Across The Time

by izwan

Harry found himself unwittingly thrown back into the past. So many possibilities arise and yet so many questions are in need of answering because of it. But more importantly, will love transcend through time and if it does, will he survive to see it? This is the story.

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The storm had blown over by the following morning. The sky however remained grey and gloomy with heavy clouds swirling overhead. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were at the Great Hall, examining their own timetables. At a few distances away but still at the same table sat George, Fred, and Lee Jordan. Harry couldn't hear what they were conversing but he knew it was all about the Triwizard Tournament and how they were going to trick themselves into getting in. Just like before. Harry knew what would become of them, particularly Fred and George but he decided to keep quiet. It would be better if he did not interfere.

Harry groaned as he ran his finger through his timetable. They will have double Divination that afternoon. In the past, Professor Trelawney had made it a hobby to predict Harry's death every time she had classes with the Gryffindor. He was sure that it would be the same this time. He might have known what he was about to face but it was still annoying.

Funny enough his brain let him remember this one.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Ron.

"We'll have Divination this afternoon," replied Harry, shaking his head. "Double period."

"Lemme check. Oh, yeah. We have that," said Ron as he went back to check his timetable. "Sucks being you, I guess."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's remark.

"You two should have dropped the subject long ago as I did," said Hermione casually as she buttered her toast. "Arithmancy is a good alternative. It is useful. Anyone can study it without having to be a - what do you call that - oh yes! A Seer *Hermione rolled her eyes at this*. I kill myself if I ever have to drink another cup of tea."

"You just say that because we're not with you in that class," said Ron. "And you hated Trewlayney."

"I don't hate her. I just think that it would be a waste of time for you both to keep studying something so woolly and imprecise. I want you to learn something solid and productive for a change. I refuse to learn something from someone who is far more interested in predicting someone's death with every chance she's got than teaching the students." She glared at Harry at this point. "Besides, you remember what Professor McGonagall said about the subject. Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. It solely depends on guesswork and that's all you have. And guess what? Guesswork seldom works in the real world. And I still think it's woolly."

What Hermione said reminded Harry of Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore once admitted to him that the majority of his plans to defeat Voldemort were based on guesswork. Surprisingly enough, they work.

Huh, he actually remembered that too.

"Easy for you to say. You're already far ahead and it would be one year too late for us. How can we catch up?" said Ron. "It's not like you're willing to help us. You won't even let us copy your homework. We will fail the subject. Badly."

"I refuse to let you and Harry copy my homework because you both will never learn," said Hermione firmly. "But maybe I can help in some other way. That is if you really want to."

"What way?" asked Ron.

"I'll think of something. I'll ask Professor Vector. Maybe she knows what to do. Knowing her, she will be thrilled to have you two in her class," Hermione replied.

"But we have not given our agreement yet. We haven't said yes."

"What about you, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry was preoccupied with his timetable. He did listen to Ron and Hermione's conversation at the same time, however.

"I don't know. That sounds tempting but Ron is right. We will never be able to catch up. The only way for us to learn Arithmancy properly is to join the third year," he said.

"That's it! You both can join the third year and make your way from there!" Hermione exclaimed.

"And then what? Look, Ron, and I will always be a year behind in Arithmancy. We're not going to add another year to our education just to learn one subject," Harry argued.

"Harry's right, Hermione. Come to think of it, Divination is rubbish but there's nothing we can do about that right now. Harry and I will just have to wing it," said Ron.

Hermione went into paused.

"I'll think of something," she said moments later. "Does this mean that you agree?"

"Depends on the solution offered," said Harry as he put down his timetable sheet and grabbed a toast. "If it doesn't increase our burden, sure why not?"

Hermione went silent.

Silently munching on his toast, Harry began to ponder. He wondered if he really needed to learn everything all over again. Truth be told, he wasn't keen on becoming a student for the second time. Besides, whatever he learned during his time as a student in the past was just the tip of the iceberg. He learned a lot more as an Auror. That morning when he woke up, he considered leaving Hogwarts altogether. He quickly banished the thought. After all, where would he go? Where would he live? That small fortune he owned in Gringotts Bank would allow him to live comfortably enough outside but Hogwarts was cheaper. And the food was to die for.

As a matter of fact, living in Hogwarts was free with all the perks one could dream of.

Except that, he would have to return to Surrey every summer holiday. He may have to talk to Dumbledore about that. He remembered the Dursleys and the way they treated him. He wasn't keen on going through that all over again.

He actually remembered the Dursley. That memory on the whole returned to him that morning. And he remembered Parvati Patil too. Last night, the girl was talking to him. Last night, he had no idea who she was even though he knew her face.

His memory was slowly making a return it seemed and he hoped the progress would continue. He hated being forgetful. He needed to know why he was there and he needed to know what he needed to do. Being forgetful wouldn't help him.

The sudden rustling of noise coming from above disrupted his thought. Harry looked up and saw hundreds of owls flying through the opened windows, bringing mail and stuff from students' homes. He watched as the owls circled the tables looking for the people to whom the mail and the packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville and dropped a parcel into his lap. At the Slytherin table, an eagle owl dropped Draco Malfoy's usual supply of sweets and cakes into his receiving hands.

Harry smiled. He remembered that tiny bit of information.

"Today's morning classes are not bad," said Ron, breaking the silence as he made a rundown on his own schedule. "We will be outside all morning for Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures and - oh wait! With Slytherin?! Bloody hell!"

Harry gave no attention to Ron. He was on the lookout for a white owl. He did not see her among the sea of grey and black owls. Hermione talked about his letter to Sirius Black while they were on the way to Great Hall earlier that morning. He knew Hedwig would return with the reply. He just couldn't remember when.

He hoped Hedwig is safe. He missed her. He missed her badly.

---

The trio arrived at the greenhouse three fifteen minutes later for their first subject of the day and that morning, they would be working with bobotubers. The plants were hideous, looking like thick, black, squirming giant slugs coming out of the soil. This was the second time Harry laid his eyes on it so it didn't feel as revolting as before.

"Bobotubers," announced Professor Sprout. "They'll need squeezing. You'll collect the pus-."

"The what?" exclaimed Seamus.

"Pus, Mr. Finnigan. The pus!" said Professor Sprout, a little bit impatiently. "You'll collect them in these bottles," she pointed to an array of empty bottles placed on a rack beside her desk. "Don't forget to wear dragon hide gloves while you work. Undiluted pus can do funny and nasty things to your skin if you touch them. However, if properly prepared, it can become an excellent remedy for various skin ailments such as acne. Now off you go."

Collecting Bobotuber's pus was a breeze for Harry. He remembered doing it before. It was satisfying watching the swelling pop and release a large amount of gasoline-smelled pus. He immediately caught the pus in a bottle. Looking around, Harry smirked as he watched Ron and Hermione struggling with their own bobotubers plant. By the end of the lesson, Harry alone managed to collect over thirty bottles of bobotubers pus. It was a feat no other students in that class had achieved. Professor Sprout was impressed with him.

"How did you do it?" asked Ron as they headed down towards Hagrid's small cabin for their next lesson. "I only managed to get three."

"And I only got seven," said Hermione. "I watched you, Harry. It looks like you have done it before."

"Kind of," came the short reply.

"Kind of? What do you mean by that?" asked Hermione.

"Err... nothing."

"Are you hiding something, Harry?"

"No."

"You know I'm going to keep on asking questions."

"I don't doubt that."

---

The gamekeeper who was also the Care for Magical Creatures teacher was already waiting for them.

"Hi Hagrid," greeted Harry.

"Hiya, Harry!" Hagrid greeted back. "Say, why didn't you come and meet me on the train platform last night?"

"Well you were busy with the first years and it was raining heavily, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Those first years were quite a handful at that time. Oh well, I bet you gonna love what I'm going to show you today."

The trio exchanged glances. Hagrid was known to have a different definition of the phrase 'things one loves to do'. Harry knew it well and he knew what Hagrid was about to show them won't be pleasant.

"Really Hagrid? Well, what was it?" asked Hermione.

"See those crates over there?" said Hagrid as he pointed towards several opened crates placed not far from where he stood. Odd rattling noises punctured by several fireworks explosions came from within the crates. "Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"Blast-Ended what-what?" asked Dean Thomas.

"Skrewts. Blast-Ended Skrewt," replied Hagrid.

A few of the students took a peek inside the crates.

"Ew!" exclaimed Lavender Brown. "Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew!"

The Blast-Ended Skrewts looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters. They were hundreds of them within each crate crawling on top of one another and bumping to the side of the crates. They smelled ungodly as well, like rotten fishes, only ten times worse.

"These are still younglings," announced Hagrid. "They just hatched and we're going to take care of them."

"Why?!"

Apparently, the Slytherin had arrived and the speaker was Draco Malfoy.

"I mean what's the point of taking care of them?" he asked again.

Hagrid struggle at first before he finally managed to come up with an answer. "That will be the next lesson, Malfoy. For today you'll-."

"Why not today?" Malfoy cut in. "Why not just tell us what it is for? Or is it because you don't have a clue what it's good for?"

Hagrid opened his mouth and closed it once again. He was stumped. "Wh-, well."

Harry frowned at the way Draco acted. He was happy to see Draco but became disappointed to see the way the boy conducted himself around teachers, especially Hagrid. Back in his past, circumstances dictated that they both became really good friends. Draco changed a lot back then. He forgot that this Draco was different.

Deep inside, Harry was seething. Future best friend or not, this Draco needed to be taught a lesson.

Draco meanwhile was all too happy that he got the chance to undermine Hagrid. "You don't know do you?" he sneered. "And they made you a teacher? How-."

Suddenly it happened. Draco's eyes widened. His face turned blue. A gurgling noise can be heard loudly coming out of his stomach. It went that way for a few minutes before all of a sudden he let it all out:-

*FRAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!*

He gave out a fart so loud that it threatened to burst the backside of his trouser open.

The students, both Gryffindor and Slytherin including Crabbe and Goyle rolled down on the ground in a fit of a laugh.

With his face turning crimson red, Draco turned here and there trying in vain to search for the perpetrators. His eyes suddenly fell on Harry. Pointing his finger at him, he shouted, "YOU!"

"What?" replied Harry coolly.

"You're behind this. I know it's you!" accused Draco.

"Accusations require proof. Do you have any?" asked Harry.

"I-, well-, I know it was you! I know it!" shouted Draco.

"Harry didn't do it, Malfoy!" said Hermione. Her eyes were still teary from the laughter. "Did you see his wand?"

Malfoy turned to look at Harry's hand. Indeed, they were empty. "Well, he must have learned how to cast a spell without using any wand."

"That's absurd, Malfoy. We're only fourth-year students. The wandless spell is a highly advanced magic. It requires a lot of training for one to master it. Even then many highly trained wizards still have trouble using it," said Hermione.

"Well-... he's the Chosen One?!"

"Oh, so you believe that now?"

"I-... he attacked Peeves!"

"Correction. He was protecting us from Peeves and he did that by using a wand! In fact, I didn't hear him cast any spell. Did anyone hear him?" asked Hermione to the students standing all around her.

They shook their heads.

Draco was getting angrier. He once again looked around before his eyes landed on Hagrid.

Hagrid somehow knew Draco was about to accuse him. "I'm not the one who did it Malfoy. I am a teacher and a teacher is prohibited from bullying 'em, students. Besides, I'm not allowed ter use magic as your dad was kind enough ter remind me a few years ago."

Draco stared at Hagrid momentarily before turning around. He was about to leave before Hagrid called him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

Hagrid decided to put his foot down. "You're staying or I'm going to give you a month's worth of detention. You're gonna help me take care of these skrewts. How's that sound ter ya?"

Draco's shoulder slumped. He silently grumbled what Harry suspected were insults to Hagrid. And maybe to him as well.

The blast-ended skrewt was disgusting but nothing was sweeter than seeing Draco get schooled by Hagrid. And of course, hearing him farted.

Harry smiled. Hermione was right of course. None of the fourth years managed to cast silent, let alone wandless spells. It was a highly advanced magical skill mastered only by a few.

If only she knew that he could do both. Perfectly.

---

The news of Draco embarrassing himself traveled so fast throughout the castle that everyone ended up knowing it way before noon. He was not seen at the Great Hall during lunchtime.

"We heard the rumors!" said George as he and his twin sat with the trio.

"Is it true?" asked Fred.

"Yeah it's true," said Ron. "It was so loud that it nearly burns a hole in his trouser."

"Wicked!" the twin exclaimed. "That'll show him!"

"So who did it?" asked Neville.

"Well that's the thing," said Ron. "No one knows."

"Come on, get real," said George. "Someone must have done it."

"If I know, I'll tell you," said Ron. "Just ask everyone else. I bet you'll get the same answer."

"That's curious," said Fred. "I reckon you weren't behind this, Harrikins?"

"Yeah. Besides you attacked Peeves, remember?"

Harry just shrugged. "So how is Peeves?" he asked, trying to divert the topic.

"Still sulking. Throwing insults at you per usual. He would be very afraid of you, Harry. At least for now," said George.

"Good riddance," muttered Ron. "So the Triwizard Tournament. Any luck?" The twin looked at each other. "Well, we might find a way. Sort of," said Fred.

"Really? Well what is it?" asked Ron hopefully.

"Nope," said George. "Can't tell you."

"Come on! You can tell me. I'm your brother!" exclaimed Ron.

"Sorry, Ronnikins but this is big boys' stuff. Let's go, George," said Fred.

"Right behind you Fred."

The Weasley twin then took leave, leaving Ron grumbling in their wake.

"How can they claim to find a way when no one really knows how the champions will be chosen?" Hermione wondered aloud.

---

Harry and Ron were on their way to the north tower where the Divination class would be held.

As they walked past the entrance to the first-floor girls' bathroom, well known for being the haunting place of a ghost of a girl. Harry stopped and gazed into the bathroom.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Urm, nothing," replied Harry. "Do you remember who's haunting this place?"

"Moaning Myrtle," came the reply.

"Oh, right. Well, we better get going."

As they continued their way towards the north tower, Harry's mind went back to the first-floor bathroom. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was in there and something told him that he might have to access it someday.

The familiar sweet smell of perfume invaded their nostril as they emerged at the top of the stepladder. As always, all the curtains were closed and the circular room was bath in a reddish glow cast by many lamps. The duo walked through the mass of occupied chintz chairs and pouf stools. Harry was about to sit at one of the tables when Ron reminded him of the usual table they always sit at.

"This is not our table, Harry. That is," said Ron, pointing toward a table near the center of the class.

"Oh, right."

"Are you really becoming this forgetful, Harry?"

"Seems to be and I hate it."

"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey again, Harry. Maybe she could do something regarding your memory," Ron suggested.

"I am heavily considering it, Ron," said Harry as he placed his school bag by his side.

"Well, luckily you still remember us," said Ron, smirking.

"Good day." The misty voice of Professor Trelawney can be heard from right behind the class. As Harry remembered it, she glided from the back of the class and stood right in front of him.

Harry anticipated this. He however did not anticipate what she would do next

Professor Trelawney was peering down at him and her face belied an expression of amusement and curiosity rather than the usual mournful expression she had always shown in the past. "Curious and most intriguing," she softly said. She immediately sat in front of him and stared into his eyes for a few minutes. "How might I ask?"

"How what?" asked Harry back.

"You know what I asked," said Trelawney.

At this point, Harry had a hunch that Professor Trelawney somehow knew something was different about him. That he was not the person everyone think he was. He dearly wanted to ask what the Divination professor saw but he was also aware that the time was not right. He knew he needed to signify to her that he was ready to talk.

"Maybe some other time, Professor?" he said.

Professor Trelawney smiled. "Some other time, then." She then leaned forward to him. "Meet me here during your free time and we can talk." She then turned around and began her lesson.

Professor Trelawney's lesson that day was indeed different from what Harry remembered. No longer had she made him the focus of her teaching. Instead, she left him alone throughout the period. It was so refreshing that he found himself disliking the professor a little bit less.

Soon the lesson was over. Just as he and Ron made their way to the stepladder, Professor Trelawney called out to him. "Harry. Remember. The sooner the better."

Harry nodded. "Sure thing, Professor." He then followed Ron down the stepladder.

---

"What was that all about?" asked Ron as they both made their way towards the Great Hall for their mid-afternoon meal.

Harry shrugged his shoulder. "No idea."

"Well, she certainly acted differently than before. It was odd," mentioned Ron.

"Yeah it was odd," said Harry simply. "But nevertheless refreshing. I am glad she decided to stop predicting my death."

"So do you plan on meeting her?"

"Yes but I'm not sure when. I just need to find the time."

---

Someone called out to them just as they entered the Great Hall. "Hey, Weasley!"

"Weasley! Hey Weasley!"

Harry and Ron both turned to look and saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing in the Entrance Hall brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet. The three of them looked pleased about something.

"What?" asked Ron.

"Your dad's in the newspaper, Weasley!" said Malfoy very loudly. "Listen to this!"

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles is not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was

plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse

of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

Malfoy sniggered the moment he finished reading it. "Can't even get his name right. It's like your dad is basically a complete nonentity. And here's the picture," he said as he flipped the newspaper over. "Good grief, Weasley. Do you call that a house? More like a pigsty if you ask me. Your mother could do with losing a little bit of weight though, could she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. The rest of the students who stood listening were staring at him.

Meanwhile, Harry was busy looking around. All that happened at that time felt like a déjà vu to him. He remembered this situation back in his old timeline. The only difference was that there was no Hermione with them this time around. But he did find someone else actually. Professor Moody. He was watching them from afar and Harry could see that the old professor was readying his wand. He began to wonder whether to settle the matter on his own or to let history repeat itself.

After a few moments of deliberation, he decided that he missed seeing Draco Malfoy the Cute White Ferret. Who knows maybe they let Harry pet him this time. It was time for him to make his move.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy!" said Harry as he grabbed Ron's arm. "Come on, Ron."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them for the summer, weren't you?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, does his mother really is that porky, or did someone mess up the picture? I believe it is the former."

The bait had been laid. Time to make Malfoy take it.

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry as he continuously grabbed the back of Ron's robe to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy. He somehow felt sorry for Narcissa. "That expression she's got like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's face went slightly pink. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter!"

It was getting nearer.

It was Harry's turn to sneer. "Keep your fat mouth shut then. Unless you want it transplanted to your arse," he said as he turned away.

BANG!

Several students screamed but Harry was ready for it. He pushed Ron away and immediately ducked. He then heard a second BANG and a roar that echoed throughout the Great Hall.

Right on cue, Professor Moody, he thought.

"OH NO, YOU DON'T LADDIE!"

Harry saw Moody come limping toward them. His wand was out and it was pointing toward a shivering white ferret.

There was a terrified silence within the Entrance Hall. Everyone watched as Moody approached Harry.

"Did he get you?" growled Moody at Harry when he arrived in front of him. His voice was low and gravelly.

"He missed," replied Harry simply.

"Good-... leave it!"

Harry said nothing. He knew to whom Moody was shouting. Crabbe was trying to pick Malfoy the Cute Little White Ferret up.

Moody limped toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret. The ferret gave a loud squeak and immediately took off.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody. Once again, he pointed his wand toward the ferret. The ferret flew ten feet high up in the air before it fell with a smack onto the floor. It then bounced off the floor once again and it kept on repeating, going higher and higher with each successive bounce.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back is turned," growled Moody. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do! Never. Do. That. Again."

It went that way for a few more minutes until Professor McGonagall came to Malfoy's rescue. Just like before.

Harry watched the receding back of Professor Moody. His eyebrow furrowed. At that time, he wanted more than anything to throw a curse at the teacher. But he knew that would be a stupid move.

"Barty Crouch Jr.," he whispered. He remembered that name really well. Back in the past, that man was the beginning of everything that turned bad from Harry's fourth year and beyond.

Hermione came to their table fifteen minutes later. She had just finished her Arithmancy class. She placed her bag on the chair and sat in front of them. "I heard something happened. What did I miss?" she asked.

Harry turned to look towards Ron, who at that time had his eyes closed and was looking mightily contented.

"A lot."

---

Late that night...

Harry woke up with a jolt.

He was breathing hard and furiously sweating. His hand reached up to his scar. He immediately yelped as his fingers touched it. He felt a burning sensation beneath the lightning-shaped scar as if someone had pressed a hot iron plate to his forehead.

He sat up. Within the cover of darkness, he reached over to the bedside table for his glasses. The room immediately came into focus. He was still inside his own dormitory. It was probably three in the morning.

Through the window, he could see the moon shining brightly into the night.

Harry slowly got off his bed and made his way toward the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, he turned on the tap and began splashing his face with handfuls of cold water. He stopped when he felt a little bit refreshed. He then looked up and saw his own image in the bathroom mirror right in front of him. He looked paler than usual. His hand reached up and tucked his bang away from his scar. The scar still hurts. A lot.

He sighed. He then took a small towel hanging nearby and began to wipe his face dry. Once done, he made his way back to his bed.

Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were still fast asleep. A pang of jealousy formed inside of him. There they were, fast asleep as if nothing could go wrong in this world. Meanwhile he, the legendary Harry James 'Fucking' Potter might have to save the world all over again. Some life he had.

He shook his head and climbed into his bed. He proceeded to pull the hangings shut around his four-poster bed and took out his wand.

"Lumos."

Frank the caretaker. Senior Riddle's mansion. Barty Crouch Junior. Voldemort is in his infant stage. Nagini. And the flash of green light. Those were not dreams. Those were visions. He already knew that. That vision somehow helped him regain some of the memories he lost. Those visions also represented undeniable proof. Something he suspected all along ever since he was thrown back in time.

A part of Voldemort lived within him.

Harry placed his face into his hands. The amount of memory that returned wasn't enough. It didn't complete the story. Yes, he knew now that a part of Voldemort lived inside him but what did that signify? He knew that he had it removed before but how? Is that the only thing he needed to worry about or could it be more?

Amnesia is a bitch.

Ron's loud snoring suddenly jolted him. He stared at the closed curtain of Ron's bed. It was at that point another memory began to resurface. Back in his old timeline, at this time around, everybody he knew was still alive. Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, George, Collin Creevey, and many others were still alive.

If he play his cards right, they would remain alive.

"Nox". The light at the pointy end of his wand extinguished and once again, he was engulfed in darkness.

Lying on his bed, his mind wandered off. It was then that he realized that he might need accomplices. But who? His thought went to Ron and Hermione. The two assisted him in his old timeline. He had no doubt that they will help him again but would he be willing to put them through the trials and tribulations all over again? He couldn't remember everything but he knew it wasn't easy. He then remembered Sirius Black. His godfather at this point was still on the run but he knew at some point he would be back hiding within the caves near Hogsmeade.

Perhaps he could pull Sirius into becoming one of his accomplices. Convincing him would be difficult but Harry was sure that when it comes to the matter of bringing down Voldemort, Sirius won't hesitate. Dumbledore was another person he thought of. Dumbledore probably won't need much convincing though. That old man was crazy in his own right. The only thing left would be to find out how much the headmaster knew at that point. He knew that Dumbledore never stop investigating the circumstances behind Voldemort's disappearance since the night the dark lord murdered his parents. He was one of the very few people who were convinced that Voldemort would return but from what he could gather back from his old timeline, the headmaster only made great progress during his fifth year.

For now, he had to let the matter lay temporarily to rest. He needed some sleep. He would be having classes tomorrow and one of them would be with Snape. Giving the Potion teacher an excuse to put him in detention wouldn't do.

Drowsiness overtook him. Sleep came easily to him this time.

The vision didn't return this time. This time, he dreamt of a stunningly beautiful silver-haired girl. They were dancing together in a beautiful meadow. The colorful flowers, their beauty shone brightly. They smell nice. The wind blew her hair softly and she looked happy and contented. They continued to dance, their bodies got closer and closer with each step. At one time, the girl leaned forward to kiss him. But just as her lips were about to touch his lips-

"Harry! Harry! Wake up! We will be late for classes!"

---

Early morning at the Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Harry was still fuming at Ron for disrupting his dream. Of course, Ron who possessed the amount of emotional sensitivity equivalent to a teaspoon was blissfully unaware of his best friend's silent wrath. Lunch, dinner and supper, breakfast was his favorite time of the day. He happily gobbled away his breakfast which consisted of sausages, mashed potatoes, and red beans. As for Hermione, as usual, toast on the right hand and an opened book on the left hand. This time she was reading The Standard Book of Spells instead of the usual Hogwarts, A History book. No doubt in preparation for the Charm class, they would be having in the first period. Not far from where the trio sat, George, Fred, and Lee Jordan were huddling together. Harry took no notice of what they were discussing. It could be about the upcoming Triwizard tournament or Ludo Bagman who cheated them out of their winnings.

Yes. Bits of his memory of attending the Quidditch World Cup began to return. But still, who was that girl in his dream?

The official launching of the Triwizard Tournament was still weeks away but already the anticipation ran feverishly high. Everywhere, theories emerged as to which of Hogwarts seventh-year students would receive the honor of representing Britain's most prestigious magical school in the tournament.

Harry of course did not pay heed to all of these. At this point, he had a much bigger thing he needed to think of. An issue suddenly arose that was big enough to drive the dream out of his mind. He was sitting, facing the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table. From where he sat, he saw him, the would-be Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory.

Cedric was chatting amicably with his fellow housemates. Little did the eventual school champion realized that if things go the way it was, just like Dumbledore in Harry's fifth year, he would have less than a year to live.

---

Charm classroom...

Professor Flitwick was as jovial as Harry could remember. There he was, in front of the classroom and standing on the teacher's desk, explaining in detail the fourth-year Charm syllabus and what to expect in the upcoming exams.

He remembered the professor fondly. He did not exactly warm up to the minuscule teacher during his time in Hogwarts in his old timeline but all of that changed when he went under training in the Auror Academy. Professor Flitwick was one of the instructors, specially brought on board by Kingsley. Several Hogwarts teacher was brought in as well. Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn were among the few selected. Of course, they were brought in on a temporary basis. They retained their job at Hogwarts.

Flitwick was all 'swish and flick' during his tenure as a Hogwarts teacher. But as one of the academy's instructors, he was a different beast altogether. He knew his Charm really well. His response time was ultra quick and his targeting was ultra-precise. He knew the strength and the weaknesses of each spell like the back of his hand. He was even better than Dumbledore although the former headmaster trumped him in the ferocity of his magic. In the Academy, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Slughorn grilled Harry to the point that Harry began to wonder if the professors were planning for him to take over their job at Hogwarts once they finished with him. It did bring out some benefits though. It was not for nothing that Harry became renowned as the most dangerous Auror after Moody.

Luckily for him though, there won't be any grilling today. He was not inside the Auror Academy's building. He was at Hogwarts and Flitwick was in his 'swish and flick' demeanor. They will be learning the Summoning Charm and Professor Flitwick was explaining the intricacies of it.

"It will require absolute concentration but most important of all, determination. You have to show that you really want it. As always, you need to say the incantation and do the proper swish and flick. Now I have placed a book on this stool right in the middle of the class. The book shall be the subject of our practice. Now recite with me 'Accio book."

Every student within the classroom began to recite the incantation.

Harry felt bored. He already knew the Summoning Spell. He was well versed in it in his fourth year back in his old timeline. But nevertheless, he followed everyone else in reciting the incantation.

"Well done! Well done!" said Professor Flitwick after a few minutes of the recital. "Now I want each of you to try summoning this book. Let's start with Miss Granger, shall we? Remember, concentration and determination. Show the book that you really want it."

Hermione cleared her throat. Together with a single flick of her wand, she muttered the incantation, "Accio book!"

Professor Flitwick squealed in delight as the book zoomed from the stool towards Hermione. Unfortunately, she was not prepared to catch it. The book flew at great speed towards her face. Hermione knew she won't be able to dodge it. All she could do at that time was close her eyes and wait for the book to hit her.

But the book never reached her face. And when she opened her eyes, all she could see was the back of someone's hand. That hand was holding the book mere inches from her face. That hand belonged to Harry.

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry gently. "I got it. You're safe." He then slowly placed the book on the desk right in front of her.

"Harry," said Hermione with no small amount of relief. "Thank you. That was fast."

"Yeah, mate," said Ron with no small amount of astonishment. He was actually sitting between Harry and Hermione, which mean that Harry would have to reach across him to get to Hermione. "That was really fast. Like lightning fast. How did you do it?"

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," said Professor Flitwick who had now reached the trio's desk. His eyes were observing Harry with great interest. "That was indeed one of the quickest reaction times I have ever seen. Throughout my life, I had only known a few who could accomplish such a feat. Have you been practicing?"

Of course, I had been practicing. You're the one who trained me, thought Harry. Lucky for him, those words only emerged inside his head. For more than seventy years in his past life, he had been the most feared Auror among the dark wizards. For more than seventy years, no dark wizard the magnitude of Voldemort ever emerged. If he ever heard of one, they will be crushed by him immediately and without hesitation.

But of course, he could tell none of it to the people in front of him. They won't believe him anyway. "Just pure luck, Professor. My hand is at the right place at the right time."

Professor Flitwick nodded. "Of course-, of course. Yes, sometimes luck can play its part." He took the book and placed it back on the stool. He then turned towards Harry. "Let's see if your luck can hold," he said. "As before, Harry. The incantation and swish and flick."

"Yes, professor." Harry readied himself. He raised his wand. "Accio book!"

The book flew towards him and Harry caught it cleanly.

"Excellent!" cried Professor Flitwick. "Now, Harry. Do it again."

Harry obliged. And once again Harry successfully caught the fast-flying book with ease.

"Marvellous! Extraordinary!" exclaimed Professor Flitwick. He was like a toddler that was given a lollipop. "Now again."

In the end, Flitwick made Harry repeat the task nearly twenty times. And each time the book never failed to fly to him and he never failed to catch it.

"Well done, Harry," said Professor Flitwick. "Well done. Really good catch. And vice-like grip too. It is as if your hands know where the book is heading all by itself. Yes, really extraordinary indeed. And very curious I might add. You may sit down now, Harry. And take five points for Gryffindor. And to you to Miss Granger. Ten points for both of you."

Hermione simply beamed at Flitwick.

Harry sat down. Somehow, he was beginning to feel that practicing the Summoning Charm was not the reason why Flitwick put him through the task nearly twenty times. It was something else. Flitwick was not interested in the Summoning Charm demonstrated by him. He was curiously interested in the way Harry caught the book. His final comment said it all.

The class continued. Flitwick put every student in the class to the task. Unlike him and Hermione, nearly all of them only manage to perform the charm after many tries. Ron alone had to repeat nearly eight times before the book finally flew toward him.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Professor Flitwick. "Well done all of you. We, unfortunately, have reached the end of the class so as homework, I want you to write the intricacies of the Summoning Charm, its history, its purpose, and its do's and don't. You have until next Wednesday to finish it. Now off you go."

---

Ron groaned. "First week! It's only the first week and we already got homework!" he grumbled.

The trio was walking from the south tower where the Charm classroom was located towards the Great Hall for lunch.

"The assignment looks very easy," stated Hermione. "I probably can finish it within a day."

"Says you," said Ron. "Not all of us have your brain, Hermione. It's going to take at least a week for me to finish it."

Hermione shook her head. "You should look at things more positively, Ron. We were lucky. All of us managed to perform the Summoning Charm. If just one of us failed, Professor Flitwick will definitely ask us to practice so that he can test us once again during the next class and that will be on top of the homework he gave us. So stop grumbling. Just be thankful."

"Err... thankful?"

"Yes. Thankful," stressed Hermione. "Just remember that we'll have Double Potion this afternoon. I bet Snape is going to give us a lot more homework. Remember that just a few months ago, he did not have a good time. He just lost his Order of Merlin Third Class and it had something to do with us. Take it as a perspective."

This time, Ron groaned really loudly.

Harry silently agreed. His mind flashbacked towards his third year. Sirius. Wormtail. Lupin. All of it came back to him.

This afternoon is going to be very messy.

---

The Great Hall...

Ron's bad mood eased up the moment they entered the Hogwarts dining hall. The smell of bacon, steaks, lamb chops, casseroles, mashed potatoes, and various pies and puddings filled up the air. The trio immediately took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table and Ron quickly piled up his plate with everything within his reach and began eating.

Hermione tutted with disgust as she observed Ron's tableside manners. "Honestly," she said to Ron. "You're already fourteen years old. Grow up!"

"Vut fiy yam frowin wup," said Ron. His mouth at that time was full of lamb chop and mashed potatoes. "Wat far fiur falkin afout?"

Bits of food flew out of his mouth as he spoke.

"Speak English, Ron! I couldn't understand a word you say. And stop talking with your mouth full! You're spraying the food all over the table!"

Ron swallowed his food and said, "I said I am growing up. What are you talking about?"

"Your tableside manners," said Hermione. "You're acting like you haven't tasted food for two months straight."

"I had breakfast this morning," pointed out Ron.

"Then maybe try to act like you had one?" said Hermione. "Honestly, can't you be like Harry? Look at him. At least he-, wait!" She stared at Harry. "Since when do you like apple pie, Harry?"

Harry who took the role of a silent observer stared down at his plate. On it was a half-eaten apple pie. He then turned to look at Hermione. "Since forever?"

"No, it's not!" interjected Hermione. "Since our first years, I never saw you touch an apple pie before. It will always be something like the kidney and steak pie or treacle tart."

"Lighten up, Hermione. Maybe I have decided to try something new," said Harry. Using a knife, he cut the slice of pie, jabbed the pieces with his fork, and put it in his mouth. "Anyway, this is much healthier than the alternative. Important especially for an old guy like me."

Hermione continued to stare at Harry. "Right. An old guy like you," she said in amusement. "Since when the age of fourteen is considered old? And you never use a fork and a knife when eating a pie before."

Harry nearly slapped himself in the face. He had forgotten that despite possessing the mentality of a 92 years old man, he was now in a body of a teenager. "It was just an expression, Hermione," he said hastily. "You should be thankful that I don't have dementia."

"We are too young to have dementia, Harry. Oh, well. At least you have proper manners compared to this one who is now sitting beside me."

Ron took another huge swallow of his food. "Hey! I'm in a bad mood. Food cures me."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

No sooner had she stopped talking, the trio heard feet shuffling. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan who were sitting a little bit further from them coasted closer and joined the trio.

"Can't help but hear everything you said, Hermione," said George, grinning.

"But while your criticism towards our dear old brother was spot on," said Fred.

"You might want to consider the sorry state of your empty plate," finished George. Hermione looked down at her plate and just realized she had spent the last few minutes criticizing Ron and interrogating Harry that she totally forgot to have her lunch. Ignoring the snickering made by the twin and their close friend, she gingerly doled the beef casseroles onto her plate and began to eat.

"Attagirl," said Fred. "You know it would be a poor repayment for all the effort the house elves put into preparing these fine dishes if you refuse to eat them."

Hermione nearly sprayed her food the moment she heard what Fred just said. "House-elves? What do you mean house elves?"

"You shouldn't have mentioned it, Fred," said Ron, shaking his head. "You really should not have mentioned it."

"Ah, right," said Fred as he watched Hermione with great apprehension. "I forgot."

It was a well-known fact how sensitive the issue of the house elf was to Hermione ever since the tragedy that arose at the Quidditch World Cup. She had never quite forgotten Winky and her master's treatment of the poor house elf.

Ignoring Ron, she stared, horror-struck, at Fred. "There are house-elves here?" she asked. "Here at Hogwarts?"

Fred sighed. "Oh well. Better to tell the truth than keep on lying. Continue Brother George. Let the light of the enlightenment shine on those we deem lesser."

George said, "As thou wish, Brother Fred." He turned to Hermione. "Yes, there are house elves in Hogwarts. Lots of them. More than a hundred methinks. This castle now holds the largest concentration of house elves anywhere in Britain."

"But-, but-, but I have never seen one!" said Hermione.

"Well, they hardly left the kitchen by day, do they?" said Fred.

"Absolutely right my dear Fred," said George. "They usually come out at night to do a little bit of cleaning, lighting up the fireplace, do the laundry, and so on."

"We thought that being the cleverest of your year, you would have already figured it out," said Lee Jordan.

"No, I haven't," said Hermione, irritated. "How would I know? Filch-."

"What? Do you think Filch did all those?" asked Fred. "Why do you think Dumbledore only employs one caretaker to take care of this one big huge castle? No pun intended. Come to think of it though, one could think that Hogwarts is in severe budget cuts that they don't have any money to employ more."

"One caretaker," said George.

"One gamekeeper," pointed out Lee Jordan.

"And one living dead teacher," said Fred, referring to Professor Binns.

"That's enough!" said Hermione. "Now about the house elves. As I said, I have never seen one. I take it this is one of your jokes or pranks, sort of."

"It's not a joke. We're serious," said Fred.

"No, we're not serious. Serious is out there somewhere," said George deadpanned. "The last I check I'm Feorge, you're Gred and this is Michael Jordan."

Harry felt uneasy when they mentioned Sirius Black even though he knew they were simply joking. He continued to keep quiet while at the same time wondering where his godfather was hiding.

"Urgh!" Hermione groaned.

"Okay! Okay! Sorry," said Fred, raising both his hands in defeat. "Now let's get serious-."

"We can't. We don't know where he is," said George, once again deadpanned.

"Okay that's enough you two," said Ron to his twin brothers. He took a gulp of pumpkin juice from his goblet and continued, "Yeah, Hogwarts has house elves. At least that's what Mom and Dad told us. You remember whenever she got loads of housework to do she would always wish that she had a house elf to help her around?" he asked his twin brothers.

The twin nodded fervently.

"And since when you're going to tell me all this?" asked Hermione sternly.

Ron shrugged. "Must have slipped my mind. But then, given the way you react every time the word house elf is mentioned, I'm pretty sure keeping you out of the loop is a better idea."

Hermione huffed indignantly.

"Look Hermione," said Lee Jordan. "The main reason why you never saw them is that that is the way, you know, they work."

"And being unnoticeable while doing their job is a mark of a good house elf," said George.

"All you will see would be everything been done for you. Your bed, your laundry, feet warmers you'll find whenever you go to bed every night and the fireplace. Filch definitely did not do those things," stated Fred.

"Yeah. Besides, how would you feel about Filch breaking into girls' dormitories every night to perform his 'duties'?" said Lee Jordan while at the same time making air quotes around the word duties.

Both the twin and Lee Jordan broke into a long and hard laugh. It took quite a while before their laughter subsided.

"The-," said George as he wiped his eyes from the tears of laughter. "The content of his dresser will be mightily interesting. Some underwear probably. Sorry, Hermione," he hastily apologized the moment he noticed Hermione's face reddened.

Hermione ignored George's apology. "Alright, that's enough. Let's say what you said is true, are the house elves getting paid? Holidays? Pensions? Sick leaves? Everything?"

"House-elves want none of those things," stated Fred flatly.

"That is ridiculous," scoffed Hermione. "Nobody in their right mind would want to do a job without getting paid. Anyway, this school is a government institution. Every employee is protected by law."

Fred shook his head. "You really don't get it, do you?" he said. He took a pudding and began eating it. "House-elves don't want any of those things. They really don't. They just like doing the job. It is in their nature to serve humans like us. They have to have a master or they won't survive for long. I'm not making up all these facts. You can ask any of the teachers or a house elf if you happen to see one."

Hermione went silent. She looked down at the half-eaten food on her plate. She then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed the plate away. "Slave labor," she muttered under her breath. "That's what made this lunch. Slave labor." She ended up refusing to eat another bite.

The rest of the boys who sat around her glanced at each other and shook their heads.

Lee Jordan leaned forward. "What's the thing we want to tell them before we join this table?" he asked.

"Oh yeah! I nearly forgot!" said George. He turned towards Harry and Ron. "We had Defenses Against the Dark Art class before lunch."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Wicked! So you had Moody! How cool is he?"

George let out a low whistle. "Super cool," he said as he gave two thumbs up.

"He's beyond cool," agreed Fred.

"So what was it like?" asked Ron eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee Jordan exchanged a meaningful look.

"Never had anything like it,' said Fred.

"He knows, man," added Lee Jordan.

"What? He knows what?" asked Ron impatiently.

"Knows what it's like to be out there. Doing it," said George impressively. "Fighting the dark wizards. I mean, he had seen it all, done it all. He was virtually in the front seat all the time, you know."

Lee Jordan nodded. "Yeah. He was amazing. We got Quirrell for a couple of years before you do him in," he said nodding at Harry.

"Quirrel was lame," said Fred. "I could not stand the smell of garlic whenever I'm in his class. Who could have guessed he was hiding something."

"Then we got that fake Lockhart," pointed out George. "The girls swooned over him though."

Hermione was fidgeting in her seat at this point.

"Lupin was great but even he can't compare with Moody," said Lee Jordan.

The twins nodded in agreement.

Ron immediately dived into his bag and retrieved his own timetable. He groaned as he ran through it. "We won't be getting him until Thursday!"

Meanwhile, Harry was listening to the conversation with great disinterest.

They did not know Moody as he do. The Moody that they were so impressed with was not the real Moody. He was in fact Barty Crouch Jr. in impersonation via the Polyjuice Potion. The way he kept strictly to his timing whenever he drank from his own flask during the Welcoming Feast was good enough proof.

But this did bring out the question of what kind of a teacher the original Alastor Moody would be. Would he be as hard-charging as the fake Moody? Would he show his class the three Unforgiven Curses? Would he show the same admiration for the dark magic as the fake Moody and Snape? He guessed he would never find that out.

But the original Moody was proven to be just as crazy during his fifth year in the old timeline. Harry remembered the effort the members of the Order of the Phoenix put in when they 'kidnapped' him from the Dursleys all too well. He did not like it, but he cannot help but admire the dedication Barty Crouch Jr. put into studying his victim. He managed to copy Alastor Moody right down to a T.

The six of them stayed at the Great Hall for another ten minutes before they departed towards the Gryffindor common room. They will have another hour of rest before the next class begins.

---

Gryffindor common room...

Harry immediately threw down his schoolbag and sank into his favorite armchair the moment they arrived inside the common room. Ron sat on the opposite armchair while Hermione went straight to her dormitory after telling them that she wanted a little bit of refresher. The twins and Lee Jordan meanwhile went to sit at the opposite corner of the room, heads together, and began to converse in a quiet tone over a piece of parchment produced by George.

"I really can't wait for Thursday to arrive," said Ron.

Harry began to act very interestedly with his own fingers. "And why is that?" he asked, disinterested as before.

"Moody," said Ron. "Don't you remember? We'll have him this Thursday. If what George and Fred said is true, his class would be awesome."

"I'll reserve my judgment until I see it with my own eyes," said Harry, intending to close the conversation about Moody.

"So you don't believe what Fred, George, and Lee said about him?"

"Oh, I believe them," said Harry.

"But you look disinterested," stated Ron.

"I am."

"Why?"

"I prefer Lupin."

"Lupin isn't an auror. Unlike Moody," said Ron.

Anger began to boil inside Harry. He immediately quelled it down before it went out of control. Ron will become one of the ornaments hanging on the wall if he lost control. Harry took a deep breath and said sternly, "You're forgetting that he helped me a lot in our third year. Remember the Patronus Charm? It was with his help I could master it. Lupin will be an Auror too if the ministry gives him a chance. His condition was what stopped him from becoming an Auror, not to mention all the prejudice everyone had regarding him being called half-human. He will be just as capable as Moody, though maybe not as crazy. I don't rate a person until I see it with my own eyes, no matter how high people are thinking of him."

Ron must have realized that Harry was getting angry. He went quiet after that.

The silence was broken s a few minutes later upon the arrival of Hermione. She had just returned from her dormitory. She paused the moment she arrived in front of Harry and Ron. She somehow noticed the tension that was brewing between her two best friends.

"What happened to you two?" she asked, raising her brown eyebrows.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing," he said. He then get on his feet and lugged his school bag over his shoulder. "Come on, Ron."

Ron copied him and the trio set off for the dungeon.

---

The dungeon, a few minutes later...

The rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin were already waiting for Snape to 'invite' them in when the trio arrived.

As always, Malfoy would never fail to sneer whenever the trio entered his line of vision though this time around, that sneer was a little bit subdued. No doubt, Moody's 'teaching' a few days ago had some effect on him. Slytherin seniors kept calling him 'Malfoy the white bouncing ferret' whenever they got the chance. Malfoy might be a bully, but he was only brave enough to do that to those in his years and below. And also to the Weasleys whom he loathed so much. He never quite forgave Harry for what he suspected Harry did during their first class with

Hagrid. He had no proof of that of course but Harry knew that he would be more than willing to confess if Malfoy ever came up to him, just to show him that he already mastered nonverbal and wandless spell casting. A feat the majority of the adult wizards had trouble doing.

Both Harry and Ron did not talk much. Ron's face was a little bit paler than usual, no doubt from the anticipation of all the worse things that could happen during the Potion class. Harry was much calmer though. As for Hermione, her eyes kept darting between both of them, as if she was expecting Harry and Ron would embroil in a wrestling match anytime soon.

Harry did not look at her though. His eyes remained fixed on the dungeon's door.

Few minutes passed by and all of a sudden the dungeon's door opened with a loud bang. Like an overgrown bat, Snape stood at the threshold. His eyes wandered to every student that stood in front of him until he saw Harry. His glance lingered on him for a few moments.

"Get in!"

Snape left the door and every student followed him into the dungeon. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their usual seats and waited patiently for Snape's further instructions.

After every student was properly seated, Snape began to speak, "Congratulations. All of you manage to come back. I do expect that some of you would choose to drop out of this school," his eyes stopped at Harry. Harry calmly looked back at him. "After everything that happened. Now!" He slammed his hand onto the board hard. Some of the students were startled as a result. "Antidotes. Besides our resident know-it-all Miss Granger, anyone would like to try to give an accurate definition of an antidote? Anyone?"

Snape looked around. None of the students dared to raise their hands. Malfoy smirked a bit when Snape mentioned Hermione's name but even he did nothing. Hermione was the only one who was fidgeting in her seat, trying as hard as she could not raise her hands.

Snape gave out a mixture of mocked and disappointed looks. "Pathetic! Useless! Must I feed you with everything you need to know without you taking the effort to do an extra study beforehand of this subject yourself?!" He then walked over to Neville. He took Neville's Advanced Potion-Making book and asked, "Mr. Longbottom, tell me what this is?"

Neville's face was completely whitened. It was a well-known fact that Neville was scared of Snape the most. It looked as though he was in danger of wetting his pant at any moment. "A-, a book," stuttered Neville.

"Sir," he hastily added when Snape cocked his eyebrows.

"And what do you do with a book?!"

"Re-, read it."

"And did you read it?!" asked Snape.

"Yes. I-, I mean no, sir. No," Neville stammered.

Poor Neville nearly fell off his chair when Snape slammed his book hard on the desk.

Snape ignored Neville's whimpers and immediately closed in on him. He was breathing hard on Neville's face, his nostrils flared. "Let me make it clear. No more mistakes from you, do you understand? Unless you like being put in detention for the rest of the school year," Snape muttered dangerously under his breath.

"I-, I understand, sir. No-, no more mistakes."

Snape straightened up. "We shall see," he said.

Snape then walked over to the board and began to write. He turned towards the student after he was done writing. "Antidote!" he said. "Is an item that can be used to treat or protect against specific ailments. Most of it consists of brewed potions however, there are natural antidotes that are readily available. Mr. Potter!"

Harry did not flinch at all. Instead, he looked calmly back at Snape. "Sir?"

"I expect you to remember what I told you before in your first-year class," said Snape.

"I remember, sir. You told me about bezoar," Harry replied.

"And what is a bezoar?"

"A naturally occur remedy. A bezoar is a stone taken from within the stomach of a goat. Useful to treat common poisoning symptoms with the exception of a few. Basilisk venom is one of the exceptions. The victim must ingest the stone in order for the treatment to work," answered Harry.

"And what are the antidotes for the basilisk's venom?"

"There is only one known effective antidote so far, sir. Phoenix tears," Harry replied.

Snape's eyes darted between Harry and Hermione. "A sentence-by-sentence explanation no doubt taken wholly from the book," Snape scoffed. "Apparently, Miss Granger's traits had finally rubbed off on you. Let's hope you don't end up wearing dresses by the end of the school year."

Malfoy and the gang sniggered at Snape's comment. Harry, on the other hand, remained calm.

Ignoring the Slytherin, Snape then went back to stand beside the chalkboard. "This semester you shall learn everything there is to know about antidotes. I expect by the end of this year's course, most of you will gain something out of knowledge so useful in the magical community. If not, you'll have no one but yourself to blame should anything happen." Snape then glowered at Neville. "Let's hope none of you don't end up being the one with a brick for his brain."

Snape then took out his wand and flicked it. What he wrote on the chalkboard earlier immediately vanished, replaced by step-by-step instructions written in a clear and concise manner.

"The Chocking Antidote," said Snape. "I don't need to tell you what it's for unless you have no idea what the word choking means. One teaspoon will be enough to clear a victim's airway. You should get a colorless potion with a little hint of a minty smell if the potion is brewed correctly. You have thirty minutes. Begin!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldron towards them and some loud chunks as everyone began to measure the ingredients.

Harry took one glance at the instruction and immediately began to work. Being an Auror, learning on how to prepare antidotes on the fly was essential. Every antidote deemed necessary would be prepared on the eve of a mission. There were also times when he needed to brew potions while on the field. Every knowledge counts whenever he went out on a mission. It will determine whether he came back alive or inside a body bag. The Chocking Antidote was one of the essential potions.

The Chocking Antidote itself was really easy to make. He remembered the recipe really well. He immediately fired up his cauldron and began to work. And within ten minutes, his potion had already turned a smooth sky blue, an indication that his potion was halfway done.

As always, like a bat, Snape would hover from table to table observing the student's progress and making snide remarks whenever he found something unpleasant. Neville as expected, got the worst of it. His potion was in bubbly red. Upon reaching the trio's table, he took a peek first inside Hermione's cauldron. Hermione's potion was progressing as it should be, though perhaps not as fast and as well as Harry's. Snape said nothing. Ron's cauldron was next in line. Snape peeked inside and all he saw was plain water with some ingredients that were boiling in it.

"No progress, Weasley? You got no more than twenty minutes to finish the potion unless you're planning to accompany Longbottom in detention," he sneered.

Ron whimpered.

Harry was busy slicing his peppermint leaves and roots when Snape finally reached him. He ignored the man and continued to work on his potion.

And for the next ten minutes, Snape stood in front of him, watching him cutting the roots and the leaves, measuring the ingredient and mixing them within the mortar, and pouring them into the cauldron. Snape continued to watch silently as Harry stirred the potion continuously within the cauldron.

Harry took a glance at Snape at one point, fully expecting him to sneer at his effort. But it was not what he found. Instead what he found was an expression of pain and sadness adorning Snape's face. Harry was indeed curious but he decided to say nothing.

Ten minutes before the class ended, Harry's potion turned colorless. A hint of minty smell rose from it.

Using a ladle, Snape scooped out some of the potions from Harry's cauldron and began to examine it. His eyebrows cocked. From the look on his face, Snape was clearly impressed. He then poured the content back into the cauldron and said, "Place an example of your potion inside a vial and put it on my desk. You may dismiss, Potter."

Harry did as told. After placing the vial on Snape's table, Harry began clearing up his work table. "I'll see you two back at the common room," he said to Ron and Hermione who were gawking at him once he was done. He then lugged his school bag over his shoulder and set off toward the Gryffindor Tower.

Little he realized that Snape was watching him silently as he went out the door.

---

Gryffindor common room, a few minutes later...

"Balderdash!"

The huge portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, revealing the Gryffindor's common room.

Harry climbed through the hole and into the common room. He put down his bag at its usual place and sank his bottom into his favorite armchair. It would be at least another ten minutes or more before Ron and Hermione would return from the dungeon so Harry decided to start doing the homework Professor Flitwick had given them. He took out some new parchments and the Standard Book of Spells Grade 4 and began writing.

He found out that he actually didn't need the textbook. Everything about the Summoning Charm was already inside his head.

He was about to dip the tip of his quill into the ink for the tenth time when Ron, Hermione, and the rest of Gryffindor's fourth year dashed in. He put his quill away and watched as a few of them began to gather around him.

"Being dismissed early from a Potions class because the teacher was impressed with your own work! That is some record!" exclaimed Seamus.

"Yeah!" said Dean Thomas. "Usually it will always be the other way around. You know Snape paraded your potion for all of us to see. You should have seen Malfoy's face. He looked like he had ingested a box full of blast-ended skrewts."

"That is-, quite something, Harry," said Hermione as she sat beside him. Her brown eyes stared at him. There was no hatred in it, just deep curiosity. "How did you do it?"

Harry could not think of what to say at first. He of course knew the reason why. He was an Auror, the best of his time. And as an Auror, being well-versed in various Auror disciplines was important. Potions Brewing was one of them. He already knew how to brew virtually every potion Snape and eventually, Slughorn, taught and would teach and he could prepare those potions in much lesser time than the amount the teachers said it would take. He was also capable of creating his own potions recipes as well. Back in his old timeline, his potion work was the reason why many of the Aurors' lives under his command were saved.

But all in all, he was glad that his amnesia didn't erase his skills.

But he could not tell that to the three boys and a girl right in front of him, could he?

"All the instructions were clearly written on the chalkboard," he said finally. "I just followed it thoroughly. Maybe I'm just lucky today. It doesn't always happen, right?"

Dean and Seamus shrugged their shoulders. "Eh, I guess that explains it," Seamus said. "I'll see you guys up in the dormitory. I'm going to dinner early. I'm hungry."

"Yeah, me too," said Dean. "See you guys later."

Both boys put away their school bags and immediately headed toward the twin-curved stairways. Ginny who had just come out of her dormitory met them halfway and gave Dean a wide smile which he returned.

"Are you lot coming for tea?" she asked the trio brightly the moment she arrived at the portrait hole.

"No," said Hermione. "We had just arrived from our class. We'll see you at dinner."

"Okay then," came the simple reply. Ginny then walked into the portrait hole and immediately disappeared to the other side.

Ron put down his school bag and sat on the other side of Harry. "You know mate, you could have shown me the way you did that potion. We both could have left early," he said.

"Ron! Snape was standing right in front of Harry the whole time! How could he help you or even me?!" said Hermione. "Just be thankful that you did not end up like Neville."

Harry sat up straight when he heard Neville's name. He had just noticed that Neville was indeed not among the group that had just returned from the dungeon. "Don't tell me, Snape slapped him with detention?" asked Harry.

Hermione sighed and nodded. "He melted his cauldron this time, Harry. I had never seen Snape so furious before. It was scary." She shuddered at the memory.

"Melted his cauldron?!" exclaimed Harry. "But the potion was not supposed to do that even if he got the mixture wrong!"

Hermione raised both her hands. "Don't ask me how it ended that way. He wasn't sitting at the same desk as us, remember? And how did you know that?"

"I don't," said Harry. "But I do know the ingredients won't give out any explosive or pyrotechnic effect even when you handle it wrongly. Poor Neville."

"Yeah, I know," nodded Hermione. "Poor Neville. Always losing his nerve whenever he's in Snape's class. Snape should cut him some slack, you know."

"He's the one who needs to grow a pair," said Ron who had remained silent. "If he keeps on losing his nerve, the bullying won't stop no matter what."

"You should not say that, Ron," said Hermione. "It's harsh for him. Try a little bit of sympathy next time."

Harry leaned against the back of his chair. He sighed. He knew Neville. Back in his old timeline, he watched Neville transform from a scared boy into a man who dared to confront Voldemort face-to-face in the Battle of Hogwarts.

But of course, in this timeline, Neville had yet to find his bravery.

"I think all of us need to cut him some slack," Harry said. "Neville is far braver than we knew. He's the descendant of the Longbottom line after all. He will grow a pair one day. All that he needs is some encouragement from us, his friends. Anyway, I'm sorry I couldn't help you back in the dungeon, Ron. You know how it went. I promise I will try next time. That is of course if Snape doesn't make 'standing in front of Harry while Harry is working' his new hobby."

Ron chuckled. "That's okay, mate. I understand," he said. Harry began to shuffle all of his parchments on that table and put them aside. He then stood up. "I'm going to the dorm to have a shower and then to dinner. Come on, Ron. We meet you back down here in fifteen minutes, Hermione."

"Thirty," said Hermione who also stood up. "Girls take longer time to prepare than boys."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right. Okay, thirty minutes then."

The trio separated and walked toward their respective dormitory.

---

Later that night at the Gryffindor common room...

Nothing much happened during dinner except for Malfoy blocking their way into the Great Hall. He was accusing Harry of doing something to Snape. Much to the trio's relief and surprise, it was Snape who ended up reprimanding Malfoy.

"First Moody and now Snape. Never thought I would see that in my whole lifetime," said Ron cheerfully as they walked towards their usual spot.

Back in the common room, the trio took out their parchments and books and began writing Charm's essay. Five minutes into doing their homework, Neville came stumbling in. He fell on all fours right in front of the portrait hole. Alarmed, the rest of the common room inhabitants rushed towards him. George and Fred were the ones who reached him first. The twins pulled Neville up by the arm.

"You're okay, Neville?" asked George.

"You look too pale, mate," said Fred. "What happened?"

Neville could only look down and mumbled incoherently. He was clearly in a state of a total nervous wreck.

"He had just come out from Snape's detention," said Hermione. "Let him sit down."

Holding Neville by his arm, the twins carried him over to one of the vacant armchairs and carefully sat him down. Hermione knelt in front of him and began asking questions. Neville did not answer any of it though. He just shook his head towards every question Hermione threw at him.

Harry who stood among the crowd silently muttered some incantations. Its effect was shown immediately. Blood began to pump through Neville's skin and soon, his face had its colors returned. Neville became calmer until he took one long breath and looked up at Hermione. He then slowly raised his hands towards her.

Hermione gasped loudly. She saw his hands were full of scratch marks. Horned toad innards were still stuck in some part of his fingers and under his nails.

"I was asked to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads," he said slowly. "You know what they're like."

"Horned toads, huh?" said Fred. "That is one nasty animal right there. Remember when we had to do the same thing as Neville here, George?"

George nodded. "The seventh nastiest thing we had done so far."

Hermione took out her wand and pointed it toward Neville's hands. She muttered the Scouring Charm incantation several times until his hands were cleaned.

"There you go, Neville. All clean but you need to go to the hospital wing to take care of these scratch marks," she said.

Neville however shook his head. "I just want to go to bed."

"No, you won't!" stated Hermione firmly. "You got to go the hospital wing, Neville. We don't know what else these injuries could do to you. Besides, I'm sure you haven't had your dinner yet."

Fred gave Hermione a pat on her shoulder. "We'll take care of this," he said. "Come on, Neville."

Both Fred and George heaved Neville by the shoulder and escorted him towards the portrait hole with Lee Jordan following them in their wake.

The trio returned to their table after Lee, Fred, George, and Neville disappeared behind the portrait.

"Poor Neville," muttered Hermione while shaking her head at the same time.

"Don't worry, Hermione. Fred and George know how to make him happy again," said Ron.

Neville returned to the common room an hour later looking happier than before. After thanking Hermione, he went up to his dormitory. Fred, George, and Lee returned half an hour later. Once again, they immediately holed up at the furthest corner of the common room away from where the trio sat.

Time ticked by as the trio continued their work on Flitwick's essay. The night was getting late. The common room's inhabitants began to trickle out until only the trio and the twins were left. Fifteen minutes before eleven, the twins rolled up their parchment and headed towards their dormitory after saying good night to the trio.

It was ten minutes past eleven when the trio heard soft taps from the window. They turned to look and saw a white snowy owl, illuminated by the moonlight, perched on the windowsill.

Harry's eyes reduced to a slit. He recognized the owl before but from whom he could not remember. "Whose owl is that?" he eventually asked.

Hermione and Ron looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

"Harry!" said Hermione. "That is your owl! Hedwig!"

Harry looked blankly at Hermione. "Hedwig?"

His eyebrows creased as he shifted through his memory. Then all of a sudden, it came to him. His owl, Hedwig was still alive within this timeline. "Hedwig!" he cried.

Of course. He was waiting for her since that morning.

Harry launched himself from his chair, dashed across the common room, and pushed open the window.

Hedwig flew inside and landed on his arm. She gave him a soft hoot.

"You're alive. You're safe," said Harry with joy. He truly missed the bird, his own true companion during the dark days at the Dursley. Hedwig was killed during the Order's attempt to rescue him from the Death Eaters during their flight from Surrey. Harry was completely

exposed back then. Hedwig took the curse in full blast in her final attempt to protect her master. While he eventually took a replacement, in his heart, nothing would replace the white snowy owl.

He then closed the window and hurriedly walked over to the table carrying Hedwig with him. He placed her on the table and began caressing her.

Hermione and Ron looked at him with utmost amusement.

"She had only gone for just for a few weeks, Harry," said Hermione, smiling. "You're acting as if you lost her for good."

Harry did not say anything. He simply continued to give his attention to the owl.

If only they knew, he thought.

"Harry," said Ron pointing to one of Hedwig's legs. "She's carrying something."

Indeed, there was a bit of parchment tied to one of her legs. He hastily untied it and sat down to read:-

Dear Harry,

I'm flying north immediately. This news of your scar is the latest in a list of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore. They're saying that Dumbledore got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means that he had read the signs even if no one else has.

I'll be in touch soon. Send my regards to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Padfoot.

Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione who looked at him back.

"He's flying north?" asked Hermione. "He's coming back?"

"Dumbledore's reading what sign?" asked Ron. "Harry, what's going on here?"

Harry folded the parchment and kept it inside his pocket. "I don't have the answer, Ron. Only Dumbledore knows."

"You're not worried that Sirius would get caught?" asked Hermione. "Everybody is looking for him, you know."

Harry shook his head. "I won't underestimate Sirius's ability, Hermione. He knows what he was doing. As long he stays below the radar, he will be fine."

Hedwig suddenly flew onto his knees and hooted softly.

Harry smiled and began caressing her once again. "You're sleeping in my room tonight, Hedwig. There's water and some owl treats I think I still have. You can go to the Owlery tomorrow morning."

Hedwig hooted softly back.

Harry then began putting away his things. With Hedwig perched on his arm, he said to his two best friends, "Let's continue tomorrow. We still have time. We got classes in the morning and we need the rest."

Both Ron and Hermione nodded and began putting away their books and parchments. The boys bid Hermione good night and they headed toward their respective dormitories.

---

Harry placed Hedwig on top of his bedside table and began scouring his trunk for some leftover owl treats. He found them at the bottom of his trunk and put the treats into a small flat bowl. He then poured some plain drinking water from the available jar into another bowl and gave the treats and the bowl of water to Hedwig. He sat on his bed and watched Hedwig eat.

"You really missed her," said Ron who had changed into his pajama and sat on his bed. "Don't you?"

Harry looked up at Ron. He smiled and simply nodded.

"Alright," said Ron, also smiling. "Well, good night, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He then pulled the curtain around his bed shut and went to sleep.

Hedwig finished eating a few minutes later. She was so hungry that she finished all of the treats Harry gave her. After she drank the water, she gave Harry a soft and tired hoot and immediately flew towards the nearest windowsill where she ended up perching. Hedwig immediately put her head under her wings and went to sleep.

"Good to see you again, old friend," he whispered as he continued watching her. "I missed you so much."

---

He reread Sirius's letter several times before putting it into his trunk. It was a surreal feeling he was having at that time. Two of the most important people in his life had returned. Well, Hedwig was not exactly a person but still, he considered her as one. She was an extremely intelligent owl after all.

He had totally forgotten that he had written a letter to his dear godfather. Of course, being thrown back in time caused confusion and some level of memory loss in him. The case with Hedwig was one of them. But still, it was good to hear from Padfoot once again. Sirius's letter was a sign. A sign that the time had come for him to start acting on his plan.

But first, he needed a plan. In his current state of mind, it would be impossible to devise one.

He sighed. He needed to see Madam Pomfrey. He needed to see her soon.

Harry suddenly noticed the vial of potion Madame Pomfrey gave him, sitting untouched on his bedside table. He took the vial and began examining the white-colored potion within it.

Madam Pomfrey said it would help him sleep. Maybe he should have taken it. A night of good sleep will do good for him.

He opened the vial stopper and drank the potion in one go. After placing the empty vial back on the side table, he pulled the curtain around his bed and went to sleep.

Little did he realize that beginning tomorrow, many things would change.

To be continued...

A/n: Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to rant just a little bit. You can also read this in my profile:-

I love how people assumed I'm here because I'm desperate for attention. I love how people assumed I'm desperate for readers flocking to my story and I love how some people assume I'm desperate to keep 'em. I can assure you guys that none of them are true. I mean what's the point? Will I gain anything from getting 100,000 followers on this site? No. Do I get financial gain from it? FFnet doesn't pay. Reputation? Reputation on FFnet is absolutely useless.

I'm here simply because I have something to share. No more and no less. If you like what I dish out, good for you. If not, go somewhere else. I hate people dictating what I should write and what I should not. This is just a hobby, something I do when I got spare time, and for the next couple of weeks, I got spare time. Tbh during my absence from this site, I gave no thought to the story. At one point, I even decided just to leave the story as it is, untouched forever.

FFnet is a place where we should celebrate creativity. This should be where different concepts and ideas of storytelling are accepted. It no longer feels that way.

My patience is wearing very thin right now and honestly, I am very tired. Tired of people forcing their perspective on me and tired of people who thought they know more about my story than I do. I just hope that I won't do anything drastic like pulling the plug on my involvement in this site because for many weeks, I have been thinking of doing just that.

To the rest of you guys who had given me love and unwavering support, happy reading. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter and I'll see you in the next one. Hopefully.