Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in it.

Harry stepped forward. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord

And (?) Harry Potter

Harry stared at it.

"And look," Ron said. "Here's another one!" He pointed at another glass ball, with the date of Harry's eleventh birthday written in the same place as the previous one. But, this text below said:

J.K.R. to L.J.E.(P)

All Muggles

And Harry Potter

"Harry, I don't think you should touch them," said Hermione sharply, as he stretched out his hand.

"They've got my name on, they have to do with me." Harry said. Feeling reckless he grabbed both quickly. "See, it's fine."

And then, right from behind them, a drawling voice said, "Very good Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give them both to me."

The shock surprised Harry so much, he dropped one of the balls. The second one. A man's voice rang out from the broken glass, and a mid-aged man with a brown beard, and very big ears, rose from nowhere.

Darkness will approach faster than thought… when the first born Potter rises from his years, magic not foretold will cause death of all weak… with no magic to defend all whom die, by one who defeats himself, one reality, one of a wive of Quidditch, must survive, while others descend.

"You buffoon!" Cried out Lucius Malfoy. "Bellatrix, check which prophecy that was!" Bellatrix Lestrange slithered over to the broken glass.

"Different one, then what we need," She gave a grim smile to Harry. "Now hand it over, dear…"

Harry was sucked through what seemed an invisible tube. There was a flash of blinding white light, and he was suddenly in a cold, blank, white room. The only object there was a wooden desk, and a black, leather chair. Harry looked beside him, Hermione was there. She looked slightly different though. It was almost as if she was a glitch in a video game. One moment she was her, the next she looked younger, then she would look even younger than that. Not by much either, just about a year's difference, then another year the next moment.

Mallory appeared in front of them. "You were doing so well," He said. "Would it be simpler to erase you from existence? No.. no.. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wouldn't have been defeated… what must we do with you?"

"Wha- Wait… Croaker! I remember now, you made us relive our four years completely differently then what we should have! You… you make me sick!" Harry was shouting now. "Me and Hermione are meant for each other! You can't decide our destiny, our future is whatever we make it!"

Mallory laughed. "Yes, yes, well your prophecy says otherwise,"

"Oh yeah, that whole, when the first born Potter rises from his years, magic not foretold will cause death of all weak, stuff?" said Harry. "Well I'm telling you write now, I would never kill anybody. Especially with Hermione around."

Mallory laughed again, almost eerily, "One reality, one of a wive of Quidditch, must survive, while others descend, you had that chance Harry, but we may now have to find another way. You don't seem to be taking the memory-defying potion very well. You already began to remember things in a mere four years." Mallory held up a small metal machine and placed it on his desk. He pulled two wires from it and tried to attatch the wires to Harry and Hermione's wands.

"Diffendo!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at the machine. Just as he hoped, the box magically opened up, wires and knobs and other components spilling out. Harry grabbed Hermione. "You're the best with spells! Do something!" He said, ducking from a dash of red light. Hermione brought up her wand.

"Obliviate!"

Hermione was hit with a green flash and she collapsed to the ground. More green flashes were appearing near Harry. Hermione was hit nearly three times. Harry shouted, "Expelliarmous!" And he hit Mallory with the spell. "Stupefy!" He shouted again, dodging an Unforgiveable. "Dissendium!" The creases of a door appeared on the back side of the room. Harry grabbed Hermione and slung her arms around him, to make her easier to carry. She was giggling uncontrollably.

"You're a pretty boy," She said in an unusually high-pitched voice.

Harry didn't see any type of door handle whatsoever, so he tried to push it, it wouldn't budge. Another green light flashed on Hermione, and looking back, Harry saw that Croaker had fell upon his wand when he was stunned, and he had nonverbally sent another "Obliviate" at Hermione.

"Alohomora!" Said Harry, knowing it was a long shot. But the door opened, and he found himself in a crowded cupboard. A familiar cupboard. He shut the door to the white room, and opened it again. He was at The Dursley's.