A/N: Hello people and thank you so much for your support! Here's a time-travelling short shorty (2 parts total atm) for you all!
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Harry dodged to the left, the sight of the spell streaking towards him only just visible in his peripheral vision, but it was too late. It struck him in the right side of his chest, and it threw him to the ground, hard. As he was launched thereto, and in the direction of the archway that'd only just been beyond him, the world went dark and the noise of the fighting around him ceased to be in its entirety.
When he came to, Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed, and he most certainly wasn't sure where he now found himself. No, as Harry rose from the ground and took in his surroundings, he wasn't at all where he'd previously been.
But the more he took it in, the less unfamiliar the place seemed to be. Sure it was different, and the portraits were in different positions… but he recognised the place now that he'd seen more of it; this was Hogwarts. His home, or as good as.
How had that spell sent him from the Ministry, to Hogwarts? That didn't make a lick of sense. He'd have to go and find Professor McGonagall, or Dumbledore — maybe Dumbledore was already back here looking for him.
Yes, he'd try that.
Harry stood up, held aloft his arms so as to ascertain his balance, and after doing so, started the walk that'd see him to the Headmaster's office.
He reached it in no time.
Hogwarts had been correct, but something terrible had happened. The spell that'd struck him had done more than banish him to another location, it'd done more than anything he could have ever thought — the spell had gone so far as to send him back in time. He wasn't sure how it worked, he wasn't sure why it'd happened to him, if it was an accident; he had no details whatsoever.
Dumbledore, this version of him at the very least, seemed very much like the one from his time, and so he'd immediately offered up aid whilst an air of understanding was around him all the while.
Such was the reason Harry now found himself enrolled in Hogwarts and a part of Gryffindor once more. It was strange how quickly he settled into a new norm, week later as it was, but the strangest part had yet to come. He'd come to learn that as he made his way out of the Great Hall, to the space before it where students oft lingered.
It was there he bumped into a witch in green robes, with wavy black hair and a face he recognised regardless of age; Bellatrix Lestrange. Immediately, his hand itched for his wand, even sans the insidious look that was often enough on her face.
He resisted, but only just. "Excuse me." His voice was brash, and he gave a nod before making to move past her.
The last thing he needed was a conversation with a teenaged Bellatrix Les— Black.
Bellatrix held up an arm, blocking him from doing as he wished while her friends continued past them; she'd told them to go on ahead. "You're the transfer Professor Dumbledore made mention of in his speech," Bellatrix's voice was confident and knowing, her words a statement more than they were a question. "What family did you say you were from?"
"I didn't."
Dumbledore, nor any of the other staff had said it either. His last name had, conveniently, been forgotten about as a person had interrupted the announcement, and no amendment had been given. He'd simply been ushered, silently, to the Gryffindor table, and there throughout the rest of the week he'd kept a right low profile. One that'd seen him interact with as few people as possible, so as to mitigate any issues his doing so could cause.
And yet, for some reason, here Bellatrix was, grilling him. He found it annoying, looking at her. She was fit, right fit. Her face didn't have the age lines nor the toll of Azkaban thereon, no, she was, dare he say, pretty, and based on the arm that was still held aloft as she awaited an answer, quite pushy as well; that was of no surprise.
"Tell me," Bellatrix grabbed one of his arms and looped her own through it, before pulling him back into the Great Hall which he'd just left. "I'll not leave you alone until I've found out. I despise not knowing something."
Harry blinked at Bellatrix — this Bellatrix — as she took him back whence he'd come. She wasn't at all how she should be, or maybe, how she'd later become. This Bellatrix was energetic and bubbly, if also demanding and seemingly without care as to what others thought.
Really, Harry didn't know what to do. A part of him was predisposed to dislike her on account of what she'd done in his time, yet, she seemed different here. Alive, and in a way she hadn't been previously. Here, for example, there was a light in her eyes. One that'd been lacking when he'd seen her at the Ministry.
"Remain silent a moment longer if you wish to take me to Hogsmeade. You'd pay, of course."
At that, and as Bellatrix sat them down at the Slytherin table, he looked her way and exhaled. "Really?"
Bellatrix raised her nose at him. "Really."
"What if I can't say?"
She shrugged. "You will eventually. I'd wear you down, or you'd fall in love with me — whichever comes first."
Harry snorted. "Confident of that, are you?"
Bellatrix fixed him with a look that was more winning and fanciable than any he'd seen from a Slytherin of his era. Greengrass, Parkinson, the upper years, not one could match her poise or elegance. "Yes. Once I've set my eyes on something I want, I'm never dissuaded."
Something she wants?
He swallowed. Harry wasn't used to a witch that direct. Well, he wasn't really used to witches in general. "We'll see."
The answering smile he received from her was positively predatory. "We shall."