Disclaimer: i do not own Harry Potter.

Harry Potter and the Days of Future's Past.

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Chapter Four.

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I. Hagrid's Hut

"Hagrid," Harry started. "Maybe we saw the robbery! It happened on the same day that we were at Gringotts, maybe we saw the thief."

Hagrid shook his head, and poured some more tea in Hermione's cup, handed a confused Neville a rock cake, which Neville accidently dropped onto Draco's foot, making him yelp in pain.

"Coincidence," Hagrid said, not meeting Harry's eyes, before quickly changing the subject to something else, before Harry or Hermione could say anything, about their classes and homework.

He shook his head at the fact that Ron Weasley would turn out to be like that, and told them that his brothers, who worked with dragons and with goblins were actually unlike him.

They laughed when Hagrid told them a story of Fang, the dog that stood by the door, and soon, Harry almost forgot about the break in.

But even after the colour of the sky turned a dark indigo and Neville reminded them that they needed to go back to the Great Hall for dinner if they wanted to arrive on time, the paper lingered in his mind still, the grubby package that Hagrid had taken out of vault seven hundred and thirteen.

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Hermione barely touched her food when they sat down on the Slytherin table, next to Pansy Parkinson and her friends, who laughed and pointed at her hair, whispered mudblood when they thought that she couldn't hear.

She knew that the package contained the stone, and that soon, a series of events would be put into place and that Harry would be put to the test, she would be put to the test.

It was all beginning, and Hermione wondered if she was ready.

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II. Nightmare.

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"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll hold him off-"

There was a sudden burst of light around the room as her hands tightened around the crib in which Harry was staring at her, wide green eyes that were her own.

She didn't want it to end this way.

Her heartbeat was quickening, and she could barely hear Voldemort descend the stairs and head in her direction, to Harry. The beat of the world slowed to the rhythm of the wind.

"I love you," she whispered to Harry, and Lily clenched her fists, tried to think of something else, anything else. It would be over soon, she thought. It would be over soon. "I love you, remember that."

Lily's eyes were glistening as Voldemort stepped into the room, his wand outstretched.

"Not Harry," she whispered. "Please...not Harry."

"Step aside, you silly girl," he hissed. "Stand aside now."

"Not Harry," she repeated, her voice breaking. "Take me instead...have mercy…"

Screams as he stepped closer, closer still. He raised his wand, red slit pupils gleaming. At last, he thought, the prophecy wouldn't be fulfilled, at last...

A flash of green, and then nothing.

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Harry's eyes snapped open, his scar tingling and prickling with pain, and sweat running down his cheeks. His breathing was rushed, and he tried to push the image to the back of his mind, of his mother, with red hair and eyes exactly like his.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Neville, who was awoken by Harry's cries and gasps for air, said.

Harry had noticed that Draco was awake too, staring at him concernedly from the bunk across from him.

"It was just a dream," Harry said, and pushing away the heavy blankets he got out of bed. "I need air. Are you coming?"

Neville and Draco yawned and nodded, climbing over the bunks and following Harry to the Slytherin common room, where the flames glowed yellow and gold in the fireplace and the room was dotted with scarce green lights.

"Did you have a nightmare, Harry?" Draco asked, leaning on one of the comfortable chairs. "You were practically screaming in your sleep."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It was my...mother."

Neville stared at him with wide eyes. "You still remember her?"

"No," he continued, scratching his head. "She was trying to protect me...but Voldemort...he told her to step aside, and she didn't, and there was this flash of green and I woke up and my scar sort of...prickled."

Neville had gone pale. "You saw him? What did he look like?"

"He was pale...and he had red eyes and there's this place where his skin caves in because he has no nose."

Harry had the strange impulse to laugh at the fact that the Dark Lord had no nose, but he kept his silence.

"Maybe you should tell Snape," Draco suggested after pondering for a while, "Your scar isn't supposed hurt, is it?"

"I'm sure it's perfectly normal," Harry said, shuddering slightly at the thought of his Head of House. "I've just never noticed it before."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "It's never happened before, has it, Harry?"

Harry rubbed his palms together and swallowed. He had seen his mother, he had seen Voldemort, red eyes gleaming, and he couldn't erase it out of his mind.

"No," he said quietly. "It's never happened before."

"Are you sure you don't want to tell Snape?" Neville asked. "He could help you, Harry. He's the Head of Slytherin, I don't think-"

"I'm sure," Harry said shakily. "I think it'll all be over in the morning. It was just a bad dream."

"Alright," Draco, who had gone to a corner to make tea, sighed. "But you're telling Hermione when we wake up and go to breakfast."

Harry took a sip of the tea and groaned.

"Deal."

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"Really?" Hermione said when Draco nudged Harry and he told her everything, about the dream, about the scar hurting and about waking up in the middle of the night lying a pool of his own sweat. "You dreamed about your mother?"

"Yes," Harry replied, taking a swig of pumpkin juice. "I'm sure it's alright, though, which I told Draco and Neville. Though they didn't seem to believe me."

Hermione shook her head. "Of course it isn't alright," she said, taking a closer look at his scar. "It hasn't happened before, has it?"

Harry shook his head. Why was it, he thought, that they all asked the same questions?

"It's never normal," Hermione was saying, "to have nightmares about your parents...dying."

Harry thought of his mother, red hair and eyes like his, and blinked hard, rubbed his forehead slightly.

"But I was never normal in the first place," Harry said, and something turned inside of him. "I was always different, and at first, I thought it was because a wizard, but now, I think it's because of Voldemort."

There was a long period of silence as the rest of the table stared at him, mouths slightly agape at the mention of You-Know-Who's name, and Harry quickly finished his breakfast and picked up his robes, following Hermione, Draco and Neville down the corridors.

"Tell Snape, Harry," Hermione said gently once they were out of eyeshot. "I'm sure he wouldn't try to do anything to hurt you if you told him."

"But he's…." Harry trailed off. "Please, Hermione. I really don't want to tell him. He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," Draco said. "He's like that to everyone."

"No," Harry said, as they neared the field where they were to have flying lessons with the Gryffindors. "He looks at me...it's like it pains him to look at me, Hermione. He hates me."

Hermione murmured something under her breath that sounded awfully like a name, and then sighed.

"Fine," she said. "Don't tell Snape about this."

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"But," Hermione continued, and Harry wrinkled his brow. Why was there always a but? "If anything happens ever again, you have to promise me to go to Professor Snape."

"Hermione-"

"We'll go with you," Draco cut in. "He can't kill all of us at once, can he?"

Neville, who was silent until now, agreed, and Harry closed his eyes.

"Fine," he said, just as they arrived just in time for their flying lessons, where Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindors were waiting. "I promise, Hermione."

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III. Flying Lessons.

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Harry would've been excited for flying lessons; Draco had been talking it about it all week, especially Draco, who told him stories about flying around the countryside where he lived and about Wizarding Quidditch Teams, who apparently competed for the Quidditch World Cup every four years; but they had flying lessons with Gryffindors, and the image of Ron Weasley laughing at him falling off a broom set a bitter taste in Harry's mouth.

The rest of the Slytherins, also groaned when they saw the announcement, and even Blaise Zabini, who didn't dislike anyone, was put into a sour mood by the time all the Slytherins arrived at the field.

The teacher, a grey haired witch with grey hair called Madam Hooch was waiting for them, and told them to take their brooms, which were old and dusty, lift their right hand over them to make them fly into their palms.

"UP," Harry said, and the handle of the broom, surprisingly, flew into his outstretched palm.

Madam Hooch went around correcting their posture, telling them how to mount their brooms before telling them to kick off the ground and rise a few feet before descending to the ground.

Neville, who was a little too nervous, kicked off too soon and proceeded to fly off into the sky.

"Neville!" Hermione screamed when he soared another ten feet. "Come back down!"

She took out her wand, but it was too late. Neville had fallen to the ground with a sickening crack, along with the pieces of the broken broomstick flying everywhere.

They rushed over to them, but they were told to stand back by Madam Hooch, who was studying Neville with a pale face.

"Broken arm," she murmured as she helped him up. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital. If you do, you'll be expelled."

They disappeared, and the Slytherins, and even the Gryffindors were silent for a minute before chatter broke out, especially from the Gryffindor side, where Ron Weasley was talking loudly about brooms.

"Well," Ron Weasley was saying loudly to another Gryffindor when Harry, Hermione, Neville and Draco loomed closer. "Malfoy's father has money, but he can't buy skill-"

He was cut off by a loud cough from Draco, who had almost lunged at him but was held back at the shoulder by Harry.

"Shut up, Weasley," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at the redhead wizard. "You don't even know-"

"His father's a Death Eater for Merlin's sake," Weasley said. "His father worked for the person who murdered your parents, and you dare defend that piece of-"

There was another growl from Draco who would almost be out of Harry's grip if Theo Nott hasn't rushed and pulled him back.

"Really, Potter? That's low, even for a Slytherin."

Harry was at a loss for words, because he had gone slightly pale, and Hermione stepped forward.

"Please use your pea of a brain to think clearly, Weasley," Hermione said coolly, and Ron Weasley went red in the face.

"If we continue to live in the past and not to move on, you will have never lived at all," she continued. "You think you can say that about Draco because his father was a Death Eater?"

"You don't know anything," Weasley hissed.

Harry, who was quiet until now, stood up. "He's my friend," he said. "He's not his father."

"He'll turn up like his father," Ron said. "You shouldn't be with his kind, he isn't worth-"

Draco, with a sudden burst of strength, had broken out of Theo and Harry's grip and lunged at Weasley, who had already mounted his broom and soared into the air.

Draco quickly caught on to him, and before Harry knew what he was doing, he had mounted his broom and was in the air, too.

He soared after Draco, the movement feeling natural and as easy as breathing, who was hissing at Weasley, his fists clenched and his whole body tense.

"Don't," Harry said to Draco as he dived up and down and up again. "He's really not worth all that effort."

"He..insulted..my...father," Draco said between breaths just as he caught on to Weasley. "No...one…"

His fist almost touched the side of Weasley's cheek just as Minerva Mcgonagall, head of Gryffindor House arrived, and they all dived to the ground.

"Never...in all my time…." she was saying, her eyes flashing with fury. "Weasley, come with me."

Ron, who looked utterly bewildered, followed her, and Harry and Draco were left staring at Mcgonagall's shadow.

"Are you two alright?" Hermione had rushed at them, her eyes widened in concern.

"We're fine, Hermione," Harry said, waiting until Draco calmed down so he could continue. "Nothing that a cookie or two later can't fix."

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IV. Defense of the Dark Arts

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They later went to the infirmary to check on Neville, who was looking a little dazed from falling twenty feet, but healed, and the four of them headed their way to the Defence of the Dark Arts classroom, where they had class with Ravenclaws-Harry let out a breath, Ravenclaws were better classmates than Gryffindors, he thought.

He took his usual seat next to Hermione and behind Neville, who was sitting with Draco in the second row, and as students began filing in, Harry took out the assigned homework.

It was a roll of parchment on vampires, which Harry spent all of last night finishing, with Hermione correcting every few minutes and Neville and Draco trying to copy it without it being exactly the same.

"P-Please hand in y-your homework at the f-front,"Quirrell said quietly as they all arrived and settled into their seats.

They formed a single file to Quirrell's desk, which was at the very corner of the classroom, and while in line, Harry checked his assignment again, the bright green ink smearing across paper as he stepped forward and dropped it into Quirrell's outstretched palm.

"Harry Potter," Quirell suddenly said, in a voice that wasn't his at all. "Wait."

The professor turned until Harry saw the back of his head, where the turban had fallen off, which had suddenly seemed to have…..things that looked eerily like eyes….like... a mouth...a nose.

Harry took a step back. The back of Quirrell's head, was a face.

"Harry Potter," Quirell suddenly said, in a voice that wasn't his at all. "Wait."

A hiss, and the face neared him until he could smell the acridness of it's breath.

"Harry Potter," the face at the back of Quirrell's head spat, Quirrell's hand lunging at him, almost touching him if Hermione hadn't pulled him back. "At last."

There was another hiss, and Quirrell turned back around. "P-potter, g-go back t-to your seat."

Harry stepped back, and ran back to his seat, where Draco and Neville already sat, eyes focused on the remembrall that Neville's gran sent.

"Did you see that?" Harry breathed.

"See what?"

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"That is it," Hermione said once they were out of the classroom. "We're going to Snape's."

"Hermione-"

She trudged the steps to Snape's office, along with Draco and Neville, who still didn't know what had taken place earlier.

"There was something at the back of Quirrell's head," Harry explained. "It hissed at me and lunged at my face."

"What?" Neville gasped. "A face? At the back of Quirrell's turban?"

"It spoke in this voice that wasn't Quirrell's," Harry said as they walked down another corridor. "It sounded...familiar, like I've heard it before somewhere."

Hermione was about to say something, but she was stopped because they had arrived at Snape's office.

She raised her fist and knocked three times on the door.

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V. Snape's Office.

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"What is it," the door opened with a click, and Severus Snape stood at the doorway. "Please don't tell me that you have gotten into trouble."

"No," Hermione said. "Professor, it's about Harry."

He gestured half heartedly for them to enter his office, a dimly lit room with stacks of glass jars piled around the rooms, potion ingredients, most likely, Harry thought. Or poison.

"What about Potter?" Snape said, waving his wand and watching the papers and glass jars disappear off some of the chairs. "Sit."

They settled into the chairs, and Hermione shook her head and said, "Harry, you tell him yourself."

"Er..we were in Defence of the Dark Arts earlier with Ravenclaws...and...er...Professor Quirrell, he.."

"For Merlin's sake, Potter," Snape said. "Speak clearly. I don't understand a word you're saying."

Harry inhaled deeply. "I was handing in an assignment, and the back...the back of Quirrell's head...spoke, like it had a voice. And...and then he turned around...and there was a...face beneath the turban, it said my name and said something about at last."

Snape simply stared at him. "Quirrell?" he asked after a long period of silence. "Are you sure, Potter? Did anyone else but you see this 'incident' or is it really just proof that you're deluded?"

"I saw it, Professor," Hermione said. "It lunged at him, Quirrell's hands, and I pulled him back."

"I never thought it would…"Snape was mumbling under his breath. "Quirrell…"

He shook his head and looked up back at the four of them.

"If what you say is true, Granger," he said, almost softly, but not quite. "Than this is all more serious than I thought."

He furrowed his brow in concentration, hands tapping the wood of his table.

"You four," Snape finally said, "be at the Defense of the Dark Arts at eight thirty tomorrow. I trust Granger to lead you there. Do not tell any student or teacher, do not tell anyone."

He opened the door with another click and they headed out the door, basking in the yellow glow.

"And don't bother knocking the next time you come to find me," Snape said. "Only basic muggles do that."

He nodded at them, and without another word the door slammed shut.

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They would've walked the normal way to the dungeons, but instead they chose another corridor, to walk through, because the other way was to dark at night.

"I see shadows," Harry heard a voice from the distance. "Students out in the corridors, Mrs. Norris."

"It's Filch," Draco whispered to Harry as they tried to tiptoe as quietly as possible across the hallway. "Run!"

They tried to run, but Filch loomed closer still, and there was no way that they could be hidden...unless...Harry pressed his wand to the gleaming door in front of him, and recited the spell they had learned in charms, Alohomora, and Hermione screamed, "NO! Harry!" but it was too late. The four of them were inside the room, which Harry thought was quite comfortable until the seat Draco thought he was sitting on opened a bright, yellow eye.

Harry opened the door knob at the last minute, and the four of them tumbled out onto the-thankfully-empty corridor.

"A three headed dog,"Neville said as they raced back to the Slytheirn dungeons and settled into their dorms. "I saw it when I was backing away. Did you see it?"

"I was sitting on it,"Draco said, shuddering. "It was bloody disgusting! All drooling and…"

Harry was too busy thinking about what a three headed dog was doing at Hogwarts to reply.

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VI. The Defense of the Dark Arts Classroom.

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At eight thirty the next day, Hermione lead the way to the Defense of the Dark Arts Classroom, which Harry learned could change at will.

Professor Snape had already arrived, because when the four of them stepped in, he was standing at the edge of the room with his wand outstretched, green and red sparks flying out of the tip.

"Each of you take out your wands and show me the best of your magical abilities," he said when he saw them come in.

Hermione took out her wand, and transfigured the pillow into a guinea pig, and Draco performed Wingardium Leviosa, Neville tried to turn Trevor a different colour and failed, and Harry succeeded after several tries turning the cushion into a needle.

"Good,"Snape murmured. "Now, do you know why you are here?"

They shook their head in unison.

"You will need magical training," Snape said. "All four of you. Because there are things that are beginning in this school, dangerous things, and I do not want the four of you to go charge at the first signs of danger like a fool."

Harry nodded, and Hermione raised her hand.

"What exactly, Professor, will we be learning?"

"Stunning, Disarming, spells that will save your from death," Snape said, "You will be trained and ready for every, for any possible moment."

"Now take out your wands again," Snape said, and Harry whipped out his rubbed it between his fingers. "Today we're going to try Disarming spells."

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An hour later and Harry could almost, nearly make Hermione's wand wobble out of her hand, and he sighed in frustration as Hermione yelled, "Expelliarmus!" and Harry's wand flew instantly out of his fingers.

Neville and Draco weren't doing so well, either at the looks of it, Neville kept falling over, and Draco could also make Neville's wand wobble slightly if he concentrated.

"That's it for tonight," Snape said coldly, gesturing to the door of the Defense of the Dark Arts Classroom. "You will come here every night at eight thirty, no excuse allowed."

Harry, whose eyelids were almost drooping and hair was wet with sweat stopped in his tracks, turned. "Professor," he said. "Do you know anything about the a three headed dog?"

a/n: hi guys! Thank you so much for reviewing. The results are in, and the winner is choice 2: Draco, Harry, Hermione and Neville!

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. And don't forget to review, follow and fav！