Harry was in another dream.

"Third year?" he asked quietly, sitting up. He only said as much because he was on the Night Bus, still taking him to the Leaky Cauldron, as it had been years ago. He was familiar with the time and place, about as much as he could be- the only problem was he had no idea whom he was meant to kill in order to wake up. The bus arrived on schedule and he got out, trying to will the dream to change, anything that could help. After the past few times, he knew that he was still sleeping in real life, and unfortunately it did not seem that time was passing much faster. He found himself pacing the hallway as he retraced his steps, an exercise in getting himself to think in that mode. "The Riddle House doesn't have anyone in it yet. Pettigrew only fled there after this year, and he must have found Voldemort's main soul haunting the place, and made him something resembling that body. Even though I know just where he is, killing him won't do me any good."

After what felt like hours, he snapped his fingers and got out of bed. Hermione had told him of a meeting she attended just before school started that would prove most productive for him to attend himself. He remembered that they lost the rat tonic and the Head Boy badge at some point, though she never would have used the Time Turner to find them if she had it already.

"She has to be still at home at this point. Not on the floo network, but there's no reason I shouldn't be able to apparate... it's not a spell, so the Ministry shouldn't... it's in a magical area, but going to a nonmagical area..."

Sighing, he got out his broom and flew to the London Outskirts under the cloak, thinking about how he had envisioned doing that just before the Night Bus had shown up, thinking he would have to live as an outlaw after violating the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Sorcery. The Nimbus 2000 couldn't match the Firebolt in terms of raw speed, but there was something smooth and workable about the action- it had been perfect for his development. Sure enough, he found the Granger residence just where it would be years later, an old townhouse that seemed a paradise at the moment. Knocking on the door after stowing his stuff, he was pleasantly surprised to see the pleasant surprise of the girl's father.

"Oh, are you a school friend?"

"Yes, I'm just here to... get caught up on my summer assignments. I was thinking I would ask for help finishing up."

"No trouble. It's a bit late, but Hermione will be thrilled to see you. I must say I was under the impression you couldn't really travel."

"I had to get creative this time."

Harry was still kind of surprised with the way she used to look when he saw her, not that he spent too much time going over it, not with everything that was going on. He noticed her even less in those days; he just sort of accepted what she looked like and thought none too much of it. She looked over at him and sure enough, her face lit up.

"Hermione, I really wish you'd inform us when you're having friends over, especially this late." The man said nothing about the fact that it was a male friend and not a female friend. Parents were usually more patient with guests around, even the Dursleys, who practically stifled their son in affection, were even more permissive and forgiving with guests, such as Vernon's work friends, though they would make a show of having the home in order, and Dudley would play along with it, at least to some extent.

"Of course," she said. "To be completely honest, I didn't know he was coming."

"Then how did he find his way here? Did you tell him how to get here just for whenever he wanted to drop by? You must realize that's the same thing as inviting a guest without telling us."

"I did send him letters, and I know this may come as a shock, but owls know how to find people with just an address, so he could have followed the owl here on his broomstick without too much trouble."

It was even cleverer as a lie. While it sounded viable, owls could not be persuaded to fly slowly, and practically speaking it was impossible to follow them with one's eyes. As a Seeker, he might have a better than average chance, but he lost sight of the Snitch multiple times every game. It was also not advisable to go long distances at the altitude that owls would fly from a Secrecy perspective, which was why it was not a common solution to the problem of having to find people, though he was sure people tried it here and there.

"I should be the one apologizing for showing up unannounced," he said after a moment. "I shouldn't have taken the fact that you sent me a letter as an open invitation."

"That's remarkable mature of you, Harry," Dr. Granger said. He did not believe he had said his name, but at that point the man's daughter only had two friends and it was easy to cross off the Weasley. "Well, I can't really hold you to a standard, as I'm sure you know, but I do expect Hermione to follow our rules and be honest."

"He's very polite, father; he didn't grow up in such a nice home like I did."

"Oh... oh, I see. It's late, so I'll allow you to get you to your work." The fact that it was more disturbing than anything else that a boy's reason for developing manners was that he was not in an ideal family life was not lost on the dentist, and he had a legitimate excuse for leaving the two of them to it. Whether or not the young witch got another word about it down the road was still up in the air.

"I always thought your parents were strict," he said. "Now I think I see it's that they were fair."

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind that. Hermione, I'm sure that you've only just recently received the Time Turner."

"Yes... I was instructed not to use it, not even to practice it... the fact that you're here... must mean that you have one too... or did I go back to the past and then tell you about it?"

"Technically, neither, but it doesn't matter. The point is that I need to borrow yours."

"Harry... Professor McGonagall told me that I might be tempted to do all sorts of things to change the past, but I mustn't... I absolutely mustn't try to go back and change things. She told me about all sorts of historical attempts to change the past and they were all horrible."

"This isn't the real timeline," he said. "I have to change it back."

"Um, well... you seem really certain about this... a lot more than usual... so I don't think I can really refuse, but... be careful."

"I promise."

Harry did not know whether to go back or forward, but he knew that if he went too far in either direction, he would not be able to stay there for long, and it would become dangerous. He had no way of understanding what the magical theory would suggest, but he was reasonably certain that if he died in the dream, he would at the very least never wake up in real life, and there was no point in working out what exactly that meant for the prophecy. Deciding that around a year and a half was a shorter trip than thirteen plus, he went forward, spinning the Time Turner until he reached his own fourth year, and apparated to the grave of Tom Riddle Senior, a place he had visited a few times on the theory, or really a vain hope, that on the theory, or really a vain hope, that there was some restriction on Voldemort's soul that he had to be around his own horcruces, but there was nothing there, just like the other times that he had visited. Once or twice, Luna had asked him if he really thought it was a good idea for him to go by himself, and he ignored it.

He looked around, not sure what to do. According to everything he knew, Wormtail was already supposed to be there with the package... but there was no one there. It looked like there had not been anyone there in a long time. He turned the earth with his wand and the bones of the dark wizard's father were still there.

"Most likely, I was just off," he decided, muttering to himself as he looked around. He cast a few diagnostic spells before apparating to the Riddle House. There was no one there either. It was not as if killing Quirrell in the dream about first year had- wait, had he not done that in the first place? Technically, he had not killed Voldemort, only his host, forcing him to flee. What was enough, exactly? It was not simply delaying his enemy's plans. He was still not sure whether or not he had a consistent timeline in his dreams, but it was starting to seem like he did. On his left hand, he noticed another scar, no worse than the one on his forehead, certainly, but he had no idea where or when he picked it up.

It must have been second year.

Sighing, he cast a few dark detection charms, like he did in the graveyard, and found the ring buried under the floorboards. There were some amount of magical protections on it, but those in themselves made it possible to find. Harry mentally shrugged. Tom Riddle had probably only been sixteen or seventeen when making the Horcrux, so it was not as if he could have been terribly thorough about it, or even, in his thoroughness, he might have made a mistake that would have been hard to catch. All in all, it was not terribly well-protected, but had the Order not told him where it had been found so he could cross that place off the list, he never would have known; he only got the faintest of a response from all of his detection charms and he would have dismissed that sort of thing normally. Apparating as close as he could get to Hogwarts, he took his broom over, sneaking through the hump witch statue, and making his way to the Chamber of Secrets. There was a wreck where the place had been. It was like the basilisk had to try fighting its way out. He found a fang at length and destroyed the ring, which was easier than he would have thought. Was it just because it was a dream? There was no way that it was simply a dream though.

Especially, he decided, because he did not then wake up. The world sped up around him as before, and he soon found himself back in third year, a far faster process than the one that took him only a few months in the future. It would have been simpler just to go forward to the moment before he killed the strange, infantile version of his enemy, but he had thought it would have to be different for some reason; it was hard to figure out how the rules of the dream worked at all. If the dream was a real timeline, could he sabotage his other self by taking his target away from him? Could he make it so that he had never woken up back then?

He had to destroy the other Horcruces. It was the only idea he had in mind, and the only thing that had a chance of working. If he had reduced the presence of the Lord Voldemort to that, then he could travel through time to destroy the rest of them. Since he was already at Hogwarts, he needed to get the diadem and destroy it, then move on to the rest of them from there. The Lestrange vault would be easy enough to find, since he had been there before, but there was no easy way to get in- but if he just stood there with the Time Turner, he could keep going back step by step until someone opened it, then sneak in, invisible. Most of the others were easy. He went to find Sirius, since at the current point he could not get into the Black family residence. It seemed dangerous to use the Time Turner overmuch.

Hours later, or however he could measure it; he was sure not too much time had passed, he and his godfather were crossing the threshold.

"What's that?" the older wizard asked, confused, pointing at a destroyed cup as he tossed it aside.

"It's a container for a fragment of Voldemort's soul. I'm trying to destroy them all."

"Heavens, Harry, have you been doing this all by yourself?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I would have thought there would be someone out there to help you."

"I don't need the help for the most part." He looked around and saw that the place was a total mess, but that was to be expected. The two of them went straight to the kitchen. "It's easier when you already know where everything is."

"It's just like you said," he observed, taking the locket out of its place. "I've given you a lot of credence so far, but I... what is all this? How do you know all this?"

"I've traveled back in time." He told the locket to open and destroyed it without a moment of hesitation. "I need your help with something else."

"What?"

"The snake shouldn't be a Horcrux at this point... but I haven't finished yet... that must mean I need to go to the point where there are none, and I'll have it under control." He sincerely hoped that he would never get stuck in another such dream. After everything he had done, he was sure that there was nothing else he could do. "I'll need you to fetch me a dementor if this doesn't work."

Harry spun the Time Turner forward again and was surprised when he woke with a start, gasping as he threw himself out of bed in the Order headquarters, flanked on either side by the sleeping forms of Daphne and Hermione. It was only the moment he stopped panicking that he realized at least more than a night had passed, and that it was already the next day. The two of them must have aided in trying to wake him up, and either their attempts were unsuccessful, or they were, but he had no idea what influence they had on his dream.

Silently reaching out to her with Legilimency, he told his old friend that he was okay.

"Harry? Are you really all right? I couldn't get through to you..."

"I'm fine. I had another one of those dreams. I don't know what's going to happen next, but I know I'm not done with them. I'll let you get back to sleep."

"Tell Daphne that you're okay..."

He did, and with that he walked out. It was still the middle of the night, and he did not want to ruin his own sleep schedule, but there had already been countless times that he had to be up late at night and sleep during the day, so it was a moot point. It was yet another thing that he was putting off until 'after all of this is over'. He sighed. It was difficult to remind himself that even if things went the way he wanted, and he managed to kill Voldemort, against all odds, there was a good chance he would have to die himself, as an accidental Horcrux, and then there was a chance that his friends would still be locked in conflict with the Ministry and the Death Eaters in a power struggle, and their side would have lost its figurehead.

"It's strange to see you up this late," Sirius said. He had only just returned from a mission with Remus, contacting the werewolves to make sure of their non-intervention. With Fenrir Greyback no longer reaching out to them, making olive branches between some of the old tribal conflicts, the job was easier, but still not easy. Other Order members had been asked to visit foreign countries and see that they would not intervene, and some of them had agreed, if not in an official capacity, but even most of them could provide no guarantee that they would not admit any refugees from the conflict. No one could promise that, though, so it was a moot point; that would be involving themselves, even if they did not really pick a side.

"It's... well, I'm not sure what's going on." He had told them about Horcruces, of course, and they had helped in their capacity, but both of them seemed to want to do more from time to time. Was he only making it worse by telling them about some problem that they could not solve? Either way, it seemed they wanted to know.

"That's... concerning," his former teacher said. "I cannot help but think that only Professor Dumbledore would know anything about that."

"I'm sure he's heard at this point," he said. "The fact that he hasn't directly responded means he doesn't know either." He frowned. It seemed rather obvious that he should not, after all, have told them. His godfather surprised him by clapping a hand on his shoulder. It was nothing, and yet it meant a lot to him.

"Tell him either way," Sirius said. "Sometimes you have to keep at it to get an answer out of someone."

"He's hid things from me before."

"That's true, but I doubt you asked," Remus said. "There are few things that are harder for him to resist than a student earnestly asking him something about his or her own case. When I was a kid, I didn't fully understand what I was doing as a werewolf, and he told me, even though it was hard for me to hear. If he doesn't know, you'll at least know that."

"I advised you to go to him over this years ago. I know you might find it easier to talk to me, but that's partially because of the same factors that make me less able to help you. I know it was just a strange dream back then, but this sounds like it's recurring in a worse way. You're fighting for your life as I understand it."

"I... you're right. The situation isn't sustainable. I had hoped that what was wrong was related to Hermione and Daphne's condition, but think it's fair to say that it isn't, at this point. I was even hoping that I would help them."

"He's been hard to reach even for us, always busy with something," the werewolf explained. "I'll send an owl."

"What's he trying to do?"

"Most likely?" his godfather asked. "He's trying to locate Voldemort. He feels awful about everything that's happened, especially recently. It's clear if you've seen him."

"Finding him? Why? We don't need to force a fight."

"This situation isn't as sustainable as you think," his former teacher said. "You and your friends haven't even finished school and you've become resistance fighters. We, the adults, need to end this. Whatever the prophecy says, there's nothing to stop us from hacking his arms and legs off and tossing him in front of you."

"I wouldn't have a problem with that either," he said darkly. "For the record, I'm sorry I stopped the two of you from killing Pettigrew years ago, but even that wouldn't have been the end of it. That would have only lulled us into a false sense of security."

"You would have grown up, Harry," Sirus said. "Your experiences might have hardened you and forced you to study more, but you would be more able to handle everything if this had all happened when you were already an adult."

"Well, that's one timeline that I've never experienced," he said after a moment. "As promised, I'll talk with Dumbledore."

He could only hope that it would not take him away from something even more important.