Tempus Rerum Imperator

'Time is sovereign over all things'
– Latin Proverb

Part One

Professor Kirkland didn't like Alfred F. Jones. It was an undeniable fact, woven into the fabric of everyday life at Hogwarts.

No one could pinpoint why exactly. While Professor Kirkland was Head of Slytherin House and Alfred was your run-of-the-mill hot-blooded, hot-headed Gryffindor, Kirkland wasn't one to associate himself with petty house prejudices. And, yes, Alfred was a demander of attention, loud and brash and bursting with proclamations of gagging American optimism but now that Hogwarts accepted international students from her sister school in Salem, the student body was riddled with the starry-eyed fantasists from across the pond and Kirkland didn't seem nearly as slighted by them as he did Alfred.

The dislike was subtle enough not fall into the category of a personal vendetta in the eyes of the other professors, it didn't help that the man wasn't the most pleasant of people to begin with, but it was obvious enough for Alfred's year group to acknowledge it.

Herbology wasn't Alfred's favourite subject by a long-shot but he had to take it to be accepted on to the Auror Training programme. Regardless of his indifference to Professor Kirkland's classes, Alfred was an overachiever in the subject and he knew it, his class knew it and Professor Kirkland knew it. That didn't stop the Herbology teacher from being unnecessarily unforgiving and pedantic whenever he marked Alfred's assignments or slated Alfred for the most menial wisp of a mistake or taking house points from Alfred for actively respiring or existing in his classroom.

Alfred's friends had all offered him various excuses for the surly Professor's behaviour. By his sixth year, the American couldn't count on his fingers and toes how many times he'd heard the phrases: 'you must have done something to him in a past life' or 'you must remind of someone he hates'.

As Alfred entered his seventh year and final year of Hogwarts education, he accepted that he would probably never understand why Professor Kirkland had gone out of his way to make Alfred's school experience living hell, biting at the Gryffindor's sanity like the ugly little doxy he was.

-/-

"Thank you, Professor," Alfred said, cradling his gift in the crook of his palm and grinning brighter than the cool Scottish sunrise that was just visible from the arched windows in the Headmaster's office. "I really appreciate this!"

Professor Wang didn't smile but his face softened as he took another sip of his steaming, earthy-smelling tea. Opposite him, Alfred simmered in his excitement, inspecting the object in his hand the way a child regarded a present on Christmas morning.

"Alfred."

The Headmaster set his small, porcelain teacup down and Alfred ceased his examination.

"You do understand that this is not a toy," Professor Wang stated, his slow, lilting pronunciation of words reaffirming the air of infallible wisdom he always carried with him.

The Chinese-born man rose to his feet, his oriental robes as gaudily-coloured as usual. Today was an ensemble of mossy-green fabric and erratic gold piping. He walked around his desk and perched himself at the end of it, by Alfred. "I am putting a great deal of trust in you, presenting you with this. Time is fickle and quite beyond our mortal comprehension but I feel you are sensible enough to know not to misuse a time-turner."

Alfred nodded eagerly. "Of course, sir."

"I understand you aspire to be an Auror?" Another nod. "I have no doubt you can achieve this, Alfred, you have proved yourself to be more than capable." The Gryffindor preened under the praise. "The time-turner should make things easier with the extra lessons you are taking. There are rules, of course, that you must follow.

"The time-turner is to be used for academic purposes only and cannot be used in excess. You cannot go back more than five hours or use it more than once a day. Under no circumstances can it leave the school grounds, it will be left with me during school holidays and kept in a secure place in your dorm if you visit Hogsmeade or elsewhere. You must not tell anyone else you are in possession of a time-turner, not even your professors."

"No problem, Professor."

"Finally," the Headmaster continued, voice glinting with steel. "If anything out of the ordinary occurs, you must come straight to me, Alfred. If you have any concerns whatsoever, it is vital you tell me and me only. If you're in serious trouble, and I distrust you for whatever reason, you must tell me this: I was born in a village called Cuandixia. Very few people know this about me which is why I'll know I can trust you if you have this information, do you understand?"

"I understand, sir." Alfred observed Professor Wang, the seriousness of his expression and the dark whisper of mystery in his eyes sent a spike of unease down Alfred's spine. "Just out of curiosity…" The Headmaster, seemingly expectant of Alfred's question, raised an eyebrow. "What would happen that was out of the ordinary? Mattie told me that time-turners are monitored by the Ministry and they're charmed so you can't tamper with them. Nothing can wrong… can it?"

"Wrong, no. Unexpected, perhaps."

The Headmaster was deliberately being cryptic and Alfred didn't know what to make of that. Why give him the time-turner if he was implying Alfred was going to mess up with it?

"I don't –"

"Now, away you go. You have lots of work to be getting on with."

Professor Wang moved back behind his desk and sat down, the sheer volume of his robes swathing the arms of the chair. He took a powdered almond biscuit from a silver tray and dipped a quill in ink with his other hand, effectively dismissing Alfred from the room.

"Thanks again, Professor!" the Gryffindor called as he left, barrelling down the spiral staircase with the time-turner bouncing against his chest.

-/-

September surged into October and into November until December hit, leaving most of the students frazzled at how quickly the year was moving.

Alfred wouldn't deny he had a tendency, sometimes, to be boastful. Otherwise, people would overlook some of the awesome stuff he did and therefore defeat the purpose of Alfred doing the awesome stuff, thus, now and then; he'd give them a friendly reminder.

He wasn't being boastful in saying that he had used the time-turner for the past few months without hiccup. Nothing mysterious had happened and he'd staunchly followed the plethora of rules enforced by the Headmaster, for the most part anyway. He might have blurred the lines somewhat when he missed lunch or breakfast but Alfred didn't consider this a violation of the rules, he wouldn't be learning at optimum capacity on an empty stomach and a growing boy's got to eat.

He may have also, in a flurry of excitement, showed his brother the tiny golden hourglass but Alfred knew Mattie wouldn't tell a soul so it didn't really count.

"I'll see you in a bit. Save me a seat at lunch."

"Where are you going?" Gilbert enquired. "Have you got a secret girlfriend? It better not Elizaveta!"

"What?! Dude, no, of course not. I wouldn't go out with Elizaveta, what kind of friend do you think I am? Besides, she likes you. You're just too chicken to ask her out."

"Am not, loser!" the albino yelled after him. Alfred chuckled and wandered into an empty corridor.

When he was positive there was no one else lurking about, he pulled the chain around his neck and brought the time-turner out from underneath his shirt.

He revolved the panel the hourglass was situated on three times, watching the pale sand turn over in the glass container. Students and professors smudged past him, their actions reversed in haste, until he was three hours into the past and three minutes late for Herbology.

"Damnit."

When he reached the greenhouses, he could hear Professor Kirkland delivering instructions with that crisp, no-nonsense accent of his. He was surely the very crux of what it was to be an Englishman, frosty and unpredictable just like their stupid weather. Alfred waited outside for a moment to even out his breathing then slowly pushed the door ajar and squeezed himself into the balmy greenhouse, trying to insert him amongst the students without being noticed.

Of course, he was noticed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for Mr. Jones' tardiness," Professor Kirkland snapped, sheering a leaf off a deceivingly innocent-looking Venomous Tentacula.

None of Alfred's fellow Gryffindors even let out a groan at the loss of points; everyone was more than accustomed to it.

"And a further five points to be taken for your lack of apology."

The Head of Slytherin finally looked at Alfred, his eyes as poisonous as the deadly plant he was effortlessly (Alfred had to admit, begrudgingly) handling.

"If you're not serious about this class, Mr. Jones, I won't hesitate to have it removed from your curriculum."

"I am serious about this class, sir, I'm sorry I was late," Alfred replied, falsifying as much sincerity as he could muster.

Professor Kirkland glowered at him, fierce and brimming with a sort of animosity that glaciated Alfred's core. It was that look in particular that Alfred couldn't comprehend, it was fuelled by an incredible amount of emotion – emotion Alfred was sure he hadn't incited.

What had he ever done to Professor Kirkland?

He was the first to leave, barging himself through the door like a mentally unhinged man on day release from an asylum. He couldn't get away fast enough. A friend shouted his name but he was long gone before he could figure out who it was.

Despite how familiar and hardened he was to Professor Kirkland's behaviour, Alfred always felt off kilter after his classes and he found the best way to regain his equilibrium was to clear his head outside. It was lunch now so he had plenty of time to waste.

He walked unconsciously in the direction of one of the Quidditch training pitches, it was the one he visited the most often because it was usually devoid of people. It was easy to shed his worries when he was this far away from the school and all he wished to think about was how cool it was going to be when he finally made it as an Auror. Maybe he could dig up some dirt of Professor Kirkland and throw him in Azkaban himself. Alfred sniggered, feeling lighter already.

That was until he heard Gilbert's voice and, starting at the sound; he stumbled over a cluster of rocks and went hurdling towards the ground. There was a stabbing pain in both his knees and he had a mouthful of grass but, worst of all, something had cracked and he didn't think it was any of his bones.

Written for USUK Sweethearts Week, Day Six: Parallel Lives.

My. Eyes. Are. Burning. And it's 2:30 AM.

This one sort of got out of hand so I'm posting it here in chapters. The completed story has been posted on my tumblr though, if anyone wants to read it there. Please feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes/typos, I've proofread a couple of times but I ran out of steam.

Yao as a Dumbeldoresque Headmaster is a new favourite of mine.