time piece and slowly looked up. This man really was mad. "And what kind of question is that?"
Those blue eyes, so piercing and sharp, looked directly into hers and there was no smile on her face. "The right one, I believe."
Al had only heard the story once of how his father had, when he was fifteen and distraught, destroyed parts of Albus Dumbledore's office. Silver trinkets shattered, tables overturned, and lots of shouting. It had been very hard to believe as his father was rarely destructive or loud and even then only under extreme circumstances. However, he now believed every word of that story.
As Albus looked around the Headmistress's office it was strange to see it in such disarray. Professor McGonagall still sat behind her desk looking quite frazzled, her sharp tone having been quite ineffective in calming Harry Potter's misplaced emotional magic. Only Al's mother had been able to settle him before the room was entirely torn apart. The two of them now sat pressed closely together on a sofa against rear wall of the room, Al's father with his head in his hands, his mother leaning against his shoulder, an arm around his back.
It was deathly quiet now, a stark contrast to the commotion of a few minutes earlier. Al was still sitting in the same chair. He felt incapable of standing and could think of nowhere to go even if he could rise from his seat. Now in the silence the office was beginning to feel very claustrophobic. He, at least, was having more trouble breathing than usual – his chest tight with anxiety and a barely contained churning in his stomach. No one was looking at him but he felt very conscious of every movement he made. Albus wished someone would say something.
Finally it was Neville who spoke. He was hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees and he said what Albus was sure they were all wondering. "So, what are we going to do?"
A voice in Al's mind immediately countered, What do can we, but he chose not to voice such a hopeless question. Instead it was his father who responded to Neville.
"There has to be something," he said without raising his head. "We just need to figure out what. We need to find out exactly what happened before we can even think of fixing it."
For the first time since entering the office and hearing the news of his sister's disappearance Albus felt the slightest hope and his chest felt a little less tight. His father's face was pale and stretched with worry but there was also a determination there that further buoyed Al's spirits. Again he was stuck by the thought that if anyone could do the impossible and save his sister it would be Harry Potter.
Lily was very still in her chair as she stared at the man before her, his absurd question hanging in the air between them. While she could easily forgive the strangeness of him asking her the year she could not as easily dismiss the troubling and impossible suggestion it implied.
"You think," she started slowly, watching the would-be Dumbledore carefully, "that I've… traveled through time?"
She almost could not bring herself to say it – it sounded even more ridiculous out loud than it had in her head. But there was no sign of laughter or surprise in the old man's expression, which told Lily that this was precisely what he thought had happened.
"That's impossible," she snapped immediately, but her heartbeat quickened even as she repeated in her head, impossible, impossible.
"I'm afraid our circumstances tell a different story." Still he was calm and serene and Lily would have laughed but for the rising panic somewhere in her gut.
She swallowed and shifted her weight restlessly in the cushioned chair. "People don't travel through time. I mean, there are time turners I suppose, but they only work for a few hours and I don't even have one and-" but she stopped took a deep steadying breath. More than anything Dumbledore's calm expression as he watched her was causing her disstress. Surely if this were some sort of elaborate joke he would be laughing or smiling or something but he acted as though nothing unusual whatsoever was going on and it was maddening. Nothing had made sense since Lily had woken up in the Hospital Wing and she just wanted answers, was that so much to ask for?
Lily ran a hand through her still tousled hair and then rested her elbows on her knees. After having been wearing them since some time the day before her clothes were becoming itchy and uncomfortable. She put her face in her hands and spoke into her palms, her voice muffled but clear.
"If this is some sort of joke, it isn't funny."
"Certainly no one is laughing," Dumbledore said quietly. "If, as you claim, I have been dead for over twenty years, and if, as I claim, I am alive and well then we cannot both be telling the truth except in one especially rare case. Extraordinary as these circumstances are, I would not lie to you, Ms. Potter. Perhaps if you could explain how you came to be here?"
Lily did not look up from her hands but once again set her mind to trying to recall what had happened the night before. She remembered going to classes during the day – Potions, Transfiguration and Ancient Runes. She remembered dinner, talking to Joshua Jordan about the upcoming Quidditch match – Hugo had teased her later in the Common Room. But when she tried to go further her head started to ache again, dully at first but with rapidly increasing intensity. After a moment the painful throbbing had reached such a point that she could no longer coherently gather her thoughts and Lily looked up from her hands. Dumbledore was watching her, something like concern on his face.
"Ms. Potter?"
"I don't know," she whispered and felt her shoulders slump. Her headache was quickly easing but still present. "I can't remember."
For the first time since waking up Lily felt suddenly fearful. How could she trust any of this to be true if she could not even remember how she had come to be here in the first place? How could she ever believe the man across from her to be Albus Dumbledore when he was supposed to be dead? When am I going to wake up from this nightmare?
And that was the question, really. When?
"How do I know I can trust you," she asked him flatly. "How can I know that you are who you say you are, that I really have somehow traveled through time?" She still felt absurd saying that aloud. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Lily did not want to be in this bizarre version of the Headmistress's office anymore. She did not want to be talking to his man who claimed such terrible things. She felt tears prickle behind her eyes and blinked them angrily away. She would not cry in front of him. Willing herself not to lose control, Lily took a deep breath and calmed her breathing.
"Prove to me that you really are Albus Dumbledore."
"How dare you, you insolent child."
Lily froze and stared at the man seated at the desk in front of her but then she realized that he had not been the one to speak. One of the portraits, one that Lily recognized quite well from Grimmauld Place, was no longer pretending to sleep but was staring at her haughtily from his frame.
"Phineas," Dumbledore said warningly and Phineas Nigellus turned his glare upon the Headmaster.
"She dares to speak to the Headmaster in such a way! Really, Dumbledore, the atrocities you let these children get away with."
"Oh hush, Phineas," said one of the portraits high up to Lily's right. It was a former Headmistress that Lily did not recognize. She was plump and smiling. "Things were just getting interesting!"
Lily's eyes widened indignantly and she opened her mouth to protest but did not have time to get a word in. Some of the other portraits had begun murmuring to each other and Lily watched in surprise as they leaned into each other's frames to whisper and point and she suddenly felt as though she were part of some sort of zoo exhibit.
"I was merely trying to see that the Headmaster be treated with the proper respect," Phineas replied loudly, his nose in the air. "Clearly his fondness for Potters is clouding his better judgment. As usual."
"That's quite enough, Phineas," Dumbledore said in a quiet, but firm voice and at his words all the portraits fell silent. Not a single one was now feigning sleep but rather they were watching Lily and Dumbledore with unabashed interest. Lily felt her cheeks warm up. Realization settled into her brain.
"You really… you really are Albus Dumbledore? I thought…," Lily continued to stare at the portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses and they started back at her, some with faint smiles, others as though they were studying her. "The portraits… they only… they wouldn't recognize an imposter," she said, surprised at how steady her voice was while her stomach churned and her mind fogged up.
It really was the only explanation that really made sense, even if it was completely mad. Madame Pomfrey had not recognized her, the Headmistress's office was not how she remembered it, and the portraits clearly respected the man behind the desk and, her watch – her watch was going backwards. Lily leaned forward and rested her forehead on her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs.
"When exactly am I," she asked, eyes clenched shut and heart pounding as she waited for the answer.
She heard Albus Dumbledore sigh very quietly before he said, "It is April eleventh, Ms. Potter, and it is nineteen ninety seven."
AN. Here's chapter two. I'd love to hear your thoughts.