"Why is everyone so crazy today?" Harry mumbled. Neville just shrugged, eating his food happily. Harry had stayed up late reading over his Transfiguration essay that he had put off for three days. Neville had already done his, and was happy enough basking in his friend's pain.

"Haven't you heard?" Dean said from across the table. "There's a new newspaper out. It's apparently challenging the Daily Prophet."

"Really?" Neville asked. "Is it blatantly filled with lies like the Daily is?"

"I've got no clue. Apparently, it's run by parents, both muggle and magical. It's called The Letter." Dean took a bite of his eggs. "I think Hermione has a copy, if you wanna ask her about it."

"I just might, actually. I mean, what's the worst that could have been said? Oh! Do you know if it's from this year?"

"Yes and no." Dean said suspiciously.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Harry responded, annoyed. He had a bit of a headache going on, and he really didn't want to deal with a second Daily Prophet.

"Well, it has letters from people in first year."

"And? First year's write home all the time. Plus, what do they even know?"

"No, our first year."

"Oh." Harry was quiet. He returned his head to the table, trying to block out the chatter from those around him. Really, a headache this early. Well, if he was able to sleep they'd probably go away. Plus, he was a bit dehydrated. Where was any damn water in this school? Well, besides the chamber of course. Eugh.

"Here, Harry." Neville said, handing him some sort of paper. When his eyes focused, he saw the bright Orange words calling it The Letter. "I got it from Hermione."

THE LETTER

Hello parents and guardians, muggle and magical alike. Today is a bit of a shorter, special edition. In this issue, we're going to be talking about what happened during the Hogwarts Championship. Now, some of you won't know what I'm talking about, so I'll explain.

Harry skimmed over it for a bit. Having experienced the Tri-wizard championship himself, he had no wish to reread about it. That's when a certain excerpt stopped him in his tracks.

No one ever believes me, mom. I tried to tell my friends that Potter wasn't lying, but no one believed it! I saw the way he was crying over Cedric. There's just no way he did it himself, or faked Cedric's death. I just don't believe it. I don't know if it's You-Know-Who, but something's out there.

This filled Harry's heart with a little bit of warmth. However it did nothing to ease his pounding headache, so he just passed it back to Neville with a grunt. His head hurt too much to deal with all of this at the moment. Honestly, He just wanted to go back to bed. If he had charms, or even transfiguration, he would have skipped and gone straight to the infirmary. Potions was his first class of the day, and he felt like he would be running away from his problems if he didn't show up. Especially with the awkward, horrid conversation they all had with the Headmaster.

Harry was incredibly grateful for Sirius. Harry had thought the man would be incredibly immature about it, and Harry suspected that Sirius wanted to lash out and curse everything in sight. But, he didn't. He held back for Harry's sake, not that he minded that dungeon bat being cursed. Still, it was nice to have an adult looking out for him, even if he couldn't legally have them as his guardian. Harry wanted to write to Sirius today, but he didn't know if he would actually get too. After potions he was going straight to madam and getting some sort of potion to cure his headache, and knocking himself out. Plus, he and Neville had something planned for tomorrow. Halloween. Something that usually filled him with fear and anguish from the loss of his parents, now filled him with trepidation. The constant thought of not being caught filled his head.

"C'mon Hare, we gotta go." Neville said as he stood up, stretching. Harry just groaned, barely moving an inch out of his seat.

"Here, Harry." Hermione said, handing him a small potion vile. "It's a small dosage of Pepper Up I brewed. It works a lot like coffee." Harry thanked his friend, plugged his nose, and swallowed the small potion. Not even an ounce, but the sludgy peppermint taste made him squint his eyes in disgust. Nasty arse potions.

"Thanks, Hermione." Harry said as he slowly felt himself becoming more awake, and his headache lessened. The three of them were still tense with each other. Ron from his opinion that Neville doesn't need all that time spent with him, and Hermione because of Harry's lack of a stick up his arse. Harry hated thinking of it that way, but it was true. She expected him to just go up and see Dumbledore. It may have benefited him in the end, but Harry was glad he made the man wait. If he hadn't they wouldn't have talked about Snape, or the Dursley's. Harry was glad Dumbledore had actually listened to his feelings, and was actively doing something about his wrong-doings. Though Harry didn't want to be spiteful, Harry thought it was well deserved. Come on, a baby left outside during late fall? Seriously? He could have gotten seriously sick. Or kidnapped. Or eaten.

Walking through the classroom door, Harry was filled with a new emotion, not one he was used to feeling. It wasn't fear or worriedness, although he did feel those as well. It was something else, something like hatred. It couldn't have been, right? Harry was the Chosen One, the good guy! Hero's don't feel anger, after all. At Least not the ones he read about, or the ones Dudley watched on T.V. No, it had to be something else. As he sat down, he locked eyes with Daphne, and gave the girl a small nod. While she hated being called Daphne, everytime she called Harry, well, Harry, he would retort by calling the girl her first name. After these few weeks with constant study dates and times, it's stuck. They're just Harry, Neville, Blaise, Daphne, and sometimes Luna. Daphne wasn't a big fan of Hermione, which she openly admitted in front of her. Hermione rushed off, vowing to Harry she wouldn't come to another one. Harry had blown up a bit at Daphne, and the Slytherin girl had retorted with "She should learn that you don't have to like someone to be nice. She just needs to stop disrespecting our views." Both girls were in the wrong, but both were also right. IT gave Harry a headache. Everything gave Harry a headache this year.

Sitting next to Neville did nothing to calm his nerves. He didn't even know what he was worried about. He had talked to Neville after their argument about what went down, and Neville practically beat the words "Sperm doesn't make a father" into him. He was right, of course, but a small part of Harry wanted a father, or even just a father figure in general. He squashed those feelings down, down so hard it made him nauseous. Sirius was his father figure, the dad he always wanted. If Snape wanted to try to 'parent' him, Harry would kick up such a big scene even Sirius would be embarrassed. No, not like that would happen anyway, Snape hated him.

"Mr. Potter, zoning out once again. Ten points from Gryffindor for not being able to pay attention to your professor."

"Sir, please," Hermione spoke up from somewhere behind him. "Harry's sick, he's not doing it on purpose sir."

"You'll find, Ms. Granger, that I care little for Potter's false ailments." His voice was filled with so much malice that even Harry's foggy brain could pick up on it. So that's how he was gonna act now? It was a bit comforting, an odd thought that Harry would never admit to anyone, not even Neville. At least Harry knew that the arsehole wasn't going to suddenly become a father. "Detention tonight, Potter, for your disrespect."

Anger filled Harry's hazy mind, and as it swirled in his head his face grew hot. He shouldn't be in trouble for being sick, he thought. Hypocritical, as he defended Aunt Petunia whenever he got sick. She shouldn't have had to put up with a freaky, sick nephew. That should have been Snape's job.

But he didn't know, his kinder thoughts interceded. How could he care for a son he didn't know he had? His head swarmed some more. Holding a quill was challenging, and his head lolled forward.

"Harry, Harry lookup." The voice sounded as if it was in water. He mumbled something incomprehensible, trying to force his head up. "Harry!" His eyes rolled back.

"Longbottom!" Snape barked. Neville didn't care about him at the moment, his worry for Harry far greater than his fear of Snape. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for interrupting my class with horrid attempts for popularity."

"Professor, Harry isn't responsive." Neville heard Hermione practically squeak. Neville shook him some more, eyes darting around the classroom for something, someone who would be of more help then Snape. Even Malfoy looked worried. Fine, he would do it himself. Paying no mind to the stupid potions professor, Neville began to get up. Harry was light, much too light for a fifteen year old boy, but knowing his homelife and eating habits it was understandable. That's right, Neville. Focus on getting Harry out of here, then you can freak out. Just get out of the classroom.

"Longbottom!" He heard the man explain. "You'll have detention for the rest of the semester if you walk out that door," he hissed." If Neville hadn't been so worried about Harry, he probably would have pissed himself.

"Let me help, Neville." Ron said quietly as he walked up to them. He slung Harry's other arm over his shoulder, and the three made their way out of the classroom, Harry still not moving. Snape muttered a spell, one Neville didn't recognise. He didn't turn around, not even when he heard Hermione gasp. As soon as they had walked out, the whispers started. Neville didn't care, not right now. He honestly felt like crying his eyes out.

"Do you know what's going on with Harry?" Ron asked quietly.

"A little." There was a tremor in his voice. He was actually gonna cry. "I can't really tell you, but I know that it's making him sick."

"It's not magic or school related, right?" Ron questioned after a few beats of silence.

"No, it's something else." Neville reassured. Ron said nothing. The rest of their walk to the infirmary was silent. Neville both hated and liked the silence. He liked it, because he wasn't being questioned about Harry's well being. He hated it, because it left him with his thoughts. He was trying to act strong, he really was, but he was just so worried. Ron looked worried too, so he knew he wasn't alone, but this was his best friend. Whatever Ron and Harry had, Neville had replaced that. (And wasn't that a dark, pitiful thought to have? As if that made Ron's worry any less real.) God, Neville was a wreck.

"Boys, finally." Madam Pomfery said as they entered. "Professor Snape told me you were on your way. Get him to the bed." Neville and Ron looked at each other, but the questions could come later. It was easy to lift him up to the bed, especially with Ron's help. Once they had, the two boys just stared at each other, helpless.

"Thank you, boys. Please head back to class."

"No." They both spoke in unison. Neville flushed a bit at Pomfrey's raised eyebrow, but he stood his ground. "Harry needs someone here. If he wakes up alone it'll make things worse." Not a complete lie, Harry had climbed into his bed almost four times a week since Hogwarts started. It wasn't romantic, it didn't make Neville flush pink or his heart beat faster. They both had nightmares, trauma that the other could understand, and having each other made it better. When Harry had joked that he wanted Neville there if he ever went to the hospital ward, Neville had taken that to heart.

"Fine, but don't complain if Professor Snape takes points. Only one of you can stay." She began casting some spells over Harry, frowning and writing things down on a piece of parchment. He looked at Ron, and the redhead just shrugged.

"You're his best mate now, Neville. Me and Hermione messed up, you're the only one he trusts y'know?." Neville nodded, not saying anything. If he spoke he knew it would come out a warbled jittery mess. Ron patted him on the shoulder and left.

It was three hours later when Harry woke up.

"Honestly, Potter!" He heard Daphne mumble loudly. "Can't you show up on time for once in your life?"

"Oi, we had to avoid Hermione and Ron." Harry responded, quickly setting up the candles he had brought for their circle.

It hadn't been hard to get Greengrass and Zabini to talk about their rituals. The hard part was convincing them that Neville and Harry wanted in.

"Isn't that too dark of a topic for you two?" Daphne had seethed. It was Harry's first time seeing Neville argue with someone and actually mean the mean things he said. Daphne hadn't bothered him about it after that, only telling Neville where they were meeting up and what to bring. Harry was just along for the ride.

"Here, Harry," Neville said, handing him a thing of salt. "Put the salt around each candle, then connect the circles to the lines Zabini made." Harry nodded, doing exactly as he was told. Neville knew a lot more about this ritual than Harry did. It was surprising, especially since Harry had read up on the ritual in his Cynrêd Enchantment book. Harry just hadn't led a ritual before, he wasn't in-tune to the magic like Neville or the Slytherins were. It would be interesting, Harry thought. Two gryfs and two snakes, doing magic in an empty classroom.

"Who do you guys usually speak to?" Harry asked when the room got too quiet. It was Samhain, October thirty-first, and the day his parents were murdered. Harry was glad he had skipped dinner in the great hall, according to Ron, Malfoy wouldn't shut up about his family's influence on the newest bill in the ministry, and how muggles ruined Samhain. Harry had hid a small wince. It was odd, both Ron and Neville were from 'light' pureblood families, yet Ron had shot him down with a worried look when Harry had mentioned the Samhain ritual.

"Talking to the dead is dark magic, Harry." Ron had said. "It doesn't matter what goes into it, the dead should stay dead."

"Family, mostly." Daphne replied. Harry nodded sympathetically and looked at Blaise.

"My grandmother. I've talked to her every year since I was six."

"What about you Neville?" Harry asked.

"Oh, sometimes my grandpa, or my cousin Nigel. He passed away when I was a babe."

They finished setting up the circle in silence. Once all four of them had cast multiple silencing charms and a few warning spells, they all sat down in the specific circles. Daphne had picked out candles for each of them, according to how their "auras felt". Harry thought she nutters, but Neville had convinced him it was a real skill. He was starting to belive it, especially as he held a stunning white and brown swirled candle in his hands. It seemed to pulse with his heart beat.

Neville's was a marbled red and orange, Blaise had a half used navy blue one, and Daphne's was a striciking pink.

"Alright. I'll lead." Daphne spoke up. Harry closed his eyes.

He'd been alive a very long time. No matter how many worlds ended, started over, and passed again, he was eternal.

He was revered and feared, he knew that much. He didn't understand it, not in the slightest. He wasn't his brother, Death, or his sister Life. He just existed, and everyone existed on with him. People's horrid prayers of "more time" and "if only I have another chance" were never answered. Therefore, people feared him. Who would be the next to leave, to join him and his family in eternity?

It wasn't that simple.

His job was to simply take and give time. Good people tended to live longer, unless they weren't truly good. Evil people never lasted, unless they weren't truly evil. It was his way of life, his inner moral.

Yet two people had since abandoned him and escaped all 3 of the Deity's.

Tom Riddle was the first one. Oh, he knew the man better then Death did. He had followed him, sent his birds and his sun, and when that hadn't worked he sent his moon and stars. Still, Tom Marvolo Riddle evaded him, just as he had evaded Death.

Life had no interest in Tom. Tom was nothing but a shell, something that deserved to be squished. He didn't agree, he thought his sister was harsh. Tom needed to be studied, for how had he evaded the pair of them for so long? He knew how, the Horcruxes. Death had let it slip that he was the one to put the idea in Toms head. Life had fought Death that day, and neither won. For who could win against equals?

Yet it wasn't Tom that was summoning him, trying to summon him at least. Tom had never succeeded in summoning a Deity, much less one of the "big three" as history called them. (They were long forgotten in history now, all except Death). Tom had always wanted Life, wanted her immortality. She had laughed when she found out.

No, the boy who was summoning them was Harry Potter. The boy who avoided death. Never on purpose, but he always did.

No, he decided. Death would not have this boy. He was not one for senseless violence and acts of broken down refuge. No, he just wanted to give everyone time.

The red smoke grew and grew and grew, all four children in the room covered by it completely. It should have been hard to breath, but not with those made of something pure. All of them were.

He appeared in the smoky air, golden eyes peering down. Much too thin, much to kind. Death would have eaten him alive. He hoped the other boy, Neville LongBottom, would survive his brother's torment.

"Who are you?" He heard from the quiet boy. Green eyes, as green as the curse that Death had taught the world. Yet they weren't filled with fear, they were filled with wonder. Amusing. He could feel Longbottoms fear rolling off him like waves. Death must be putting on a show.

"I am many things," he said, reaching a hand over to gently touch the boy's hair. Black, like pitch. An angled face as if it was carved from stone. "I have been called Chronos, Infinity, Orion. But you wouldn't know that, not yet."

"You're very cryptic." The boy responded. "What do I call you then?"

"Time, to put it simply. You may call me Time."

"Time," the boy said the word as if he had never said it before. It was filled with magic. The boys, not the ritual magic that coated the room in a sticky sweet feeling. "Are you a Deity?"

"In a way," he fibbed. "I am eternal, yes. But my influence is not one that can reach out and Tug the strings of Fates Harp like Death or Life can."

"Are they your friends?" What an interesting child.

"Yes, they are my siblings. We, both Deity's and Humans, are all handcrafted from Fates Harp, we were just the lucky three allowed to stay." The boy just nodded, keeping silent.

"That boy over there, is he your brother?"

"In all but blood. He's the only one who, well. Yes, he's my brother."

"It seems my own Brother has taken a liking to him. He holds his ground even in fear. Very, ah, what's the word? Gryffindor, yes."

"Is Neville alright?" The boy exclaimed. He went to stand up, but a force kept him seated. Times magic was fickle at best, but it always did at he truly wanted.

"You are better off remaining seated, child. It is not safe for you to leave a circle as finicky as this one."

"Finicky?" He questioned. "Nevermind, is Nev okay?"

"Yes, the LongBottom child is alive. I say finicky, because two of you converse with family, and another two with Gods. It would be ill advised to break such a circle, lest you are all found dead."

"Oh." The child muttered. Time took pity on the orphan child. No, he had a father, just one as absent as Times' own creator.

"Let me tell you a story. It starts off with a lovely girl with bright red hair."

The boy listened intently as Time told the story of Lily Evans. He scowled when a man, Severus Snape, was mentioned, and he seemed to internally weep when James Potter was mentioned. Time had watched Lily every now and then as a child. It was one of his tasks, protecting those of magical blood. Lily was a good child. So much so that he..

"It was I that showed up to her in her time of need, a child resting in her belly." He saw the boy tense. Odd. "I told her I had a plan to save her child. Lily was dear to me, you see. As bright as my own sun and as daring and changing as my moon. My sister, Life, found out. She did not approve. I was stripped of my control of magic by Fate, such a cruel act. Death, my brother, stood by me. He did not think the woman deserved to die.

"Life went behind our backs, creating a horrible prophecy. One that spoke of a boy born in the fall of the seventh month. Fate was not angry that Life had intervened. Life had always been Fate's favourite child. Death didn't think it was fair. So when Tom, I understand you know who he represents, showed up at Lily's home, Life and Death fought once more. Each using the other's magic. It was not a pretty sight. Tom, destroyed, fled with his soul shattered, Death following after him. Life stood by your crib, attempting to take you to your end. yet, your soul was not one that was able to move on, even as the Killing Curse was cast upon you. I would not let her, neither would Lily's love for you. Fate intervened, called Life selfish for trying to take Death's job. And so, you lived Harry Potter. Avoided death like only one other wizard had done before."

The boy was quiet, silent tears rolling down his face. Time understood. This was a story Time had longed to share with someone other than his family, with others besides those he brought to his brother to take to the other side.

"Time, does that mean Voldemort didn't try to kill me, but Life?"

"No, young child. Voldemort had indeed casted the killing curse at you, but the powerful shields that surrounded you, full of love, shot his own curse back at him."

"I don't, I don't understand. I can't make any sense of this. If you've watched for so long, why haven't I known you? Why hadn't my mum seen you?"

"It is only through Fate's Seeing Eye that allows others to see us. Not everyone is blessed with her gift."

"Where do I go from here? What was the purpose of telling me this?"

"The purpose? Well, I suppose there isn't one. I have not been able to tell that full story in many years." Time thought for a minute. "Where you go, Harry Potter, depends on you and you alone. That is not my choice to make. Just remember, child, I see you in my sun and my moon." The deity seemed to bend a shift. Harry tried to call out, but his voice was stuck somewhere under Adam's apple. Time shifted more, slowly becoming part of the smoke still coming off of the melting candle, and as the smoke lowered, Time was gone.

Harry was shaken, eyes red and once more brimming with tears. He looked at his friends, Daphne and Blaise both sniffling. Neville though? He looked stricken in fear. He heard Daphne end the ritual, allowing them to clean up and exit the room. Harry stood, tripping over his scrambling feet.

"Brother," he heard Neville whisper.

"Brother." Harry agreed.

Daphne and Blaise didn't interrupt the two as they hugged each other.

"He spoke to you then, Time?" Neville asked when Harry had crawled into his bed that night. The nightmares were getting worse, long corridors and doors that seemed to becon him in, beg him to come inside and play, or learn, and even fight. It was horrible.

"Yeah he did. He spoke of my mum, some awful prophecy that his sister Life had made. He said, he said you spoke to his brother."

"I did." Neville took a deep breath. "He told me about us, how this isn't our only life. It was horrifying."

"What do you mean only life? Like reincarnation?"

"Exactly. He said in another life we were brothers, you me and someone else. He didn't say who, but he said we were chosen by Fate to live again and find each other."

"Time didn't mention that to me." Harry mumbled into his pillow. "This is all so ruddy confusing. I just wanted a chance to speak to my parents, not some Deity."

"I mean, you did say it would be cool to speak to one this summer." Neville half joked. Harry snorted.

"Karma must be a bitch then." Neville hugged a laugh.

"Must be." The two boys fell into a peaceful silence, each others breathing eventually making them tired.

"Hey, mate." They heard from outside the bed. Neville, using his vine, moved the curtain aside. "Got room for one more?"

"Cmon Ron." Harry said as they scooted over. For the first time in a while, the three boys felt truly complete.