Harry was uneasy as he awoke for his first day of classes the next morning. Aside from his worries over Damian and his constant festering fear of Voldemort's return, he had no idea what the coming term would look like for him course-wise. How would he handle a full load of classes, two of which he had zero experience with? Would he flounder and be exposed as a fraud, or would he rise to the occasion? Would he be able to juggle everything on top of Quidditch and his personal research?
After a quick breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry queued with the other Ravenclaws to receive his class schedule for the term. When he reached the front of the line, Professor Flitwick greeted him with a warm smile. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter!" he squeaked. "I'm delighted to see you challenging yourself with a full course load, and I have no doubt you'll excel in all your classes!"
"Thank you, Professor," Harry nodded, though privately he was less sure. He'd coasted so far in his classes by already knowing all the material, and he wouldn't have that same advantage in Arithmancy or Ancient Runes.
"Step aside for a moment, my boy," said Flitwick. "I'll need to deal with you and Miss Granger privately." Harry frowned in confusion, but obeyed and stood off to one side of the Hall. Hermione joined him soon after, also looking confused.
"Did we do something wrong?" she asked in a hushed tone.
"Dunno," Harry shrugged. They waited in silence until the last Ravenclaw had received their schedule, then Flitwick beckoned them over to a secluded corner.
"You two are the only third-years to sign up for more than three electives this year," said Flitwick. "While not technically against the rules, it does create some...challenges with your scheduling."
"How so, sir?" asked Hermione.
"There are only so many hours of the day to schedule classes in," Flitwick explained. "And unfortunately, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes create conflicts with your scheduled lessons in Divination and Potions."
"We won't have to drop any of them, will we?" Hermione asked worriedly. "I'd like to get all my O.W.L.'s, Professor."
"And so you shall," said Flitwick. "The Headmaster has granted special permission for you two to attend all your classes as necessary."
He handed them each a slip of paper, containing their full course schedule for the term. Harry scanned the sheet briefly; it was intimidating, with every day full to the brim except Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Hermione's looked identical, except those evenings were reserved for Muggle Studies, which he'd declined to take.
"I don't understand, Professor," Hermione muttered, frowning down at her own schedule. "There are multiple classes scheduled in the mornings, on three separate days. How can we attend two classes at once?"
"With this," said Flitwick, reaching into his robes and pulling out a small object on a golden chain.
"What is that?" Hermione asked, but Harry's stomach gave a jolt – he knew exactly what it was.
"This is called a Time-Turner," Flitwick explained. "It can allow you to travel backwards in time, up to several hours."
"How does it work?" asked Hermione, in awe.
"Like so," said Flitwick, throwing the chain around his neck. "Simply turn the dial over once per hour you wish to travel back. Watch closely…" And Flitwick turned the dial over twice in his hands. For a brief second, it appeared that sand was traveling upwards in the hourglass, then both Flitwick and the Time-Turner disappeared into thin air.
Hermione gave a low shriek of surprise. "Where did he go?" she asked.
"Backwards in time by two hours," came a mirthful voice from behind them; they turned to see a beaming Flitwick approaching them from the Hall entrance. "I've had to camp out in my office for the past two hours to avoid being seen in two places at once."
"Wicked," Harry grinned. He had to appreciate the theatricality on display: rather than simply explain it, Flitwick wasted two hours of his life to prove it firsthand.
"But be warned," Flitwick said in a grave tone. "You must be very, very careful not to cross paths with yourselves while in the past. Find a safe, secluded place to travel from, then avoid retracing your steps until you're certain your past selves have disappeared from the timeline. There have been disastrous consequences from witches and wizards meeting their past selves, and we mustn't have that happen here."
"Understood, sir," Hermione nodded. "We'll be careful." And she reached for the Time-Turner, but to her and Harry's surprise, Flitwick held it back.
"Unfortunately," he sighed, "the Ministry has only sanctioned the use of the Time-Turner for Mr. Potter here, given his exemplary record. We could not obtain permission for you, Miss Granger, due to your legal troubles over the summer."
"So I won't get to use it?" Hermione asked, looking crestfallen.
"You will," Flitwick corrected her. "But it must remain in Mr. Potter's possession at all times, and you must only use it for attending classes!I trust that you two can share the responsibility of time travel together?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said, and Hermione nodded vigorously alongside him.
"Good," Flitwick nodded, and he gently placed the Time-Turner in Harry's palm. "I would recommend that you keep this to yourselves, as other students may get jealous – this is a privilege few students receive. And if you have any questions, my door is always open."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry, and he and Hermione headed for the exit. When they reached the Entrance Hall, they turned towards one another.
"This is insane," Hermione breathed, eyeing the golden device in Harry's hand. "I can't believe they would actually allow two third-years to travel through time!"
"Seems rather irresponsible," Harry agreed, barely suppressing a grin. "We'd best not disappoint them. So what class d'you reckon we should attend first?"
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"We have our choice between Divination and Arithmancy," Harry said, pointing to the conflicting boxes on their schedule. "In theory, we could do them in either order."
"Oh...right!" Hermione said in realization. "How about Divination first?"
Harry nodded, and led the way up to Trelawney's classroom. It was an odd feeling, knowing at that very moment, a future version of himself and Hermione must be elsewhere in the castle, having already traveled backwards to attend the other class…
Harry groaned internally as they climbed the step-ladder up into the Divination classroom, the familiar stench of perfumes assaulting his nose. Why did I sign myself up for three more years of this torture? he lamented. But at least it should prove easier the second time, and he could use the opportunity to learn more about prophecy to bolster his cover story.
He viewed Professor Trelawney under a different light now, knowing she was in fact a legitimate Seer. She had correctly predicted Pettigrew's defection to Voldemort in his previous third year, and appeared to have made the prophecy that led to Voldemort targeting the Potters (or the Longbottoms in this timeline).
Still, it was hard to take her rambling, vaguely-coherent monologues seriously. She went on and on about "seeing the beyond", making offhand remarks to students every once in a while, usually spelling their doom. She predicted that Dean Thomas would experience a "bitter failure" in due time, that Draco Malfoy would "suffer a humiliating defeat", and that Hermione would "crush a rival and come to regret it".
"Such rubbish," Hermione muttered under her breath. Harry didn't know what she had to complain about; hers was the least doom-and-gloom prediction Trelawney had made thus far.
And just moments later, Trelawney broke into hysterics when she took a glimpse into Neville's teacup. "My dear boy!" she shrieked. "You have the Grim!"
"What's a Grim?" Neville asked worriedly.
"It is an omen of death!" Trelawney trembled. "You have been marked for it! There is no escaping the Grim, and I fear you will suffer a most painful end!"
Ron grabbed Neville's teacup to look for himself. "Looks kinda like a tiger to me," he shrugged, eliciting a few chuckles from their nearby table-mates.
"One mustn't make light of the Grim, Mr. Weasley," Trelawney snapped at him. "Tread carefully, young Longbottom, lest you succumb to an early grave!"
Neville looked slightly concerned by this, though everyone around him seemed to not take her too seriously. Harry was a bit perturbed by her prediction – she had been correct about Harry's fate in the previous timeline, and knowing what he knew about the true nature of Neville's scar, death did seem to be looming over him constantly.
After a painful hour and a half of listening to Trelawney's dour interpretations of everyone's tea-leaves, class was dismissed. Harry and Hermione attempted to carefully extricate themselves from the pack of students heading down the hall, seeking a quiet place to disappear into the past, but they were stopped short.
"Hey Harry, Hermione, where are you going?" asked Neville. "Don't the Ravenclaws also have Defense next period?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Erm...bathroom. I'll meet you guys there."
"Same here!" Hermione squeaked nervously. And they hurried off down the hall before anyone could ask too many questions.
Harry led the way through the throng of students, eventually locating a broom cupboard and pulling Hermione inside. "What on earth—?" Hermione protested.
"We can't risk being seen," Harry explained, closing the door behind them. He fumbled in his robes for the Time-Turner, which was more difficult in the cramped quarters and in pitch blackness.
"Ouch, you're standing on my foot!" Hermione hissed.
"Sorry," Harry groaned. "Lumos!" The wand in his pocket ignited, giving him enough light to see what he was doing. He clumsily threw the gold chain around his and Hermione's necks.
"Two hours, d'you reckon?" he asked.
"Should be fine," Hermione said impatiently. Her bushy hair was tickling his nose, and he could feel her leg bouncing nervously – she clearly wanted to get out of the tight confines of the closet as much as he did.
Harry turned the hourglass over twice, then waited. He suddenly felt as though he was falling backwards at great speed, a blur of shapes and colors rushing past his eyes. Just as he felt like he was becoming motion-sick, the sensation ended, and he found himself back on solid ground in the closet, Hermione beside him.
"You all right?" he asked, holding out an arm to steady her.
"Yes, fine," Hermione said primly, despite her obvious discomfort. "Let's go."
Harry pocketed the Time-Turner and exited the closet into the hall, which was thankfully empty. He checked his wristwatch: it still read 10:55 AM, but he knew it must actually be 8:55 due to the time travel.
"Right, so our past selves are currently heading from the Entrance Hall to Trelawney's classroom," he reasoned. "We should be able to get up to Vector's classroom without crossing our own paths."
"Makes sense," Hermione nodded. And they broke off towards the sixth floor, careful to avoid the main staircase where their past selves were heading to Divination.
Harry entered the unfamiliar Arithmancy classroom, already feeling trepidation about his decision to sign up for the course. He hadn't shared many classes with this group of students, either; clearly Divination was seen as the less prestigious subject, as there were few under-achievers to be seen in this group.
Professor Vector was a stern, cross-looking woman Harry had only ever seen in passing or at meals in the Great Hall. She reminded him of Professor McGonagall, commanding the room with a sharp speech pattern that just dared anyone to interrupt or disrespect her. Unlike McGonagall, however, Vector did not take questions and spoke as if she expected them all to understand the material already, which Harry clearly did not.
He found himself increasingly bewildered as her lesson went on, drawing complex graphs and figures on the board that he could not make heads or tails of. Hermione took studious notes, and he tried to do the same, but it was as though she was speaking an entirely different language. Math had always been Harry's worst subject in primary school with the Dursleys, and Arithmancy was like math with a bunch of extra made-up numbers and symbols.
He was relieved to have Defense next, easily his best subject, and was eager to see how his father would handle the class. He and Hermione met up with the group of Slytherins coming from Divination, drawing a confused look from Neville. "How did you beat us here?" he asked. "Didn't you both use the bathroom?"
"Took a shortcut," Harry shrugged. Luckily, James Potter ushered them all inside the classroom shortly after, cutting off any further lines of questioning about their whereabouts.
The Defense classroom was situated as it always was, but there were little placards on each desk with a name written on it. "Find your assigned desk and take a seat," James ordered. The class grumbled at this, splitting apart from their friends to find their names. Harry noticed that everyone had been paired with someone from the opposite House; Hermione was seated awkwardly beside Pansy Parkinson, Neville was paired with Sue Li, and Harry was forced to join Draco Malfoy, who gave him a dirty sneer as he took his seat.
"Welcome to year three Defense," announced James. "This year your focus will largely be on identifying dark magical creatures and how to deal with them if encountered. However, due to current events happening in the outside world, Professor Dumbledore has also asked me to teach you all the basics of how to defend yourself if attacked by a dark witch or wizard."
A few students murmured nervously at this, but Draco Malfoy threw his hand up into the air. "Question, Professor," he drawled. "Why should most of us have to learn to protect ourselves from Peter Pettigrew? I mean, if I see him come after Potter or Longbottom here, I would just run in the opposite direction."
The Slytherins laughed appreciatively at this quip. Harry expected James to get angry at this outburst, but instead he merely smiled.
"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," he appraised the teen. "Your first instinct in any encounter with a dangerous wizard should be to run away and avoid conflict altogether. Take two points for Slytherin." Draco looked surprised by this response, but smirked at his successful class disruption.
"However, running is not always the best solution," James continued. "Turning your back on an enemy can often mean serious injury, or even death. What if Pettigrew turns his wand on you, Draco? How would you respond?"
Draco's face paled a bit at this. "Erm, I dunno, disarm him?" he scoffed.
"Not a bad thought," James nodded. "Why don't you come up here and demonstrate for the class?"
Draco nervously got to his feet and joined James at the front of the room. "Now, pretend I'm Pettigrew," said James. "You see me raise my wand to curse you. Now, defend yourself! Stupefy!"
"Exp-pelliarmus!" Draco stammered, clearly caught off-guard.
Twin jets of red light burst from each of their wands, passing each other by; Draco's hit home, sending James' wand flying out of his hand, while James' Stunner hit Draco squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards, unconscious. The class laughed at the sight as James retrieved his wand and revived Draco, who sat up looking rather cross.
"You see?" said James. "Draco managed to disarm me, but my own spell still hit him. In a sanctioned duel that would be considered a draw, but this isn't a duel – it's life or death. Your first thought should always be to defend yourself by either countering, blocking or dodging the spell coming your way. Your objective is not to win the fight, but to buy yourself enough time to either escape or for a teacher to arrive to protect you."
The class hurried to jot down notes as James outlined other methods of defending oneself from incoming spellfire. Draco returned to his seat, wincing as he gingerly sat beside Harry.
"Not a word, Potter," he muttered mutinously under his breath. Harry just grinned to himself; he didn't need to say anything to rub it in. That made one of Trelawney's predictions correct already: that certainly qualified as a 'humiliating defeat' for Malfoy…
Harry's stomach was growling by the time class was dismissed for lunch. It may have been noon for everyone else, but thanks to the time-travel it was already 2 PM for him, and he wasn't used to so many classes in a single morning. Hermione clearly felt the same, for she hurried ahead of the pack to the Great Hall and was already loading her second plate when the rest of them arrived.
Care of Magical Creatures came next, giving a grateful Harry the chance to step outside and enjoy some sunshine. Hagrid took them out to the pasture to meet Buckbeak the hippogriff, whom nobody seemed eager to step forward to greet personally. Harry didn't mind doing so himself, but he gently encouraged Neville to go instead. Neville nervously inched forward, bowing low before the great winged beast. Buckbeak eyed him suspiciously for a moment before inclining his own head in greeting.
"Well done, Neville!" Hagrid beamed. "Take five points fer Slytherin. How would yeh like a ride?"
"N-no, that's okay—" Neville stammered, but Hagrid was already lifting the boy up onto Buckbeak's back. After a swift slap to his backside, Buckbeak reared back and took off into the sky, a terrified-looking Neville holding on for dear life. Harry imagined that Neville's flight wasn't nearly as exciting and freeing as his own had been, but when Buckbeak came back down to land, Neville did look flush with adrenaline, and accepted the cheers of his classmates with a little smile.
Draco clearly couldn't stand someone else being the center of attention, striding forward towards Buckbeak when Hagrid wasn't looking. "Oh, please...I bet you're harmless, aren't you?" he sneered, reaching forward to touch the hippogriff.
Buckbeak squawked indignantly, rearing back to strike at Draco with his long talons. Harry acted quickly, whipping out his wand and yanking it backwards, pulling Draco out of harm's way as Buckbeak swiped at the place he'd been moments before. "NO, MALFOY!" Hagrid shouted, rushing forward to quell the agitated beast.
"Get off me!" Draco spat, swatting away Crabbe and Goyle's helpful hands. "I can take care of myself, thanks."
I somehow doubt that, Harry thought ruefully as he stowed his wand away. Draco shot him a nasty glare for his stunt, but at least it was better than Buckbeak being sentenced to death by the Ministry.
The afternoon concluded with Ancient Runes, another class Harry had been dreading. Luckily, Professor Babbling took more care in explaining the basics of her subject, which struck Harry as rather like learning a second language. Their third year material would largely be learning how to translate runic scripts, identify their linguistic origin, and describe their magical application.
I could learn this, a relieved Harry thought as he skimmed the chapter Babbling had assigned them as homework. It's mostly memorization, isn't it? It's just a matter of taking the time to learn it. And thanks to the small golden device concealed on a chain around his neck, time was something he had in ample supply.
Harry wanted nothing more than to pass out after dinner that night, but he forced himself to stay awake and complete a bit of homework in the common room. The amount of work expected of them to complete was already daunting, and Harry still had over half of his classes yet to come later in the week. Only when he could no longer physically keep his eyes open did he retire to his dorm and pass out the second his head hit the pillow.
The rest of the week fared no better for Harry. He felt as though he had no room to breathe; his days were entirely consumed by classes and homework. It made little difference whether he was using the Time-Turner or not: it seemed like there was always an endless stream of places to be, work to be done. Even his free periods on Tuesday and Thursday were barely a reprieve, as they were the only chances he got to catch up on homework he was already dreadfully behind on.
How did Hermione do this the first time? Harry thought as the week dragged on. She didn't seem as perturbed as him by the schedule, maintaining her usual pleasant demeanor and always turning in her homework precisely on time. This was where his advantage over her was starting to dissipate: he far outstripped her in terms of knowledge, but she had him crushed in work ethic and time management. The busy work of eleven classes was starting to bury him alive.
Harry barely felt like he was functional by the end of the first week, just going through the motions until the weekend could arrive. He was berated twice by professors for nodding off in class, once by Snape, who took great pleasure in docking ten points from Ravenclaw and assuring him that his mother would be "ashamed" of his conduct. Still, Harry managed not to blow up any cauldrons for the remainder of the lesson, and he was gratefully released for the weekend.
Harry planned to head to bed straight after dinner, but a prefect intercepted him on the way back to the common room with a missive from Dumbledore, requesting his presence. What could he want now? Harry wondered as he made his way up to the Headmaster's office. "Fizzing Whizzbies," Harry announced to the gargoyle, who sprang aside to allow Harry access to the spiral staircase.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, you made it," Dumbledore greeted him as soon as he entered. "How is your third year treating you thus far?"
"It's challenging," Harry sighed as he sank into an armchair. "Lots of homework to do this weekend."
"Ah, yes, third year is when classes tend to get more difficult," Dumbledore nodded. "But I am sure you are up for the challenge. Have you and Miss Granger had any problems with the Time-Turner?"
"No, sir, not yet," said Harry, delicately extricating the golden hourglass from under his shirt. He and Hermione had successfully used it three times thus far, with the only hiccup coming when they were nearly spotted exiting a broom cupboard together by a gaggle of second-year girls who surely would have spread word like wildfire about it.
"Glad to hear it," Dumbledore nodded. "And how have your Divination classes been? What is your impression of Professor Trelawney?"
Harry struggled to find the appropriate words to describe the odd woman. "She's...unique," he said diplomatically. "She seems to see things other people can't."
"I've had owls from parents for over a decade demanding that I fire her," Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "She seems to have a penchant for predicting the imminent demise of each of her students."
"I did notice that, yeah," Harry chuckled.
"And do you find her classes productive?" Dumbledore asked. "Have they helped you understand your visions better?"
So that's what this is about, Harry realized. Dumbledore was fishing for information about Harry's Seer talents. "Not sure yet," he shrugged awkwardly. "But I'll keep at it and see if it helps."
"Very good," Dumbledore nodded. "Sibyl Trelawney may seem odd to the outside observer, but I have credible reason to believe she does indeed possess the Sight, and you would do well to observe her methods."
"I will, sir," Harry nodded, hoping that was the end of the meeting.
"And how was your meeting with Mr. Croaker at the Ministry over the summer?" asked Dumbledore. "Your father mentioned that he took you, but I've heard nothing from Saul about how it went."
"Oh," said Harry. "Erm...it was useful, I think. He taught me some ways to improve my visions and separate the truth from fiction."
"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed. "Has he prescribed you any particular techniques to hone your craft? Surely someone of his expertise had valuable insight into your particular set of skills. I am most curious to hear what he had to say."
Dumbledore's expression was as pleasant as ever, but Harry felt the piercing stare of those blue eyes penetrating his soul. He was being observed by one of the most terrifying wizards alive, and he felt naked and vulnerable under his gaze. He wished he'd practiced his Occlumency over the summer, because if Dumbledore attempted to Legilimize him now, he was certain he'd have no defense.
"Well," Harry said, thinking fast, "he did, sir. But he also mentioned that some of what he told me shouldn't be mentioned outside the Department of Mysteries, since he could get in trouble for revealing its secrets."
Harry's heart pounded as he waited for Dumbledore's response. He half expected Dumbledore to get angry with him for withholding information from him. But instead, he merely smiled.
"Naturally," he said. "Well, as long as you think he is of help, I am glad that you have his counsel."
"As am I," Harry said, letting out a small sigh of relief.
"And as always," said Dumbledore, "if you have any troubling visions, perhaps relating to Voldemort or to Peter Pettigrew, I would encourage you to come to me with them. Or your father, if that would make you feel more comfortable."
"I will, sir," Harry nodded. "I haven't seen anything noteworthy yet."
"Very well," said Dumbledore. "You're free to go. Feel free to say hello to Fawkes on your way out."
Harry gratefully stood and headed for the door. He paused at Fawkes' perch, admiring the majestic bird that had saved his and Lupin's lives in the Chamber of Secrets. He gently scratched under the bird's beak, marveling at the intense warmth of the phoenix feathers that did not burn him. He then departed the office, grateful to have escaped without giving away anything more to the Headmaster.
The weekend brought a much-needed reprieve from the rigor of class attendance, but he still had a mountain of homework to complete. He spent most of his free days in the library, scribbling essays as quickly as possible and reading his assigned texts faster than he could comprehend the words.
He was able to complete most of the busy work without too much trouble, having already done it all once before in his last timeline. But Ancient Runes and Arithmancy slowed him down; the former consumed the most time by far, forcing him to commit dozens of foreign glyphs to memory, while the latter continued to stump him completely. He filled out his assigned worksheet as best he could, certain that he'd get an awful grade but resolving to pay closer attention in the next lecture.
Luna joined him for large stretches of his long study sessions, as she too was far behind in her course work. "I missed nearly half of my first year, due to the basilisk, you know," she hummed as she completed her Defense homework beside Harry. "I was almost held back a year, but father convinced Flitwick to give me summer packets to catch up to the rest of my class."
"Well, that's fortunate," said Harry. He was now doubly impressed with Hermione's work ethic; he'd forgotten that she too missed much of her second year in the last timeline in addition to her full course load the following year.
"Ooh, look, nargles!" Luna exclaimed, pointing at a picture in Harry's open Divination textbook.
"Erm...no, Luna, those are gnomes," Harry frowned. He was working on an essay for Trelawney about the supposed divining properties of gnome saliva.
"A common misconception," said Luna firmly. "Mother always said nargles hid among the gnomes to hide their power from the world."
"Your mum believed in nargles as well?" asked Harry.
"Oh, yes," Luna nodded fervently. "She always took me down to the creek to catch them. Sneaky creatures, they are, and you can never be sure if the ones you catch are actually nargles or just common gnomes. They are good at hiding it, you see."
Harry listened politely as Luna rambled on about nargles and her expeditions with her mother. He was often amused by her fantastical beliefs, but also did not want to interrupt what was clearly a fond memory Luna had of her mother. He knew she'd lost her mother just a few years ago, but didn't dare mention it as Luna seemed to be in good spirits about it at the moment.
Still, he did have to tune her out for much of the afternoon as he crammed in as much work as he could. The evening sun rapidly faded away, and Harry packed his things to grab a quick dinner before retiring to the common room for the night. He heard a squeal of delight as he entered the Great Hall, turning to see Ginny and Dahlia jumping up and down excitedly near the Gryffindor table.
"Good news?" he asked as he walked up to greet them.
"Ginny's made the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" Dahlia said excitedly.
"Oh, congratulations!" Harry appraised the redhead. "What position?"
"Seeker," Ginny grinned, her hair still windswept from the recent tryouts. "I wanted to try out for Chaser, but Angelina preferred to move back to her natural position."
"I knew you would make it," said Dahlia. "Dean Thomas looked rather cross when he walked up to the castle earlier." Harry had heard Dean talking to his desk mate about wanting to try out for Seeker in one of their classes the previous week; clearly he'd been bested. There's yet another Trelawney prediction confirmed, he thought bemusedly.
"Guess that makes us rivals, then," Harry grinned. "I'll be going out for Ravenclaw Seeker again this year."
"Good luck with that," Ginny smirked. "I hear Cho Chang's been working out all summer at a Quidditch camp to prepare for the upcoming season."
Harry felt a jolt of dread at this revelation. He'd assumed he had the Seeker position in the bag since he was gifted the Firebolt, but Cho still had a size advantage on him and Roger Davies clearly liked her more. He would have his work cut out for him at Ravenclaw's tryouts the following afternoon.
Just then, Astoria Greengrass walked up to join their circle. "You two are cousins with Damian Dursley, aren't you?" she demanded, looking at Harry and Dahlia.
"Yeah," said Harry. "What about him?"
"Kid is a nightmare," Astoria groaned. "He disrupts every class, bullies the other first-years...apparently he's lost Hufflepuff more points than everyone else combined."
Harry's heart sank at this news. He'd worried that Damian would struggle to fit in with his peers, and to hear that he was intentionally causing problems for those around him was confirmation of those fears.
"I could have told you that," Dahlia scoffed. "That whole family is mad. Nobody raised by Vernon Dursley could ever grow up to be a decent human being."
"I'll talk to him," Harry sighed, scanning the Hall for signs of the boy. He had been keeping an eye out for Damian ever since the Welcome Feast, but hadn't had an opportunity to introduce himself yet. He wasn't sure what the extent of their relationship was prior to his awakening in this timeline, but it clearly wasn't very strong.
Harry couldn't devote much attention to this problem, as first he had to survive another brutal day of classes followed by what would surely be a grueling tryout. He technically had a conflict with his final class of the day, Herbology, but thanks to the Time-Turner he was able to attend both. He snuck around the back of the greenhouses after class let out, turned himself back two hours, then hustled down to the Quidditch pitch to get dressed.
Harry strode out onto the field with his broom, joining the group of hopefuls waiting for Roger to arrive. "Hello, Cho," he greeted Cho Chang amicably as he stood beside her.
"Potter," she said neutrally, nodding in his direction. But she did a double-take when she saw the broom clutched in his hand. "Is that a Firebolt?!"
"Oh, yeah," Harry said nonchalantly, turning the broom so she could see the insignia printed on the handle. "My dad got it for me for my birthday."
"Huh. Cool," Cho hummed nonchalantly. But she looked far more nervous now than she had before – All the better for me, Harry figured.
Roger Davies arrived on the pitch soon after, and the prospective tryouts gathered around him. "Right, so we've lost a few more players to graduation this year," he announced. "We'll be trying out players for all four positions. And if you made the team last year, it's not a guarantee that you'll make it this year, so I wanna see your best flying today!"
On one hand, Harry was glad for this change of philosophy from Roger – players shouldn't automatically earn a spot based on making the team last year. But he also knew Roger probably only changed his mind to give Cho another chance, so it didn't make him feel any better in the moment.
Roger started with the Chasers, looking to fill out the two positions around himself. There wasn't much to be excited about; Kade Wilson had improved significantly from his last season, but nobody else had a particularly impressive tryout. Roger immediately gave Wilson his spot back, and reluctantly chose an undersized second year girl named Veronica Selwyn who could at least pass effectively.
The Beaters and Keepers went next. Seventh-year Keeper Gabriel Page handily retained his spot, while the Beater spots were filled by returning player Adam Samuels and newcomer Stephen Mescal. That left just the Seekers to go, and Harry felt the familiar butterflies raging in his stomach as Roger turned to him and Cho.
"Right, same as last year," said Roger. "Three Snitches, first to two wins. Sound good?"
"Okay," Harry nodded; the Firebolt finally gave him the speed advantage he needed to overcome this flawed system. Cho reluctantly nodded as well; she could hardly complain, given her sizable advantage the year before.
They took their place at the end line as Roger flew over to the other side of the pitch. He blew his whistle, releasing the first Snitch as Harry and Cho kicked off from the ground. At once Harry's anxiety melted away; he flattened himself against his broom handle and quickly outstripped Cho as the field became a blur around him. He spotted the Snitch hovering around the center goalpost and yanked his broom upwards to chase it, snatching it from the air within seconds of taking off.
Harry heard the appreciative whistles of the crowd as he returned the Snitch to Roger. Roger, too, looked quite impressed by the show of speed, but held his tongue as they reset for the next Snitch. Harry tried his best to remain calm as he lined up with a frustrated Cho again, not letting himself relax until the job was done.
Roger blew his whistle again, and Harry once more outpaced Cho across the field. This time, however, the Snitch was more agile and tricky to track down, darting in and out of sight behind the goalposts and forcing Harry to slow down to assess its movement. Cho came rocketing in from behind, slamming into Harry's side as she attempted to use her size to overpower him. Harry absorbed the blow and stayed level, waiting for a moment to strike.
The Snitch remained dangerously close to the ground and posts, preventing Harry and Cho from diving after it safely. Harry circled around the back of the posts to coax it out of hiding, and it eventually did so, making a beeline across the pitch. Harry and Cho pounced on it; Cho was slightly closer, reaching her fingertips as far as they could stretch for the tiny golden ball, but Harry put on a late burst of speed to snatch it out from under her, triumphantly holding the Snitch aloft as the crowd cheered him on.
"Damn, Potter, that's a nice broom you've got there," Roger whistled as Harry returned the Snitch to him. "I think we have our winner. Unless you'd like a third go anyway, Chang?"
Cho looked rather pensive as she landed beside Harry. "I play Chaser as a secondary position, you know," she said. "Any chance I can get a tryout there instead?"
That surprised Harry – he'd only ever knew Cho as a Seeker, but he supposed it made sense for her to know multiple positions, given her extensive training in the sport. Roger also looked surprised by the revelation, pondering her request over for a moment. Eventually he blew his whistle and turned to the remaining members of the team. "Selwyn!" he barked. "Back in the air!"
Veronica Selwyn looked alarmed by this; clearly she thought she'd secured her position already. But she mounted her broom and met Roger and Cho at center field. Harry couldn't hear what was being discussed, but it seemed to be a one-on-one to determine who would take the third Chaser spot. Harry hadn't considered this possibility – he always saw Cho as a rival, but could she be a teammate in a different capacity?
Unfortunately for Veronica, it was clear from the start that she was outmatched. Cho proved nearly as effective as a Chaser as she did a Seeker, flying proverbial circles over the younger and smaller girl. Cho put up a quick five goals against Veronica, who struggled to even get the Quaffle past Cho's staunch defenses, and Roger blew his whistle to call an end to the rout.
"Alright, Selwyn, you'll be moved to reserve Chaser," Roger told the dejected second-year girl. "Chang, you'll be our third starting Chaser. Congratulations." The team clapped politely for Cho, who looked far more pleased than she had a few minutes prior.
"Well done, Cho," Harry said earnestly, extending a hand to her. "I never knew you could play two positions so well."
"Thanks, Harry!" Cho beamed, no longer looking as cross with him. "It will be good practice, anyway. Father says the pro scouts like to see players excel at multiple positions, so this will let me show off more of what I can do."
"You're thinking of going pro?" Harry asked.
"Maybe," Cho shrugged with a bashful grin. "Hopefully at Seeker, but I'd happily play Chaser too. You should think about it as a career, too...you're quite a talented Seeker yourself."
"Oh...thank you," Harry said, surprised by the earnest compliment. He hadn't given much thought yet in this timeline to a career path, always assuming he would follow his father into the Auror Office. But what if the upcoming war could be averted? Could he do something more care-free with his life like Quidditch? It was a wonderful possibility he hadn't even considered.
"Hang on a second...isn't that a Hufflepuff?" Roger Davies frowned, pointing into the grandstands. There was indeed a student with a yellow badge watching them from afar. "Diggory sending spies after us now?"
Harry sighed, recognizing the intruder at once. "That's my cousin," he groaned. "I'll handle this."
Damian fled as soon as he realized he'd been spotted. Harry apologetically took his leave from the team, chasing after the boy; it didn't take long to catch up on the grounds, as he was far more in shape. "Damian...hey, Damian, wait up!" he called out.
The blonde boy turned, a little winded, and gave Harry a defiant look. "What?" he demanded.
"Erm...d'you know who I am?" Harry asked.
"'Course I do," Damian grunted. "You're my tosser cousin who never came over for dinner."
Harry felt a pang of regret at this reminder. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said. "Your parents and I never got along too well."
"What d'you want?" Damian asked, crossing his arms.
"Erm...to make sure you're adjusting to Hogwarts all right," said Harry awkwardly. "How are you finding the school so far?"
"Awful place," Damian spat. "Bunch o' swots in all my classes, they won't let me call home, and there's not even a faffing wrestling team I can join!"
"There are other clubs you could sign up for," Harry shrugged. "And I can let you borrow my owl if you want to write home—"
"I'm not sending my dad letters with a bloody pigeon!" Damian scoffed. "He'll shoot it out of the sky!"
"Okay, well…" Harry stammered, trying to find any common ground he could with the kid. "Have you met my friend Ron? He's in your House…"
"Who, the ginger kid?" Damian laughed. "He's a wanker, just like the rest of 'em. He talked at me like I was handicapped or summat."
Harry cringed internally at the thought – he hadn't considered how indelicate Ron could be at times. A pure-blood like him might not have the tact necessary to deal with a boy who only learned about magic a few weeks ago.
"Well, I just want to help you fit in," Harry sighed. "If there's anything I can do – help you with homework, introduce you to people—"
"Save it, Potter," Damian sneered. "I'll never fit in here. I reckon I'll just keep stirring up trouble until they have no choice but to chuck me out and send me home where I belong." And he spat a mouthful of phlegm at Harry's feet, turning to stomp petulantly back up to the castle.
Harry watched him go with conflicting emotions. Damian reminded him so much of his older brother Dudley, he couldn't help but feel an innate dislike for the boy. But he could only imagine the turmoil the poor kid was going through: thrown into a world he didn't understand, alienated from his intensely anti-magical parents, feeling trapped and light-years away from his safe spaces. I have to help him somehow, he thought determinedly.
Just one more item to add to his already daunting to-do list...