Chapter One: A Prologue

If anything has been clear to me, it is that I am a massive Potterhead (and am proud of it, RAVENCLAW PRIDE!), so I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that this will be my first pure Harry Potter fanfiction – I've done crossovers, but have decided that it's time to venture beyond those walls, into the mystical land of time travel…

"Shit."

Hermione didn't even have the breath left to chastise Harry's vulgar language. Said vulgar-speaker trusted that she would have if she hadn't been too busy clutching the stitch at her side, but as the situation stood, she didn't. Instead, Hermione settled for a pointed look as she regained her dignity, leaning heavily against a desk in the empty classroom.

For the time being, Harry pressed his back against the classroom door, preventing any of their possible pursuers from easily breaking down the door. It was a very muggle manoeuvre, but it an automatic response.

"Of all the idiotic things," Hermione finally said, scraping her fingers through her hair in an exasperated motion. They settled into silence again, making it clear to Harry that she would not be elaborating on that statement.

"To be fair," he said, after the pause, "Malfoy started it."

"You didn't have to fire the Melofors Jinx at him," said Hermione coolly, "simply because he called you 'scarhead' and me 'Mudblood'. That's really very tame for him, Harry. He utters those words every second breath he takes. The fact that he got such a reaction from you over such a minor thing is really going to boost his ego, you know."

"But I took care of that, didn't I?" Harry said, unable to stop the grin from stretching across his mouth in the face of Hermione's chagrin. "Nobody walking around with a pumpkin as a head is gonna be feeling too up himself, eh?"

Hermione appeared to be losing a battle to keep from smiling herself, before she finally let herself freely show her glee over Draco Malfoy's misfortune. "Alright, fine," she relented. "It was pretty funny."

They exchanged smiles for half a second, before the expression dripped off Harry's face, like soft ice cream melting in the sun. Harry knew that the last time he had left Hogwarts, he had left a very changed person. Subdued and reserved, smiles and laughter coming with difficulty. He felt like a young boy, forced to grow up before he even had a chance at a proper childhood.

Hermione looked away after he did. Nobody was more aware of these changes than herself and Ron. "It doesn't mean I approve even if the prat does deserve it," she pouted.

"Says the one who punched him in third-year," Harry pointed out, to which his companion blushed.

"Tensions were high," she muttered as an excuse, turning her head to look out the window, and Harry's gaze followed hers. It was dark out, the moon sailing high through the sea of cold and distant stars. There was a hush over the castle which was almost tangible, even more so by night, ever since the death of the renowned headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, at the end of the last school year.

It remained that Harry had been tasked with the job of hunting Horcruxes at the time of Dumbledore's death, but he had yet to carry out the task. Ron and Hermione remained adamant that they would be joining him in his undertaking, despite Harry's protests. Technically, he told himself, he had already begun the job, due to what had occurred earlier in the year, regarding an empty cave, a crafty potion, a counterfeit locket and a hell of a lot of Inferi. Harry hated remembering that day. He hated remembering anything, period. Nowadays, the merest hint of anything from his troubled past sent tremors of hatred, regret and guilt coursing through his bloodstream, all at once. Memories of his parents' faces in the Mirror of Erised, of Cedric Diggory's frozen, staring face, of the twinkle in Albus Dumbledore's bright blue eyes, and of the hope that had blossomed deep within him when he had first learned that he might, just might, find family with Sirius Black.

Oh, Sirius. Harry expelled a shaky breath, knowing that Hermione would hear it no matter how quietly he did it.

Ever since the holidays and the beginning of their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Harry had been debating with Hermione and Ron when he would leave (or, as they liked to correct, when "we" would leave), and had been prone to erupting into bouts of frustrated shouting – quite frankly, it didn't astonish him that everybody else in the school seemed to avoid being alone in the same room with him like the plague. With an exception to the ever-faithful Ron and Hermione. And Luna (but she was half nuts already, so). Harry was of the opinion that he ("we") should have left during the holidays in pursuit of the real locket that the mysterious R.A.B. had nabbed. Hermione had disagreed, resolute that they would be wasting their breath chasing ghosts, and that they might as well actually formulate a plan of action (which was, at that point, virtually non-existent). Ron had sided with her, obviously, as he had become quite the typical image of a lovelorn teenager ("I am of age, Harry," Ron had retorted when Harry had shared this opinion). Then, earlier that day, it had come to Harry, Ron and Hermione that perhaps Voldemort, or rather Tom Riddle at the time of the manufacturing of the Horcruxes, had not only used Salazar Slytherin's locket, but perhaps also artefacts of the other founders. Luna had helpfully offered (vaguely) the concept of Ravenclaw's lost diadem over breakfast in the Great Hall when she had overheard them discussing the matter in hushed tones.

"But where do you find a bloody diadem which has the word 'lost' in its title?" Ron had asked as they headed to Charms class.

"Well, that's obvious, Ronald," said Hermione. "In the place where lost things go."

The Room of Requirement. It was sound logic, Harry decided, so the three decided to sneak out that night under the cover of the invisibility cloak with the reliable companionship of the Marauder's Map. Unfortunately, during their last period of Transfiguration, while attempting to transfigure their partner's nose to a carrot ("Quite useless, really," said Hermione as she successfully turned Padma Patil's nose into the vegetable and back again), Harry, in his usual distracted state of mind, turned Ron's skin bright orange alongside a head full of leafy green hair. Ron had been ordered to the hospital wing and hadn't returned for dinner or afterwards, which had resulted in Harry and Hermione seeking out the diadem themselves.

Along the way in the corridors, after accidentally dropping the Marauder's Map, they had stumbled upon Draco Malfoy while crouching down to claim it again – literally. The Malfoy heir had sent them tumbling when he walked into them, revealing themselves, the cloak and the map.

Malfoy had stared at them with a nasty sneer forming on his mouth, before his eyes had been drawn to the map lying at his feet. Both Harry and Hermione had hurriedly pulled themselves upright, Hermione scrambling to snatch the cloak from the floor and Harry lunging forwards to grab the map, but the damage was already done – that much was clear from the widening of Malfoy's eyes as he studied the map. Harry hid it within the folds of his robes, glowering at Malfoy as if the venom in his eyes alone could erase the other boy's memory of their entire encounter.

"Whatever could you and the Mudblood be doing out so late, pothead," the blonde sneered, "with a map like that in your possession?"

His sneering was only half-hearted, though – since last year, he had been lacking in his usual slick demeanour. His complexion was constantly pallid, deep shadows etched beneath his eyes, and his tangled hair hadn't been oiled back for longer than Harry could remember. A life of servitude to Voldemort was not treating him well.

Not that Harry was one to talk when it came criticizing another's physical image. He doubted that he looked much better than his schoolyard nemesis.

If he had been any other person, Harry would have been amused. How the great Potter and Malfoy rivals had fallen since Harry had rejected the other's handshake on their first night at Hogwarts. "It's none of your business," he snapped in response to Malfoy's rude question, his fingers itching to cast either a very strong memory charm or a nasty hex.

Hermione grabbed his wrist, sensing his volatile thoughts. "We could ask you why you're wandering the hallways at midnight as well, Malfoy," she said calmly, and the Slytherin abruptly averted his attention onto her.

"I happen to be Head Boy," he said, "and am doing my rounds to pick up miscreants like yourselves."

"Bullshit," Harry put forward instantly. No way was Malfoy coming around the corner from the Room of Requirement because he was on Head Boy rounds.

"Language, scarhead," Malfoy said coldly. "I'm thinking that confiscating that map from you is in order, as well as that cloak of yours. Might as well throw in fifty points from Gryffindor each, for being out after curfew."

Harry swore at Malfoy viciously. He could almost hear Hermione groaning into her hand from behind him.

"Ah, yes, thank you for that reminder," Malfoy added, because he couldn't help himself. "How about another fifty for addressing your superiors in such a manner? Oh, and fifty from you too, Granger, for being a Mudblood."

"You forget that I'm still the Gryffindor prefect," said Hermione, her voice like icicles. "I could report you for such blatant abuse of your powers as a Head."

"Who would listen to you?" Malfoy asked, with clear derision in his tone.

It was true. With Severus Snape as Headmaster and the rest of the professors under his thumb, there was absolutely nothing that Harry or Hermione could do.

Harry suddenly wilted, overwhelmed by a wave of hopelessness washing over him. How on earth was he meant to defeat a Dark Lord if he couldn't even come out victorious from a wrangle with Draco Malfoy?

Malfoy, whose nose was trained to scent weakness, detected Harry's defeat and smirked. "Just as I thought," he said, before swiftly summoning the map and cloak from Harry and Hermione. "Now I'll take you to the Headmaster for your punishment."

He turned and walked away, clearly expected the other two to follow him. Harry glanced at Hermione as she did to him, both wearing thinly disguised expressions of anger.

Malfoy half-turned, noting their lack of obedience. "Is this going to take all night," he snarled, "because I don't want to be seen in the morning in the company of the likes of a Mudblood, and you, scarhead–"

The word 'scarhead' had barely crossed his lips before Harry's vision went red, and then he was drawing his wand, directing it firmly on Malfoy and enunciating, "Melofors."

A giant pumpkin popped into existence, encasing the Head Boy's head.

Malfoy unleashed a most unbecoming shriek of fury just as Harry came to his senses and wondered why in Merlin and Morgana's names he had done that. Hermione latched onto Harry's arm. "Filch," she hissed in warning, both pausing to listen for the tell-tale pitter-patter of Mrs. Norris beyond the solid barrier of Malfoy's swearing at the top of his lungs.

"Get this fucking pumpkin off my fucking head, Potter!" Harry heard him screeching in a most undignified manner, right before they heard the first of Mrs Norris around the corner, followed by the Filch croaking from further away, "What is that godawful row, my sweet?"

Hermione looked at Harry. "Run!" she said. Harry needed no convincing as they both swept past Malfoy, seizing both the map and the cloak from his hands and bolting for the nearest escape route.

They found the Room of Requirement easily enough, both silently begging for a place to hide, and it conveniently conjured a simple classroom for them, inside which they collapsed.

This is exactly how the two found themselves looking out the window at the shimmering half-crescent moon.

"We had every reason to run," said Hermione finally, breaking the silence. "Unlike previous years, we won't have a voice of reason anywhere in this castle when speaking to Snape. And we both know how much he hates us. He'd probably just expel us for breathing under the same roof as Malfoy."

"Snape's a murderer," said Harry bitterly. "I don't get how he managed to become Headmaster."

"You-Know-Who," offered Hermione. "Pulling strings, now that Dumbledore's out of the picture. He's going to overrun the Ministry as well, anytime. It's no wonder that the likes of Malfoy and Parkinson managed to become Head Boy and Girl, with Dumbledore gone."

"Which is exactly why we should have gotten out of here during the holidays!" snarled Harry. "I told you, there's no point hanging around here, it's doing no good. We could have exterminated half of Voldemort's Horcruxes by now if you had just listened to me!"

"Calm down, Harry." Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly, just enough to pass as a warning. "You really have to control your temper better. It doesn't help anyone if you get over your head about this."

Harry paused, breathing in heavily through his nose. Yes, that's right. He was also overreacting all the time now. Another thing to add to the list. "Sorry," he said quietly. "Let's just figure out what to do now."

"Obviously Malfoy's going to squeal on us, so that's a problem."

"We should have Obliviated him," said Harry. "Now he knows about the Marauder's Map as well."

It was hard enough that back in third-year, the invisibility cloak's existence had also been revealed to Malfoy.

"Well, we didn't." Hermione closed her eyes. "There's no point dwelling on that now. We need to think of something else."

Harry moved away from the door, casting a hasty locking charm on it before beginning to pace. "So let's get this straight," he said. "Malfoy deducts two hundred points from us because he can, attempts to confiscate my cloak and map, and is going to go and get Snape to probably expel us. Brilliant."

"It doesn't help that you spelled a pumpkin around his head," said Hermione, throwing her friend a dirty look.

"Yeah, whatever, he deserved it," countered an unfazed Harry. "Maybe we could Confund Snape when we see him, and then he'll get all confused when he's trying to come up with some punishment and will assign us to do something really stupid for detention, and then we'll be in the clear from expulsion!"

"That is the dumbest idea," said Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes and moved to sit down heavily next to her in a seat, put instead found himself leaping back up with a strangled cry. "Ouch!" he shouted, making Hermione jump, before looking down at the offender, only to find a golden necklace with an oddly familiar charm at the end of it. He picked it up hesitantly, holding it in the air to examine. Hermione's eyes widened as she realised what it was that was being held up before her.

"Is this…?" Harry began.

"A time-turner!" Hermione finished breathlessly. "Where in Merlin's name did you get that? We were told that they were all destroyed in the Ministry!"

"And the Ministry has never lied to us before," Harry said, his tone bordering on wry. Hermione flushed slightly, then reached out to take the time-turner from him, scrutinising the golden hoops closely.

"But where did you find it?" she repeated, drawing a scoff from the other.

"Find it," he said. "More like impaled myself on it. Right here, on the seat." He gestured to the offending chair.

"It's just… weird that it turned up for us," said Hermione slowly.

"It's the Room of Requirement," Harry volunteered as an explanation, and his companion suddenly started.

"Of course!" she said. "The room knew that not only did we need a hiding place, but also a way to get out of this mess."

"You suggest," Harry asserted, "using the time-turner to go back in time?"

"Yes," Hermione said, standing and walking a circle around Harry, all the while examining the necklace in her hand. "We could intercept Malfoy from beneath the invisibility cloak and put him out of order so that he'll never find us. I think an hour should do the trick."

"And I think that this idea is bloody brilliant!" Harry took the chain and put it around his neck, Hermione doing the same. "But wait. Aren't you always going on about not meddling with time?"

"We can't be expelled just yet, Harry," said Hermione impatiently. "We have to find and destroy the Horcruxes which are in this castle if you're going to have any chance of defeating You-Know-Who. Eliminating his threat is the priority here, I think. And if we're careful, none of this ever would have happened."

"Sound logic," Harry agreed. "Let's go then, before Filch or Snape come and try to break down the door."

Hermione turned the loops of the charm a single time, and immediately the world rushed into a blur around them, and through the window they watched the moon sinking beyond the horizon, before the sun rose and fell and the moon emerged again, all happening within a heartbeat, but it didn't stop there.

Harry watched with no small amount of alarm as time continued to rush past them, accelerating faster and faster and it wasn't stopping… He tried to open his mouth to say something, anything, but he found himself unable to as everything continued to whirl around them, and soon it was moving so fast that he wasn't even able to distinguish the sun from the moon anymore, and all he could see were bright lights from every direction.

And then it stopped.

Harry abruptly threw the chain away from his neck, lurching away to lean against a table, nausea clouding his vision. Hermione was in no better shape, sinking down to the floor with a feverish glow to her skin. Both gasped for breath, before finally Harry broke the silence.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I don't know." Hermione clambered back to her feet, her hands shaking. The moon was hanging low in the sky, the night young once again. "It looks like we went back more than one hour."

"It seemed to me that we went back a couple of years," Harry said, with no shortage of trepidation in his tone.

Hermione smiled at him, a smile which was crooked with barely concealed worry. "We can't have gone back years," she said. "That's impossible. Five hours is the limit on these. Everyone knows that."

Harry didn't bother arguing, because he sincerely hoped that she was correct, and that the view of the sun and moon's spiralling journey had all been an illusion. He reached for his cloak and map on the table, but to his great alarm, found that they were no longer there.

We went back a few hours, he told himself. They'll be back in your dorm, obviously.

The two exited the Room of Requirement cautiously, in hopes that Malfoy wasn't lurking around the corner, but found absolutely no one. As they moved down the corridors silently, passing by the moving stairways, Hermione paused.

"Do you hear that?" she asked in a hushed whisper, and Harry paused also, straining his ears. Sure enough, floors down below them, they could hear the movement of the student body, coming through the entrance hall.

"It sounds like they're going into the Great Hall," said Hermione. "Maybe it's dinnertime?"

"My intuition told me that I would find somebody here," an elderly voice murmured from behind them, and Harry knew that if he had been a cat, his hackles would have been standing on end right at that moment as he and Hermione slowly wheeled around to view the speaker.

Harry went pale as he took in the auburn hair and beard streaked with grey, the slightly lined face and those tell-tale, bright blue eyes which he had thought would never pierce him again.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, squeezing it as she drew nearer to him in light of the turn of events.

And Harry whispered, "Dumbledore?"

I am currently proof-reading and editing all existing chapters, so if there are any typos I've missed, apologies. Cheers!

XblackcatwidowX