Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

...

Harry stared at his target and for the life of him he had no idea how to approach her. The girl in question was escorting Fleur down to the lake, perhaps for a picnic or just to get away from the nonsense in the halls. Knowing Luna like he did in a past lifetime, it could be either of those reasons or something that he couldn't even begin to fathom.

The reason for his stare was that he needed to question Luna but had yet to figure out just how to say what he needed. I mean, waltzing up and questioning why her mother was alive would just be plain rude. The fact that in their opening conversation aboard the Hogwarts Express at the start of the school term resulted in Luna haphazardly stating that her mother was aware that Harry had saved her life!

Rubbing at his temples, Harry tried to prevent the migraine he knew was threatening his mind. He could recollect that Pandora Lovegood had perished when she had tried to weave magic of her own creation. The timing however didn't match, considering that the unfortunate event took place before his leap through time. If it was his jump back into his eleven year old self which had caused Pandora to be alive...well that just caused more headaches than he cared to admit.

He had come up with a couple of theories regarding the situation. Time travel was not a new concept, not in the slightest. Fiction writers had been messing with the theory of time travel for decades now so one of them, theoretically, had to be somewhat on point.

First theory regarded Pandora's spell. It could very well have killed her in the original timeline but had transported her to this timeline. Of course, that then meant that this timeline existed before Harry had crashed his way into it. That also didn't explain as to how Harry had saved her life. So for now that theory was no longer on the table but had yet to be thrown in the trash completely. One could never discount anything in this world of magic after all.

Second theory was that when he had 'awoken' with the Sorting Hat atop his head in front of the rest of the faculty, his body and mind had been acting on their own for several years earlier. Theoretically he could have travelled back to when he was a toddler for example and he had only become aware that he had actually travelled through time when the Sorting Hat had probed his mind. If that had been the case then he couldn't have actively gone out of his way to protect Pandora on whatever day it was that she was meant to die, otherwise he wouldn't have greeted Luna for the 'first time' on the train. Again, a work in progress but it did hold some kind of merit...if he could find any proof.

His third theory was only a possibility if one considered time as if it were similar to that of a river. He having been thrust into the water meant that he would flow down the same path, however the ripples he had created during his splash flowed in all directions. That included against the current. This theory currently held the strongest possibility but still didn't explain how Pandora had been able to potentially feel a ripple and consequently stop herself from casting that single spell. It also begged a question regarding what else had happened in the year or so before his time jump plopped him in the Great Hall. Having come in with all the knowledge he had required only for something completely left field to throw everything out of whack could make everything change. Professor Kettleburn could choose not to resign from her position and Hagrid wouldn't become the Care of Magical Creatures Teacher. Professor Trelawney could not foresee his death on a regular basis. The Triwizard Tournament could potentially not happen. Lockhart could stop being an annoying prat.

As unlikely as any of these situations were, if he chose to believe this theory then he had to be prepared for any sort of changes that might alter the future he knew to happen.

Although speaking of Lockhart.

"Ah, Harry my boy, glad to see you," proudly announced the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher as he swaggered up to where Harry was poised.

Harry had kind of just let the fake waltz about the halls, untargeted at the moment in time. The initial wave of awe from having such an 'established' wizard teaching them had slowly but surely drained away given his incompetence as a professor but he felt it was still too early to ambush him. Given his inept attitude it was more likely than not that he would make enough of a fool out of himself.

Also he didn't want to give the man any sort of reason to go to the tabloids about how he was pranked by a group of unspecified individuals. Given his way with elaborating every story he told, chances were that Potter Club would garner a poor reputation if he said the wrong thing. Harry figured that once George had returned from France he could set the twins on him.

This had also become his train of thought when he realized it would still be some manner of time until the Boggart he had purchased to arrive. Heavens knew what was taking the people he had hired so long to track one down.

"Professor, I take it that you have merely stumbled upon my presence and haven't been trying to track me down," said Harry, turning to face Lockhart. "If you have been then people may get the wrong idea."

"Nonsense my boy," blustered Lockhart with an illustrious wave of the hand. "How could anybody get the wrong idea of a teacher wishing to spend some time with a student?"

Harry resisted the urge to rub at his eyes. "So what do you want Professor?" asked Harry, almost finding it difficult to feign politeness.

"I wish to make amends for our mishap back at Flourish and Blotts," said Lockhart. "I thought long and hard to myself and the best option I have come to was that I would assist you with how best to handle your status as a celebrity."

"Pass," said Harry without a moment of hesitation.

"But my boy, there is so much you need to be aware of," said Lockhart, trying to emphasise the importance of the situation. "You need to dress in only the finest of attires, know what to say for every question that may come your way, how best to answer your fan mail..."

"With all due respect, fame holds no meaning to me," said Harry. "I've already had to instigate a grand deal of fear into a first year child who wished to take constant photos of me. At the same time, I taught him that there is beauty in the world around him and he has now been photos to Teen Witch Weekly, a couple of which have been published. That's how much I care about fame Professor, I would prefer someone to take photos of nature than of me. However I imagine the concept of not trying to get in the centre of a shot has never occured to you, has it?"

"There's a student on campus sending photos to Teen Witch Weekly?" repeated Lockhart, clearly that part of Harry's story standing out to him far more than the rest.

"You know what," said Harry, shaking his head. "I don't care anymore. But know this Professor, if you continue to focus on your public image, what does that say about your private self?"

Harry stormed off, leaving his words with the fake monster hunter. Whether or not Lockhart had even heard what he had said didn't matter at this point. All Harry knew was the Boggart he had ordered could not get here soon enough.

...

Hermione looked at the pamphlet in her hand, almost bewildered by what the information on it was telling her. A couple of fifth year female students had been handing them out to every girl they could find, cooing about how this would be the best thing to happen in Hogwarts for, and she quoted, forever.

First and foremost, Hermione had almost felt insulted by the statement. There was no way that what they were trying to organize was anywhere near as special as what she and the other members of the Potter Club had created. Secondly, chances were that they wouldn't have even come up with the idea if the Triple M hadn't come into existence.

Still though, that did bring a smile to her face. The song that had bellowed through the Great Hall had had an effect on everyone in attendance and so much had changed because of it. The mindscape of people had changed dramatically and this was one such example.

Still though, she wasn't entirely sure if the older students who had given her the bit of paper had gotten approval from the faculty as of yet. It also was something that she wasn't sure she would participate in if it got the go ahead. A fashion show just really wasn't her kind of thing.

"You got one as well Granger," said Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin girl surprisingly not surrounded by one of those trying to weasel their way into her tight social circle.

"It would seem so," said Hermione, narrowing her eyes slightly. It was odd that Pansy had approached her to say the least. The two of them weren't necessarily on bad terms or anything of the sort. After the incident last year from the Prefect's Bathroom, the two of them would be on something akin to neutral terms. Of course the reason it had remained like this was because the two of them rarely interacted with one another.

The balance could swiftly change depending on the outcome of this conversation.

"Though I have been invited I sincerely doubt I will participate in such an event. Fashion is not my forte," continued Hermione.

The neutrality continued with Pansy not being goaded into saying something regarding Hermione's last statement. The bushy haired witch had expected something along the lines of 'Obviously' or 'Fashion could strike you down and you still would be none the wiser' to be thrown at her. Despite expectations, Pansy took a calming breath before she spoke.

"That is an unfortunate pity, for I had hoped to garner some manner of advice from you."

Now Hermione's interest had peaked. "I'm sure someone such as yourself would have far more knowledge of fashion than I," she said, doing her best not to sound condescending in any sort of manner.

"What I wish to make from this event is a scene, if nothing else," said Pansy, raising her nose ever so slightly. "Many of those present would expect me to wear whatever the finest seamstress to weave her magic upon. However, that is what is expected of me which is why I must do something else."

"So what is it you wish to do?"

"I wish to wear the finest dress made by Muggle hands."

Minutes could have ticked by and Hermione would have been none the wiser as she stared at her peer. Had any of Pansy's entourage heard of her declaration, they would likely have been appalled by the sheer audacity to even make such a suggestion. It was suddenly far more understandable as to why Pansy had approached alone.

"...Alright..." said Hermione slowly, gathering her wits about her. "While I may not know much regarding fashion itself, I am aware of the brands which are classified as high end."

"Would we be able to procure a brochure or several so I may select something which appeals to me?"

Even though it was a question it felt far more like a demand.

"I will send an owl to my mother and see if she can procure some brochures for you," said Hermione, feeling no reason to not accept the odd request. "Is there a budget that I should be cautious of?"

"I take it seventy galleons will be more than effective."

A quick mental conversion took place. "I believe that will be sufficient," said Hermione with a light bow of the head, realising that Pansy was talking about a value well outside of her price range. "Considering the range of time we have, I shall write posthaste."

"Do see that you do."

And with that, the conversation came to an abrupt close with Pansy marching off to probably rejoin her cronies leaving Hermione standing there trying her best to come to grips with what she had just been a part of. For a moment she toyed with the idea of getting her mother to send only the most gastly of garments for them to choose from, however that idea swiftly became moot. While it would be a good prank were it to be done by Potter Club, she was the one who was directly making this happen and as such her identity would be exposed.

Now though she had to make her way to the Owlery and send a message to her mother and to do so in such a way that her mother wouldn't get the wrong idea. Goodness knew what would happen then.

...

It wasn't difficult for Harry to ascertain that somebody had put into motion something out of the ordinary given the buzz around the Gryffindor common room. After having left Lockhart, Harry had made his way through the halls on his way to where he knew his companions would likely be. Unlike most times however where the female population would seemingly have their eyes on him they were gossiping amongst one another frantically.

Something was definitely happening and for once it wasn't because of something he did. It felt surprisingly good not to be the cause of whatever it was this time round.

"What's happening?" he asked Neville, walking up to him.

"I think some of the older students are trying to organize a fashion show," said Neville.

"That could be interesting," said Harry, eyebrows raised. "Know much about it yet?"

"Not really," said Neville. "I managed to get a glimpse of one of the bits of paper they're holding and know what it is they're talking about but not enough to see any of the smaller writing."

"And you chose not to enter the fray," said Harry with a nod of the head. "You are wise not to traverse into the women's territory, for it is a battleground which no man should dare tread."

"You don't have to be so dramatic about it," said Neville, giving Harry a light shove in the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it Ron, he was going to cark it eventually," came the instantly recognizable voice of Fred.

"I know but you know, he was in the family for so long," said Ron, walking beside his brother and holding onto a small box.

"What's up?" asked Harry, wondering what the two Weasley's were talking about.

"Scabbers finally bit the big one," said Fred, not beating around the bush in the slightest. "Bout time if you ask me."

Everything quickly came crashing down in Harry's world. "Can I see him?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"You want to see a dead rat?" asked Neville.

"Not the time Neville," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"I guess," said Ron with uncertainty, handing the box to Harry.

Without any wasted movement, Harry took the box from Ron and opened it up to peer inside. Indeed, there was a dead rat inside. While this momentarily shook Harry, he instead focused on the rat's front paw. The paw which should have had four toes from where Peter Pettigrew had cut off his own finger.

This rat had five toes.

This wasn't Peter Pettigrew.

"Cheers," said Harry, closing the lid and passing the box back to Ron.

"Are you okay mate?" asked the youngest male Weasley.

"I just...need a moment," said Harry marching up towards the dormitory.

"You think seeing a dead rat made him ill?" asked Neville to the two Weasley's but Harry ignored it completely. He nearly bowled over a fourth year student on his way up but his mind was completely fixated on what he had just discovered.

Harry had never been so grateful to find the room he shared with several others void of any other life. He needed his space right now, space to think.

Peter Pettigrew was alive.

The rat that Ron had had in his possession wasn't the original Scabbers.

Had Peter escaped at some point and Molly or Arthur simply replaced him with another rat, thinking Ron would be none the wiser?

Had Peter clued on at some point that Harry hadn't been acting the way a student ignorant of the magical world should? Had he seen something like that and made the decision that it would be safer to escape while he could? Or, if he was still contemplating his river time travel theory, had him coming back in time made Peter bolt before he had even stepped foot in the Great Hall? If that was the case, what else in the world had changed?

Shaking his head, he knew that there was no point thinking over this situation. Even if he figured out how or when, it didn't change one simple fact. Peter Pettigrew was somewhere out there, possibly finding some way to resurrect Voldemort.

He wanted to go out and try to track the rat down but how could he explain that to Dumbledore? Hey Headmaster, I'm just going to give up my studies for however long it takes to hunt down a rat? What's so special about this rat you ask? Why it's one of your former students who framed my Godfather. How do I know about my Godfather? Well let me tell you...

Yeah, that would go down well.

Which then begged the question. What could he do? Was there anything he could do? Was the future destined to repeat itself or did he have the ability to change a dark future?

...

Daphne and Tracy stood awkwardly in the designated classroom. It had been some time since the sun had set and curfew was well and truly in effect. Prefects and teachers now roamed the halls and were the two of them to get caught then there was little doubt that they would be in a lot of trouble.

Still though, they were there with purpose. They were here to meet with the head of Potter Club, the person who would welcome them into the group.

The problem was that he had missed the designated time. The two Slytherin students had waited around, knowing full well that sneaking about without drawing suspicion was not an easy task. There were a plethora of reasons that somebody couldn't make their way to this room on time and as such they had decided between them that they would wait a little while longer.

That had been nearly an hour and a half ago.

"Hey Daphne."

"Yeah Tracy."

"They should have been here by now, shouldn't they?"

"Yes Tracy."

"...I don't think they're coming."

Daphne rubbed at her eyes, unable to come up with any sort of argument either to agree or disagree with what Tracy was saying. After the first few minutes she had theorized that the leader of Potter Club had been in the room with them and would dramatically reveal themselves after some time. When that never happened, she just assumed that they were a bit behind schedule. Then she believed they had given them the wrong time.

Now she had to admit that they were either in detention or had forgotten.

"Come on, let's get back to the Common Room."

It was then, at that moment, when they had lost hope that the door opened and the two of them felt energy swiftly fill their system. Only to have it completely deflate with the sound of a cat meowing out loud.

"Well, well, well. Miss Norris, what have we here? Students out past their bedtime is it?"

"Ah, crap."

"You said it Tracy."

...

Hope you enjoyed.