Backwards Compatible
Future's History
By Ruskbyte
The Room of Requirements was looking rather cosy, Harry assessed quietly. Something of a combination between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms. Of course, Harry had never actually been inside the Ravenclaw common room. He did know exactly what it looked like, however - thanks to circumstances that arose at the beginning of the summer. All in all he was rather pleased with the result produced by the room. Now if only this meeting with his friends would be as easy as creating the meeting place...
Settling into his seat, plush crimson coloured velvet with blue trim, he surveyed his five companions. They were arrayed in a semi-circle around the roaring fireplace (which was magically producing no heat). To his immediate right was Hermione, who was watching him intently. He could tell she was both nervous and anxious to proceed, worriedly gnawing her bottom lip. Next was Neville, who was absently looking around the room with mixed curiosity and approval.
To Harry's left sat Ron, on the edge of his seat and almost bouncing up and down like an impatient five year old. As it was he was tapping a fast beat against the royal blue carpet with his right foot. Next was Ginny, who was alternating between disapproval at her brother's impatience and curiosity about what Harry was able to reveal. Last was Luna, who was sitting calm as can be in her chair, humming a little ditty that was becoming annoyingly repetitive.
Clearing his throat, which caused all eyes (save Luna's) to focus intently on him, Harry decided to begin. "Before I start trying to explain, I need Hermione to do something for me."
Somewhat surprised Hermione sat up in her chair and asked, "What is it, Harry?"
"I need you to tell us everything you know about time travel."
"Time travel?" she repeated incredulously. Or perhaps it was horrified disbelief.
"Mm-hm."
Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "Harry... you haven't done anything that you shouldn't have... have you?"
"I haven't done a thing," he answered, more or less truthfully. Then he added, "Yet."
"Wait a minute," interrupted Ginny, waving a hand for them to pause. She looked at Harry and asked, "You're saying you've been time travelling? Over the summer?"
"Something like that," he agreed.
Ron, not surprisingly, gaped at him. "You're shitting us."
"Hardly," was Harry's understated reply. He grimaced. "I've never been more serious in my life. Now or later."
"You mean you're from the future?" asked Neville, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees.
"But if you're from the future, then where's our Harry?" Ron immediately asked, almost rising to his feet. He was visibly starting to get excited, something Harry had been expecting. Those brain sucker creatures from the Ministry (nobody ever found out exactly what they were really called) had badly damaged the redhead's control over his emotions, something that would plague him for the rest of his life.
Harry shook his head and clarified, "I'm from right here - the present."
Ginny frowned in thought. "You mean you went forward in time? To the future?"
"Impossible," asserted Hermione. She shook her head and explained, "You can't travel to the future, because it hasn't happened yet."
"Close," Harry confirmed with a hint of a smile.
"Someone from the future, other than Harry, came back in time," declared Luna in her typical dreamy tones. She was not even looking at the rest of them, seemingly more interested in examining the room's elaborately carved ceiling - which Harry felt mimicked that of the Ravenclaw common room quite well. "Or they might have sent a message."
Harry nodded and, absently, clapped his hands a few times in congratulations. "Ten points to Ravenclaw, Doc. It was a message. Of sorts."
This caused Luna to turn her attention away from the ceiling and focus on him. "Doc?"
"You're commonly known as the 'Mad Scientist' by everyone in the future, so I call you 'Doc'," he told her, suppressing a wince as he recalled exactly why everyone referred to the... eccentric witch by that title. He gave her faint smile. "You'll consider it a term of endearment."
"You have to be making this up," declared Ron, slouching heavily in his seat.
"This does sound a bit... outlandish, Harry," Hermione agreed. She looked at him apologetically and asked, "I don't suppose you can prove it?"
Personally Harry would rather not, as he knew that doing so would not be a pleasant experience for any of them. Gritting his teeth, however, he rose from his seat and crossed over to where Luna was sitting. She watched him approach with a vaguely curious expression, which did not change until he leaned over and whispered in her ear.
He hated to do this, knowing that the news would be painful for her, but he needed someone that would believe him without reservation and Luna was the only one he knew he could convince with only a single word.
"You know?" she asked as he drew back, regarding him with wide eyes. He nodded slowly, careful to keep his face expressionless. Luna swallowed and asked, "H-how?"
"You told me at the funeral," he replied.
"Funeral." Luna repeated the word, more as a statement than a question. Harry could almost literally see the blood drain out of her face, leaving her almost as pale as one of the school ghosts. "No."
He closed his eyes and turned away from her, returning to his seat as he confirmed what he knew to be one of her greatest fears. "I'm sorry, Luna."
Ron looked from one to the other, clearly puzzled by their interaction, and asked, "What was that all about?"
"I believe him," Luna said softly, her head bowed and regarding her hands, which now sat limply in her lap. Ginny, who was closest to her, reached out a comforting hand and patted the other girl on the shoulder.
"Huh? Why? How?"
"Don't worry about it, Ronald," Luna told him, her voice stronger now as she visibly steeled herself and looked up. She smiled gratefully at Ginny and then looked at Ron. "It isn't pertinent to this discussion."
Perhaps sensing that a change of topic was required, Neville cleared his throat and asked, "What did the message say, Harry?"
"It wasn't just a message, Nev," Harry told them, settling deep into his chair and staring into the crackling flames of the fireplace. "No, it was much, much more than that."
"You mean that?" asked Ron, pointing at Father, who was hovering by Harry's shoulder. The pitch-black sphere seemed to bob up and down in reaction to having any attention drawn to it. "It's been following you around all day."
"Father is part of this mess," Harry acknowledge wryly, "the only part that was supposed to happen, actually."
"Father?" asked Ginny.
Harry shrugged. "That's what I call him. It."
Neville was looking closely at the hovering black ball. "It?"
"Your father is a machine of some sort," stated Luna, seemingly fully recovered by the bleak mood that had swept over her when Harry had revealed one of his exclusive titbits about what the future held.
"Take another five points, Doc," Harry confirmed with a smile. He nodded in Father's direction, now drifting just above and behind his right shoulder. "Father is a machine, though he's not really my father - that's just what I decided to call him. If he's anything - he's your son."
This caused Luna to blink. "My son?"
Hermione was the first to realize, "You mean Luna... created Father?"
"They don't call her the Mad Scientist because she walks around in a lab coat, cackling insanely all day." Harry paused to think about it and then shot Luna a slightly apologetic look, mixed with some guilt and no small amount of pity. "Well... not all the time."
"This is getting a little confusing," admitted Ginny.
"Only a little?" Ron asked.
"Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Harry," suggested Luna.
"If I knew which beginning to use, I might."
"Why don't you tell us what happened during the summer," Hermione prompted. "Where were you while that... doppelganger of yours was filling in for you?"
"Yes," he nodded in agreement. "I suppose that's as good a place as any."
Harry rose from his seat and started pacing back and forth. He found that it helped him think, or in this case organise his thoughts.
"It happened almost literally the instant I stepped through the front door of my Aunt's house. Incredibly timing, really."
"What happened?" asked Ron.
Luna admonished him, "Hush, Ronald, he's getting to that."
"It's almost funny in a way," Harry mused. "You see, all this - it wasn't supposed to happen. It's a mistake."
"Someone's been changing the timeline?" asked Hermione, sounding appalled at the idea.
"No... well, aside from me, no," he shook his head. He paused, near where Neville was sitting, and stroked his chin. For a moment he was distracted by the thought that he had forgotten to shave this morning. Then he remembered that he did not and would not need to shave for a couple more years. He grimaced at this and returned to the topic at hand.
"What I'm should have said is that Father wasn't supposed to arrive here. Now. Luna must have miscalculated somewhere, or maybe something interfered with the transport, but the long and the tall of it is that Father was only supposed to be sent back five years. We didn't have enough energy to send him back further... or so we thought."
"So how far back has he come?" asked Neville. "More than five years?"
"Much more. Father... and everything that came with him..." he paused dramatically for a moment before finishing, "is from twenty-two years in the future."
Ron's eyes grew wide and he exclaimed, "Bloody hell!"
The others, Hermione, Ginny and Neville, were likewise astonished by this piece of information.
Luna, however, was concentrating on what he had said earlier. She looked up at him, as his pacing had brought him past her chair by now, and asked, "I not only created Father, but also sent him back in time?"
"But why?" asked Hermione before he could answer. "Was it some sort of experiment?"
"Frankly we were clasping for straws at that point," he told them.
"Straws?" asked Neville, blankly.
"It's a Muggle expression," Hermione explained. "It means they were getting desperate."
"That about sums it up."
"What happened?" asked Ron.
"You know how we've been 'fighting' Voldemort since his return?" Harry asked in return. He waited for everyone to nod, ignoring the flinches at the mention of the dark lord's name. Having received confirmation from them all, he sighed and told them the bad news. "Well, two years from now that fight is going to erupt into a full scale war. A war that we are going to lose rather convincingly."
Ron stared at him in incomprehension. "Lose?"
Ginny looked appropriately horrified, already slightly pale at the thought. "You mean Voldemort's going to win?"
"Sweet Merlin..." whispered Hermione.
"No, I don't believe it - we can't lose!" Ron protested loudly.
"We did. We will."
"What happened?" asked Luna, seemingly taking it in stride.
"From what I remember; it's a long story," he answered.
"Remember?" repeated Neville questioningly. "I thought you said it was Father that came back, not you. How can you remember things that haven't even happened yet?"
"To understand that I have to explain Father to you," Harry said as he strode back to his seat and slumped heavily into it. Everyone leaned forward to listen, save Luna - who had resumed her examination of the ceiling. He propped his chin on one hand as he stared into the fire. "About thirteen years into the war Voldemort had... will... more-or-less achieve total control over the British Isles. Nothing official, just behind the scenes."
Even without looking away from the flickering flames, Harry could make out the winces and grimaces at that piece of information. He knew that none of his friends were particularly impressed with the Ministry, especially not after the mess they had suffered through the previous year, but this was not something they wanted to contemplate. An incompetent Ministry was bad enough. A Ministry controlled by Voldemort was immeasurably worse.
He was unable to hide a grimace of his own as he got to the crux of the matter. "Two years after that he'll develop a means of tracing Apparation and Portkey signatures and will arrange to have a tag net erected over the whole of Britain."
"Tag net? What's that?" asked Ron.
"Basically a security system he put in place. I don't know the details of how it will work, but the simple version is; if anyone who isn't authorised tries to Apparate or use a Portkey, the alarms go off and a minute later you find yourself up to your eyeballs in Death Eaters. Or corrupt Ministry Aurors, which won't be much better."
"That would make quick and easy travel almost impossible," Hermione quickly concluded.
"Not to mention effectively crippling any opposition," added Ginny thoughtfully. "Mobility is key to a successful campaign."
Harry nodded at their assessment. "Which is why we had to develop alternate means of transport."
"Hence Father," Luna summed up.
"Exactly."
"Huh?"
"Don't you remember how Harry appeared in the Great Hall, Ronald?" Luna asked the lost looking Weasley boy. "Father is obviously a form of transport."
Harry gave an acknowledging wave of the hand towards her, "Developed and produced by our very own resident genius and mad scientist; Luna Lovegood."
"How does it work?" asked Hermione, her natural curiosity coming to the fore.
"Haven't got a clue," he shrugged.
"What?"
"Do you know how a car engine works, Hermione? Or a jet engine? Or a nuclear reactor?" he asked in retaliation. He looked at her and answered for her. "Of course you don't. Sure, you have a vague idea, but what's important to you is the results it produces, not the means by which it produces those results."
"You're right, I suppose," she reluctantly admitted, "but you must still have some idea - like you said."
"As best I can understand, from how Luna explained it, it involves gravity."
"Gravity?" echoed Ron, looking completely lost now. "What does falling have to do with anything?"
"Everything, apparently," Harry told him.
Luna nodded thoughtfully, "Gravity is one of the most constant and relentless forces in the universe."
Neville looked across at her. "What goes up must come down?"
"Warping space," said Hermione, suddenly comprehending. She stared at Harry for confirmation. "That's what Father does, isn't it? He uses gravity to warp space."
"Essentially, yes," he agreed with a nod. He smiled thinly and decided to confuse them a bit, just for the fun of it. "The process of creating a Gatekeeper, as they're called, actually involves less magic than you'd expect. Magic is used mostly as a trigger, while the rest is a... what was the phrase again? A lattice of quantum electromagnetic matrices, held by neutral magical suspension in a layer of positively recessed, negatively phased energetic space."
There was a long moment of silence as everyone blinked in incomprehension.
Finally Luna spoke up. "That sounds... complicated."
"Very," agreed Hermione.
"I hope not, Luna," Harry told her. He grimaced, something he had been doing a lot of lately. "Since you'll be the only person who knows to create Gatekeepers, I sincerely hope you find it less complicated when the time comes."
"That doesn't sound very smart," said Ginny critically.
"I agree," nodded Luna. "Why am I the only one with this knowledge? Wouldn't it make more sense to have others know the process?"
"It's like having all your eggs in one basket," agreed Neville.
"Don't look at me," Harry lifted both hands in defence. He shrugged helplessly, "It's not like I haven't... won't try. But convincing Luna to share the secret is impossible. After all, what mad scientist worth her salt does that? Show off her inventions, sure, but to explain how she did it? Fat chance."
Hermione scowled unhappily at him and demanded, "Please stop calling her that, Harry. It's derogatory."
"Sorry, but it's the truth," he protested in frustration. "Twenty-two years from now, Luna's got more bats in her belfry than Trelawney does. Frankly half the Order's more scared of her than they are of Voldemort! Nobody knows what she's going to blow up next."
"Personally I would have expected to find Mugabis in my belfry."
Ron looked at Luna incredulously. "What he means is that you're going to go nuts, Luna! Completely bonkers!"
Luna nodded complacently. "I know. That's what Mugabis do."
"How'd it happen?" asked Neville.
"You would be the one to ask, Nev," Harry sighed sadly, remembering all too clearly what lay in store for his friends.
"What is it, Harry?" asked Ginny softly, alternating worried glances between him and Luna.
Harry sighed again. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the chair's headrest and took a deep breath before answering. "Over exposure to the Cruciatus Curse."
"Oh God, no," he heard Hermione mutter.
"Oh dear, that does sound unpleasant," agreed Luna, not sounding the least bit perturbed about the news. Harry could not fight a small smile at that. After all, from her point of view, being tortured to insanity was not the worst thing that would happen to Luna. Not after what Harry had told her earlier.
"Unpleasant! Gods, Luna, it's terrible!!" Ron practically exploded.
"W-when?" asked a shaken Ginny.
"About fifteen years ago," answered Harry, opening his eyes. He almost immediately corrected himself, mentally chiding himself for letting his thoughts lose focus like that. Fifteen years ago. Hardly. "About seven years from now."
Luna, he saw, was staring off into space. Apparently lost in thought. She blinked several times before turning to him and noting, "I gather that I was not sent to St. Mungo's, like Neville's parents."
Harry shook his head, "Too dangerous. Checking a member of the Order into St. Mungo's was akin to a death sentence."
"That bad?" asked Hermione.
"In any case," Harry started, trying to get their minds off this morbid topic and onto something less emotional, "the Gatekeepers allowed us relatively safe freedom of movement again, though it was a year or so before Luna came up with them."
"They can't be traced? Magically, I mean," Ginny queried.
"Magic is used in their manufacture and nowhere else," Harry explained as best he could. As he had told Hermione, he only had a general idea of how they worked. "The Gates are created by the Gatekeepers using multiple Gee Emm fields focused around a point of space to create the warp. Since no magic is used in the process, it's essentially invisible to the tag net. Now, fifteen years before Voldemort comes up with the concept, there isn't a person, artefact or spell on the planet that can follow Father."
"Gee Emm?"
"Gravity Manipulation," elaborated Harry easily. Having been raised by the Dursleys, if you could call it that, he found Muggle terminology that inevitably crept into Luna's gadgets fairly easy to grasp. Pureblood wizards, on the other hand, almost always got mixed up when dealing with it.
Turning back to his 'history' lesson, he continued, "Unfortunately, by that point we were fighting a lost cause. Voldemort pretty much owned the Ministry - they were either Death Eaters, in his pocket or just too scared not to do what he told them to. Anyone that tried to protest was usually made into an example. Whole families, in some cases, were butchered because of it."
Ginny grew pale and whispered, "Dad? Mum?"
Instead of answering, as he knew the answer would not be well received, Harry continued, "It turned from a fight for freedom into a fight for our lives. In the end we decided to just try and take as many of them with us as we could... go out with a bang."
"What happened?" asked Neville.
"Luna came up with the most cockeyed plan anyone had ever heard of," Harry told them with a depreciating grin. "We were so desperate that we held off the suicide attack in favour of trying to turn the entire war on its ear... and maybe change the course of history."
"Send Father back in time," said Luna.
Hermione nodded slowly. "It makes sense. Space and time are closely interlinked and if the Gatekeepers can warp the one then it follows that they can do the same with the other."
"Partially," agreed Harry. "It has more to do with the way the Gatekeepers are built. They're little more than energy, existing partially in a fifth dimensional space. Since time is the fourth dimension, this makes them less confined by its boundaries, freer to move around in it. At least that's how Luna explained it, though she used bigger words."
"This is giving me a headache," muttered Ron.
"Of course it is," Ginny agreed dryly.
Ignoring the byplay between the siblings, Harry continued. "The problem is it takes a great deal more energy to warp time than it does to warp space. Luna did the math and found that we would only be able to send Father back five years, more-or-less."
Luna nodded. "Five years of intelligence data would make quite a difference."
"But it's just a machine, isn't it?" asked Ron, who had been glaring at Ginny. "How was it supposed to help? It's not like it can talk, can it?"
"You also said the Gatekeepers were mostly energy, so you couldn't just stuff it full of parchment," added Neville.
"Actually we could, in a way," Harry corrected them both. "You see, creating a Gate is a lot more complicated than it sounds. Warping the fabric of space to get from point A to point B requires enough calculations and computational power to beggar the best computers the Muggles will develop."
"Kom-pew-ters?" Ron repeated, butchering the word, as usual.
"Machines that can do millions of operations and calculations in a second," explained Hermione, possibly the only person in the room, other than Harry, who knew what a computer was. Harry sometimes wondered at the ignorance wizards displayed at things such as that. "They can also store vast amounts of information - entire libraries."
"More than just libraries in this case," Harry added. Seeing their curious expressions he elaborated, "The Gatekeepers make use of a simple form of AI, artificial intelligence, to control their GM fields the proper way to make a Gate. Unfortunately Doc got a little too enthusiastic when she started uploading information into Father's memory. She literally included every piece of info she could lay her hands on when she was compiling the data package. She even downloaded half the bloody internet - though what use she thought I'd have for so many porn sites, I don't want to imagine."
Hermione, Ginny and Luna visibly paused to consider this. Though it was doubtful that Ginny or Luna understood exactly what he was talking about, it looked as if they got the general idea. All three witches blushed to various degrees, Ginny the most obvious (being a Weasley). Ron and Neville, however, looked blankly back and forth.
Diplomatically ignoring their reactions, Harry pressed on. "Regardless of the junk data, we went ahead - we didn't have time to waste, odd as that sounds. The idea was that my Gatekeeper would be sent back and wind up with me - something about embedded local causality. Don't ask what that means, I don't know. From there he would dispense the required information and our past selves would hopefully be able to act on it."
"What went wrong?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah," agreed Ron. "How'd you end up sending your memories back as well?"
"Damned if I know, but I have my suspicions."
"And those are?" asked Luna.
Harry hummed and hawed before answering, "I think the method of time travel we used had something to do with it."
"How did you do it, anyway?" queried Hermione with understandable interest. "The furthest anyone has ever been able to go back is one year - and that took nearly a dozen warlocks working together to cast the spell. Even the Ministry's best time-turners can only go back five days, at most."
"It's easier to send energy than solid matter - that's why we sent Father. But, as I said, it takes a lot of power to do even that. A lot of power. Since Father was, and is, tied directly to myself that made me the only available source for him to power the GM fields and create the time Gate."
"They drained your magic?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "Wrong kind of energy. What was needed was simple, raw, power."
Ron looked puzzled. "But if they didn't use your magic, then what?"
Harry's answer was succinct. "E = mc ²."
As he expected, only Hermione understood the reference. The others simply looked at him blankly.
"What does Einstein have to..." Hermione trailed off as understanding dawned. She stared at him with wide eyes, filled with disbelief. "No, you're not serious."
"The total conversion of mass into energy," Harry confirmed solemnly. He then smiled ruefully and asked, "D'you know how much energy is in seventy two kilograms of Harry Potter?"
"My God."
He nodded amiably at Hermione's summation of the idea. "I'm sure that's exactly what the Death Eaters thought the instant before they were reduced to their constituent atoms."
Ron shook his head. "I don't understand."
"Harry's entire body was converted into pure energy in order to power the time travel," answered Luna, cutting Harry off before he could explain. Clearly she had been able to work out what he and Hermione had been talking about. She waited a moment for this to begin to sink in before turning to Harry and prompting, "You mentioned Death Eaters?"
"We were cutting the timing fine, if you'll excuse the pun. Our hiding place had been discovered and several dozen Death Eaters had stormed the building," Harry revealed. Those 'memories' were particularly vivid. For some reason the worst ones usually were. He grinned happily as a thought occurred to him. "I imagine Voldemort would have been quite surprised when they, and everything in several kilometres, disappeared in a rather loud bang and bright flash."
"Everyone left behind would have been killed. Myself included," Luna agreed.
Hermione nodded, "It would have been like setting off a nuclear bomb and staying at ground zero."
"And that, I think, is the root of the problem."
"What d'you mean?"
"Something about the energy released," suggested Luna, twirling her wand like a cheerleading baton as she thought. "Since Harry was powering the time travel process and Father is made up of energy as well... it must have absorbed Harry's memories and experiences."
"And the moment it arrived at its destination, now, it dumped those memories and experiences into the same place it absorbed them from. My head." Harry ruefully rubbed his temples. "Hurt like a bitch."
"Leaving you with memories of everything that hasn't happened yet," concluded Luna.
"A history of the future," he said, summing it all up.
Feeling inexplicably restless, Harry pushed out of his chair and resumed his pacing from earlier. Clasping both hands behind his back he began to circle the room as he spoke.
"It took a while to assimilate it all. Twenty-two years is a long time, even when you're seeing as if it were a movie, rather than the actual experience."
"What d'you mean?" asked Ginny.
Harry continued to pace as he explained, "If I truly remembered everything, then I wouldn't need to be here, at Hogwarts, would I? After all, I'd already have all the knowledge I needed."
Hermione shook her head. "I don't understand."
"Have you ever seen a martial arts movie? Bruce Lee, Jackie Chang or the like?"
"Yes?"
"Did you consider yourself an expert at kicking arse afterwards?"
"Of course not.
"Same principal." Harry looked into the distance as he paced, letting his body walk around on automatic. It was doubtless the others, with their non-Muggle backgrounds, understood. So he elaborated. "It was like watching a movie - I can see myself learning spells, using them and on one or two occasions making some up. But without any practical experience that knowledge isn't much use."
Neville nodded in understanding and said, "So you ran off to have time alone to relearn everything?"
"Not really," Harry shook his head. "Mostly I left Privet Drive because I needed to sort everything out in my head. That and I needed to pick up a few things."
"What about that clone thing you left behind - which fooled us quite nicely, I'm ashamed to admit," asked Ginny, "Where'd you get that from?"
Harry paused in mid step to smirk, "Built it using a combination of the Dudley's video camera, his computer, a couple of radios, Aunt Petunia's microwave oven and a few judicious spells, charms and enchantments."
Ron gawked at him and protested, "That's impossible! The Ministry would've caught you for use of under-age magic!"
"Father's GM fields, combined with a few of his other functions, can form a localised null magic barrier. That's a story in of itself, but I'd prefer not to go into it right now. The result, however, is that Dumbledore himself wouldn't have been able to tell if I was doing magic, even if he was in the next room."
"But how did you come up with it? Especially in such a short time," asked Ginny. "That thing was one of the damnedest gizmos I've ever seen - I remember when dad was working on his car and it wasn't half as complicated looking. Getting Muggle technology to work with magic, not to mention work around magic, is a bitch of a problem."
"Luna, with some help from a few others, developed true Technomancy --the blending of magic and technology-- about ten or eleven years into the war," Harry explained patiently. Truth be told, he was rather proud of how he had managed to put the doppelganger together on such short notice, especially with no experience in the matter.
"Father has all the plans and stuff in his memory, thanks to Luna, and was able to talk me through it. We had to mix and match half a dozen different gizmos, as you call them, to put it together. It was something of a Frankenstein's monster, but I think it worked reasonably well."
"It did," Hermione grudgingly admitted.
"What about the rest of us?" Ron suddenly asked.
"Pardon?"
"You keep going on about Luna. Luna this. Luna that," Ron grouched, crossing his arms as he mock-glared at Harry. "I'd swear the two of you were married."
Harry warily shook his head. "No, we're not married."
He and Luna did have a relationship, of sorts, but that was a can of flobberworms he did not want to open right now. Besides which, it was going to be more an arrangement of convenience than anything else.
"Then why haven't you mentioned the rest of us?" Ron demanded with a huff. "Aren't you going to tell us what happens to us in the future? The only thing I know about me is that I asked Hermione out and then broke up with her."
"He has a point, now that he's brought it up," agreed Neville.
"I must admit, I'm curious to know what everyone else will do with their lives," admitted Luna, though with a hint of reluctance in her wide blue eyes.
He had known that sooner or later, having told them this much, that he would have to tell them the rest. Despite this, Harry would have preferred to put it off till later. Much later. His growing agitation at this line of questioning must have been obvious, as Hermione cautiously called his name.
"Harry?"
"I haven't spoken about the rest of you because none of you had anything to do with the development of the Gatekeepers or sending Father back in time," he temporized, running a hand through his mussed hair as he reluctantly walked back to where they were all sitting.
"So? We must have done something worth mentioning," insisted Ron.
"Yes, you did."
"Well?"
Pursing his lips, Harry revealed, "As of November tenth, 2018, the only people in this room that will still be alive are Luna and myself. The rest of you... are dead."
***
Hermione was surprised at how shocked she felt. It was strange, considering she had known the moment Harry told them that the war against Voldemort had been lost that some of them would have died during its course. It was obvious, really. People died during wars, it was unavoidable.
The thought that all of them were going to die, while Luna was driven even crazier than she already was, however, was still horrifying. This explained why Harry appeared so grim, so world-weary, since his return to Hogwarts. With the memories of the sole sane survivor jammed into his head by Father, it was no wonder that his outlook on life would have changed - even if he had not truly lived through the events he knew were coming.
The appalled silence that filled the room seemed to indicate that her companions were thinking and feeling much the same. The expressions on their faces, save Luna who seemed more curious than anything else, only served to confirm this.
"Dead?" she asked in a hushed whisper.
"That... sucks," Neville summed up for everyone.
"When?" asked Ginny, her smattering of freckles standing out in stark contrast to her pale face. She swallowed and, with obvious reluctance, asked, "How?"
Harry slumped into his chair, which literally groaned in protest. Ignoring the chair's quiet mutterings about inconsiderate wizards, which was rather odd considering most furniture at Hogwarts did not speak, he gave Ginny a bleak look.
"D'you really want to know?"
"Not really."
"Bloody hell, of course we do!" insisted Ron.
Harry made a noise that might have been the beginning of a chuckle. "Funny."
Ron frowned and asked, "What is?"
"You were the last, about five years ago..." Harry's wan smile faded as he trailed off, apparently losing himself in the memory of whatever it was that had, or rather will, happen.
"Your tenses are all confused, Harry," Neville noted with wan amusement.
"The hell with his tenses," grumbled Ron. "I'm confused."
"Seventeen years from now. Not long after Voldemort had secured his position over most of Britain," Harry explained, his eyes once again focusing on the here and now.
Gently, seeing the pain in his eyes, Hermione asked, "What happened?"
Harry looked at Ron sadly. He spoke very quietly, just a touch above a whisper, but they could all hear him quite clearly. "You went on a homicidal rampage."
Suffice to say, nobody was quite sure what to make of that. Nervous glances where exchanged between the three girls, while Neville levelled a look of sheer disbelief at Harry. Ron, for his part, gave a bark of laughter that seemed very loud in the cosy room they were sitting in.
"Good one, Harry. Me? Homicidal? Right!" Ron chortled with a grin. "Next you'll be telling us that Malfoy's actually my long-lost twin brother!"
"Ah..."
"No. No! No, I won't believe it!" Ron denied upon seeing Harry's embarrassed expression. Everyone was looking at their friend in surprise, and some disbelief, but Ron was already overreacting. He pleaded with Harry, "Tell me you're joking, mate, please! Malfoy can't be my brother!"
"You're right, he's not your brother."
Ron sank back with a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin."
His expression carefully neutral Harry continued, "He's actually your long-lost twin sister."
"W-w-w-wh-wha-wha-what?"
"He is really a she," Harry told Ron, seemingly perfectly serious. Ron was buying it, though Hermione was sceptical and fairly certain that Ron's leg was in the process of being pulled. Harry shrugged and stated, "You'd be surprised what can be accomplished with magic."
Ron swayed back and forth, as if he were suddenly feeling dizzy, one hand at the side of his head. He muttered something incomprehensible just before his eyes rolled up into his head. Like an axed tree, he toppled over and fell from his chair to land in a heap on the thickly carpeted floor.
"That was entertaining, Harry," observed Luna.
"Yeah," agreed Ginny, seemingly unconcerned about her brother's condition. She stretched out a leg and prodded Ron in the ribs, getting no reaction. "I must admit, I'm impressed. That was a joke worthy of Fred and George."
"Who said I was joking?" replied Harry, still affecting a perfect deadpan expression.
Ginny laughed nervously. "Remind me to never play poker against you."
Finally Harry's expression cracked and he broke into a boyish grin as Hermione jumped from her seat and crossed to where Ron was lying. She shook his shoulder, trying to get a response, while glaring up at her friends. "Aren't any of you the least bit concerned about Ron? He fainted!"
"Get used to it," Harry told her, "it'll be happening a lot."
"Excuse me?"
Harry shrugged, "It's a side effect of his injury from the Department of Mysteries."
Ginny, now kneeling next to Hermione, frowned worriedly and asked, "Is it serious?"
"Not really. Just inconvenient."
"You mean he's going to faint a lot?" asked Neville.
"Not too often," Harry answered after a moment's thought, "only when faced with emotionally confusing situations."
"You mean like learning that Malfoy is his long-lost twin sister?" asked Luna in a sing-song voice filled to the brim with wry amusement.
"Yep."
"Why didn't anyone realize this earlier?" demanded Hermione angrily, pulling out her wand in preparation to revive Ron. "It's been months since it happened."
Once again Harry shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about Ron's plight. "In the original history we didn't find out until Halloween."
Neville, who like Harry had not risen from his seat, asked the question that entered everyone's mind. "What happened on Halloween?"
Harry smirked in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Malfoy. "He asked Mione out."
"You mean he found asking Hermione out so stressful that he fainted?" asked Ginny incredulously.
"Actually he only fainted after she said yes," Harry revealed.
Hermione was about to cast an Ennervate Charm, but stopped as she noticed Ron beginning to stir. He rolled from his side onto his back and blinked his eyes open, as if waking from a deep and comfortable sleep. "Ugh, what happened?"
"You fainted," she told him.
Ron frowned and immediately objected. "What? No way, I'm a bloke. Blokes don't faint."
Huffing with some exasperation at his stubbornness, Hermione relented, "Fine, you passed out."
"Much better."
With help from Ginny, Hermione pulled Ron to his feet and settled him back in his chair. Once certain that he wasn't going to topple over any time soon, they returned to their own seats.
"All right, old friend?" asked Harry.
"I think so..." Ron muttered. "What were we talking about again?"
"You were scoffing at the idea of your future self going on a homicidal rampage," Luna helpfully informed him.
"Oh yeah," Ron nodded as it all came back to him. Then he paused and asked uncertainly, "Malfoy's not really my twin sister, is he?"
"No," Harry chuckled and shook his head, causing Ron to slump with relief.
It was Ginny that brought the conversation back to the issue of Ron's rampage. "So, what happened? What set Ron off?"
Harry heaved a gusty sigh and turned his gaze to the fireplace. "Death Eaters raped and then killed your wife and twin daughters. They also killed your newborn son."
There was a deathly silence at this revelation.
"Gods," breathed Neville, his voice and face filled with horror.
"On second thought, I didn't really want to know," Ron eventually manage to blurt out, his face very pale beneath his freckles despite the warm glow provided by the nearby fire.
"You went catatonic when you arrived home and found them," continued Harry, his eyes losing focus as he apparently lost himself in his 'memories'. "The night after the funerals you disappeared. We only found out what happened about a week later, through one of our spies."
"I went after them, didn't I?"
Harry nodded tiredly, as if he were far too familiar to delivering bad new such as this. "According to Winter, one of our informants, you killed thirteen Death Eaters before they were able to take you down. The last three with your bare hands."
Ron stared blankly at his hands. He swallowed several times, trying to regain his composure, before looking up at Harry with a reluctantly curious expression and asked, "Who... who was she?"
"Who?"
"My wife, dammit!"
"I don't know if I should tell you."
This did not sit well with Ron and he jumped to his feet, hands clenched into fists, and shouted, "Why the bloody hell not?!"
"Because if I do, you might jump the gun," replied Harry, his voice suddenly cool and authoritive. He met Ron's angry gaze with his own, green eyes glinting darkly in the firelight, and explained his reasoning. "I don't know about you, but I do want to see my goddaughters be born. Something that might not happen if you screw up on your first date because you're over confident."
"Calm down, Ron, before you faint again," insisted Ginny. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down into his chair, which he fell into with a thud. "He's right."
"I know," Ron admitted, looking abashed by his outburst. He looked apologetically at Harry. "Sorry."
"Don't be, I understand you're still recovering from what happened at the Ministry," Harry waved it aside, glancing at Hermione after he did so. For a moment she thought he was staring at her breasts, but realized after a moment that he was focused instead on where she had been hit by Dolohov's curse at the Ministry. His eyes flicked up to hers for a second before he turned away, voice dropping a register as he muttered, "Some things take more time to heal that others."
"What about the rest of us?" asked Neville. He held up a hand to stall Harry's protest. "I'm not sure I want to know, but... in for a knut and all that."
Harry ran a hand through his hair again before nodding. "Ginny was... will be killed next year, a few weeks before the end of term." His expression became an introspective one as he added, "We'll lose a lot of good people in that fight."
Luna, inexplicably looking a little pale, asked, "Who?"
"McGonagall. Remus. Hagrid. A few other members of staff. A dozen or so students."
"Snape?" asked Ron, sounding disturbingly eager. Hermione could understand that, considering her own experiences in the man's Potions class. To Ron's disappointment Harry shook his head. Hermione, however, thought that he seemed strangely cautious, no, wary, as he did so. Naturally Ron was disappointed and voiced it by saying, "Bugger."
Harry gave a weak smile at the explicative. He frowned and then glanced past Hermione, "Neville will be killed in the line of duty six years later."
Luna blinked owlishly and repeated, "In the line of duty?"
"Please tell me I didn't get some clerical job in the Ministry," groaned Neville, looking thoroughly disgusted at the idea. This was not surprising as everyone present was somewhat disenchanted when it came to the Ministry. With idiots like Fudge in charge, and demented bigots like Umbridge setting policy...
"You were an Auror," Harry revealed.
"But that's impossible," Hermione immediately objected. "You need a N.E.W.T. in Potions to apply for Auror training, and Neville isn't in our Potions class."
"The Ministry changed their tune after the shit hit the fan."
Ginny looked surprised by this admission, apparently understanding the meaning behind the metaphor even though she probably did not know what a fan was. "They lowered the requirements?"
Harry shrugged and explained, "They were running out of Aurors and needed the replacements as soon as possible."
"An Auror. Heh." Neville looked somewhat taken by the idea, despite whatever feelings he might have with regards to working for the Ministry. The position was, after all, a prestigious one. "I'll bet Gran was pleased with that."
"You and Luna were captured together."
Neville’s bemusement immediately disappeared as the blood drained from his face. He looked at Harry, eyes wide, and stammered, "You mean... I was..."
Harry nodded unhappily. "Tortured to death with the Cruciatus Curse. Yes."
"Gods," cursed Ron.
"Don't worry," Harry reassured Neville, a dark gleam in his eyes. The light from the fire playing over his features, he looked somewhat menacing with that expression. "I killed her personally."
"Her?" asked Neville, puzzled.
Harry nodded and repeated, "Her."
A look of understanding came to Neville. "Lestrange."
"I returned the favour."
Hermione looked at Harry, her stomach twisting in a knot as the implications of that statement set in. "You used the Cruciatus Curse on her?"
Harry met her eyes with a steady gaze. "Eye for an eye, Mione."
"What about Hermione?" Luna suddenly asked, causing Harry to break Hermione's gaze with a flinch. He got up and began to pace yet again, the agitation he was feeling obvious in his posture. "What happened to her?"
"Harry?" Hermione asked, unsure if she really wanted to hear this.
"Come on, Harry. It can't be that bad," pressed Ron before hesitantly asking, "Can it?"
Ginny elbowed her brother and hissed, "Ron!"
Hermione, squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, asked, "Harry, what happens?"
Harry turned his back to them all, regarding the crackling fireplace instead. Long shadows stretched out across the room, casting a sombre atmosphere over the previously comfy décor. Everyone watched him closely, waiting both patiently and impatiently for his answer. Hermione held her breath as he lowered his head and answered in a hoarse whisper.
"You commit suicide on Halloween night, 1997. Next year."
Suffice to say, the room was very quiet after that.
Finally Hermione broke the silence with a gasped, "What?"
"Jumped off the top of the Astronomy tower," Harry continued dispassionately, not moving a muscle as he remained in place and stared into the fire. He could have been carved from stone he was so still. She had a feeling that he was holding onto his self-control with an iron grip to keep himself from losing his composure.
"But... but... no..." Hermione sputtered for several moments. She was either going into shock, or else was already experiencing it. Trying to gather her scattered wits, she asked, "Why? Why would I... kill myself?"
"I don't want to tell you," he said, sounding very reluctant.
"Tell me!" she demanded, rising from her chair and glaring at him. Since his back was turned it had no effect, but it did satisfy her sudden need to do something. Insistently she asked, "Why?!"
Running a hand through his hair and heaving a deep sigh, Harry turned to face them. He looked very grave, which was understandable considering the circumstances.
"Death Eaters will kidnap you when school breaks up this year," he began to explain, his voice utterly devoid of any emotion - as if he were reciting a weather report. "First day of the holidays, in fact. They'll kill your parents and use Polyjuice Potion to trick you into going with them when we disembark at King's Cross. You never even made it home."
"Kidnapped me? But... if... Mum... Dad? Wha... but... no, oh God, no." Hermione sank back down into her seat, a leaden weight settling in her stomach. Imagining her parents dying was as even worse emotional blow than learning of her future suicide.
"They kept you the entire summer. Used you as a plaything for their sick amusement," Harry continued, his eyes staring past those listening. A hint of brooding anger was seeping into his voice and stance.
Hermione was not known as the smartest witch in Hogwarts for no reason. She could read between the lines and had a pretty good idea of what Harry meant when he said the Death Eaters used her as a plaything. Almost unconsciously she crossed her arms protectively over her breasts and squeezed her thighs tightly together, even as she shivered at the thought of having men like Lucius Malfoy and Dolohov, probably their children as well, touching her in such a manner. There was no doubt in her mind that they not only made it as humiliating an experience as possible, but painful as well.
Harry, his hands clenched into fists, continued, "You were released on the first of September. A Portkey dropped you in the middle of the Great Hall, during the Sorting. Caused half the first years to faint and the other half to puke their guts out."
Hermione shook her head in denial and whispered, "No. Please, no."
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. In a mixture of disgust and muted anger he confessed, "It was our fault you died though."
"Huh?" asked Ron, looking rather green.
"We assumed that all they had done was... physically abuse her. The Healers treated her for that as well as the expected mental trauma," revealed Harry. He grimaced. "We assumed wrong."
An almost hysterical calm seemed to descend over Hermione as she asked, curious despite herself, "What do you mean?"
Harry meet her questioning gaze with hooded eyes and explained, "The Dark Arts has a wide selection of spells designed to control a person, bend them to the user's will."
"The Imperious Curse?" asked Ginny.
"Similar, but not so obvious," Harry shook his head. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers and seemed to glower at the floor. "They implanted control spells in Mione's psyche - spells that slowly and quietly drove her over the edge. After what they had done to her... she wasn't able to resist the compulsions. We didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. If we had... maybe we could have... I don't know."
"You said they... tortured... and... and I assume... they... they r-raped..." Hermione was having trouble getting the words out. Being tortured was something her mind shied away from, but the idea of being raped was a horror that left her feeling physically ill. Still, some part of her could not resist asking, "Do you... know the details?"
"They broke you," answered Harry, stepping over and kneeling down in front of her. He took her hands in his own, holding them tightly as he shook his head. "Body, mind and spirit. You don't need to know more."
"I think I'm going to be sick," Ron choked out.
Harry absently nodded, "You were."
Ginny, who was looking rather pale, shakily rose to her feet. "We have to... Harry, you have to tell Dumbledore."
"NO!" bellowed Harry, startling everyone with the vehemence of his exclamation. His hand blurred into his robes and in less time than it took to blink, his wand was levelled at Ginny. He glared at her, the raw fury in his eyes freezing everyone in place more than the threat of being hexed. His voice, in contrast, was colder than icy. "I'm not going to tell him anything! And neither will you, if you know what's good for you."
"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, though it took several seconds before she reacted. She put a hopefully calming hand on his arm and said, "Calm down, Harry. She's right."
"On the contrary, Mione, she's never been more wrong," he answered, not taking his eyes off Ginny.
"I'm with Hermione and Ginny on this, Harry. This is... big," said Neville, carefully keeping his voice as calm as possible. "Dumbledore needs to know about it."
"No, he doesn't."
Ron tried to speak, but quickly trailed off, "Harry, mate..."
Hermione gently squeezed his arm with her hand, slightly surprised at the firmness of the muscle underneath his robes. She tried to show him that this was something they had do, hoping that emphasising that would cause him to reconsider his position and relent. "Harry, if we tell him, he will be able to prevent it from happening."
"No, he won't."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do."
"Rather monosyllabic at the moment, aren't you, Harry?" asked Luna, not sounding the least bit concerned.
"Luna!" snapped Hermione, giving the blonde-haired girl a look. Once she felt that Luna understood that this was not the time, she turned back to her best friend. "Harry--"
Harry interrupted with a curt shake of his head. "Even if he does find out, he won't do anything about it."
"What? How can you say that?" she asked, surprised by the certainty in his voice.
"Twenty two years worth of experience."
"Perhaps you should explain, Harry," suggested Luna.
Harry sighed and, with obvious reluctance, nodded, "Perhaps, I should,"
Ginny, who had not budged an inch since Harry had first moved, warily eyed his wand. She cleared her throat and made her own suggestion, "Perhaps you should put the wand down first."
Relaxing the firm grip he held it with --his knuckles were white-- Harry lowered the wand and grudgingly returned it to its place in the folds of his robes. He rose up from the low crouch he had been holding next to Hermione and resumed his place in the circle of chair around the fireplace.
Propping his elbows on the chair's armrests, he linked his hands together and perched his chin on them. He remained almost perfectly still, save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, holding the pose for several minutes. Ron was the first to begin fidgeting impatiently and was soon followed by Neville and then Ginny. Finally, just when Hermione was getting ready to prompt him, he started to speak.
"It was a couple of weeks later... I got into an argument with Snape," he began.
"What else is new?" ask Ron jovially, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
"I'd snuck out one night to confront him. I wanted the names of the Death Eaters that... did that to Mione," he continued, ignoring the interruption and Neville's slight snicker. He frowned, his lips turning down in a grimace of displeasure, granting him a vaguely sinister air. "As you can imagine, it wasn't a very civil conversation. Didn't take long before he got me good and mad. I was screaming and yelling at him fit to wake half the castle. It's a miracle I didn't blow up the dungeons with accidental magic."
"What happened?" asked Neville.
Harry's frown deepened. "He made a mistake. Let slip... something he shouldn't have."
When no further response seemed forthcoming, Hermione prompted, "What?"
"Dumbledore knew," he said, his frown turning into a smouldering scowl of anger.
He looked intently at Hermione and she could see the barely restrained fury in his eyes. His magic was simmering angrily just beneath the surface, much as it had when he had confronted Malfoy during Potions that morning. As he continued to speak both his ire and magic aura grew in intensity, just as the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach grew colder upon hearing what he had to say.
"He knew where you were. The entire time. Two months. The whole bloody summer - he knew where you were and what they were doing to you. The son of a bitch knew. And. He. Did. Nothing!"
"That's not possible," Ginny weakly protested. "I mean... he wouldn't just..."
"Abandon her? Leave her to them?" asked Harry bitterly. He finally broke the pose he had been holding, letting his hands drop and clench the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Oh yes, he did." He shook his head in obvious disgust and mockingly repeated words that he must have heard as an explanation for the headmaster's inaction. "'An acceptable loss'. 'A casualty of war'. 'Sacrificing one to save many'."
Ron slumped in his chair. "Sweet Merlin."
Luna nodded, seemingly in agreement, and asked, "What did you do next, Harry?"
"What else?" asked Harry in return, as if the answer should be obvious. He gave a curt nod and declared, "I killed the bastard."
"You killed Dumbledore?!?!" blurted Ron, almost leaping out of his chair as he jerked upright. He, and everyone else, stared at Harry with eyes as wide as saucers. Everyone except Luna, that is. The Ravenclaw witch merely blinked owlishly in reaction.
"Of course not," Harry immediately replied, as though the idea were utterly absurd. They did not even have enough time to breath a sigh of relief before Harry continued matter-of-factly, "I killed Snape."
"You killed him," repeated Hermione dumbly.
"He gloated over it," growled Harry darkly. His expression narrowed, apparently in memory. "He shouldn't have."
There was a lull in the conversation as everyone considered what has been revealed.
"So that's why you said he didn't die when Ginny did," Neville said, understanding in his eyes. "You'd already killed him."
"I used the Cruciatus Curse," said Harry, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Almost as an afterthought he added, "Didn't stop until his brains were oozing out of his nose and ears."
"But how?" asked Ginny. "I mean, Dumbledore wouldn't have just let you do that."
"Yeah," agreed Neville. "I'll admit Snape's a greasy bastard, but they wouldn't have let you do that without some kind of punishment."
Ron nodded, looking at Harry with wide eyes. "They would've locked you in Azkaban and thrown away the key!"
Harry gave a nonchalant shrug, before dropping his gaze. There was a hint of black humour in his eyes as he looked at them. "I might not have the best grades, but I'm far from stupid."
"What d'you mean by that?"
"Nobody knew I was with Snape at the time. Everyone thought I was fast asleep with the rest of the boys," he pointedly looked from Ron to Neville. "I knew the two of you would cover for me once I told you what I'd learnt. You did."
"So, how did you..." Hermione trailed off, again not sure if she really wanted to know.
"It was difficult, but I managed to sneak the body down to Hogsmeade and dump it in the village square. Rigged a delayed Dark Mark that would be set off after half an hour," Harry gave a professional, dispassionate, recounting of his future actions. "After that I returned to school and ran to the old man's office. Told him that I'd had a vision, through my scar, and seen everything. As far as anyone knew, Snape was tortured to death by Voldemort when his cover as a spy was blown."
He then snorted, rather disdainfully, and got up from his seat again. Hermione could not recall Harry ever being as restless as he had been during the course of this meeting.
"Won't matter either way," he said, clasping his hands behind his back as he resumed his pacing. He shook his head and gave a heavy sigh. "Everything will to hell a few months later. Right bugger up."
"But, if we tell Dumbledore--" a forbidding look from Harry quickly cut Ginny off. Visibly steeling herself, something that gave her a passing resemblance to her mother, she pressed on. "Harry, we have to! If we don't, how are we going to change anything?"
"I will," Harry said with absolute conviction. "I already have."
"Even the smallest actions can have far-reaching effects if given enough time," agreed Luna, placing a pacifying hand on Ginny's shoulder and preventing her from rising to confront Harry.
"Screw small - I'm going to do what Doc and I had planned from the start," Harry told them, that dangerous glint in his eyes as his smirked. "Turn this war on its ear."
Hermione shook her head. "Harry, you're just one man."
Harry nodded agreeably, "I won't deny that."
"Then you agree that we should tell Dumbledore."
"No. I agree that I'm just one man and can't defeat Voldemort by myself," he countered easily, oddly enough keeping a very cool head as he spoke. This, a stark contrast to his short temper the previous year, brought home the fact that Harry had changed a great deal over the summer. Still smirking he added, "Yet."
"You have a plan?" asked Neville.
"Things are going to turn out differently this time," Harry declared, steel in his voice as he stopped for a moment to glare balefully at the fireplace. There was a hard set to his shoulders when he resumed pacing, his voice filled with a conviction that would refuse to waver in any way. "I'm going to stop Voldemort and save everyone that should never have died to begin with."
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry paused in mid step to look at Luna in confusion. "For what?"
Luna, looking strangely serious, bowed her head. "If I'd only sent you back another month, or more, you'd have been able to save your godfather as well."
"No, stop. Stop," Harry scowled at her, "Luna, don't think like that."
"Like what?" asked Ron.
"An old friend of mine once gave me... will give me, some very good advice," Harry smiled wryly. He looked at Luna and gently told her, "No what ifs. You can't change what happened, only what can happen."
"Who told you that?" Hermione asked, thinking to herself that it must have been one of those present. It certainly was not the headmaster, as Harry did not sound bitter or angry, but rather melancholic.
Harry grinned, "Ron, strange as it may sound."
"Ron, dispensing some wisdom?" chuckled Neville, amused at the idea. "Rather odd that."
"Oi! I'll have you know--"
Harry deftly interrupted, "We were both drunk at the time, which might explain it."
Ron looked at Harry, feigning betrayal, "Harry!"
There was some light laughter and smiles, the break in the tension a much needed one. Harry returned to his chair, settling down in a much more relaxed manner than before.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ginny, sounding hesitant to bring the topic up again. "About Dumbledore. About... all this."
"As far as Dumbledore is concerned, I'm going to continue doing exactly what I have been doing since Father arrived," Harry told her levelly.
"Nothing."
"Not quite," he relented. "I'll share what information I deem relevant, but I will most definitely not be explaining how or where I got it."
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Harry?" asked Neville.
"Withholding potentially crucial information might prove disadventitious."
Ron gave Luna an exasperated look and muttered, just loud enough for Hermione to hear, "Does she have to always use big words?"
Harry scowled again and shook his head. "He's kept me in the dark about almost everything important since I first came to Hogwarts. I have no intention of allowing that state of affairs to continue."
"We understand that you don't like that, Harry. Neither do we," Hermione told him. She leaned forward and reached out to grab hold of his hand. "But you must know that there are some things he can't tell you."
"Even the things that involve me? That personally affect me and those around me?" he asked quietly, focusing on her hand gripping his own. "Are those also things he should keep from me? 'For my own good'?"
"What d'you mean?" asked Ginny, puzzled.
"Last year. The prophecy."
Ron blinked in surprise and asked, "You know it?"
Neville shook his head. "I thought it was destroyed."
"Dumbledore told me. After the Ministry," Harry admitted, his expression growing darker as he looked up.
Hermione swallowed. That same murderous, but icy, rage had ignited in his eyes again. His jaw was clenched so tightly that she could hear his teeth grinding together. This was obviously a sore point, if his reaction was any indication.
The small amount of nervousness she was feeling (Harry's magic was practically crackling around him) overwhelmed the sharp pain as Harry squeezed her hand. The pressure disappeared immediately when Harry noticed her pained expression. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment he visibly calmed himself.
"Well?" demanded Ron impatiently.
"It doesn't say anything we didn't already know," Harry said. He pulled his hand away from Hermione's and bunched it into a tight fist. "Everything we did. Pointless. Everything we went through. For nothing."
"What - what does it say?" asked Hermione, reluctantly returning her hand to her lap. It was throbbing slightly, but she would happily bear that pain if she could help Harry through his own.
"That Voldemort will kill my parents. That he will mark me as his equal with this damned scar. That in the end it'll come down to just the two of us," he revealed grimly. He turned to look at her, his normally bright green eyes darkened almost black with emotion. "Me and him."
"You and You-Know-Who?" repeated Ron, his voice rising to a squeak.
"Just like it's always been," Harry's voice regained that unnatural calm which Hermione recognised as happening when he was forcibly restraining his emotions. His eyes though, as always, betrayed the depth of his feelings. "Every time I've gone against Voldemort, I've done it alone. People would help get me there, help me reach him, but in the end I always face him by myself."
Ginny, looking hopefully, asked, "You mean it says you're going to kill him? Once and for all?"
Harry gave a curt shake of his head. "No."
"But you just told us..." Neville trailed off at the guarded expression that settled over Harry.
"It does not say who is going to win, does it?" asked Luna, who had apparently reached the same conclusion as Hermione and decided to voice it.
"No, just that we'll fight and one of us will die."
"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, looking at her friend and wondering just when life was going to give him the break that he so deserved. No wonder he had been so preoccupied after the fight at the Ministry before the summer.
"I'll admit, it was a shock - finally hearing it outright. Aside from that, the contents of the prophecy should've been painfully obvious to everyone who knew about it," Harry admitted with a gusty sigh. Then his expression darkened again, his voice filling with bitter anger. "The old man should have told me sooner. If he had... Sirius..."
Hermione wanted to reach out again, but decided against it. Harry had always been uncomfortable with physical encounters, no doubt due to his upbringing with the Dursleys. Instead, she tried to soothe him out of his anger. "Maybe he didn't want to worry with it. It is a burden, Harry, so maybe he just wanted you to enjoy your childhood while--"
"I spent ten years living in the cupboard underneath the Dursleys' stairs," Harry interrupted, the bitterness growing almost tangible. He looked at her unhappily and, almost caustically, said, "Forgive me if I'd rather forget ever having a childhood like that."
"Harry..."
"I think you need some time to think about all this. Let it settle in properly. Consider everything I've told you about what is going to happen," he said abruptly, getting up from his chair and walking briskly to the door. He paused when he reached it and, without looking back, told them, "If you want to tell Dumbledore, well, that's your choice. Not mine."
He departed quickly and without a backwards glance, the small black ball that was Father trailing close behind him. In his wake he left a confused Ron, a thoughtful Neville, a troubled Ginny, a pensive Luna (something extraordinary in itself) and a highly apprehensive Hermione.
***
Harry was walking from the Room of Requirements back to the Gryffindor Tower, brooding over those aspects of the future that disturbed him more than the others. He was no longer bothered by his reactions, having had two months to work through his feelings on the matter. Instead he was worrying over how his friends would react to the knowledge.
His greatest concern was that they would seek out Dumbledore and spill the beans. That would make his tentative plans all the more difficult to implement. His rather impulsive and idiotic "grand entrance" during the Sorting Feast had already thrown a massive wrench into the proverbial works, having drawn far too much attention to himself and Father.
Speaking of which, Father was once again questioning his decision to reveal the truth to his friends.
"I know, but if I can't trust my friends, who can I trust?" he countered vocally, a habit he was trying to break. Having a one-side conversation (as all of Father's communications were input directly into Harry's mind) would more than likely end in another newspaper article questioning his sanity. He had experienced more than enough of those the previous year and had no desire to encounter any more.
"It's a risk I'm willing to take," he further asserted.
He turned a corner, almost walking through the Fat Friar. For some reason the Hufflepuff ghost was wandering much further from the Hufflepuff dormitories than he usually did. After absentmindedly engaging in a short exchange of greetings, he continued on his way. Once he felt that the Fat Friar was out of earshot, he asked a question of his own.
"Did you deploy the drones like I asked?"
Father replied, perhaps a bit snidely. Questioning the sole Gatekeeper's abilities or competence was an assured method of rising its ire. For some reason it had developed an exaggerated sense of pride during the time Harry had known it, which the young wizard found rather odd.
Then again, considering the vast stores of knowledge held within its memory (including some of Luna's more dubious downloads) it should not have been too surprising.
The original Father, from twenty two years in the Future, had been only the most basic of artificial intelligences. From what Harry could 'remember', that Father had been very cool, possessing nothing remotely like human emotion.
It had been similar to the glowing red-light computer from that Muggle movie Luna was going to discover several years from now. What was it called again? 2002, 2010 or something like that? He couldn't remember the exact date, only that Luna had been excited to watch the film in comparison to what the Muggles had thought was possible by that time and what they had actually managed to accomplished after the years rolled by.
In any case, Father had originally been very remote and almost without a personality.
Everything had changed, however, after the time travel. As far as Harry could determine it was because of the energy which had lead to his future self's memories being brought back. Somehow Father had been affected and had incorporated both Harry's memories and the junk data Luna had stored within him.
The result was something that reminded Harry somewhat uncomfortably of a young James Potter, which led to his eventual naming of the Gatekeeper as Father.
Trying to ignore his musings, Harry turned his attention back to his and Father's current discussion. He was pleased to hear (so to speak) that Father had completed its assigned task during Harry's conversation with his friends.
"Good."
As Harry stood waiting for one of the moving staircases to finishing shifting from the third floor to the fourth, Father asked another silent question.
"Sometime this weekend, I think," Harry answered, beginning to climb the staircase. He mused over the question for a few seconds before deciding, "Maybe sooner, if the opportunity presents itself. Either way, I'm certain they'll be available for me to talk to."
Father sounded somewhat worried as it asked another question, related to the first.
"Trust me, they'll be more than happy to help. They've never turned down a chance at wreaking some mayhem," Harry replied with a smirk that would have unnerved anyone that saw it. "Besides, they're the ones that designed the bloody things in the first place."
Father gave an unconvinced reply that caused Harry to chuckle wickedly.
"What can I say?" he asked, as he walked down the corridor leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady. His smirk grew broader, now tinged with a hint of malicious pleasure. "They enjoy playing with explosives."
TBC...