In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 123: Mountain Troll
Midday Saturday, Harry motioned and Hermione got onto the broom, behind Harry, and held on tight.
"Know what you're doing?" Hermione asked.
"Never," Harry replied.
A fast push off, the flight, one that brought Hogwarts and its Astronomy Tower into sight.
"What the?" Hermione asked.
Harry did a fast U–turn, the blast from the handle, the Gryffindor graffiti to the stone of the tower, before he aimed for thread, the indigo. A magic tendril that reached, pulled them in.
Hermione's fingers dug into Harry as they both fell. Harry forced the roll with her, and leveled off, when their feet hit the grassy ground under the afternoon autumn sky.
"Well," Harry said as the broom banished, "Let's see what's different."
"Know what we're going to find?" Hermione asked.
"Nope," Harry said, "Always something, be ready."
"It's Hogwarts," Hermione said.
"See the Astronomy Tower?" Harry asked, the pointing upward.
She glanced up at the barren stone.
"Think the House Elves will clean it off that fast?" Harry said, "That's why I mark it before I left, so we know which one is which."
Hermione followed Harry to the door, and entered. Air filled with the smells of baking pumpkin, the cobwebs to the corners with idled spiders.
"Disillusion," Harry said.
Harry's wand out, the flick. She took a few moments to take out her wand, do the flick, and return it.
"Gotta get faster on the draw," Harry said.
Elbows that bumped as they went up the stairs, the calmness that permeated the hallways.
"Halloween?" Hermione asked.
"I wonder…" Harry muttered.
Harry took the lead as Hermione followed him. Onto the third floor, both paused as the doors began to open. Out of the Charms classroom, shorter, red and black hair over the lightning bolt scar; both first years in their black uniforms.
"It's no wonder no one can stand her," Ron said to Harry, as both pushed their way through the crowding corridor, "She's a nightmare, honestly."
Hermione felt the firm grip to her hand, the breaths, as the younger Hermione hurried past the younger boys, the tears to her.
"I think she heard you," Harry said.
"So?" Ron said, "She must've noticed she's got no friends."
Hermione felt the tug, her Harry that pulled her, chasing along the corridors, up the steps. Both caught up to the younger Hermione entering the bathroom. Hermione hurried for the door, except both of Harry's hands held her by the shoulders.
"Somebody's messing around…" Harry started.
Footsteps, and Harry moved them both away from the lavatory. A turn, the pale blond hair of Draco Malfoy that knocked at the lavatory.
"Granger?" Malfoy shouted through the door, "Those boys were being mean, weren't they?"
Hermione's eyes didn't need to read Harry's mind, the bottle greens that stared back at her, and both turned to watch as Draco Malfoy twisted the knob, entered the lavatory. Harry kept his grip firm to her.
"He…that's the change?" Harry asked.
Anger of old welled back to her.
"I don't know," Hermione lied.
"Then we need to search to find what's different," Harry said.
Harry moved, a tug to bring her along.
"We ought to help her!" Hermione snapped.
A turn as the disillusionment dropped. His bottle greens were on her.
"It's a riddle," Harry said, "We need to figure out what Voldemort's changed, and how to make it worse off—otherwise, we butt out, alright?"
Hermione sighed.
"We also don't want him wising up to us being here," Harry said, "I doubt my broom's supposed to be a way in, and we're not telling him, alright?"
Hermione nodded.
"It's not the same as before—the scar," Harry said, "Let's stick together and keep searching."
Harry's wand out, the disillusionment that returned.
"And," Harry said, "Keep your eyes peeled for anything—everything that's different."
To walk rather freely in the corridors within Hogwarts, a privilege that's currently been denied. Decorations of the various pumpkins, the spider webs, the cutouts of cats that lined the corridors brought back memories of old, of a time trying to discover the new and letting it become comfortable.
Meow! Hiss!
Harry pointed, the two cats, Mrs. Norris, and the other a tabby, McGonagall going at each other. Harry's wand out, the floor that vanished, that brought both of the cats to a halt.
"You—she's going to be curious," Hermione whispered.
"Means we need to…" Harry grabbed Hermione.
Tightness, the disapparation, apparation into the kitchens, next to the tables below the Great Hall. Dozens of House Elfs that worked in their tattered rags. Harry pointed, and Hermione sat across from her.
"Now…" Harry started.
"This isn't real, is it?" Hermione asked.
"It can be," Harry said, "This isn't my first, and likely won't be my last."
"Go back for Ron…" Hermione started.
"Don't know if it works like that," Harry said, "Willing to risk it?"
"Um…" Hermione muttered.
"I'm not sure if this is alternate or we're just in the past," Harry said, "Each time, it's a bit different, I just figured you needed to see one, to help you understand."
"Come along," Hermione said, "Need to find the differences."
Hermione stood, the stroll.
"Disillusion!" Harry snapped, the fast follow.
Hermione took out her wand, the swish with the silent charm, and they left the kitchens. Up the steps, past Fred and George handing dungbombs over the Peeves.
"Remember," Fred said, "Filch's office."
"Filch's!" George said.
Harry shook his head, took the lead along the ground floor. A door here or there, a peek in, including Madam Hooch's office. Up the stairs, the red eyes in the suit of armor that raised its fist.
"Not seeing anything different," Harry said, "You?"
Hermione shook her head, the lie of before.
"Check the library?" Hermione asked.
Harry's puzzled glance, the shrug, and they went to the fifth floor, entered it. Madam Pince glared at them.
"Well?" Harry whispered.
"Needed the break," Hermione whispered.
She went through the stacks, the books, and Harry that followed. She glared for a moment at him.
"Not losing you," Harry whispered.
Hermione picked at Hogwarts: A History, leafed through it. Hermione lost track of the time as she rummaged in the library, a chance she's rarely had of late, the feel of the parchment being turned beneath her fingers. Harry loitered nearby, the periodic check, the twirl on the floor as he waited.
"Best to go," Harry said, later.
Hermione's turn, followed Harry, left the library, the windows long since dark.
"Go enjoy the feast," Hermione said, "Meet you down in the Entrance Hall, say an hour?"
"Hermione?" Harry asked.
"When's the next time you'll enjoy it?" Hermione asked, "I'd see something."
Harry's bottle green eyes that puzzled, yet he moved, left. Hermione returned the girls lavatory, entered, no noise, the cubicle empty.
"Guessing crybaby Granger stopped crying," said Lavender Brown, the short head that peeked in and out.
Hermione left the lavatory, and went down the stairs; her curiosity brought her down the stairs. A refresh to her invisibility, brought her down to the ground floor, where Professor Quirrell led the large beast of a troll down the steps.
"This way," Professor Quirrell said, "Hagrid will be along shortly."
From the doors of the Great Hall, the smaller, shorter bubbly faced, Neville went up the marble stairs. A cough next to her.
"Always interesting what happens when somebody meddles in the the past," Professor Dumbledore said, "Wouldn't you agree, Miss. Granger?"
Hermione turned, the Headmaster that studied the nearby suit of armor.
"Sometimes the misplacement of a butterfly can affect the entire outcome," Professor Dumbledore said.
"That armor may be enduring a bout of senility," said Professor Snape as he descended the stairs, "A polished suit that reflects the one talking to himself. Best be…headmastering the students."
"Quite right," said Professor Dumbledore.
Both of the professors went into the Great Hall. A loud stomping, the motion, Hermione hid into that suit of armor, as the stench came by. Short legs thick as tree trunks, the large wooden club, as the large mount troll went by, up the marble stairs. A moment later, Professor Quirrell came up the steps, entered the Great Hall.
"Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know," exclaimed Professor Quirrell.
Hermione, though, rushed up the stairs, determined to catch up, to witness what'd happened before. She hurried back to the lavatory, hid in the far corner, waited.
"THIS WAY!" came one yell, Percy's that echoed in the corridor, followed by footsteps.
She heard it, the troll that sniffed, moved for the lavatory. No screams, not yet. Footsteps, Neville's that came first, went in, Harry and Ron behind.
"It's in here!" shouted Neville.
Harry and Ron ran in fast, into the lavatory. Crashing.
"CONFUSE IT!" Harry said.
More crashing.
"Oy, pea–brain!" Ron yelled.
Crashing from within, pang of guilt, regret in it not being her they were rescuing.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron shouted.
Hermione remembered it, the levitation of the club within. Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell ran into the lavatory. Hermione took the stairs, went down to the Entrance Hall.
"Hermione?"
Harry, her Harry, stood there, with the bottle green eyes.
"Notice anything?" Harry asked.
Hermione shook her head.
"Was hoping to know what's different," Harry said, "Best be going."
"Tomorrow's Quidditch," Hermione said.
A grin to Harry's face.
"Still," Harry said, "Get back?"
"Why rush?" Hermione asked.
"If it's about to be destroyed," Harry said, "Hate to think…"
Harry flicked his hand, the broom did not come.
"Guess we're staying," Harry grumbled.
"Unreliable?" Hermione asked.
"Means we're missing something," Harry said, "What'd you see?"
Twinkling to the bottle greens, picked up the sight of the troll.
"Oh!" Harry said, "That would've been cool to watch ourselves fight it, again; rescue you."
"Suppose it would've been," Hermione said.
Hermione sighed, and crossed her arms over her chest. She wondered how it'd be different.
The next morning, Hermione walked along the corridors, when she heard the feet, and spotted them. Dressed in scarlet red Gryffindor robes, the younger Harry carried his Nimbus two thousand; the spry first year flanked by Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville.
"Best chances," Ron said.
Red hair, the friendliness, and the joviality. Curiosity to follow, however, voices in the distance.
"That'll work?" asked Lee Jordan.
Hermione walked, found the door to the open yet empty classroom.
"Of course it'll work," said Fred.
On the tables, the large banners of Potter for President!
"Fireworks are ready too," George said.
Hermione snorted, figured it best to not interfere, and made the fast foot down the floors. She entered the Great Hall, with its smells of sausage that filled the air. Over at the Slytherin table, she easily spotted it, the bushy brown hair, her bushy brown hair, as Hermione ate breakfast while sitting next to Draco Malfoy. She turned to the Gryffindor Table, the far end near the staff table, where Harry was surrounded by the guard, staring at the plate.
"As my Gran always nagged," Neville said, "You've got to eat some breakfast."
"I don't want anything," Harry said.
"Just a bit of toast," Neville suggested, the push of a buttered slice.
"I'm not hungry," Harry said.
Hermione understood with hindsight, the urging, finally having to get Notley to interceded, and what Ron had been observing. At the moment, the impending match in an hour.
"Over here," came the fast shout, mingled in the noise of the crowd.
Hermione went over to Harry, at the near end of the Gryffindor Table. He moved inward, and she sat next to him.
"Everything seem alright?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Hermione lied.
This Harry had a fork into the sausage, ate it.
"Ron'd love to watch this game too," Harry said.
"He already did," Hermione said.
"Re–watch it," Harry said.
"Aw," Hermione said.
Hermione took a bowl of oatmeal, began to eat into it.
"Gotta figure it out," Harry said to her, "And we can return."
Hermione unsure if she wanted to.
Later, Hermione climbed the stands, into the thicket of Gryffindor boys and girls. Older ones, like her Harry, stood in the back. She went over, stood next to him.
"Hello and welcome to Hogwarts first Quidditch game of the season," Lee Jordan announced, "Today's game Slytherin vs Gryffindor.".
Banners around the stadium shot upwards as the blurs of red came from the box, all that advertised Potter for President. Harry snorted, the grin.
"Now," Madam Hooch said, "I want a nice fair game, all of you."
Harry, on the field, climbed onto the Nimbus Two Thousand.
"How'd that shape up to the Firebolt?" Hermione asked.
"Even the one thousand's a fine broom," Harry said, "It's the flier."
Hermione glanced over at Slytherin section, where the younger Hermione stood with Draco Malfoy.
"The game," Harry whispered, the nudge to her side.
"Found an interesting way to relive old memories," Hermione said, "Should ask Dumbledore to borrow his pensieve instead."
Harry snorted.
"Budge up," came Hagrid's voice.
Hermione glanced at Harry, the tear that came to the eye, as the half–giant came to stand next to Ron and Neville. Her eyes turned back to the game, watched, until.
"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus asked.
Hermione spotted the bucking of the broom, poor Harry that struggled to hold on. A glance to Hermione, clearly oblivious, laughing with Draco Malfoy.
"Dunno," Neville said to Seamus.
Hermione understood the consequence of a seemingly little gesture.
"Snape!" Neville pointed.
"What'd we do?" Ron asked.
Harry jumped, the disillusion to himself as he mounted his broom, and flew up into the game. A fast block, between the top box and Harry.
"Gotten better," Neville said.
However, Hermione knew the truth, the run through the crowds, up the stairs. She raced to behind Snape, and drew her wand. A flick, the robes that began to spark flame.
"Fire!" came a shout, "You're on fire!"
Hermione moved back as the panic pushed Quirrell out of the way, and she returned to the spot in the stands. Harry jumped.
"Potter has the snitch!" came Lee Jordan's shout, the crowd in an uproar as Harry spat it out.
A push, Hermione went down the stairs, Harry with her.
"About time to…" Harry started.
…
Harry felt the tap to the back of the shoulder.
"Excuse me," came the familiar voice.
A spin around, the shorter stature, stood Harry in his Gryffindor Quidditch robes, the Nimbus Two Thousand in hand. Those same bottle green eyes, the ones that matched his own from behind the rounded spectacles, ones that took in Harry in admiration and bewilderment.
"My parents are dead," Harry said, "You can't be him."
"It's about to get complicated." Harry glanced at Hermione, the brown eyes. "Mind?"
Harry's eyes to Harry's.
"Changing room," Harry suggested.
Harry nodded, and they walked. Grass that turned to carpet.
"I don't know you," Harry said.
A pause as Harry's fingers gripped the top of the scarlet red.
"Who are you?" Harry asked as he pulled his robes off.
A turn, the white T–shirt beneath the robes, the thin black slacks.
"I was you," Harry said, "And you'll become me."
Curiosity behind those eyes, trying to comprehend it.
"Need to shower," Harry said.
"Best spot to talk," Harry said.
Eyes that were curious.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked.
Harry moved closer.
"Got a scar too," Harry said, "My scar."
"I've got five years on you," Harry said, "Voldemort's coming back, and be worse than before."
Harry sighed.
"Back to the Dursleys?" Harry asked.
"Dumbledore didn't have good options," Harry said, "Still doesn't."
"You're still with them?" Harry asked.
"They're dead," Harry said, "Well, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are."
"Oh," Harry muttered.
Harry picked up the remorse, the guilt that welled up inside his younger self.
"Was that Hermione?" Harry asked, "The know it all?"
"Wanted to show Hermione…" Harry said, "Not exactly a science, not sure where we'd end up."
"What is going on?" Harry asked.
Harry thought it over.
"Voldemort's meddling in time," Harry said, "Going back, making a change, and seeing if he's better or worse off than before. This time, you didn't rescue Hermione from the troll."
"Rescued Neville," Harry said.
"That's the change," Harry said, "Hermione… But, we need to make sure Voldemort's worse off."
Harry reached, the hand to the shoulder.
"Your heart and your mind are your greatest weapons against him," Harry said, "Wield them, and make him regret ripping her away from us."
"She's bossy," Harry said.
"That too," Harry said, "Maybe the troll rescue…well, carry on."
Harry turned, the Nimbus Two Thousand on the bench.
"Race you," Harry said.
Harry went to the lockers.
"Slytherin always had the best gear, right?" Harry asked.
"You should know," Harry said.
"Things change." Harry's hand to the lockers, the levitation, and the summon. Nimbus One Thousand to his hand. "Previous model." He glanced at those eyes. "We'll return it."
Harry led the charge, Harry with him. A fast move, out the door, into the gray cool skies.
Harry hooked his leg over the Nimbus One Thousand, . Harry, a bit slower, climbed onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.
"Two versus a one," Ron said, in the pitch.
"Through the hoops," Harry said, "Hagrid's afterwards."
"Neville's already there," Ron said.
"Count," Harry said to Ron.
Grin to the freckled youthful face beneath the red hair, blue eyes that watched.
"Three…two…one," Ron said.
Harry rose, as did Harry. Harry admitted the two thousand was faster, still, the focus and determination.
"Snitch," Harry said.
Harry dove, rose a few feet behind.
"Liar," Harry shouted.
Harry tightened up, went through the goal hoop on the right, a fast bank to the left, aimed for the other side. Harry panted a bit, stayed on Harry's tail.
"Go HARRY!" Ron shouted from below.
"Both of us?" Harry asked.
Harry focused on the broom beneath him, the acceleration, through the other right goal.
"While surfing it!" Harry shouted.
Harry rose above the goals, the other followed. A quick jump up, one foot in front of the other
"COOL!" Ron shouted.
Harry trembled a bit as he stood, though his eyes focused downward.
"Um…" Harry. muttered, the slow down, "WHOA!"
Arms that flailed, the vain attempt to grab the broom as Harry fell. Harry dropped, the roll, the focus to dive faster, grabbed Harry from behind as he summoned the broom. Both of them hit the wooden handle, as Harry leveled off, their feet that touched the grass.
"You caught me," Harry said, the leaning back into Harry.
Harry secured his grip to the broom, the arms around the boy.
"Get the brooms," Harry said, the pull up, the rise.
Harry reached with his left, grabbed the Nimbus Two Thousand. A bit more to the right, and the Nimbus One Thousand was in hand. Harry dropped them both, toward Ron.
"Nice rescue," Ron said.
"This one's Flint's," Harry said to Ron, as the Nimbus One Thousand changed hands. Ron took the Nimbus Two Thousand. "Meet you at Hagrid's."
Harry pulled up, the flight, as their feet shared the footbraces. Only took a couple of minutes to circle the castle of Hogwarts, a slow pace to Harry, but one that let Harry capture the awe of the dimming evening.
"Alright," Harry said, "So you are me."
"Fly it," Harry said, "I'm a passenger."
Harry slid back, and moved his hands upward to hold the stomach. Harry leaned forward, the hands that gripped the broom handle. A twist, the flight over the lake.
"Oh…there," Harry said.
Below, the giant squid that waved a tentacle.
"And…?" Harry said, "That's not lightning."
"Voldemort's playing a dangerous game," Harry said, "And yes, his focus is on you."
"He attacked our parents," Harry said.
"To kill you," Harry said, "Sorry, you don't have a choice, other than to keel over and die."
Harry shook his head.
They edged over the forest, landed by Hagrid's Hut. Feet to the grass, the darkness that surrounded them, with light from the windows. Harry turned to Harry, the hands to the shoulders.
"Those are cracks to the past, the future, to experiments," Harry said, "I explored, I see what he's done here, so I'm adding in my own monkey wrench to it…you, me."
Harry's eyes to Harry.
"I'm giving you what strength, courage, that I can," Harry said, "You're going to need it."
"Ta," Harry said.
A turn, the push to the butt, and Harry went for the steps.
"One bit of advice," Harry said, "It's Diagon Alley, two words."
Harry continued. Harry heard it, the whimpering. Around to the other side, on the ground, sat Hermione, knees up, a light sob into a handkerchief.
"To hear Hagrid…" Hermione said, "We've…"
Harry squatted, the hands to her shoulders.
"You love him," Harry said, "No shame to loving your friends, missing them when they're gone. Hagrid's thrilled about how much you care."
She sighed.
"I also lied," Hermione said, "They screwed up the troll."
"I know," Harry said.
Her brown eyes to him.
"Divination's tricky even with the best," Harry said, "Teaches how tough it is to know the future."
"We're from there," Hermione said, "What horrible thing will happen—"
"Dunno what will happen now," Harry said.
"Time turners—" Hermione started.
"It's not a time turner," Harry said, "It's worse—but, lets go back."
Harry reached, held her hand, as he stood. A pull, and Hermione stood. Feet to the grass, the cool breeze to their skin, and the broom hovered.
"Well," Harry said, "Get on."
Harry mounted the broom, Hermione climbed on behind him. Harry pushed up, the flight up into the air, toward the web of multicolored magic.
"They're always this interesting?" Hermione asked.
"More or less," Harry said.
No tendrils this time, as Harry came into contact with one. His broom vanished as the magic encased them both.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch," Harry managed.
Hermione shrieked as the magic released its grip. Harry fell, alone, into the darkness below.
Harry hit the grass, the light that grew as he rolled on the Quidditch Pitch, over a stray Potter for President banner.
"Not even practice—it's Sunday," came Ron's voice, "This feels weird."
A glance over, the youthful boys. Ron with the Weasley red hair, the freckles, stood a bit taller than the black haired Harry.
"You heard Fred's complaints," Harry said, broom in hand, "Take a piss."
"Oh…oh," Ron said.
Harry grabbed the broom.
"Because of…him?" Ron asked.
"He flew great," Harry said, "So can I."
A leg over the handle, Harry flew up into the air.
"It's silly," said Neville as he approached.
"Harry," Ron said.
"He really encountered his future?" Neville asked.
"He's convinced," Ron pointed at Harry flying above.
A flick to Harry's wrist, the summon, that yielded nothing. He opened the holster, his broom wasn't there.
"Snape'll have a fit," Ron said.
"He always has a fit," Neville said.
Neville shivered, and Ron drew his old battered wand.
"You!" Neville shoved Ron.
Ron shoved back, and Neville pulled them to the ground.
Pfffpt!
"Not into knickers," said Harry, who flew low past it.
Both Ron and Neville continued on the wrestling. Harry wondered how much influence he really caused, when he felt it. Another shock, tightness, disapparation, apparation, into the Headmaster's office. The Daily Prophet on the desk hinted this was now Monday, along with the tea.
"I heard a rumor," said Professor McGonagall, as she entered.
"Strange, the influences at work," said Professor Dumbledore, "In a school of magic, about anything is possible. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Potter?"
Harry understood, the eyes at him, the invisibility that dropped. Professor McGonagall gasped.
"Voldemort's meddling," Harry said, "May as well stir the pot."
A smirk from the old man's lips.
"You've undoubtedly had more than a few adventures," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Scars are reminders to those adventures," Harry said.
Professor McGonagall's eyes that sized up Harry.
"How bad is it getting?" asked Professor Dumbledore.
"He's infiltrated," Harry said, "I'm a fugitive, though still a student. I need every advantage I can get."
Harry eased up, felt the shock return.
"Not sure…" Harry started as the tightness came.
Disapparation, apparation.
Ring! Ring!
Gentle bells that echoed in the dormitory, the decorations of evergreen wreaths, the ribbons, candy canes attached, the late morning light that infiltrated the windows, when the curtains of the four posters moved. Soft to the feet, Harry stood, stretched, when his eyes fell to the small pile of packages at the foot of his bed on top of the trunk.
"Huh?" Harry muttered.
Ron scrambled, stood.
"Merry Christmas," Ron said.
"Got presents?" Harry asked as he bent over to the pile.
"Expecting turnips?" Ron asked.
"It's…" Harry cut himself off, the hesitation, the shame Harry knew, one the small package brought back, the handwriting on the small note taped to a fifty pence piece. "Nevermind."
"That's…money?" Ron asked.
Harry dropped the coin into Ron's hand.
"Try…that one," Ron suggested, the kick to the lumpy parcel.
"You got one too?" Harry asked.
Ron's face blushed in pink. Harry went for the lumpy parcel, tore it open, out came the green knitted jumper.
"Um…" Harry muttered, handled the thick hand–knitted sweater.
"My Mum," Ron said, "Every year, makes us a new sweater…guess I kinda let it slip…"
"Put yours on," Harry said, as he pulled it on. Emerald green that covered the torso.
"I…" Ron unwrapped his parcel. "It's stupid maroon."
"I'm going outside," Harry said.
"It's snowing!" Ron stammered.
"Warm enough," Harry said, waited until Ron tore his open.
Harry followed the two, out. Ron had his jumper on halfway down.
"Was wondering when you'd get up," said Fred, the lean in the open door way. Blue jumper on him, the yellow letter F in the center.
"Them?" asked George, from within that dormitory, his jumper with a letter G.
Harry followed the four down the steps, into the common room, where the sounds of kissing could be heard. Penelope on her back on the sofa.
"Happy Christmas," Percy said, "Oh, about time."
Percy's open button–up dress shirt dangled to either side, kept the chest to her
"Can we…get a room?" Fred said, "Plenty of CURTAINS upstairs."
"You're jealous," Percy said to Fred, "Any good gifts?"
"Courtyard?" Harry asked, "The pitch?"
Out through the portrait hole, Harry followed the four to the wide courtyard. Hands scooped into the ice, and the snowballs flew.
"They spot the observer?" asked Professor Dumbledore, next to Harry.
"No," Harry said, "Seen Hermione? Mine?"
"She, too, is reminiscing," Professor Dumbledore said.
"I know it's not good to dwell on the past," Harry said, "To see him…happy."
"One tries to foresee the future," Professor Dumbledore said, "But, when you have to make that decision, you only have the past, facts, and hunches to rely on."
Harry sighed, watched as George gathered the snow for the next one.
"I know, physical safety first," Harry said, "Still…he lost a lot."
"And will lose more, by the sounds of it," Professor Dumbledore said.
Harry dropped down, scooped up and shaped a snowball.
"Hurts to not have some fun," Harry said.
Harry aimed as he threw, hit Fred on the arse.
"Ouch," Fred said.
Ron doubled over, laughing. Harry grinned.
"He's here?" Harry asked, the eyes that roved, "Quid—"
Static discharge to him, Harry felt it, the tightness, the apparation. Asphalt met Harry's feet as he apparated again. This time, the noise of horns, the wheels of automobiles that turned.
"Excuse me," said the older gentlemen that stopped at the bench, "You seem out of sorts."
"I'm fine," said Harry, the T–shirt on beneath the open plaid overshirt.
Harry could read the lie, the embarrassment, of being associated with them, the wonder if it'd be better to beg a train to Surrey.
"They're a bit late, that's all," Harry said.
Hoot!
Hedwig in her cage, on top of the trunk.
"What are you playing at?" asked Uncle Vernon, from the window of the car, "Get in boy."
Harry stood, stretched. Harry moved the trunk, the cage to the boot of the car, climbed in. Harry watched, felt the static as another tightness, curious to the magic that triggered this.
"There's the animal!" snapped Dudley.
Harry ran outside number four Privet drive, the feet into the grass.
"In here!" Uncle Vernon demanded.
Harry spotted it, the eyes, of Dobby. Another step, another shock, this time, on top of the landing.
"You're never going back to that school!" shouted Uncle Vernon, "And if you try to magic yourself out—they'll expel you!"
Uncle Vernon dragged Harry up the stairs into that bedroom. Using the power drill clipped to the belt, Uncle Vernon put a screw into the door jam, kept the door shut, and went down. Harry heard the light sobs from within. A jump, the static discharge, and Harry stepped into the morning sight of a man fitting bars to the window.
"You again?" asked Harry, the head that lifted up from the pillow, "Watched me…"
Harry sat down on the bed next to Harry.
"Not sure how it's working," Harry said, "Glimpses—here and there. Still…I remember this."
"Not going back," Harry grumbled.
"You are," Harry leaned over, wrapped himself over the other.
A turn, Harry leaned against Harry, the face to the shoulder.
"Don't spoil Uncle Vernon with that surprise," Harry said.
Harry snorted.
"Remember needing a friend about now," Harry said.
"No visitors," Harry said.
"I'm you," Harry said.
A snort, the relaxation.
"How much?" came Uncle Vernon's voice downstairs.
"You could get me out," Harry said, "Right?"
"That'd deprive…no, it's worth the wait," Harry said as he stood.
"Anxious…like waiting for Neville to clear the Hospital Wing," Harry said, "Know he was out for two weeks?"
Harry glanced at him.
"You know, the potion puzzle," Harry said, "Neville drank wrong so I could drink right."
"Hermione figured it out," Harry said.
"She didn't come," Harry said, "Hangs out with Malfoy."
"Yeah," Harry said, "You're worse off."
"How long you staying?" Harry asked.
Harry wasn't certain, except that he did spend the days there, being the friend Harry needed. It was when the night turned to day, as the headlamps peered in, that Harry knew it was time. Invisibility on himself, as Harry shook into a state of wakefulness.
"Ron!" exclaimed Harry, the step to the window. "Ron, how did you—what the…?"
Ron leaned out the back window to the hovering car, while Fred and George were in the front seat, with Fred behind steering the wheel.
"Rescuing you," Ron said.
Harry watched, the memory fond in him, of Fred handing over the rope, the tying off to the bars, and the rev of the car. A crunching noise as the bars flew off. Harry himself, jumped, to land on top of the Angelina. Fred and George jumped out, and hurried down the stairs, while Harry worked the floorboards to gather his things.
"You stuck around?" Ron asked as Harry slid into the left side.
Harry glanced at the red head.
"Yeah," Harry said, "Shouldn't interfere, but…sorry, had to see this again."
"Could help a bit more," Ron said.
"You're managing," Harry said.
Ron pulled on the trunk. Fred jumped back, helped in pulling, as George and Harry pushed on the trunk, over into the car. Harry pushed, helped move it to the back, when Hedwig hooted.
"Hedwig!" Harry snapped.
Harry jumped back, returned with her cage.
"Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon, "He's getting away! He's GETTING AWAY!"
The fingers to Harry's ankles.
"You're capable," Ron said to Harry.
George pulled as Fred put the car into gear. Uncle Vernon tumbled as Harry climbed on board, sat next to Ron.
"Headed to the Burrow?" Harry whispered, "Best place in the country."
Ron grinned, blushed.
"And…thank you," Harry said to Ron.
"Later—it's two words," Harry whispered as the shock returned, the tightness, and disapparation, apparation.
"There you are," came the familiar soft voice as the feet hit the hard polished wood.
A turn in the familiar bookstore, to her, Hermione.
"Following you?" Harry asked.
Harry leaned over the railing, the floors below them.
"I don't get why we're doing this," Hermione said, "Jumping."
"Want to ask Voldemort for a copy of the owner's manual?" Harry asked.
Hermione snorted.
"Guessing they don't want to wait the years either," Harry said, "Make a change, see what happens."
Harry glanced below, where Hermione worked the stacks.
"Some things never change," Harry said.
"Some things do," Hermione said.
Draco Malfoy put his hands to the shoulders, worked into the cloth that covered them.
"Been calling her his sweet mudblood—all summer long," Hermione said, "His father…calls it bestiality. She…she laps it up."
"One change…" Harry said.
Below, Harry, Neville, and Ron entered the crowded store, followed by Fred and George. Percy held Penelope's hand.
"Better or worse?" Harry asked.
"No comment," Hermione said.
Harry snorted, let her keep the peace there. Below, the wizard that stood at the door.
"Calmly please, ladies," the man said, "Don't push, there…mind the books, now."
"Stand tall boys!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, Mr. Weasley behind her, "Be only a minute."
A short man, the camera in his hands, pushed through.
"Out of the way, there," the short man said, "This is for The Daily Prophet!"
Harry spotted it, the fancy forget–me–not blue robes, Gilderoy Lockhart.
"It can't be…Harry Potter!" Lockhart said.
Harry remembered the grab, this time, the expression on Harry's face at being dragged up to stand next to Lockhart.
"His most charming smile won't work a second time," Hermione said.
"Now that's plain cheating," Lockhart said, "Smile Harry, for we're worth the front page."
"You could do more to help him out," Hermione said.
"He needs to learn, experience it," Harry said, "Can't rob him of that."
"Now his first picture," Hermione said.
"Building him up," Harry said, "Besides, not like we can hover, he's gotta fight the battles."
"And the Cornish Pixies," Hermione said.
"Wanna watch?" Harry asked.
A shock, the tightness, as they landed on stone tile of the classroom, filling in with students. A rush, Harry and Ron entered with Neville.
"This better?" Harry asked.
Harry pushed, sat on the back window sill, as the younger Harry sat a few feet away at the back desk, Ron and Neville sat there too.
"Imagine being in Gryffindor?" Draco Malfoy said to Hermione, who sat next to him, "Good thing the hat had sense to choose me into Slytherin." Hermione grinned, watched the instructor.
"Me," said Lockhart, "Gilderoy Lockhart—"
Harry tuned that out, watched as Neville lifted a thigh.
Pfffpt!
Ron giggled, lifted the right.
Pfffpt! Pfffpt!
"Encouraging flatulence," Hermione whispered.
"It's…their age," Harry replied.
Harry waited, watched with Hermione, the baited anticipation as Lockhart reached.
"Right, then," Lockhart said, "Let's see what you make of them!"
Lockhart opened the cage, the bluish pixies flew out. Screams, Hermione fled with Draco Malfoy. Two lifted Neville up into the air. Only the Gryffindor boys remained.
"Let you lot nip the rest of these back into their cage," Lockhart said.
Lockhart left and closed the door.
"Can you believe that bloke?" Ron asked.
"Here," Harry gripped Gilderoy's Magical Me.
Harry took a swing, hit the pixie, which went limp.
"Alright," Ron said, taking his copy.
A whomp here, there, the five Gryffindor boys swung and knocked out the pixies. Seamus took on the task of dropping them into the cages. the five left.
"Happy?" Hermione asked.
"Can't drop in on everything," Harry said, "Quidditch?"
A shock, the tightness, to the grass. Above, the crowds that cheered as Harry dove away from the rogue bludger.
"Not having issues there," Hermione said, "We know how this year turns out!"
"Skip it then," Harry suggested.
Another shock, a return to the pitch, only this time, pure rain. Harry felt them above, the demeantors that converged onto Harry. That fell, while the Nimbus Two Thousand flew off toward the Whomping Willow. Harry glanced to the top box, no Dumbledore there. Harry's wand drawn, the slowing of Harry's fall, cushioned him to the ground, where Madam Pomfrey rushed over.
"Stop this," Hermione said.
"You got my broom?" Harry asked.
Hermione's eyes to his.
"Holster," Harry said.
Hermione opened hers, the broom that saddled there next to her wand. A shock as he tried to touch it.
"I think it's sentient—enough to tell me to press forward," Harry said, "No, we're stuck until it thinks we're fine to go home."
"Timeout!" called Professor McGonagall over the magic microphone. "For those wishing to donate, the Ginerva Weasley memorial fund is accepting contributions."
"What?" Hermione stammered.
Harry grabbed her shoulder, the tightness, the apparation onto the second floor corridor. Still lingering, the haunting messages in blood, the last one of Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.
"Can we go back?" Hermione asked.
"Not sure it works like that," Harry said, "But without you—"
"Made your point," Hermione snapped.
Harry turned to her.
"You're important," Harry said, "Without you, we didn't figure this out."
Hermione sighed.
"Stay here," Harry said, "Have to find out."
"CLOSE YOUR EYES!" Hermione said.
Harry ran into the second year girl's lavatory, went to the sink, and stared at the snake for a moment.
"Good morning," Harry hissed.
"You…you know?" asked Myrtle.
Harry jumped, the tumble, the slide, until his feet stepped on the small skeletons. Across the cavern to the door, again, the hiss and it opened. Within, the long chamber, the statues to either side, and the crumpled yet well preserved remains with red hair.
"Aw, something to whittle away the boredom," said Tom Riddle, nearby. Sixteen with the Slytherin robes, he stood. "Somebody finally give you a map?"
"I'm different," Harry said.
Harry reached down, grabbed Ginny's wand.
"Interesting choice," Tom Riddle said.
"So—this didn't work?" Harry asked, pointed at Ginny's remains.
"Not enough life to her," Tom Riddle said, "But…you seem to have it in abundance. Magic won't work in here!"
"Dumbledore will," Harry stated.
"Driven from this castle," Tom Riddle said, "By the mere memory of me—heard he's unemployed. Amazing how pipes echo private conversations."
"Dumbledore's the greatest wizard ever," Harry said, the words returned to him, "He'll never be driven out while people here remember him! You're finished."
A screech, Fawkes that entered the chamber, carrying the Sorting Hat.
"That's what I needed," Harry said.
"A song bird and an old hat?" Tom Riddle said, "You…" Eyes that surveyed Harry. "You shouldn't even wear it."
"Don't need to wear it," Harry said, "This."
First reach in, the dragon hide blindfold, which Harry put on, secured it. Harry heard the movement.
"Parseltongue won't save you!" Tom Riddle shouted.
"This will," Harry said, as he felt the weight to the handle, the pull out of the sword.
"What the…" Tom Riddle stammered.
Harry ran toward the noise, the slithering. His heart raced, the fastness of the approach as he entered the large pipe. A jump, the feet that gripped the steel sides, the momentum as he heard it move behind him. Harry dropped, pushed the sword down, the squeal and the thrash.
"Too fast?" Harry asked, the jump down, the fast move along the body toward the tail, as the blindfold came off.
A moment later, the basilisk that idled, and Harry returned. A measure of force, the tough pull, and a fang that snapped.
"What are you doing?" asked Tom Riddle.
"This," Harry replied.
A stab, into the diary next to Ginny's hands, and Tom Riddle died out. A flick to the wand, Harry conjured the stretcher beneath her remains, the white sheet that went up over her. Another flick, a grab of the diary, and Harry disapparated, apparated into the Hospital Wing. Harry set the stretcher to a bed, a flick to march the privacy screens, and Harry went over to Madam Pomfrey.
"Long gone, but…let them bury her," Harry said to her.
Eyes unsure, the hurried steps, the cries from within.
"What?" asked Harry.
Harry pushed the Gryffindor team out of the way, walked to Harry on the bed.
"STAY BACK!" Harry snapped, wand aimed at Fred heading for the screens.
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
"You were deprived of the clues needed," Harry said, "I'll see the headmaster—"
"Headmistress," said Katie Bell.
"I'll see her," Harry said, "Good luck—best to not meddle any more."
Harry grabbed Hermione by the entrance, the fast trot, onto the ascending stairs, and into the office. He walked fast to Professor McGonagall behind the desk, and set the diary down.
"In my timeline, I saved Ginny," Harry said, "Here's the diary Tom Riddle left behind, at least it didn't fully work, so he's not returning, not today."
Harry turned, went to Hermione, the bushy brown hair.
"Where to next?" Hermione asked.
Harry opened her wand holster, the broom that delivered the next shock, tugged on them as they disapparated.
Date:Wed Oct 2 06:03:18 2024