Ex Machina III

Chapter Two

He Played Two

Jim and Al were staring at one another, flabbergasted. "Your Aunt Petunia?" Jim sputtered. "But — but she was a non-magical, wasn't she? How could she possibly have killed Lord Voldemort?"

"Both she and my cousin Dudley became magical," Harry told them. "They were given a special potion made by Professor Monroe that gave them their magic. Professor Dumbledore told me that Professor Monroe made the potion only for Dudley, but that Dudley must have held back some of the potion to give to his mother, probably by not swallowing all of it."

Jim made a face. "Ewww, that sounds gross!"

"But wait a minute," Al interjected. "What happened to them — your aunt and cousin, I mean? We know that your uncle Vernon died during some kind of robbery at a neighbor's house, during your first year."

"He was actually killed by Voldemort," Harry replied. Both Jim and Al rocked back in their chairs, stunned by this remark. "The Ministry of Magic made it look like a robbery-murder; the Muggle police had gotten involved, somehow, and they had quite a time Obliviating everyone who'd been in Mrs. Figg's house and seen the bodies. Voldemort had killed her, too."

"Who was Mrs. Figg?" Al asked.

"Well, for a long time I thought she was just a batty old lady who liked cats," Harry said, remembering the woman with her frumpy dress, hairnet and tartan slippers, and the string bag she always seemed to carry around. "My aunt and uncle would call to have me stay with her whenever they took a trip someplace and couldn't just lock me in my room.

"Then I found out that she was really there to watch me — Professor Dumbledore had asked her to move to Little Whinging and keep an eye on me while I stayed with the Dursleys."

"How did you find that out?" Al asked.

"Professor Monroe told me," Harry answered. "I think he was doing the same thing, looking out for me, but he wasn't working for Professor Dumbledore. At least, he wasn't back then. He lived a few blocks away, but I didn't meet him until the day he gave me the book on wandless magic."

"Let's get back to your aunt and Voldemort," Al suggested. "You said that she killed Voldemort, not you. Can you tell us how that happened?"

Harry had almost forgotten that he was giving an interview. "Oh, yeah. Well, we'd located all of Voldemort's Horcruxes using a spell Professor Monroe knew, and had found and destroyed all of them except the final one, his snake Nagini. Because of that spell, we also knew that after the Triwizard Tournament he had holed up with a few of his Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor, so a group of us went there to confront him once and for all, before he could become powerful again."

"And this included your aunt?" Al asked.

"No," Harry shook his head. "She'd overheard our plans to find the Horcruxes, and knew we were going after Voldemort. But Voldemort had killed Dudley, who was with —" Harry took a deep breath "— with H-Hermione and me when we got to the Triwizard trophy, during the final task. Professor Monroe thought it might be a Portkey that would take whoever touched it to Voldemort, but actually Dudley had been made into a living Portkey — he touched both me and Hermione, and we ended up captured by Death Eaters. Dudley had been tricked into restoring Voldemort's original body; it seemed like he'd been promised he could have Hermione if he did so."

"That's awful," Al muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Harry said, feelingly. "I didn't think Dudley even liked Hermione — they never got along, the few times they were together."

"Maybe somebody did something to Dudley to make him like her," Jim speculated. "Like giving him the Amortentia potion — that would have made him obsess over her, and promising him he could have her might make him do just about anything — even join Voldemort's side."

"Hmm," Harry grunted. "I hadn't thought of that — I just thought Dudley was being a pig, as usual."

"Anyway," Al prompted, trying to move things along. "How did your aunt get involved in the final battle?"

"She was already at Malfoy Manor when we got there," Harry said, his face darkening with anger remembered anew from that day. "Voldemort had tortured her. He knew we were coming, and he demanded that he and I duel or he would kill her. Naturally I accepted, since that's what we were there for, but we had to destroy the last Horcrux before he could be permanently killed — the only way to do that was with the Sword of Gryffindor, and no one had thought to bring it with us!"

"But," Al protested. "I thought the snake was killed with the Sword of Gryffindor! That's what all the old newspapers said at the time."

"It was," Harry agreed. "Professor Dumbledore had brought along the Sorting Hat, which also had belonged to Godric Gryffindor. Only a true Gryffindor can pull the sword from the hat, and I was able to do that."

"Then you killed the snake," Al surmised, smiling.

"No," Harry said, and Al's smile disappeared. "Unfortunately, though I had the sword, Voldemort cast a spell protecting the snake before I could kill it."

"Then how was it killed?" Al asked.

"Petunia killed it," Harry answered, deadpan. Al and Jim looked at each other, once again surprised.

"It's beginning to sound like everything we know is wrong!" Jim exclaimed. "The Ministry newspaper at the time, the Daily Prophet, wrote that you killed Voldemort, and made no mention of your aunt or the snake, or any of the other Horcruxes."

"Horcruxes were a big secret at the time," Harry explained. "Only Professor Dumbledore and Professor Monroe seemed to know anything about them back then. I don't think any of the Death Eaters did — maybe Bellatrix Lestrange, but it's hard to say for sure."

Al was nodding. "Ironic, isn't it? Horcruxes are pretty much obsolete magic today, since anyone can use biotechnology to make themselves resistant to all diseases and aging, and we can make backup scans of our brains so that if anything happens to us, our last backup can be reprogrammed into a clone of our body."

Harry shrugged. "But it was different back then — a Horcrux would make you impossible to permanently kill, as long as you had one. But to make a Horcrux, you had to murder someone to split your soul and put that fragment into the Horcrux. It was extremely Dark magic!"

"Oh," Al said, surprised. "Oh! I didn't realize that! That would be horrible!"

"And Voldemort did it six times," Harry said. "More than that, really."
"What do you mean, 'more than that'?" Jim asked. "I read Hermione Granger-Weasley's biography of him, and she wrote that he split his soul into seven pieces, since seven is the most magically powerful number."

Harry hadn't thought he'd mention it, but there was no use holding anything back, now. He brushed back the white hair covering his forehead, revealing the lightning scar there. "When Voldemort tried to kill me when I was one year old, he left this scar."

Al nodded. "Yes, it's the most recognizable scar in the world today."

Harry chuckled mirthlessly as he ruffled the hair back over his forehead. "I think you exaggerate its importance, Al. It's just a scar. But what I didn't know, back then, was that when Voldemort's spell backfired and destroyed him, it tore away a small piece of his soul, which implanted itself in the only other living body there — mine."

"Wow," Al breathed. "So you actually had a bit of Voldemort's soul in you?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I found out that's how I knew how to speak Parseltongue, for example. Since I got rid of the fragment, I can't speak it today."

"How did you get it out of you?" Jim asked. "Did Dumbledore find a way to remove it?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "Voldemort killed me."

"He what?" Jim asked, dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"

"He killed me," Harry repeated. "I was dead — or at least, as close as I ever got to being dead."

"How did he kill you?" This question from Al.

"The Killing Curse," Harry replied.

"Don't take this wrong, sir," Al said, sounding a bit doubtful. "But you should be dead, then."

Harry grinned. "I agree. I remember thinking I was dead, and wasn't sure what was going to happen next. I was alone, in a dark place, until Professor Monroe showed up and convinced me I should come back and finish the battle. I wasn't sure I wanted to — I thought Hermione was dead, and I — well, I was pretty unhappy about that. I found out the reason I wasn't completely dead was that when Voldemort was restored to his body, he had Dudley use some of my blood in his spell. Because of the blood protection spell in my blood, my soul was anchored to this world, just as his was. When he killed me, I went to some 'holding place' to decide what I should do. Voldemort was there as well, probably the bit that was in my scar, but all it could do was scream and cry, it was so tiny and shredded.."

"And Professor Monroe showed up?" Al repeated, sounding confused. "That doesn't make any sense. If you were dead, then how could he show up where you were, unless he was dead, too?"

"Professor Monroe was a pretty amazing wizard," Harry told him. "He could do a lot of things most wizards couldn't — he knew more spells than anyone I'd ever met before — like I said, the library in his house had books even Hogwarts library didn't have! — and he hadn't even gone to Hogwarts."

"Where did he get his magical education?" Al asked, glancing at Jim.

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "He never told me. But he was the smartest wizard I ever met. I think he was even smarter than Professor Dumbledore, though he never tried to show the professor up or anything like that."

"You were no slouch yourself, Mr. Potter," Jim spoke up. "You sat for and got O.W.L.s in all twelve subjects, and received straight O's. Two years later you got seven more O's in your N.E.W.T.s. You probably could have written your own ticket anywhere in the Wizarding world at the time, and yet you chose to become an Auror, which took you three more years of training."

"I thought it was important," Harry explained, "to keep fighting wizards who took the easy way of Dark magic. Voldemort was gone, but so was Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Monroe as well. I could have gone into magical research in the Ministry (in fact, I did, eventually!) but at the time I thought it was more important to keep people safe. And since Kingsley Shacklebolt became Minister for Magic around that time, the Ministry became a much better governing body than it had been under Cornelius Fudge."

"You had a pretty distinguished career at the Ministry, according to the Prophet's archives," Jim said, admiringly. "I'm surprised you never made Head Auror, though."

"I thought about it," Harry admitted. "Kingsley offered it to me, just as he was getting ready to retire; it had been vacant for a few months after Zabini was killed —"

"Wait," Jim said. "Blaise Zabini? Wasn't he a Slytherin?"

"So?" Harry said, giving him a sharp look. "I got to know him during my last three years at Hogwarts — he was a pretty good guy, once he saw what a dead end the Dark Arts were. He didn't want any part of them. He, Ron Weasley and I went into Auror Training together after we left Hogwarts."

"You haven't mentioned Ron Weasley much," Al commented. "Or his sister Ginny, for that matter." He pointed to the picture lying face down on the table next to Harry. "I suppose I expected that picture to be of her, considering you two were married all those years. Is there something to all that that you don't want to tell…"

Al's comment had trailed off as he saw the expression on Harry's face — he was giving Al a rather piercing glare. "Let me tell you something, boy," he said in a tight, controlled voice. "Ron Weasley was my friend and my partner for many years. We had our difficulties over the years, there's no denying that. But he'll always be my friend, and I'll never say anything against him. And that goes double for Ginny!

"She and I fell in love and got married several years before she started working at the Prophet as their Quidditch reporter," Harry went on, leaning forward to make sure he had their undivided attention. "We had three wonderful children and a great time together, and I wouldn't have missed it for anything! Are we clear now on the issue of Ron and Ginny?"

"Yes, sir," both Jim and Al nodded, in subdued voices. "But, you must admit," Al went on, "she did eventually leave you."

Harry sat back slowly in his chair, sighing and rubbing his temples, as if massaging a sharp pain. "Yes, she did," he said at last. He dropped his hands and gave Al a disconsolate look. "And it was all my fault. I was getting into too many things, and taking her for granted. Ron kept trying to get me to spend time with her; he kept inviting us out with him and Hermione, but I — I couldn't — couldn't spare the time," Harry finished, faltering, and sounding very unconvincing.

But Al merely nodded. "You were into quite a few things back then, weren't you?" he asked. "It seemed like a lot of the advances you brought to Wizarding society were in response to the technological advances non-magical societies were discovering about that time as well."

Harry shook his head. "Truth to tell, I didn't pay Muggle society much mind after I left Hogwarts. I'd spent my first ten years living in it, and it wasn't very pleasant for me. I guess the best thing I could say about it is, it could have been worse."

"How could it have been worse?" Al asked, surprised. "You were forced to live with your non-magical aunt, uncle and cousin, all of whom hated you! You were forced to cook and clean for them, do chores around the house while your cousin lounged around and bullied you. I don't know how it could have been worse than that!"

"Well, it actually was worse than that," Harry replied matter-of-factly. "I discovered at one point that my aunt and uncle were being paid to take care of me, but using most of the money for themselves, for trips and presents for my cousin Dudley. I wasn't very happy to learn that my only known relatives were taking care of me just for the money!" Al and Jim could only nod, both riveted and revolted by what Harry was telling them.

"But it could have been worse," Harry said again. "They didn't beat me, and other than Dudley, didn't so much bully me as order me about, like I was nothing more than their paid servant, when the truth was, they were being paid to take care of me. But, I had other friends in the neighborhood, and at school, and after I started learning magic, things got more bearable around the house, mainly because I knew I could take care of myself around them after that."

"There had been some rumors," Al said, a bit tentatively, as if he were afraid of Harry getting cross with them again, "that you were controlling your aunt and uncle with magic." Harry chuckled. "Is that a yes?" Al asked.

"I made suggestions from time to time," Harry replied, with an offhanded shrug. "But I've heard those rumors, too, and they seem to suggest I used the Imperius Curse on them. I never did that. I never wanted to use any of the Unforgivables on anyone."

"But did you?" Al persisted. "Even as an Auror? I know sometimes Aurors were given a 'License to Curse' — permission from the Ministry to use the Unforgivables on Dark wizards."

"That was under Head Auror Barty Crouch, Senior," Harry replied, sharply. "And whether he did so with the Minister of Magic's approval at the time is still an unsettled question as far as I'm concerned. Kingsley never gave permission to use the Unforgivables. And I would never have used them even if he did."

"Okay," Al said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "I just wanted to get your thoughts on that —"

"Well, you got 'em," Harry snapped. But then he softened a bit. "Okay, look, I'm not trying to bite your head off, kid. I spent over 30 years as an Auror, and we got a lot of good things accomplished in that time at the Ministry."

"And afterwards, too," Jim added. "When you went into magical research after you retired from the Aurors you made quite a few discoveries in the next few decades!"

Al reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "I have a list here of some of your better-known accomplishments. Let's see, in 2038 you developed the multi-core wand, in partnership with Fred and George Weasley, who'd been working for decades on a wand design that would exceed even an Ollivander wand. In 2042 the Weasleys came out with an improved Longevity Potion, originally developed by Severus Snape. Snape's potion was very difficult and costly to make, but theirs was relatively cheap and plentiful, though they said it was their "biggest money spinner" of all time. I mention it," Al looked up at Harry, "because there's a rumor that you helped them develop it."

Harry said nothing.

"Anyway," Al went on, when it became obvious Harry wasn't going to comment, "in 2047 you developed a new broom, the Sonic One Thousand, capable of speeds up to 700 miles per hour, allowing for transcontinental and transoceanic flights in less than half a day's flight. And even though you could have asked for exorbitant sums for each one, you priced them at only a thousand Galleons each, less than the original Firebolt cost when it first came out."

"I wasn't trying to develop a Quidditch broom," Harry pointed out. "It was meant for straight flying performance and for safety, not maneuverability. Even if you were somehow knocked unconscious while flying it at speed, a special set of Shield Charms would activate, holding you in place, and the broom would send out message to all Wizard's Wireless units within a hundred mile radius. We also incorporated an "autopilot" spell in it that worked sort of like using the Floo Network — you could state the location you wished to travel to, and the broom would travel there, avoiding Muggle-inhabited areas. The only downside to that feature was that you had to know the location you were traveling to — otherwise, the broom couldn't find it."

"It might be cool to ride one of those," Jim mused, looking at Al, who stared at him as if he were crazy.

"I wouldn't go up in one of those things!" Al declared. "Traveling at 700 miles an hour? Not a chance!"

"Mr. Potter just said it was foolproof!" Jim said, sounding exasperated. "Maybe you think you're a bigger fool than even he accounted for!"

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you!" Al sniffed. "You couldn't even find this house, and it's one of the few in this town that's still occupied!"

"Will you two cut it out?" Harry groused, irritated. "Even Professors Monroe and Dumbledore didn't argue like you two, and I'm pretty sure they didn't even like —" he suddenly cut himself off, looking at the two of them.

"Like what?" Al asked, after several moments of silence.

"Uh — each other," Harry finished, thinking. What he was thinking was fantastic, impossible — but impossible things had been happening around the world for decades now, and Harry himself was responsible for some of them.

But how would he test them? Albus Dumbledore and James Monroe were two of the smartest wizards he'd ever met. It would be difficult to trick them. But that was what Aurors were trained to do, among other things — trick people into giving up information, often without realizing they'd done so.

If he was right, then these two young men, Jim and Al, were actually Professors Monroe and Dumbledore! Both of them were now looking at him, surprised by his last comment. "What makes you think they didn't like one another?" Al asked. "We researched all of your teachers through the Prophet archives on Webnet, and there's no indication of hostility between the headmaster and Monroe. In fact, one of the last mentions of them said that they were planning a vacation together at the end of your fourth year, when Lord Voldemort was finally defeated."

"I think by then they had settled any differences they had," Harry surmised. "But when I first saw them together, I sensed some tension between them. I know there must've been some, since Professor Dumbledore came to my aunt and uncle's house once, to tell them he had nothing to do with what James Monroe was doing."

"Which was what?" Al asked.

"He'd been visiting them a few times a year since I'd come there, to check up on me and make sure they were treating me okay. He was also the one who brought the payments by every month, the money they got for taking care of me."

Al looked at Jim, eyebrows arching upwards. "That's quite a revelation! Nobody knew that Professor Monroe had known you all that time! So you'd known Monroe since you were a child?" he asked Harry.

"Not quite," Harry averred. "Like I said earlier, I didn't meet him until I was eight years old, when he gave me the book on wandless magic. And I didn't see him again after that until my ninth birthday, when he invited me over to his house to see his library collection. He said I could come over and read the books anytime. And he got me a wand for my ninth birthday as well." That last statement was false — Harry hadn't gotten a wand until his tenth birthday, but he wanted to see if either of the two men would take the bait he was dangling in front of them.

Al looked thoughtful. "I don't think that's quite right, Mr. Potter," he said. "I think you were ten when you got your wand."

"Oh?" Harry gave him an inquiring look. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, you gave an interview to Rita Skeeter in your fifth year, for the Prophet, and one of the things she printed about you was that you'd had an illegal wand when you were ten years old. Nothing ever came of it, of course," he smiled, with a shrug. "The Ministry was so happy to be rid of Voldemort that they never even bothered to investigate how you could have used an illegal wand without being caught."

"Hmph," Harry grunted. "I'd almost forgot about that myself. It was because I didn't have the Trace on me — Professor Monroe removed it before we went to get the wand." He had forgotten about that interview! Well, not that he'd ever read it — Hermione had read it to him, livid over the way Skeeter had pilloried him in the press, the day it came out in the Prophet. Harry would have to think of some other way to trip these boys up.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "That was kind of a defining moment, wasn't it — even though you couldn't have realized it at the time, but when Kingsley Shacklebolt became Minister for Magic in 1998 and he and Hermione Granger started introducing reforms to how the Ministry dealt with half-bloods and Muggle-borns, one of the things they pushed through was a change to how the Trace operated. From 2004 on it became strictly a location enchantment — it no longer informed the Ministry when magic was performed in the vicinity of the underage wizard, a change that gave more freedom to students to practice their magic while away from Hogwarts."

Harry remembered. His son James Sirius had been born in 2004, the year after he and Ginny had gotten married. The year 2002 had also been a big one for Ginny: she'd played in the Quidditch World Cup on the British National Team as Seeker; they lost to Ireland in the final, after a hard-fought game lasting three hours, when Ginny caught the Golden Snitch just as one of the British Chasers made a shot. The shot was blocked, and the score ended up tied at 220 apiece. Since the final couldn't end in a tie, a 10-minute overtime period was played; Ireland easily outscored Britain, winning the game 310 to 250.

Ginny played six more years, retiring from the Holyhead Harpies at the end of the 2010 season to take care of their children, James Sirius, Albus Severus, born in 2006, and Lily Luna, born in 2008. She tried out for the British National Team again in 2010, just before announcing her retirement, but was not picked up for the Quidditch World Cup. The British team went on to a dismal showing in the World Cup, coming in eighth place.

"What are you thinking about, Mr. Potter?" Al asked, and Harry realized he'd been daydreaming rather than talking. Of course, when you were 140 years old your mind could wander off at the drop of a hat. He looked at their drinks, thinking to get them refills, when his eye fell on the slice of lemon on Al's tea glass. Something about lemons…

"Do you boys want some more to drink?" Harry said, hoisting himself out of his seat to reach for their empty glasses.

"Oh, we can do that!" Al said, as both young men hurriedly stood up. "No need for you to bother, Mr. Potter!"

"Nonsense," Harry said, in a jovial tone. "You're my guests, after all! I have to get something from Clarke, anyway — something I almost forgot."

Putting the two empty glasses into Clarke's bottom compartment, Harry asked for two more glasses, one with iced tea and one with Pepsi Ultimate, as before. He also requested a third item, which Clarke cheerfully provided. A few moments later the glasses appeared in the top compartment, along with a small, white bag.

Harry stuck the bag in his pocket and carried the glasses back into his living room, where he handed them to Jim and Al. "Here you go, boys, drink up." He started to sit down, but reached into his pocket and took out the white bag, pulling something from it and popping it into his mouth. Looking up at the two young men, he proffered the bag, asking, "Care for a lemon drop?"

"Oh, yes," Al said, smiling as he reached into the bag, taking one as well. "I love lemon drops." Jim took one as well, without comment.

"Do you, now?" Harry said to Al, smiling as he sat down again in his chair. "How long have you liked them?"

Al shrugged. "Oh, my whole life, I guess. I haven't had one in — well, quite a while."

"Do you remember the first time you offered me one, Al?" Harry asked shrewdly.

Al stared at him in confusion. "The first time? I don't know what you mean, Mr. Potter — I've never met you before today."

"Sure," Harry said, turning a baleful eye on the two young men. "Two men named Al and Jim — perhaps short for Albus and James — come to my door to interview me for my 140th birthday. Give me a break, guys! I don't know how you managed to get here — I'm guessing time travel is involved, somehow — but you two are so found out!"

But the two young men were looking at one another with astonishment on their faces. Finally Jim spoke, in a flustered tone. "Mr. Potter, it's — well, it's flattering that you think we're — I guess — James Monroe and Albus Dumbledore, but my full names is James Rem Ono."

"And I'm Albus Dub Moderel," Al said, earnestly. "We're not who you think we are — honest!"

"You'll humor me, I hope, if I'm not convinced of that," Harry said, dubiously. "Your names, the way you interact with one another — I'm pretty sure you're Monroe and Dumbledore. In fact…" he leaned over in his chair and spoke toward the kitchen. "Clarke! If you rearranged the letters of these two fellers names, leaving James and Albus alone, what names can you come up with?"

"Let's see," Clarke said thoughtfully, as if it were actually thinking, "'James Rem Ono' can be transposed to James Monroe, and 'Albus Dub Moderel' can be transposed to Albus Dumbledore, sir."

Harry smirked at the two young men. "That would be what's known as a wild coincidence. Too wild in my book, boys."

Al and Jim looked at one another. "What do we do now?" Al asked, looking defeated.

"I guess we're done," Jim shrugged, and he and Al disappeared. Harry blinked. He had spells in place on his house that would keep anyone from Apparating in or out — but somehow they'd defeated his wards! They'd left their equipment, though — Harry wondered if they'd be foolish enough to come back for it.

Unexpectedly, there was a chuckle from the vicinity of the empty divan. Harry stared suspiciously in the direction of his couch, moving a hand up surreptitiously so he could wandlessly cast a Homenum Revelio spell in its direction. The spell showed no one was there, invisible or not, but a second chuckle came from the divan. A voice spoke. "Do you think we've confused him enough for today, Albus?"

"I believe so, James," another voice, deep and clear, spoke. "And after all, we did come to talk to Harry ourselves, not merely to watch our avatars interview him."

"So it is you two!" Harry cackled, grinning in spite of his astonishment at hearing their voices again. "So, was I right about the time travel — did you two find a Time Turner and use it to come 125 years into the future? Or is this because of some accident?"

"Neither, actually," Dumbledore's voice said. A moment later he appeared on the divan: still thin, white-haired and bearded, with his long crooked nose and half-moon spectacles that looked most similar to the ones Harry now used. "James and I have been off doing some adventuring." He looked at the other side of the divan. "James?"

Monroe appeared a moment later, looking exactly as Harry remembered him from a century and a quarter earlier. "Hi, Harry. I offered Albus a chance to see the universe, and he took me up on it."

"To see the universe?" Harry repeated. "When you two left, it was decades before space travel was developed — even now you can only travel to other planets if you're willing to be — well, uploaded," Harry used the term with some disdain.

"And you never wanted to be uploaded, Harry?" James asked.

Harry gave a sharp shake of his head. "Never! Who'd want to be turned into some kind of machine? Not me! I'm still the same Harry Potter I was when I was fifteen years old! Well, only a few minor additions," he added, remembering. "But I'm 100 percent biological!

"Now," he said, wagging a finger at the two of them. "You'd both better explain yourselves. If you're not here because of some time travel trip or accident, how come you both look just the same as you did 125 years ago?"

James put up a placating hand. "I'll explain all of that, Harry, but before we get into it, there is one other person with us who's been quiet to this point, someone who's been wanting to say hello to you."
Harry looked around the room, squinting. "Well, who is it?" he said at last. "I cast a Human Revealment Charm earlier but it showed nobody was in the room after Jim and Al disappeared."

"We'll explain why you couldn't as well," Albus said, gently. "But first — if you would, my dear…?" He gestured toward an empty spot between him and James on the divan.

A person faded into view, smiling at Harry, and when he saw her his heart leaped into his throat. He stared at her for some time, forgetting to breath, until she said, "Hello, Harry."

It took him several moments and three swallows before he found his voice again. She looked exactly as she did in the picture he knew so well.

"Hello, Hermione," he said at last.