Harry's struggles to stay afloat didn't lessen much as the weeks wore on. A full load of classes continued to drain him physically and mentally, as did the stress of keeping his grades up and performing well with the Quidditch team. While most of his homework remained pitifully easy to complete, it still consumed so much of his free time that he had little time to devote to anything else.
Worse yet, Arithmancy continued to be a thorn in his side. His first assignment came back with a failing grade, and the material continued to prove devilishly tricky to understand. Professor Vector pulled him aside after one lesson to berate him for his poor performance thus far.
"I expected better from you this term, Potter," she said sternly. "Your other professors have been singing your praises for two years now, but I don't see any of that spark in my class."
"Sorry, Professor," Harry sighed. "I'm just not that great with numbers."
"Perhaps you'd consider getting help from your classmates?" Vector suggested. "I notice you spending time with Miss Granger quite often. I'm sure she would be happy to assist you with the homework."
"I'll ask her," Harry sighed. He was hesitant to approach Hermione for help after the tensions between them in the previous year, even though logically he knew the diary was impacting her psyche. Besides, he already spent an awful lot of time with her using the Time-Turner to attend classes, and while he enjoyed her company, she could be a bit much in large doses.
But he was in serious danger of failing his class, so he made his way to the library that evening and approached Hermione's table. "Hey, Hermione?" he asked meekly. "Got a minute?"
Hermione looked up from her essay, looking frazzled. "What is it, Harry?" she asked.
"I, erm…" Harry stammered, still feeling a bit shameful about his failure in the class thus far. But he also knew she was ultimately the reason for his success from his previous timeline, so he swallowed his pride. "I'm having trouble with the Arithmancy assignment. Could you help me?"
To his relief, Hermione did not rub it in or refuse his request; instead, she beamed at him. "Of course!" she said. "Here, have a seat."
Harry sat beside Hermione as she rummaged through her things and pulled out her own worksheet. She had naturally completed hers already, despite it only being assigned earlier that very day. "How are you such a natural at this?" he grumbled.
"Oh, I've just always been good with maths," Hermione shrugged modestly. "I'm sure it's how you feel about every other subject."
"None of those subjects are that easy to me," Harry said honestly. "You're way more brilliant than I am, honest."
Hermione flushed slightly at this compliment, but did not acknowledge it. "Let me see how you approach it," she said instead, turning to Harry's blank assignment.
They spent the next hour working through it, with Harry awkwardly trying to explain his thought process for each answer. Hermione was patient with him, walking him through his mistakes and misconceptions. She was a far better teacher than Vector, or maybe Harry was just more used to her methods of explaining things in terms he could understand. By the end of the assignment he was able to complete a few of the problems himself, finally feeling like he had a rudimentary understanding of what was being asked of him.
"Well done, Harry!" Hermione appraised him. "See, I knew you'd get it eventually!"
"Thanks to you," Harry grinned. "You're a life-saver, Hermione."
"Happy to help," Hermione smiled back. Then, she glanced up at the clock on the wall, and gave a tiny gasp. "Is it already that late? Oh, I have so much more to finish tonight…"
"Don't sweat it," Harry said, pulling the Time-Turner out from under his shirt. "We can always use this to buy ourselves more time."
"Harry, no!" Hermione chastised him. "Flitwick told us we're only allowed to use it to attend our classes!"
"He also told us you aren't technically allowed to use it at all," Harry pointed out. "So what does it matter? As long as we avoid meeting ourselves, it will be fine."
"It isn't right!" Hermione said adamantly. "Dumbledore put great faith in us to do the right thing, and we don't want to let him down!"
Harry was annoyed with Hermione's insistence on following the rules, but he held his tongue. He had planned to share his Time-Turner privileges with Hermione completely, but if she refused to step outside the lines dictated to them, he no longer felt bad about excluding her. He was desperate to buy himself more time to catch up on sleep and assignments, and if she didn't want to join him, that was her loss.
By the time Madam Pince shooed them out of the library, it was nearing midnight. Harry wanted nothing more than to sleep in the following day, but his alarm rudely disrupted his slumber bright and early. He went through his morning like a zombie, barely functional in his classes and feeling on the verge of delirium. Terry Boot had to nudge him multiple times to keep him awake in Potions, as Snape kept walking past their station and looking suspiciously at Harry.
By the time lunch rolled around, Harry was at his breaking point, and knew he couldn't last through his afternoon classes. But he had an exam in Transfiguration next period which he couldn't afford to miss, so he had to hatch a plan. "I'll catch up with you guys in a bit," he told his classmates as they headed to the Great Hall for lunch. "Forgot one of my books in the dorms."
Harry met nobody else on his way up to Ravenclaw Tower, which was fortunate because he was too tired to speak to anybody. He crossed through the common room up to his empty dorm, pulling out the Time-Turner. "Tempus," he muttered; the time glittered over his head, reading 12:05 PM. He'd left the dorms shortly before eight to head to breakfast, so he figured four hours should be safe.
Harry turned the hourglass over four times in his hands, and felt the now-familiar rushing sensation of falling backwards in time. He landed back on his feet, and found himself back in the same dorm, four hours in the past. He heard a rustling noise to his left, and turned to see Kevin Entwhistle rummaging through his dresser; Kevin turned around with a jolt to see Harry standing there.
"Blimey, Harry, you scared me!" Kevin breathed. "I didn't hear the door open...I thought you'd left for breakfast already!"
"Just grabbing something," Harry lied. And he pretended to rummage through his own belongings until Kevin found what he was looking for and left the dorm.
Finally alone, Harry kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed. He was immediately overwhelmed by the warm embrace of the covers, falling asleep almost instantly.
He awoke with a start an unknown amount of time later. What time is it? Harry wondered in a panic. Have I overslept? He cursed himself for not setting an alarm – what if his past self had walked into the dorm and found his future self sleeping in the bed? He grabbed his glasses and squinted at the clock on the wall. It read 12:04 PM.
"Shit," Harry mumbled under his breath, scrambling out of bed. He hastily put on his shoes and headed for the door, but froze when he heard footsteps approaching from the other side. He dove under Anthony Goldstein's bed as the door opened, and he heard someone enter the dorm. Himself.
Harry resisted the urge to look, squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath. "Tempus," he heard his past self say. He heard the gentle tinkle of the golden chain as his past self pulled out the Time-Turner. Harry waited until he felt certain his alter ego had disappeared into the past, then cracked open one eye. The dorm was empty once more.
I'll have to be more careful from now on, Harry thought to himself as he headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. It could have been catastrophic if he hadn't woken up in time, and he knew he'd just gotten away with something. He could have avoided the whole situation by just traveling back before entering the dorm, but that plus his failure to set an alarm had led to a near-disaster. Hermione was right: meddling with time was dangerous, and he was playing with fire by disobeying Flitwick's orders.
Harry entered the Hall and took a seat beside his fellow Ravenclaws "Find it?" Terry asked.
"Sorry?" asked Harry, bewildered.
"Your book," Terry said. "You said you left it up at the dorm."
"Oh," said Harry, remembering his excuse from hours before (which was just minutes before in Terry's mind). "Yeah, thanks." And he began to load his plate with food, heart still hammering from the close call earlier.
Still, he couldn't say the risk wasn't worth it. He felt rejuvenated after his long nap, and was able to make it through his afternoon classes without nodding off. Better yet, he was able to complete his homework that evening well before midnight, ensuring that he would get another full night's rest before the next day's classes.
The Time-Turner was a useful and powerful tool, and Harry planned to take advantage of it much more often. He just had to be smarter about how and when to use it. As long as he took precautions to avoid crossing his own path like today, he should be fine.
His course load felt more manageable now that he had more time to sleep and study. He decided that using the Time-Turner to sleep in his dorm was too risky; he instead opted for the Room of Requirement for this purpose. It provided him with a cozy desk to do homework at, and a warm bed to sleep in, along with an alarm clock designed to wake up at precisely the moment he next needed to be somewhere. As long as he remembered to travel back in time before entering the Room and stayed inside until his past self had disappeared, the plan worked flawlessly.
Quidditch practice was ramping up as well, with their first match against Gryffindor coming on the first weekend of November. "I hear their new Seeker, Ginny Weasley, is pretty good," Roger Davies informed the team. "Of course, the twins could just be hyping up their own sister, but Angelina seems more confident than last year. Have you seen her fly, Potter?"
"A little bit," Harry said vaguely. He'd flown with Ginny plenty of times at the Burrow and knew she was a gutsy, aggressive flier, but also knew he had both the size and speed advantage over her.
"Let's not take this one for granted," said Roger. "They may not be a free win like they've been the past few years. Every point we can score could be crucial, so no slacking this month!"
Roger trained them hard all October long, which was just as well with Harry – he felt out of shape from the summer stuck indoors and needed the training to get himself in peak condition for the season. It meant he needed more recovery time to rest after such grueling sessions, but time was something he had plenty of now – he had no qualms about using the Time-Turner every day if need be, even multiple times a day in some cases.
The third week of October brought another new activity to Harry's busy schedule: the first meeting of the Dueling Club. It seemed that most of the school showed up to the Great Hall, once word spread that James Potter would be assisting Professor Flitwick with the lessons. Harry was glad to see the number of students who clearly held his father in high regard, and was also eager to see James' fighting prowess for himself.
Once the room was packed full of students, Flitwick took to the stage to begin the session. "Welcome to another year of the Dueling Club!" he announced. "I'm happy to announce that this year I will be assisted by our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Auror James Potter." The crowd applauded generously as James took the stage beside Flitwick, raising a hand to quiet them.
"We will get to dueling strategies in future club meetings," said James. "But I've had a lot of students approach me in the past few weeks about dealing with the dementors patrolling the grounds. So today, I'm going to teach you all how to cast the Patronus Charm."
There was a great deal of excitement at this prospect; clearly many students were perturbed by the dementors' presence. Neville in particular perked up to pay closer attention to James.
"Dementors feed on happiness and attempt to suck all joy, hope and life out of humans," James explained. "But the Patronus is a being of pure happiness and light. To conjure one, you have to focus on the happiest memory you can think of. Not just any memory – the moment of your life you felt the most joyful, content, and happy. Otherwise you may struggle to produce a Patronus."
"Can we see yours?" asked a sixth-year Slytherin boy.
"Of course," James nodded. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then flicked his wand. "Expecto Patronum!" A silver stag erupted from his wand tip and trotted proudly around the room over the students' heads, drawing oohs and aahs of appreciation.
"What memory did you use, Professor?" called out another student.
"The first time my wife told me she loved me," said James, with a vaguely distant smile on his face. A few girls in the crowd squealed with delight at this, while Harry spotted Dahlia across the room making gagging motions that made Ginny double over in silent laughter.
"Now, we'll break up into groups to try it for ourselves," said James. "Don't worry if you can't get one – it's an extremely advanced charm, and I wouldn't expect any but a few of the older students to produce more than just mist."
Harry walked over to Neville, Ron and Hermione and watched them practice the spell for themselves. Hermione was frustrated at once, mimicking James' wand movement and pronunciation precisely but failing to get anything to come out of her wand. Ron was flourishing his with gusto, but succeeded only in poking himself in the eye. Neville had his eyes scrunched up in concentration, muttering the incantation under his breath, but he too had little success.
Looking around the room, Harry saw that none of the other students were faring much better. A few sixth- and seventh-years were able to spray white mist briefly, but nothing corporeal emerged from it. Only Cedric Diggory managed to maintain a cone of white mist for more than a few seconds, to the amazement of his group of friends, before it too faded away.
"Mr. Potter!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was walking around the room encouraging students and giving pointers. "Why aren't you practicing?"
"Oh," Harry muttered. "I'm, erm...helping the others."
"Harry can already make one," said Ron. "He used a Patronus to drive away the dementor on the train."
Flitwick's eyes went wide. "You are able to produce a corporeal Patronus?" he asked, flabbergasted.
"Yes," Harry admitted. "But I didn't want to show any of the other students up—"
"Nonsense!" Flitwick squeaked with delight. "I imagine your success will only encourage the others and show them that it's possible! Would you care to demonstrate for us all?"
A small crowd had gathered to watch this exchange, many looking curiously at Harry. He sighed, wanting to keep his abilities concealed, but he relented and drew his wand. He closed his eyes, focusing on the memory of his eleventh birthday, spending the entire day with the loving family he'd always wanted. "Expecto Patronum!"
At once, the great silvery Patronus burst from his wand and galloped around the room. The entire room went silent and watched in awe as the four-legged creature did a lap around the Hall, rearing its head and flexing its wings. It was the first time Harry had seen it in a more expansive setting, and he saw clearly now that it was not a stag. Nor did it appear to be a hippogriff; it was thinner, devoid of feathers, and had more of an equine appearance to it.
"What is it?" one of the students wondered aloud.
"It's a thestral!" exclaimed Lee Jordan. "The creatures that pull the school carriages!"
Harry recognized it quite clearly now. The skeletal frame, the bony wings – he'd ridden one all the way to London in his last timeline, after all. The silvery thestral finished its lap and came to a halt in front of Harry, flapping its wings one last time before disappearing into mist. A smattering of applause broke out, and even James joined in, beaming at his son.
"Well done, Harry!" he said. "Ten points to Ravenclaw!"
"Blimey, Potter," Anthony Goldstein breathed. "How'd you end up with a thestral for a Patronus?"
"Yeah, that's pretty morbid, isn't it?" chimed in Padma Patil.
"Dunno," Harry shrugged. Why had his Patronus changed? He wasn't even aware that was a possibility. Had his brush with Death given him a more macabre representative of his soul? Did it say something about his deeper desires in this timeline? It was a rather ominous sign, one he wasn't sure about the significance of. He noticed his father giving him a curious look from the stage, and wondered if James was thinking the same thing…
Despite Harry's successful Patronus, nobody else managed the charm by the end of the lesson. Students began filing out of the Great Hall for their common rooms. Harry chased after the Hufflepuffs, realizing that now was a golden opportunity to act on an idea he'd had recently.
"Hey, Cedric!" Harry called out. Cedric and his group of friends turned to see Harry walking over. "You got a second?"
"Sure," Cedric shrugged, and he bid his friends farewell as they departed the Hall without him. "Congrats, by the way."
"Oh...that?" Harry grimaced, thinking of his successful Patronus. "Just beginner's luck, is all."
"I meant on making the Quidditch team," Cedric grinned. "Roger Davies has been bragging about your Firebolt to everyone."
"Right," Harry muttered, reddening a bit at this. "Listen, can I ask you for a favor?"
"Sure, what's up?" asked Cedric, crossing his arms and leaning casually against the wall.
"There's a first-year in your House," said Harry. "Big bloke, blonde, Muggle-born. Name of Dursley. You know him?"
Cedric frowned a bit at the name. "Yeah, I know him," he muttered. "Been causing a lot of problems."
"He's my cousin," Harry explained. "His parents aren't exactly fond of magic, so he's having difficulty fitting in. D'you think there's anything you could do to help him?"
"Like what?" Cedric asked, throwing out his arms in exasperation. "I'm no therapist."
"I caught him watching our Quidditch tryouts the other day," said Harry. "He might take an interest in the sport if someone explained it to him. Think you could teach him a thing or two?"
Cedric pondered this. "First-years aren't allowed on the team, you know," he said.
"I'm not saying you should recruit him," said Harry. "Just fly around with him a bit. Maybe have him hit a few Bludgers around."
"You think giving that kid a Beater's bat is a good idea?" Cedric grimaced.
"Might help him let off some pent-up energy," Harry shrugged. "Just a thought."
"Huh," Cedric hummed thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea. Yeah, maybe I'll invite him to our next practice."
"Thanks," said Harry. "I owe you one."
"You got it," Cedric grinned. "Maybe you can teach me the Patronus Charm sometime."
"Oh, no, I'm sure you'll get it soon enough on your own," Harry said quickly. But he realized from the mirthful look on Cedric's face that he was only joking.
"See you on the pitch, Potter," Cedric smirked, turning to leave. "Don't think I'll go easy on you!"
Harry smiled in spite of himself watching Cedric go. He'd been bitter rivals with the older boy in his past timeline, both in Quidditch and in the Triwizard Tournament, but had always liked him regardless. Perhaps in this timeline they could be allies, or maybe even friends. Regardless, he would do everything in his power to ensure Cedric's survival in this lifetime.
Harry spent the next few days wondering what his father's perturbed expression might mean. Was he more surprised about the fact that his thirteen-year-old son could cast a flawless Patronus Charm, or that his Patronus was a thestral? He wasn't actually sure which was more alarming. He didn't find out the truth until the following Monday, when he was intercepted on his way to lunch after his Defense lesson.
"Hold on a minute, Harry," James called out. Harry reluctantly waited as the last few groups filtered out of the classroom, and he was left alone with his father.
"When did you learn the Patronus Charm?" James inquired. "That's well beyond your age level."
"Read about it in a book last year," Harry shrugged. "Uncle Remus helped me with it." The last part wasn't even a lie; he just declined to mention that it was a different Lupin, in a different timeline.
"He never mentioned it," James muttered thoughtfully. "I thought your Patronus might be a stag, like mine. Your grandfather Charlus' Patronus was a stag too."
"Yeah," Harry said awkwardly. "Dunno what that's about."
"Listen," said James softly, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think it might be best if you see a Mind-Healer. You've been through a lot in the past two years – more than any thirteen-year-old should have to go through. A thestral Patronus at your age is extremely alarming...I worry that witnessing Professor Quirrell's death might have done a number on you."
"I don't need a Mind-Healer," Harry snapped. "I'm fine, Dad, honest. I've seen some frightening things, but I always did what I had to do to save myself and the people I care about."
James looked at him with a pained expression. "You remind me so much of myself at your age," he sighed. "Too much so. Your mother remains convinced that my 'saving people thing' will get me killed one day."
Harry chilled at this statement. He remembered Hermione using the exact same phrase in the last timeline, shortly before he led them to their doom in the Department of Mysteries. 'Saving people thing'...had he inherited that too from his father?
"Honestly, I'm fine," Harry insisted. "Besides, I have Saul to talk to. He's given me some techniques to clear my mind, and I've been doing really well lately." Saul hadn't actually done any such thing for him, but it was a reasonable enough lie that he hoped his father would buy it.
James' face did seem to soften slightly at this. "I wish you could just have a normal childhood," he sighed. "I feel like I took a wrong turn somewhere in raising you."
"You raised me to stick up for myself," Harry said adamantly. "And take care of the people around me. I'm just doing what I think will best help me do that."
James considered this for a moment. Then, he unexpectedly leaned down and brought Harry in for a crushing hug. "I love you, son," he muttered. "And I'm so, so proud of you. I just wish I could protect you better from the evils of the world."
"You have," Harry said, trying not to get choked up by the gesture. "I feel safe knowing you're out there fighting that evil for us."
James pulled back and nodded, angling his face away from his son – probably to avoid showing emotion. "Be careful this year, won't you?" he said. "We still don't know what Pettigrew is up to, and you should be safe here in the castle, but just...well, you know."
"I'll be ready if he comes for me," Harry said. "I take it you've sealed the secret passages?"
"As much as can be done," James sighed. "Even if he manages to wriggle through in rat form, the wards ought to alert myself and Dumbledore before he can get very far."
That made Harry feel marginally better about things. He too remained perplexed by Peter's motives being this close to Hogwarts, but knowing the obstacles placed in his path – and knowing how inept the man had proven to be time and again – gave him some measure of calm.
Harry didn't have much time to worry about Pettigrew in the coming weeks anyway. Practices were ramping up ahead of their Quidditch match against Gryffindor, and his homework remained a constant drain on his free time. Even with the Time-Turner buying him extra hours to work with, he was spread thin, and any threat of death of kidnapping by a deranged convict seemed distant and not worth worrying about. He just kept his head down and focused on the tasks at hand, which were challenging enough to begin with.
Halloween arrived, a Sunday, and as usual Harry found himself swamped with assignments due the following day. He also had exams in Arithmancy and History of Magic in the coming week, two of his least-favorite subjects, and he needed to cram in as much study time as possible to brush up on the material. He spent the whole afternoon in the library, where he was joined by Luna, whose odd non-sequiturs were always a welcome distraction from the rigors of classwork.
"Awfully gloomy day today," Luna sighed as she stared out the window. "Feels as though a storm is coming, don't you think?"
Harry glanced out the window; it was a gorgeous sunny afternoon, not a cloud in the sky. "You think so?" he muttered, not really paying that much attention to her.
"Oh, yes," Luna insisted. "It's just like the day my mother died. Don't you ever just get the feeling that something horrible is going to happen, and you can't quite place your finger on it?"
"Sure, I guess," Harry shrugged. "I try to ignore that feeling, though. No use worrying about things you can't control."
"I suppose that's true," Luna agreed. "After all, if you can't know what's going to happen, how could you control it? And if you could control it, wouldn't the feeling be for nothing?"
"Yeah," Harry said absent-mindedly, not really following her circular logic. She was full of odd sayings and nonsensical rationale...he just enjoyed the serene sound of her voice working through a thought in her own unique way. Luna was one of the few people he knew who spoke her mind no matter what, even if it made no sense. Honesty was a trait he valued higher than anything in a timeline where he was still unsure who couldn't be trusted.
Harry's stomach began to rumble around six-thirty, and he headed to the Great Hall for a bite to eat. After scarfing down some mashed potatoes and roasted pheasant, he got up to leave, but he was intercepted once again.
"Hey, Potter!" a voice called out; Roger Davies was walking across the Hall towards him. "Some of the lads on the team are headed to the pitch to get in some extra warm-ups. Want to join?"
"Erm…" Harry said, thinking. He still had a ton of homework to do tonight, and he had planned to spend the evening in the Room of Requirement getting it all done. But the weather outside was lovely, and some casual flying did sound divine right about now. "Sure, I'll meet you down there."
Roger grinned as Harry took his leave of the Hall. But rather than turn left to head out the door to the grounds, he turned right and took the stairwell up towards the seventh floor. He had every intention of joining Roger at the pitch, but there was no reason why he couldn't do so and complete his homework. Besides, he had had a brilliant idea about the Time-Turner that he wanted to make use of.
Harry had quickly discovered that there were limits to the Time-Turner's abilities. He could only turn himself back a maximum of four hours; any more turns of the dial would not send him any further back than that. Furthermore, the sand in the hourglass had to replenish itself before re-use, so he couldn't use it multiple times in a row to get around this limitation. But what if there was a way to buy even more time? Harry had just the solution.
"Hello, Calvin," Harry greeted his sister's pet Kneazle, who was roaming the seventh floor near the Room of Requirement. The cat arched its back and hissed angrily at him; Harry gave it a wide berth, chuckling and shaking his head. That damn beast will never like me, he thought bemusedly to himself. He arrived at the blank stretch of wall and paced three times in front of the it, imagining exactly what he needed, and stepped through the door once it appeared.
He emerged in a tiny entryway, closing the door behind him. The roughly six-by-six-foot space had nothing except a second door opening up into the wider Room, the exit behind him, and a clock on the wall displaying the local time (currently five minutes to seven). In his mind he'd called it an "airlock", or perhaps a "time-lock" was more accurate – he only needed the space to exist for him to safely travel backwards in time within. He pulled out the Time-Turner and turned the dial over four times, and after a brief uncomfortable journey through time, he was back safely within the airlock, with the clock now reading five minutes to three.
Harry entered the larger Room of Requirement, which was situated with a desk, a comfy bed, and thick walls to block out all outside noise that might distract him (rattling pipes, passing ghosts, and the like). He knew that four hours of homework would be draining and he wouldn't feel much like flying afterwards. Which was what the bed was for – he had conceived of a way to double his stay in the Room of Requirement without missing any time in the outside world.
Harry dove into his homework straight away. He was finally getting into a rhythm; thanks to Hermione's assistance, even the Arithmancy assignments were becoming more intuitive to him. After tackling that and Ancient Runes first (a subject he'd grown to enjoy), he worked his way methodically through the busy work of his other classes. An essay for Professor Snape here; a worksheet for Professor Sinistra there. By the time he completed the last assignment, it was nearing 7 PM and he was predictably exhausted, as his internal clock felt more like 11 PM.
At that very moment, his past self was standing in the airlock turning himself back four hours, and Roger Davies was expecting him down at the Quidditch pitch. Instead, Harry tucked himself into the bed and set an alarm for 3 hours and 55 minutes, falling asleep almost at once.
He was shaken awake by the blaring of his alarm soon after, yawning and stretching as he got out of bed. He was now four hours late to his appointment with Roger, but thanks to his extended stay, the sand in the hourglass had fully replenished and the Time-Turner was ready for use again. Just in time for him to travel back and make it to his Quidditch appointment after all.
Harry re-entered the airlock and shut himself in, eyeing the clock on the wall. He had to be careful to time his jump properly; if he went too early he would land precisely where his past self was standing. He waited until the time read 11 o' clock precisely to be safe, then turned the dial of the Time-Turner over four times.
He once again felt himself falling backwards until he landed back on his feet. The clock now read 7:00, which meant one version of his past self had just departed the airlock into the past and another was just getting into bed inside the Room. Harry exited the room and headed for the stairs, internally celebrating his successful ploy. Eight hours of productive work and rest complete, and only a handful of minutes wasted in the outside world.
Could he take his newfound technique to an even deeper level? What if he asked the Room to assemble itself with multiple airlocks and study/sleep zones? Could he repeatedly travel back and cycle between them without a single minute passing in the outside world? The possibilities frightened and enthralled him, and he knew he'd have to put serious thought in before attempting such complex maneuvers.
He vaguely wondered what kind of effects this would have on his body. Was he aging at a more accelerated pace than his peers, due to all the extra hours he was adding? Was there some other negative physical impact the repeated time-travel would cause? He figured the Unspeakables wouldn't have allowed him to have the Time-Turner if that was the case, but he might as well ask Saul about it at their next meeting. He was enjoying its benefits far too much to consider not using it at this point.
Harry's mind was so preoccupied with the implications of time-travel that he walked directly into somebody when he rounded a corner without looking. He looked up to apologize to the passerby.
And found himself staring directly into the face of Peter Pettigrew.
It took a moment for Harry to register the face. It looked sunken and slightly delirious, the tell-tale sign of someone who had spent significant time at Azkaban. Peter also seemed somewhat shocked by Harry's sudden appearance, perhaps slowing his reaction time. It was only then that Harry realized that he was in tremendous danger.
Both drew their wands at the same time. Harry was slightly faster, erecting a Shield Charm just in time to block Peter's first hex. The shield shattered from the force of the impact, and Harry was knocked backwards several steps, staggering to remain upright. He fired a return volley of spells, which Peter neatly side-stepped. Harry didn't recognize any of the spells that were sent back his way, forcing him to flatten himself to the floor to avoid them.
"HELP!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs. "SOMEBODY HELP!" He could hear the paintings on the wall shouting with alarm and scrambling out of the way. Perhaps one of them would run to fetch a professor, but Harry couldn't count on backup right now. There was a murderer bearing down on him, and based on his quick reaction times, he was a far more skilled duelist than Harry had expected.
Harry launched himself back to his feet, throwing as many spells as he could at the man. He even threw in some less than savory spells, like the Bone-Breaker Curse, in a desperate bid to outmaneuver him. Peter was keeping up with his every move, but he seemed surprised by the dangerous curses in Harry's arsenal.
One of the Bone-Breakers grazed Peter's arm, and Harry saw the man wince and clutch the injured spot. Harry raised his wand to finish the job, but he froze at the terrifying look of murderous rage on Peter's face, as he too raised his wand to deliver a devastating blow:
"Terranus crepitus!"
Harry saw the sizzling spell headed his way, knowing instinctively that it could mean nothing good. He raised a Shield Charm instinctively to block the spell, but it wasn't aimed at his body. It hit the ground a few feet short of him, just shy of his shield.
The next thing Harry knew, the world had been rent apart at the seams. He knew only a deafening bang and a bright flash of light; then he was flying through the air like a rag-doll, until his head hit something solid and his world went black.