Harry took a deep breath when he woke up and realized he was back in Hogwarts. He was certain that it was a dream, because he had that same level of awareness. It was his fifth year; he knew right away from the fact that the twins were pushing an untested product on a first-year. Frowning, he put off deciding what to do in that timeline.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked. "Why are we doing this? That product's untested. You'll never make it if you don't find a better way of testing your stuff."

Fred shrugged.

"All of our testers are appropriately compensated," he said. "Store credit's been more popular than forged passes to get out of Binns's class."

"I- okay, as an investor, you should at least make your test subjects more aware of what could happen to them before they start on it."

"We've never had anyone go to the Hospital Wing over it," George said after a moment. He seemed somewhat taken aback by Harry's change in course. "When we give someone something, we already have an idea of what it does, and we're just making sure it has the exact effect we thought on the subject."

"Sure," he said. "Sure, I'll take your word for it, but I just want them to be aware of the effects." He walked off immediately after saying as much to skip past Fred's joke about how it was so much more fun to watch their expressions of surprise about finding out everything first hand. There was an obvious thing to do; he had to kill Voldemort himself; he was sure that he had already destroyed the Horcruces at least once. Really, it was baffling that he had ever ended up in a time after one where h had resolved things; he had even done as much as he could about the shade. How had his mortal enemy found a way to return?

"Harry, what are you doing out of class?" Hermione said, catching him walking around.

"That's not important right now," he said, putting a hand on each shoulder. Her eyes went wide. "I've traveled through time. I need you to tell me a few things."

It did not take long to catch him up. Apparently, the Dark Lord had disappeared for many years and it was a total shock when someone claiming to be the same appeared. The trial was being held in public, and he had been requested to appear, so the expectation was that he would keep up with his schoolwork until then and he had been closely monitored.

"I should have guessed it would be something like that," he muttered. "There must be some other version of myself, and I've been doing everything for him." He looked around. "I wouldn't be surprised if I even agreed to something like this. I'll be going, but not the way they expect.

At least, for the first time, the opportunity was made for him and he did not have to make it himself. It was entirely possible that he was looking at a proxy, or another shade, but at least he did not have to search the whole world over. It seemed like he barely had any friends, but at least Hermione believed him when he told her that he was traveling through time, so the last time that he saw her counted for some reason. Walking out of and away from the school, he apparated to a rooftop on Diagon Alley. If the version of him they were trying to ensnare never really did anything, then they were probably expecting him to go like a lamb to the slaughter; maybe Dumbledore was trying to save him, but if they had already done something about him, then they were expecting everything to go smoothly.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I need intel. I don't expect you to know everything. A version of you taught me this, though, so thanks for that." Mobilicorpus Erecto. The body rose and floated next to him. "Can you cast a confundus?"

"I... well enough... it was in supplemental reading..."

"Well enough- I'll take your word for it." He used a blasting hex to open the chimney above a fireplace probably used for the Floo Network. Magical buildings rarely had highly convenient air conditioning ducts

"It's as you suspected," she said. "We haven't really had a Headmaster in weeks. After there was a massive increase in bullying-"

"-probably their own proxies-"

"-they threatened to arrest him after rushing a strict liability policy through the Wizengamot and now he's not been seen in-"

"It's pretty much the same, then. They say that time is like a river... or maybe this is just the extent to which I can imagine some other scenario." He scowled. His friend looked uncertain about being up on a rooftop miles away from where they were supposed to be, but for her to be breaking rules, there must have been nothing else that they might have done.

"Harry, if you can apparate, then... I know you're traveling through time, but it might be best to just try to get out of this one. They're only bringing you in as a witness on paper; they have so many people in this government that it wouldn't be a challenge for them to just hand you over in the middle of the trial."

"Get out of this one?" he asked. "You've made it sound like I've gotten out of a lot so far."

"Well... sometimes there isn't anything else that can be done-"

Just then, the crack of apparation rang out behind them and he forced himself out of the way a moment before a killing curse could hit him.

"Ahead of the curve for once, Potter?" It was Lucius Malfoy. "You mustn't think we don't prepare for this sort of thing. Everyone who could not have been intimidated into compliance has been removed. Nothing can stop us at this point."

"I'm sure you believe that," he said. "How did you locate Voldemort's shade?"

"The shade found us. If you'll believe it, the first thing that it told us was not to underestimate you, perhaps the only reason we spent so long setting all this in motion. He merged with one particular loyalist, whom we found worthy, and is a shade no longer. I have always been patient, and the rest of us are similar cases, but this moment, more so than any other, I find now perfectly worth the wait."

"He has to kill me himself," he said. "I've heard the prophecy. Get behind me, Hermione."

He could not tell whether it was because of the conviction in his voice or the fear she felt, or some combination, that she immediately went along with what he commanded. Lucius cast something unrecognizable in their direction, but it was easy to avoid, and return with a confundus. The older wizard blocked it, but it was covering his apparation, taking him behind his target, whom he took down with a stunner.

"He's more valuable alive," he muttered. It was easier to use Legilimency on an unconscious mind, especially one that had no time to be prepared, as was routine before sleep. He saw several of the enemy's memories, including scenes of his master. "Do you know the charm I just used?"

"I... well, it was supplemental reading... I suppose I can use it well enough..."

"Well enough," he repeated. "I'll take your word for it." He cast a blasting hex on the chimney's rain cap, probably scaring the daylights out of a hypothetical person below just trying to use the floo. Magical buildings were constructed without the highly convenient air ducts of spy movies, because the temperature of the air was controlled by magic, but no one ever looked up a chimney sweep; not in his experience anyway. The way down was quick and provided a nasty shock for the house elf, to whom his partner apologized profusely.

"We're not hurting her," he muttered. "Keep moving."

The two of them were lucky enough to be in an otherwise empty room. Voldemort would be right on top of him during the trial, but he would be surrounded by his own supporters, not just in the room, but in the surrounding rooms, and in the surrounding buildings; that was the best way of keeping anyone else from coming to Harry's aid, not that he was not confident in his ability to win the encounter, merely not so foolish as to fail to anticipate being trapped while setting a trap. A careful sweep of Legilimency was enough to reveal two passing Death Eaters, and it was starting to feel more like a regular dream when he hit each of them in the back of the neck with a severing charm without making a sound, cutting their laughing mirth short.

"Harry, you're muttering something about fighting old battles again."

"Don't worry about it," he responded. "Diffindo. You don't have to kill them if you don't want to." She was barely pulling weight and he hardly minded; he just needed someone to hit everyone that he could not justify killing, and so far it was better to have her around than not. "The only advantage I have here is the fact that they don't see any of this coming. They've probably even used Divination to see if someone else would be here- and that doesn't account for time travel."

"Does it not?" she asked. "Harry, I thought that if it was even a real discipline, then everything that we've heard about it-"

"It is a real discipline, and I've heard more about it than you. Diffindo." That time, his target was a chandelier in a long hallway, and he did not even go down that way, assuming without looking that it hit the target, a Ministry employee just going along with the whole set-up.

"Harry, can you sense him?" she asked. "Is he somewhere around here?"

"I can never sense him in a dream," he admitted. "I know he's here, though."

The two of them ducked into a closet to allow enemies to pass before jumping out and hitting them with blasting hexes. It was hard to say whether Hermione was just fighting for her life or that the stream of death taking place around her made it easier to cast a lethal spell. It was not powerful, of course, but hitting the right place made it effectively impossible to survive. She stood there staring and taking deep breaths over and over.

"This isn't like third year," she managed. "This isn't like that at all. Was that you then?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "I was traveling through time that time too. Let's just say that I'm back to finish what I started."

Quietly, he figured that Lord Voldemort would most likely be somewhere within the range to see him and kill him personally in the courtroom. He was supposedly the one on trial, after all- his followers probably knew that he did not like to take risks to his own life, and he could justify avoiding unnecessary risks, but he had a hard time seeing a planning phase in which he said that he would be across the street taking out a restrained, beardless boy with a killing curse from cover in another building, not that it was an option, since all the courtrooms were underground. Even if he had more time, though, he could probably not kill all the backup that his enemy could call, so it was more a matter of finding him and killing him before anyone expected it. He stole a black robe off one of the smaller ones. They were without their silver masks that they would normally use for a public appearance, but most likely intended to don them at some point.

"Any idea about polyjuice potion?" he asked.

"I can't just brew it here," she said.

"I should have guessed." It meant little that she had brewed it before, or that he thought she had. Was that all that he needed, to believe that he had done something in the past, and then he would have done it? It seemed like there was little he could do about the shade of his enemy returning, not while there was one other horcrux. The dream, however, felt terribly real and it seemed like anything he could do to the one within him would preclude him from waking up, and that was the whole point. If he only had a few more dreams to endure, though, then as long as he did whatever was necessary to wake up, then he would no longer have to worry about the timeline. The fact that he had not returned to a year in his life at least to him suggested that the enemy had only a limited number of chances, if it was true that the dreams were in some way sent by Voldemort.

"What are we doing?" his friend asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what I'm doing at all." He took a deep breath. "I just need to keep trying, no matter what happens. He can't hide forever, not when I'm awake. I don't know if I'm ready to face him or not, but if he's attacking from long range now, then now might be the best chance I have."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's not important right now. I've got a hunch as to why I can't feel his presence- did I say that this was a dream earlier?"

"I don't remember-"

"I guess you wouldn't."

Right then, there was a general alarm in the building; he could hear it from a ways off, but he knew it was over anyway. He had not located the enemy in time to take him out before the whole trial was canceled, and that meant he would most likely back out. There was only one thing that occurred to him that he could do to keep things moving.

"I have to report in as a witness."

"What?" Hermione asked. "How can you say that? Didn't you come all this way just to-"

"I didn't know what I was doing here," he said. "I was just acting. I'm thinking more consciously about the best course of action now. I need to get to the other entrance, the regular one-"

He could not apparate out, but he could get back out the way he came, crossing the roof, and then dropping down to the street, casting a momentum arrest charm to slow his fall, and that of his friend. They went to the front where a last Death Eater was waiting for them, apparently quite relieved to see him. It had been a while since he had seen Rabastan Lestrange, but he was not similarly relieved.

"Ah, the famous Boy Who Lived. I suppose we couldn't have a trial without some sort of witness. Who is your friend?"

"She's Hermione Granger. She thought the whole thing would be rather educational."

"Indeed. I can hardly think of a more momentous occasion to want to witness first hand. They say that this is the first draft of history."

They went in without another word, where their wands were checked. It was probably the most common method of verifying someone's identity because apparently anyone who had studied wandlore enough could tell if they were being held by their original owners. It was the kind of thing that seemed ridiculous on the outside looking in, but Ollivander, while a true expert, a wandmaker, and a bit eccentric with the craft, was not completely in a league of his own in terms of his ability to identify wands and their wielders at a glance.

"We call this trial to order," Cornelius Fudge began, as soon as everything was in place. "I have received word that there have been several bodies discovered on the premises... and I have been advised, in all good faith and credit... that because they were saboteurs, never invited to these proceedings, and some of them were missing from Azkaban... that the trial should proceed as originally scheduled, the better to thwart whatever plans they might have had before they met their fate."

The entire room was abuzz despite a loud banging of the gavel. Harry felt the worst for anyone who was going to have to clean up after the mess; the Minister was already abdicating responsibility for the mess to those beneath him- he could only be blamed if they failed in the normal course of their duties, not exceptional circumstances. In fairness, though, perhaps it could be said that he wore too many hats. It was strange for him as the head of the Wizengamot to function in both judicial and legislative capacities, with executive authority through the Auror Corps reporting to him.

"Let us waste no time," the prosecutor said. The name plate on his table, uselessly, read 'Parkinson'- he was the spitting image of his daughter, or rather, she his, and there was probably no one who would fail to guess where she got her snide looks. It was strange, though, to see such an expression beaded with sweat. Something had gone decidedly well for the defense, or rather, for the client that the Death Eater ally was really representing. Most likely, they had planned everything out for years- apparently there had even been a secret jailbreak right out from under the dementors. It almost seemed impossible he could have come up with the whole thing himself. "I shall begin listing the charges of which the defendant stands accused. Perhaps it is unusual to do so before he enters the court-"

"It's not prohibitively unusual," Fudge said. Perhaps he was as uneasy about everything that was going on, but he seemed to be similarly inclined to get things started, perhaps before they could get any worse, both servants to a different master whom they hoped had a better idea of the situation. Dolores Umbridge, of all people, interrupted.

"Hem hem." It was like she said it rather than coughing. Did she think that someone would mistake that for a cough? Did it matter? "If you will excuse a member of the court, I happen to think it is prohibitively unusual, if you apply the Wampus Cat decision; the trial should not be hurried to defeat the purpose of someone trying to delay it."

"Then I would not advise worry," the voice of Albus Dumbledore said right as he was entering. "The trial will be started, but by no means hurried. It may, as has happened, take all day, or more than that. I hear there are muggles in California in the seventh month of a much-belabored trial over a substantially simpler matter."

"I see the representative for the defense has arrived," the Minister observed, annoyed.

"Yes; if you will believe it this follows a momentarily concerning departure from a tower on the North Sea surrounded by a few of my detractors."

Nothing short of ten Death Eaters could have trapped him, not even in Azkaban, but he did not seem inclined to dress up the necessity of his daring escape as an attack on his opponent; Harry was equally sure that there was no admissible, legal way to connect Parkinson with any of them, or else he never would have been allowed to represent the people against Voldemort. What confused him, even in his own dream, was the reason that his Headmaster had decided to take the other position. Was he just sandbagging, occupying the position first so that no one could more expertly defend the enemy? Would that work, though, if the defendant had the right to choose his own counsel?

It was only then that the court turned again to look at the entrance tunnel, probably not coincidentally similar to the design of a coliseum, and more questions followed. He had expected the same dark wizard he had known, but instead it was none other than Severus Snape. It seemed like the whole court was at a loss for a moment, but then expressions all around the room hardened.

"What?" Harry whispered. His friend next to him could offer no information, but she put took his hand as if to see if comfort would be a suitable substitute. The scene was still for a moment, as if holding its breath, and in the next moment, there was entirely too much going on for anyone to follow.