Chapter Text
“Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have of them.” — Marcel Proust
“I always said he was mental. Brilliant and everything, but cracked. Leaving Harry an old Snitch – what the hell was that about?"
"I've no idea," said Hermione. "When Scrimgeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen!"
"Yeah, well," said Harry, his pulse quickened as he raised the Snitch in his fingers. "I wasn't going to try too hard in front of Scrimgeour was I?"
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.
"The Snitch I caught in my first ever Quidditch match?" said Harry. "Don't you remember?"
Hermione looked simply bemused. Ron, however, gasped, pointing frantically from Harry to the Snitch and back again until he found his voice.
"That was the one you nearly swallowed!"
"Exactly," said Harry, and with his heart beating fast, he pressed his mouth to the Snitch.
Instead of the cool metal of the Snitch, Harry felt a warmth settle over his lips, slightly tingling, but then it began to spread outward throughout his head, down his spine, and along his arms and legs. A pulsing of what could only be called pure magic followed the warmth, and Harry felt a pressure building around his skin. Every inch of his skin, and it wasn’t comfortable. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing calmly, but it was no use. The pressure built and his breath tore in and out of his lungs, until he felt an all-body pop as though his ears had suddenly cleared of pressure but the effect snapped his whole body.
When he opened his eyes, Ron’s bedroom had disappeared, along with Ron and Hermione, and he wondered what Dumbledore had gotten him involved with this time. He didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but he one-hundred percent blamed the old headmaster for this. It was his will, his Snitch, his— his magic! That’s what Harry had felt. That tingle and pressure had reminded him exactly of what it felt like when Dumbledore used magic near him. Huh. Well, at any rate, there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever that this was Dumbledore’s fault. He had landed Harry in the middle of whatever it was he was in the middle of. He still wasn’t sure about that part yet. Harry scratched his head, and took a longer look around.
He was outside, in what appeared to be a small village of the English countryside. He stood near the village church and watched as people wandered by. He thought there might be a fair somewhere, a historical society maybe, or perhaps it was festival days, because everyone had dressed oddly. It was as though the people around him had fallen out of a storybook by Charles Dickens or Jane Austen. The men were all wearing rather formal suits or the old red coats of the British armed services. The women’s dresses were all quite long, and their hairstyles elaborate. He quickly cast a notice-me-not on himself, glad that the trace had been removed from his wand that morning.
The church bells rang at noon, and the streets became more active. Men left their workplaces or offices, and children had obviously been released from their morning lessons and spilled out of the school across the street from where Harry had arrived. He watched, bemused, as boys in odd short trousers and jackets began pushing each other, calling back and forth, and girls in ruffled dresses hugged one another, giggling and gossiping.
“Albus! Wait!” Harry spun to watch the boys more carefully. Of course, there could be someone else called ‘Albus,’ Harry reasoned to himself. He might only be confused because he had just been talking about the man with Ron and Hermione, but really. He’d never even heard it before that first trip to Diagon with Hagrid. He edged closer to the group of boys. “Come on, wait for me, Al! Papa said you should.”
The plaintive voice belonged to a young boy, probably only six or seven, barely old enough for school, with auburn hair that was more red than brown, bright blue eyes, and a scuffed knee with a slight tear in his trousers. His shoes were likewise scuffed and a bit muddy, and he had what looked like a frog in one of his coat pockets. His brother, for clearly, with matching hair and eyes, they were brothers, heaved a mighty sigh and glanced behind him. Harry, stunned at seeing a child-sized Albus Dumbledore, walked forward as though in a trance.
“Catch up if you can, Lazy!” Came the mocking reply, and the older brother sped forward laughing.
“Albus!” The aggrieved younger brother chased after his sibling, and Harry followed along, still wondering at the idea of Dumbledore having a family. Dumbledore had a younger brother! He remembered the obituary by Doge— and refused to think about the exposé promised by Rita Skeeter— Aberforth was the boy’s name. And he had a sister, too— Ariana.
He felt slightly resentful that the headmaster knew everything there was to know about Harry and his family, yet hadn’t shared even these little details about his own life. Why would he hide the fact he had siblings? He refused to believe it was shame over the goat thing— Dumbledore wasn’t someone who would even think to be embarrassed by anything like that. Was he? Harry frowned and hurried closer to the boys, not wanting to get lost. If that was Dumbledore he was following, then he must be quite a few years in the past. Dumbledore, ancient, wise Headmaster Dumbledore, looked to be about nine years old, and he was a right annoying little berk. Harry snorted.
The Snitch was still in his hand as he ran after the boys and he slipped it carefully into his pocket. It wouldn’t do to lose it. He wondered how the thing had worked, and why it had brought him here. Was he supposed to learn something about Voldemort? No, Voldemort was later. He’d been Hogwarts-aged in the late 1930s. This must be something else.
He stood at the end of the lane as the boys turned the corner into the garden of one of the larger family homes. It looked to be quite well-kept, with a small path to the front door, a manicured garden in front, and what looked like a vegetable patch and kitchen garden to the side. The house had three stories above ground, two levels with regular windows, and dormer-style peaks above the third level’s rather smaller, round windows. On the other side of the property, he could see an outbuilding of some sort but couldn’t guess what it might be.
A tall, dark haired woman with olive skin stood in the doorway, raising a single eyebrow at the boys as they careened around the shrubbery. They sobered at once, and filed into the house. Harry wasn’t sure what he ought to do with himself. He wanted to press his nose to their windows to catch a glimpse of the home life of Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore. Was Ariana here, too? He controlled the impulse, not wanting to find out what the Victorian jails might be like if he were to be picked up for snooping.
Nevertheless, he crept closer to the house, and lingered near the fence. He wished Ron and Hermione were with him. Hermione would be fascinated, and she’d know what to do, not to mention all the rules involved in this type of time travel. He really hoped he wasn’t messing everything up. He thought Ron would just be left speechless. He wondered when, and then with a sinking feeling—if— he would be able to get back to them.
It took a little more than half an hour, but the boys returned to the yard. This time, a little girl was with them. She must have been Ariana, and Harry’s heart melted slightly at the sight of the little kid. She was missing one of her front teeth, and her hair had been pulled back in tight, long plaits just behind her ears. One shoe had come unbuttoned, and she was trailing a doll by one of its arms as she followed her brothers.
The boys had long since left Ariana behind, yelling about whose turn it was to perform some sort of chore. Harry couldn’t help smiling at the small pout on the girl’s face as she settled onto the grass near one of the birch trees. He canceled the notice-me-not on himself, and wandered closer to the fence.
“Hello there,” He tried to appear non-threatening. “My name’s Harry.”
“‘M ‘Ria,” the girl looked up at him, and her blue eyes sparkled. “This’s Pepper. Wanna see?”
Harry crouched down to be on her level, but stayed several feet away, so she felt safe. He nodded, “sure do!”
She grinned at him and then stood her doll up on its feet. The thing turned toward Harry and waved of its own accord. His eyes widened. It wasn’t exactly accidental, but it certainly was magic. Harry smiled at her. “That’s pretty good!” He praised her, waving back to the doll, and slipping his wand out of his pocket. “Watch this.” He flicked a dancing charm at the doll and it began to perform slow pirouettes in the dirt. Her loud peals of laughter made the slight effort very worthwhile, in Harry’s opinion. She clapped and got to her feet, dancing along with the doll. Harry flicked his wand again and had the doll copy every move she made.
Little Ariana loved having her own little copycat and made the doll play hopscotch, run through the autumn leaves that had fallen, and twirl till she fell over, slightly dizzy. Harry had caught the live girl with a cushioning charm, and laughed as she looked up at him slightly cross eyed from the spinning.
The doll sat up as well, and then crossed over to Ariana, curtseyed gracefully, and then flopped, lifeless again, back into her lap. Ariana squealed and hurtled into Harry’s side where he was crouched, wrapping her arms around his neck and babbling along about what she and Pepper had done or would do, while twirling and tangling one hand into Harry’s hair. The doll was lodged firmly in her opposite armpit, while that hand gestured expansively about future plans.
Harry knew that this girl would not grow up. Both Doge and Skeeter had mentioned her death as a defining moment in Dumbledore’s life. So, maybe he had been sent back to make sure she survived? He would certainly do his best. He found her absolutely charming, as he carefully buttoned up her loosened shoe and listened to the plots involving Pepper and her older brothers.
Harry hummed and nodded along with the story, not really paying it too much attention, as he tried to work out what he was going to do. Staying in the past didn’t really bear thinking on, and he didn’t think that Dumbledore would do something like that to him. Not— not really. But, he might be here a while, anyway, and that would mean finding somewhere to live and money and food and probably clothes. He felt himself getting overwhelmed, and glanced down at the little girl hanging off him.
“You okay, Mr. Harry?” She had scrunched up her nose and it made her eyebrows wrinkle.
“Sure. Just thinking. Do you want another dance with Pepper?” She giggled and nodded, and he flicked his wand.
Just then, a group of teenagers passed the last of the trees in the lane and had a clear look into the yard. One of them, the largest, had a horribly familiar piggy expression on his face. Another looked mean and scrawny and had a sarcastic drawl to his voice. The last of them let out a cruel laugh, full of mocking and scorn. The group stopped short at the sight of Harry and Ariana, and Harry shuddered slightly at the leer in their eyes. They took in the sight of the adorable little girl, her dancing doll, and a skinny, speccy git with a twig in his hands, and Harry recognized the look of greed and malice that took over their entire beings.
“Lookie lookie, what we got ‘ere!” The drawling one swaggered closer to Harry looking intently between Ariana and the dancing doll.
The piggish one, the one who looked at him the way Dudley used to before a game of Harry Hunting, laughed and tugged at the crotch of his trousers. The instincts that had been shooting adrenaline through Harry’s body gave another sharp twinge. “Coupla freaks, ‘swhat we got.” He laughed, breathily.
Harry stood quickly. He adjusted his hold on his wand and stepped between the boys and Ariana. “Ria, you go inside now to your Mama. Take Pepper,” He dropped the charm on the doll and turned the girl toward the front steps, making sure that he stood between the gang of muggles and the tiny witch while she was outside. “What do you want?”
“Don’ want nuffink,” the pig seemed to be the spokesman of the group, standing there in the middle of the group. “Jest to talk to the little freak.”
“Yeah, we wanna find out how she did that.” The rat-faced one drawled. “Maybe see if we can’t get some too.” He offered Harry a slow wink that made his stomach turn and his rage ignite.
The last of the group, the one with the laugh that chilled Harry’s insides, had stayed silent, but Harry watched him closely. He realized that for all that the Pig was the mouthpiece, and the Rat had some truly depraved ideas, that this one was the real danger in the group. He wondered if he’d be able to stun all three of the teenagers at once. Then, he wondered if he’d be in trouble for using magic on muggles.
He couldn’t leave them with the memories of Ariana’s doll though. Especially since he didn’t know how long he would be in this time. They knew where she lived. They would come back. He knew the type. He nodded decisively, his mind made up. No matter what happened, they would not remember Ariana.
“You want some too?” Harry asked, his voice low and smooth and filled with anger. “I can show you.” He slowly raised his wand, one eyebrow cocked a smirk forming on his face. He had faced down worse than these three. Far worse.
He had ceased listening to them, focusing only on their arms. Punches and lunges always showed first in the arms. Before they could move against him, he had sent off three stunning spells in rapid succession. All three struck true, and the boys toppled over.
If the ministry acted as swiftly now as they did in the future, Harry figured he had about ten minutes to get the spell correct. He leant over the first boy, looking carefully into his eyes, and cast, “ Obliviate.” He wasn’t too careful about what he removed, making certain to get the last ten minutes, along with any reference to Ariana or this house being at all remarkable. If he caused pain or took other memories, he wasn’t too bothered by it, honestly. These boys thrived on the pain and misery they caused others. He cast the spell twice more, and then added a light compulsion spell. “You will not return to this house, ever. You will not seek me out, nor look for the family that lives here. You will attempt to make amends for the pain you’ve given others, and live honest lives from now on.” He was tempted, sorely tempted, to have them stand in the middle of the village square and confess to their petty crimes and assaults, but decided against it. It would draw too much attention from the muggles around them.
He added disillusionment spells to himself and his captives, and then he levitated all three boys behind him and quickly walked to the end of the lane. He deposited them into a ditch, canceled the disillusionment, and left them there to wake up on their own. They’d have miserable headaches in the morning, and they might possibly swear off drinking for a night or two, but he wouldn’t count on it.
When he returned to the Dumbledore house, Kendra stood at the gate with her arm around Ariana. “Ma’am,” he nodded politely. “Ria,” he smiled at the girl.
“What happened, Mr. Harry?” Ria was wide eyed. “Those boys was bad.”
Harry nodded at the girl. “They were,” he affirmed. He looked up into the woman’s eyes, solemnly, making her a promise. “But they won’t be back, and they won’t hurt you.”
“I am Kendra Dumbledore.” The woman inclined her head slightly. “My daughter told me you made her toy dance?”
“Harry Potter, Ma’am. At your service.” Harry smiled down at Ariana. “In my first year at Hogwarts, our exam included making a pineapple tapdance. The charm on her doll was just a modified version of that.” Harry waved a hand negligently. “A little bit of fun for a lonely little girl. I swear on my honor and my magic, I did not harm your child.”
Kendra nodded. “I have heard of the Potters. Are you connected with the main branch of the family?
Harry realized his mistake, and blanched. “Um, not— not exactly, Ma’am. Um, I’m— well, they wouldn’t know me, anyway. I’m a bit out of place, to be honest.” He finished lamely.
Kendra shot a shrewd glance at him but nodded her head anyway. “Then, however you came to be in this place, I am grateful you were here in the time when my daughter needed you.” Her slight emphasis on the word time boggled Harry’s mind. He couldn’t fathom why anyone’s first guess would be time travel after hearing his stuttered apologies. But then, he was friends with Luna, so maybe he just attracted the weird ones. He shook his head lightly before realizing that Kendra hadn’t finished with him yet, “Now, I believe the Dumbledore family is in your debt. Would you like to join my family for supper, Mr. Potter?”
“If the Ministry doesn’t find me first, I would be honored, Mrs. Dumbledore.” Harry smiled.
“The Ministry?” She looked sharply at him.
Harry shrugged. “Three stunning spells, three obliviates, a compulsion and disillusionment charms, all in the presence of and cast upon muggles. I imagine they’re on their way.”
“Are the muggles otherwise unharmed?” Kendra’s brow furrowed slightly, and Harry nodded. “Then, they will not be here. The wards around Britain only detect malicious intent against muggles and violations of the Statue. Come. You will join us.” She turned to her daughter. “Go collect the boys. We have a guest for supper.”
“Yes, Mama.” Ariana smiled up at her, waved at Harry and scampered off. Harry waved at the girl absently as he followed obediently behind Kendra Dumbledore, wondering again at how he managed to get himself into these situations.
He offered to help in the kitchen, but Kendra shooed him into the sitting room for a chat instead, with the casual reassurance that they had a very competent cook. Harry shrugged and followed the woman, who glanced sharply at her children when they tumbled into the house through a back door somewhere, muddy and shouting at one another. Harry hid a smile behind his hand as he watched Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore being taken to task by his mother over the state of his stockings.
Eventually, the children were clean and reasonably presentable and arrived in the sitting room to be introduced to “Mr. Harry” who had helped the family in their moment of need. Harry tried to dismiss his help as much as possible, but Kendra wasn’t hearing it. The small group sat looking at one another in awkward silences and stilted conversation, until Ariana eventually had enough and perched herself in Harry’s lap with her doll. She held it up to him, and turned wide bright blue eyes up to him in supplication. Harry grinned and cast the charm, and an entranced Ariana began to hum a light tune as she danced with the doll.
The boys’ eyes lit up as well, and they began to pepper Harry with questions about magic. “Do you go to Hogwarts, Mr. Harry?”
“Um, well, yes, I did, anyway,” Harry hedged. He wasn’t the best of liars, and Kendra seemed able to pick up on even the slightest fib, so he decided to stick as close to the truth as he could manage. “I can’t go back next year, though. I have something— um, well,” he couldn’t tell children about his mission. He huffed, “I just have something else to do,” he finished lamely and shrugged. The impulse to tell the headmaster everything on his mind from the horcrux hunt to the strange bequests warring with the fact that the headmaster was currently nine years old. He wondered again at why he had been given this utterly ridiculous second chance. All he had wanted for weeks now was to speak once more with Albus Dumbledore, and now that he could, there was nothing he could actually tell the boy.
He ran a hand through his hair as the boys perked up. “What’s it like?” Aberforth demanded, “Are there really centaurs in the forest? And thestrals?”
Harry smiled faintly, at least these questions he could answer. “Yes, both live in the forest, but I wouldn’t mess with the centaurs if I were you. They’re not too fond of wizards, most of the time. The thestrals are rather gentle.”
Albus butted in with more questions, “I’ve heard that Professor Binns is a ghost. Is that true?” Harry glanced up at Kendra, who was smiling at her children.
He nodded at the pint-sized erstwhile professor, “Yes, it’s true. From what I know, he passed away about ten years ago now, and he just kept teaching.”
“Merlin,” breathed Albus, reverently. “He must really love teaching.”
Harry frowned. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms before. “I suppose he might,” he tilted his head. “But I wouldn’t get too excited about it, if I were you. The man’s lessons are terribly dull.”
Albus squinted his eyes. It was plain that he didn’t believe any magical lessons could possibly be dull, but then his father walked into the house, and the boys’ questions were forgotten in the rush of introductions and greetings.
Dinner with the Dumbledore family turned out to be very memorable. Harry wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to explain it to Hermione and Ron, but he managed to enjoy himself. Percival Dumbledore was tall and serious, with a loving gleam in his eye when he looked over his family. He had taken Harry aside and asked some probing questions about his family and upbringing, and Harry hadn’t had the sense to lie about things. He avoided using any names, but mentioned his parents’ murders by a dark wizard, and his less-than-stellar upbringing in the muggle world, before learning that he was magical and heading to Hogwarts. Percival didn’t say much, other than to express his regret that Harry had had a difficult life.
Kendra took her husband aside as Harry was discussing quidditch with the boys and charming Ariana by animating her collection of wooden animals.
“—could have been exposed.” Harry only caught snippets of the adults’ conversation, but he could tell that Kendra was explaining the events of the afternoon and why they had a guest in their home.
“He stood between—“ the two didn’t seem to be arguing, but he caught Percival’s eye and nodded. He would allow Ariana’s father to ask any questions he may have. Harry understood protective impulses.
During the meal, Percival spent most of the meal quizzing his sons on what they had learned in school. Albus was quick to show up his little brother, who shrugged off his own failures in academics, instead offering to show his little sister the frog he had found and brought home. Kendra was quieter, and her stern gaze kept even the irrepressible Ariana minding her manners. The meal itself was delicious, and Harry was free with his compliments.
After the meal, Harry and Percival retired to a small study down the corridor from the family room, where they both took seats near a small fireplace. “I have to thank you for what you did on behalf of my family. I acknowledge the debt I owe. My wife told me that if not for you we might have lost my youngest. And that you expected ministry interference?”
Harry shook his head, firmly. “There’s no debt between us. I’ve never known a muggle who responded positively to the idea of magic. I would have done what I did to protect our— Wizards’— secrets no matter what. But I wouldn’t have stood by to watch anyone be bullied or assaulted, much less a six year old girl. It’s not right.”
Percival nodded. “You have honor. I’m glad to see it. What about the boys? Will they return?”
“I doubt it,” Harry shrugged. “I stunned them, removed their memories, and compelled them not to look for your family, especially Ariana.” He looked a tad rueful, “That’s why I was expecting the ministry. I only turned seventeen this morning, and that was a lot of magic to cast on a muggle and in front of the others.”
“Ah, the Ministry don’t have a clue what they’re doing. Not really,” Percival dismissed the Ministry with a wave. “You’ll be fine. Even if they did investigate it, you were acting to defend the Statue, so I don’t think they’d have any problem with it.”
Harry smiled, and the two discussed politics briefly. Harry mostly listened as he didn’t know much about the Ministry of Magic of his own era, much less did he know anything about this time. It turned out that Percival Dumbledore had a seat on the Wizengamot and was active in society. He and others of the Wizengamot had been discussing ‘The Muggle Question’ of late, and he spent quite a while quizzing Harry on the intricacies of life with muggles. Harry remained quite certain that muggles on the whole would never accept the magical world, and that witches and wizards who were forced to live in the muggle world should be closely monitored both because muggles could become abusive toward their magical children and because the witches and wizards might inadvertently reveal the magical world.
Percival nodded along. “There are some who think revealing magic would allow us to come out of hiding, so to speak. We would be able to live freely and no longer fear the muggles.” He sent a shrewd look at Harry. “There are those who think that we should be able to control, even through violence, any uprising of muggles such as what happened in the past.”
Harry scoffed at the idea, “Definitely not. The burning years would be a picnic.” He shook his head. “Muggles are inventive. They’re in the middle of a great Industrial Revolution right now, and the machines and weapons they design are a cause for concern. If their science continues at this rate, we’ll all be in trouble.”
Percival shook his head, “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a muggle-hater.”
“Oh,” Harry’s eyes widened. “I’m not! My best friend is a muggle born, and her parents were wonderful. But not all muggles, just like not all wizards, are good people. And there are a lot more muggles than there are magicals. It’s just mathematics. Large groups of magic-hating muggles, aware of magic and armed against it, would pose a significant threat, even if there are also rational or kind muggles in the world.”
“Hmm,” Percival looked unconvinced, but Harry felt that it was time for him to take his leave. He wasn’t sure what he would do if kissing the Snitch didn’t work again, but it was not this family’s problem any longer. He stood and thanked Percival and Kendra for their hospitality, waved at the boys, offered little Ariana another hug, and walked down the path.
At the fence, he glanced back, wondering what on earth had been the point of his coming back to this moment. Learning about Dumbledore’s family had been fascinating, but what had he done? Hermione would know. She’d be having kittens at the idea that he’d been in the past, never mind that he’d been seen and by whom. Harry shook his head. He pressed the Snitch to his lips and hoped by all that was magical that the thing would bring him back.
He again felt the warmth flowing over his body, followed by the intense pressure that seemed to want to compress his entire being down into nothing. This time though, he welcomed the experience and centered all his thoughts on Ron’s bright orange bedroom, his best friend’s freckles and Hermione’s wild hair and love of books, Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, and Mr. Weasley’s muggle contraptions. He closed his eyes and wished for home with all his might.
And with an all-body pop, there he was. Hermione blinked and Ron fell backward, and they both immediately started badgering him with questions.
“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Merlin’s pants, mate! What happened?” Ron shouted.
Harry shushed both of them and shot a fast muffliato at the door, hoping that no one, especially Mrs. Weasley, would barge in on them before he could explain. “The Snitch. It’s a, um, it’s well, a, uh, time machine?” Harry squeaked under Hermione’s dark glare.
“There’s no such thing as a time machine, Harry.” Hermione rolled her eyes. Hard. “There are time turners, but that’s it. And that,” she pointed at the Snitch, “is not a time turner. What did you do?”
Harry looked sharply at his best friend. He loved her, but she could be seriously annoying sometimes. “I didn’t do anything, Hermione. I told you, it’s a time machine.” He waved the Snitch under her nose again. “I put it to my lips, and I felt Dumbledore’s magic— you know that tingly warm feeling when he cast near you?” She folded her arms across her chest, but nodded reluctantly. “Anyway, I felt his magic all over, and then I popped out. It was really uncomfortable, but not as bad as portkeys. I ended up in a tiny English village in the middle of the Victorian period.”
“How do you know it was the Victorian period?” She asked sharply.
Harry sighed, looked down at the Snitch in his hand, and then back up at Hermione. “Because of all the Victorian people running around? The entire village looked like they’d fallen into a Dickens story. I could see one or two people, even a few small groups, in costume, but the entire village?”
Hermione had opened her mouth to argue with him again, but he cut her off. “And besides, I know it was the Victorian period because I spent the day with a nine-year-old Albus Dumbledore.”
Hermione’s mouth clacked shut just as Ron’s fell wide open, “Bloody hell, Mate. Dumbledore?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah.” And he proceeded to explain everything from the notice-me-not he had cast to the after dinner conversation with the Dumbledore family. Hermione finally decided to believe him, he noticed, and Ron looked like he was still coming to terms with the idea that the former headmaster had once been nine years old.
“And then you put it to your lips and it returned you here?” Hermione looked like she had at least a thousand questions.
Harry yawned. “Yep. I figured it would either pop me someplace else or back to you guys.” He shrugged. “At any rate, it’s been a really long day, and tomorrow’s the wedding. Can we call it a night?”
Hermione had a gleam in her eye that under other circumstances would’ve meant long hours in the library, but Harry shook his head. “Hermione, there’s nothing we can do about it. It took me there, and it took me back. Make a list of things to ask me about later, okay? I’m too tired.” She nodded and quietly left the room.
As he was lying down on the camp bed he usually stayed in, Ron stretched and flopped onto his mattress. “So, I wonder if you being in the past actually made a difference, Mate?”
Harry felt the thought lodge in his brain and suspected that it wouldn’t go away any time soon