A/N: First the standard disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any part of his world.

Next. The idea for this story came about from a review for my first fic, Correcting Mistakes. Unfortunately, it was a guest review, so I can't thank whoever posted it personally, but he said that it lacked any original ideas, and that it was basically a retread of what everyone else has done. Whomever posted it was absolutely correct, but that's sort of what I was going for in that story. Their review did get me thinking, however: could I do it differently? So, at the risk of being labelled as "the time travel fic guy" here's a fresh take on a time travel fic. Hopefully it's entertaining and novel. If someone's written a fic like this one, I haven't read it yet.

Text in bold is from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling and is intended to set the scene. I didn't write it and (again) don't own it.

Enough talk… on with the tale.

Chapter 1—A Horrible Mistake

June 18, 1996, The Hall of Prophecies, Department of Mysteries

"RUN!" Harry yelled, as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to fall from above. He seized a handful of Hermione's robes and dragged her forwards, holding one arm over his head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them.

A Death Eater lunged forwards through the cloud of dust and Harry elbowed him hard in the masked face; they were all yelling, there were cries of pain, and thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves, weirdly echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres.

Harry found the way ahead clear and saw Ron, Ginny and Luna sprint past him, their arms over their heads; something heavy struck him on the side of the face but he merely ducked his head and sprinted onwards; a hand caught him by the shoulder; he: heard Hermione shout, "Stupefy!" The hand released him at once.

They were at the end of row ninety-seven; Harry turned right and began to sprint in earnest; he could hear footsteps right behind him and Hermione's voice urging Neville on; straight ahead, the door through which they had come was ajar; Harry could see the glittering light of the bell jar; he pelted through the doorway, the prophecy still clutched tight and safe in his hand, and waited for the others to hurtle over the threshold before slamming the door behind them.

"Colloportus!" gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

"Where… where are the others?" gasped Harry.

He had thought Ron, Luna and Ginny were ahead of them, that they would be waiting in this room, but there was nobody there.

"They must have gone the wrong way!" whispered Hermione, terror in her face.

"Listen!" whispered Neville.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed; Harry put his ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar, "Leave Nott, leave him, I say his injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Jugson, come back here, we need to organise! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary.

"Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left; Jugson, Dolohov, go right. Crabbe, Rabastan, the door straight ahead. Macnair and Avery, through here. Rookwood, over there. Mulciber, come with me!"

"What do we do?" Hermione asked Harry, trembling from head to foot.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," said Harry. "Let's get

away from this door."

They ran as quietly as they could, past the shimmering bell jar where the tiny egg was hatching and unhatching, towards the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. They were almost there when Harry heard something large and heavy collide with the door Hermione had charmed shut.

"Stand aside!" said a rough voice. "Alohomora!" As the door flew open, Harry, Hermione and Neville dived under desks. They could see the bottom of the two Death Eaters' robes drawing nearer, their feet moving rapidly.

"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the rough voice.

"Check under the desks," said another.

Harry saw the knees of the Death Eaters bend; poking his wand out from under the desk, he shouted, "STUPEFY!"

A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater; he fell backwards into a grandfather clock and knocked it over; the second Death Eater, however, had leapt aside to avoid Harry's spell and was pointing his own wand at Hermione, who was crawling out from under the desk to get a better aim.

"Avada…"

Harry launched himself across the floor and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing him to topple and his aim to go awry. Neville overturned a desk in his anxiety to help; and pointing his wand wildly at the struggling pair, he cried: "EXPELLIARMUS!"

Both Harry's and the Death Eater's wands flew out of their hands and soared back towards the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy; both scrambled to their feet and charged after them, the Death Eater in front, Harry hot on his heels, and Neville bringing up the rear, plainly horrorstruck by what he had done.

"Get out of the way, Harry!" yelled Neville, clearly determined to repair the damage.

Harry flung himself sideways as Neville took aim again and shouted, "REDUCTO!"

The jet of blue light flew right over the Death Eaters shoulder. It hit a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall full of variously shaped hour-glasses. In a burst of light the cabinet exploded, glass, wood, and time turners flying everywhere.

Everyone in the room was knocked to the ground, the door slamming shut. Several time turners hit the bell jar in the middle of the room, which detonated a massive magical explosion. Shards of sparkling glass and bits of magic erupted into the air. There was a blinding flash of white light and then darkness.

Harry blinked awake some time later. Fear seized him instantly as he remembered where he was. He could see Hermione, Neville, and the two Death Eaters laying nearby. The walls were marred with nicks, and the floor covered in shattered glass and broken wood. The time turners had all fractured, the sand scattered across the stone.

Harry rolled over. He had several small cuts and bruises, but was surprisingly whole considering what he'd experienced. Even more surprising, the prophecy orb was undisturbed in his hand. He pushed himself up, keeping a wary eye on the Death Eaters, and shoved the orb into his robes. Once up, he went over and shook Hermione, who finally stirred.

"Ugh," Hermione moaned, rubbing her eyes. "What happened?"

"No idea," Harry replied in a low voice. "But we have to get out of here!" He went over and roused Neville while Hermione collected herself.

"What about Ron and the others?" Hermione asked as she got up.

"Let's just hope they found a way out," Harry said, bending over the other boy. "They weren't with us, but it sounded like Malfoy didn't know where they were either." Harry pulled Neville to his feet, and the trio made for the door. As they left, the door slammed behind them, causing Harry to wince at the noise, but didn't deter him from his goal of leaving as quickly as possible.

"Let's get back to the thestrals," Hermione proposed as they went. Harry agreed, and the trio wound their way out of the Ministry.

Harry was surprised upon reaching the Atrium to see that a wizard was sitting at the guard's post. He hadn't been there before. Perhaps he'd been patrolling when they'd passed initially.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be here!" the young man shouted with surprise when they exited the lift.

"There's a bunch of Death Eaters down in the Department of Mysteries!" Harry panted as he ran by.

"What are you babbling about?" the man wondered, rising from his chair. "Hey! Come back. I have to write you up!"

The trio didn't wait, but instead entered the visitor's entrance lift and started up, leaving the perplexed night watchman behind to sink back into his seat.

Harry, Hermione and Neville poured out of the telephone box. The cool night air smacked them in the faces, helping to keep them awake. The first thing they noticed was the dense pea-soup fog. Harry sniffed, noticing a slightly different smell.

"That's odd," he said, sniffing again. "Is this smoke or fog?"

"Maybe smog," Hermione opined, sniffing the air herself. "Smoke that's turned to fog. I can't see anything." The lights of a car turned onto the road a ways away. It sounded odd to Harry, and he was surprised to see an antique automobile pass them.

"Wow, that's an old car," Harry observed. "Funny it's out at this time of night."

"There's some more," Neville added, pointing down the street.

"They weren't here when we arrived," Hermione commented, peering around through the fog.

"Are they filming for the BBC?" Harry wondered, advancing to the kerb. "I don't see any cameras."

"Oh, no," Hermione moaned behind him.

"What?" Harry asked, perplexed. He turned and watched as she ran over to a rubbish bin and rooted around.

"Yes!" she shouted in triumph as she pulled out a newspaper, to be immediately replaced with, "Oh, no!"

"What is it?" Harry pressed, walking over to her. Neville followed behind.

"Read the date," Hermione ordered. Harry looked. At the top of the page was printed 'June 18, 1947.'

"Shite," Harry swore, realizing what must've happened. He looked around at the buildings. They looked the same, but they'd looked old when they'd arrived. In fact, they looked to be in better shape than they had earlier in the evening, which, it dawned on Harry, was a bad sign. The street lamps were definitely an older pattern, but perhaps they were historical. Why hadn't he paid more attention to the damned street lamps when they'd arrived?

Another old car passed. Hermione flagged it down. A young couple in evening wear were inside. Hermione pegged the woman's dress as something that might've been seen in the 1940s, and the car was definitely of that time, though perhaps pre-war.

"Excuse me," Hermione said when the man rolled down the window. "I know this sounds a bit odd, but could you tell me the date?"

"It's Wednesday the eighteenth," the man replied, arm leaning out the open window.

"So this is today's newspaper?" she pressed, showing him the binned Times.

"Yes," he agreed, peering at the newspaper and then back at her. "Are you alright?" He looked her up and down, staring at a small cut on her forehead.

"Erm, I think so," Hermione said, rubbing her forehead. It came away with flecks of dried blood which she wiped on her robes. "Thank you for your assistance, sir." She waved and turned from the car. "So now what the bloody hell do we do?"

"No idea," Harry replied, shrugging. "Neville?"

"We could go back inside and see what the night watchman suggests," Neville supplied, thumbing over his shoulder in the direction of the telephone booth. "I mean, what else can we do? The thestrals are gone, I have no idea how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from here, and we've no money in any case."

"Sounds as good as any idea I could come up with," Harry shrugged, glancing at Hermione for her assent.

The trio piled into the phone booth and again descended into the Ministry. As they emerged into the Atrium again, a new sight greeted them.

One of the Death Eaters from the time room was standing over the night watchman, who was slumped against his desk. The trio leapt into action immediately.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" yelled Harry, running at the man.

"REDUCTO!" Hermione shouted, following.

"STUPEFY!" Neville cast, joining the chase.

The three spells flew towards the Death Eater. He parried Harry's disarming charm, but caught Hermione's reductor curse on the face. It splintered his mask and snapped his head back, knocking him safely out of the way of Neville's stunner.

The Death Eater rolled out of the way and sprang back to his feet, dancing around another round of spells from the trio.

"LESTRANGE!" bellowed Neville from behind the others. "I'll kill you!" Harry glanced at Neville in surprise and worry before concentrating again on the Death Eater. The man's mask had been destroyed, and though his face was streaked with blood, the man underneath was now identifiable.

"Not today!" the Death Eater taunted and quickly apparated away from another spell. There was a thud as his left leg from the knee down tumbled to the floor.

"Dammit!" Neville cursed, throwing his wand on the floor in disgust.

"He splinched himself," Hermione observed, walking over to the leg.

"No sense it letting him come back and reclaim it," Harry commented, joining her in staring at the leg. He pointed his wand at it, "Evanesco." The leg disappeared. Harry chuckled.

"What?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Can you imagine him getting to wherever he apparated to and toppling over immediately?" Harry asked with a grin. Hermione snorted to herself, and shook her head. Behind him he heard a sniffle that jarred him out of his jocularity. "Alright, Neville?" Harry asked, turning.

Neville was crying silently. Large tears dripped down his bright red face. Harry went over and clapped his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"That was Rabastan LeStrange," Neville responded. "He's responsible for my parents. I could've killed him just now."

"You'll get your chance again," Harry vowed solemnly. "Let's go figure out what's going on." Neville nodded and wiped his eyes.

"Okay," Neville replied at last.

"I don't think he'll be of much use any more," Harry said, nodding at the night watchman. Hermione attempted to revive him without success. The man was obviously the victim of the killing curse.

"So now what?" Hermione asked looking up from the body.

"Head back to the time room and secure the other Death Eater?" Harry guessed after a moment's thought. "It's unlikely that anyone outside the time room came back with us. Aside from our good friend LeStrange, we should be in the clear."

"Except that Tom Riddle's out there, somewhere, killing people already," Hermione stood.

"Maybe we can nip him in the bud," Harry offered, heading towards the lifts. Hermione and Neville joined him.

"Is that really such a good idea?" Hermione asked as she pressed the button. "Time travel isn't to be messed with."

"I suppose we could try to go back instead," Harry said, stepping into the lift once it had arrived. "But all the time things were destroyed. I don't really think that's an option."

"You're right," Hermione agreed. "I think we're stuck in the past for now."

"Great… why did I leave my DeLorean back in 1985?" Harry joked.

"And me without my TARDIS," Hermione added, finally cracking a smile. They shared a laugh.

"What are you talking about?" Neville asked, confused.

"It's a muggle thing, Nev," Harry told his friend. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Neville said as the lift doors closed.

"For what?" Harry asked, looking at Neville.

"For destroying the time room," Neville said as he stared at the floor.

"I blame the Death Eaters for us being there in the first place," Harry pointed out, putting a hand back on Neville's shoulder. "Your spell was an accident of war."

"Thanks, Harry," Neville wiped an errant drip from his nose. The lift stopped and the trio emerged. After wandering for a bit through the Department of Mysteries, they found the time room again, looking much like they'd left it. The Death Eater who'd been stunned by Harry was still lying there. Otherwise, the Department was empty and eerily quiet.

"Incarcerous," Harry cast, pointing his wand at the Death Eater. Thick ropes wrapped themselves around the body. Harry knelt down, and started searching the man. He pulled a money bag and two scraps of paper from the man's pocket. The money bag had about ten galleons inside. Harry pocketed it and stood.

Meanwhile, Neville was surveying the room. He found the Death Eater's wand in a corner and snapped it, then carefully examined every time turner he could find, but they were all broken.

"I hope somebody knows how to make these," Neville said softly, peering closely at the shattered glass of a time turner.

"Even if they can, those can't really help us," Harry commented, then levitated the Death Eater, and led the others from the room.

"I think we should be careful what we I do here," Hermione warned as she closed the door to time room. "I mean, we don't know what laws of time travel we're operating under in this time period. When I was using the time turner in third year, McGonagall told me not to let me see myself or I could go mad. Obviously that won't happen here, but are we in danger of unmaking our own existence? I'm just worried about the butterfly effect."

"That sounds like a Dumbledore question," Harry observed as they walked. "I don't think we'll be disappearing from any photographs if our parents don't kiss at the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance, if that's what you mean. After all, LeStrange has already changed time by murdering the guard in the Atrium."

"Are you sure?" Hermione wondered, looking closely at the paintings on the walls, most of which were dozing in the flickering torchlight. "I mean, do you have a mental catalogue of every murder committed in Wizarding Britain in the Twentieth Century? For all we know, this happened in our past as well, we just never heard of it."

"Let's let Dumbledore worry about that," Harry repeated as he stepped into the waiting lift, levitating the body in front of him.

So we're going to Dumbledore then?" Hermione asked as the lift ascended. Harry was busying himself looking at the scraps of paper he'd pulled from the man's pockets.

"Seems as good a plan as any," Harry said absently, still looking at the paper. "'Talk to Vinnie about the Dark Lord when he comes home. See you soon. Love, Lizzy,'" he read, then looked up from the paper. "Vinnie? Lizzy?"

"Vincent and Elizabeth," Hermione clarified, rolling her eyes.

"Like Vincent Crabbe?" Harry asked, piecing the puzzle together. He could tell his mind was working a little behind Hermione's, as her eyes were dancing with their usual fire when she knew the answer to a professor's question, though she managed to restrain herself.

"His mum's name is Elizabeth," Neville informed them, looking down at the Death Eater.

"You think this is Crabbe's dad?" Harry asked Neville as they exited the lift.

"Yeah, he looks familiar," Neville replied, glancing again at the body. "I think his name's Andrew."

"Well, that mystery's solved," Hermione said knowingly. "Now all that remains is how are we going to get to Dumbledore?"

"Use this, and flag down the Knight Bus," Harry said, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his back pocket as they passed the dead watchman.

"That's great, but how will the bus see us?" Neville wondered, calling the lift for the visitor's entrance.

"The cloak's for Mr. Crabbe," Harry informed him. "We'll be paying customers." He jingled the money pouch as they ascended to the telephone booth.

"Right," Neville said. Harry threw the cloak over the levitated body, and they exited the telephone booth.

"Can you call the Knight Bus?" Harry asked Hermione. She nodded and stuck her wand out. With a bang the gaudy purple bus popped into existence and screeched to a halt in front of them. The door popped open and a conductor swung out. He looked far more put together than Stan Shunpike ever was.

"Good evening," the young man said, descending to the ground. "The Knight Bus is at your service. Destination?"

"Hogwarts," Harry said opening the money pouch with one hand. "What's the fare for all three of us?"

"Six knuts," the conductor replied. Harry handed him a sickle.

"Keep the change," Harry offered as he surreptitiously levitated the invisible body past the conductor. The other two followed him onto the bus, and the trio secured seats in the back of the empty bus.

Once they were seated, the bus began rolling, followed by a bang. Harry was surprised by the sedateness of the journey compared to the roller coaster he'd experienced on previous Knight Bus journeys. The furniture barely moved, the ride was so gentle. He didn't bother to look out the window, focusing instead on how different the interior looked. They'd done a good job of copying a muggle double-decker from the 1930s, except for the fact that they'd dropped parlour sets in the place of the standard seats. Harry was starting to wonder if they'd ever gotten muggle culture right.

The bus was fairly empty that night. Hogwarts was only the second stop.

"Have a nice night," the conductor said as the trio exited the bus. Harry looked back as the bus rolled off into the darkness. Then he looked at the sparkling castle in front of him.

Not much had changed at Hogwarts in forty-nine years, at least from outward appearances. The silhouette looked exactly the same as Harry remembered. Even most of the trees he remembered were there, though he thought there were some older trees he didn't remember. Harry ushered them forward, and Neville took the lead, pushing the gates of Hogwarts open.

"I wonder what Dumbledore will say," Hermione pondered as they started up the drive.

"I wonder what he can do," Harry replied looking around as he walked. "I mean, he's not headmaster now, is he? It's Dippet."

"Is he even deputy headmaster?" Neville asked looking up at the night sky.

"Yes," Hermione answered, delving deep into her memory for the answer. "He was made deputy headmaster in 1933."

"What do you know about Dippet?" Harry asked, knowing she could tell him more than he could read off a chocolate frog card.

"According to Hogwarts: a History, he's a proud and loyal man. He's a stern disciplinarian, who encouraged the use of corporal punishment. He's old fashioned, but that's because he's… three hundred and nine years old this year." It had taken her a moment as she'd done the maths in her head.

"He sounds like a right nightmare," Neville observed with a shudder.

"Let's try to avoid him, if we can," Harry suggested as they reached the doors.

The massive doors of Hogwarts were closed, but when Neville tried the door, it opened. They stepped into the well-lit entry hall, which looked the same. Harry spotted the hourglasses holding the house points near the entrance to the great hall.

"I didn't realize it was so late," Harry said, pointing to the large clock on the wall which read half eleven.

"We'll have to get into the staff quarters," Hermione reasoned as she too glanced at the clock.

"Well, I don't think any of us know the password…" Harry countered, trailing off as he heard footsteps. A second later a man entered the hall. His face was prematurely aged, riven with wrinkles, and his greying hair was on the thin side. He looked to be in his sixties, but moved more like someone in their forties.

"Students out of bed!" he bellowed. "I'll tan your hides for that."

"Wait!" Harry said. "We're not students. We're visitors."

"Ha!" the man laughed. "That's a new one. You're not very bright, though, is you? That, or you must think old Pringle's just about the dullest pillock in the country. If you'd wanted to be more convincing, you'd should've worn different robes. I'll be needin' to get Professor Dumbledore."

"You're not taking us to the Headmaster's office?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Oh, no," Pringle replied, grabbing Harry and Neville by the collars. "You're going to Dippet's office, but I'll be needin' to call your head of house to supervise the punishment." He jerked Harry, who lost control of the hover charm. Crabbe's body thumped to the ground, his foot flopping out from under the cloak. "What's that?" the shocked man asked, looking back over his shoulder. He released the two boys and bent over, ripping the cloak aside and revealing the bound man.

"Ohhh… I'll get to use the cat-o-nine-tails on you for this," he said leering at the boys like Christmas had come early. "You've broken the law. It might even be Azkaban for you." He stood, grabbing Harry. "Unbind him and revive him."

"No," Harry said firmly. "He tried to kill me earlier tonight. I was taking him to Professor Dumbledore."

"Do it now!" Pringle yelled, striking Harry across the face with his open hand. "Don't back-talk me."

Harry recovered, rubbing his face where Pringle had slapped him.

"Take us to Professor Dumbledore," Harry ordered firmly. "I'm not a student here, and you have no right to hit me. If you do it again, I'll press charges with the Ministry."

Pringle slapped him again, leaving a darkening bruise on Harry's cheek.

"What'd I tell you about back talk?" Pringle asked rhetorically. "Revive that man." He pointed sharply at Crabbe, leaving him open. Harry's fist lit out, striking Pringle in the solar plexus. Pringle collapsed like a rag doll and vomited on the floor.

"Evanesco," Harry cast, waving it at his feet. He followed it up with a "Stupefy." Pringle collapsed onto the ground, stunned.

"Harry!" Hermione croaked in a harsh whisper. "What did you do that for? You used magic on a squib!"

"I'm tired of being abused, Hermione," Harry shot back, before relenting. "Look, I didn't lie. I'm not currently a student here. I made a reasonable request, which he used as an excuse to assault me. I won't take that kind of crap any more. Let's go find Dumbledore. Can you handle this lug?" he asked, nudging Pringle with his foot.

"Fine," Hermione huffed, pulling out her wand. Harry bent over and collected his invisibility cloak, stuffing it in his pocket. The trio levitated the stunned men and continued on their way.

They ascended the stairs and had almost made it to the Gryffindor Head's office when they were interrupted again. A wizened, ancient shell of a man with thinning white hair and a scruffy short beard appeared at the end of the corridor. Hermione groaned.

"What, may I ask, is going on here?" the elderly man asked as he approached.

"Just trying to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry attempted brightly, patently ignoring the glare emanating from the new arrival. "We've had a spot of trouble, you see."

"What I see," the man elaborated sharply, "is that you've stunned my caretaker and another man. I also see three students out after hours. You've violated no fewer than a dozen school rules." He pulled out his wand.

"Don't!" Harry cried as the old man revived Pringle. Pringle dropped to the floor and continued wheezing. He rolled over on his stomach and heaved himself up.

"What have they done to you?" the old man asked.

"Headmaster, this one attacked me," Pringle replied gruffly, jabbing Harry in the chest.

"Touch me again and I'll break your arm," Harry growled stepping back.

"See?" Pringle shouted. "He's violent."

"Mr. Pringle, go ready the cat-o-nine-tails and the shackles," Dippet instructed. "I won't have students disrespecting the staff.

"We're not students!" Harry shouted getting red-faced as Pringle moved off.

"And yet, here you stand in Gryffindor robes, plain as day," Dippet countered, advancing on Harry. At his sides, Neville and Hermione each took a step back.

"Fine," Harry shot back quickly. "What's my name, who're my parents, and what year am I?" That actually gave the headmaster pause. Then he brightened.

"Maybe this gentleman can tell me," Dippet said, turning to revive the stunned and bound Death Eater.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry cast desperately. Dippet was taken by surprise, but managed to somehow dodge the spell. The trio were surprised that he was able to move so fast at his age. Dippet cast silently, easily disarming Harry. Harry's wand clattered to the floor at Dippet's feet.

"Now you've attacked me," Dippet said, voice dripping with anger. "Expulsion for you, I should think."

"I'M NOT A BLOODY STUDENT HERE!" Harry bellowed.

"And yet, here you stand…" Dippet said, but was interrupted by Harry.

"SHUT UP!" Harry took a deep breath as Dippet's mouth dropped open in shock. "I'm not currently a student here. I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore. I attacked you because you were about to revive a man who less than an hour ago tried to kill the three of us. Now, if you'll please let us pass…"

"I'll do nothing of the kind," Dippet snorted as Hermione summoned Harry's wand. "I don't know what you think you're trying to pull, and I'll admit, this is a new cock and bull story, but that doesn't diminish the fact that you were caught out, you lied about it, and you attacked members of staff."

"I'M NOT A CURRENT STUDENT," Harry shouted again, frustrated beyond belief at the density of the headmaster. "I'M NOT LYING, AND I DEFENDED MYSELF."

"Young man…" The headmaster was thankfully kept from finishing his thought as a nearby door opened, and a much younger Albus Dumbledore stepped into the hall.

"What is going on?" he asked politely. "I heard quite a bit of shouting."

"Thank Merlin!" Hermione sighed in relief.

"Professor Dumbledore, we need to talk to you," Harry said quickly.

"They're miscreants out of bounds after hours, Albus," Dippet informed him calmly. "Mr. Pringle was just about to administer punishment."

"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked Harry, peering at him closely. "I don't recognize any of you, yet you're wearing Gryffindor robes."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said quickly. "This is Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom." Harry stood with a pleading look on his face, imploring Dumbledore to intercede.

"Headmaster, these are not my charges," Dumbledore informed the man, who began to look confused. "In fact, I don't recognize them as belonging to any other house either. I teach them all, you see."

"But they must be yours," Dippet protested with increasing insecurity. "The robes…"

Dumbledore looked intently at Harry, Hermione, and Neville for some time. "I recognize your surnames," he said at length. "Though I'd thought the Dagworth-Granger line had died out years ago. You appear old enough to be enrolled, yet I know you're not. If you'll permit me…" He pulled out his wand, caught three nods, and waved it over them. "They're not glamoured," he informed the headmaster. "I suppose we could wait an hour and see if they're under the influence of polyjuice…"

"We're not, but we'd be happy to sit with you an hour to prove our innocence," Hermione said quickly, stepping up beside Harry.

"So that begs the question, where are you enrolled?" Dumbledore continued, returning his wand.

"That's not the right question, Professor," Harry said calmly, glancing quickly at Dippet and Crabbe. "The right question is: when are we enrolled?" Dumbledore's right eyebrow quirked up.

"Interesting," Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard absently. He again looked at the three of them. "Are you from the future, or the past?" It was a question he didn't appear to require an answer to, as he pressed on. "Were you from the past I might recognize the names, however, I do not. This is either because you never returned to the past to make your names, or because you are in fact, from the future. Judging by your footwear, and your hairstyles, I'd hazard a guess that you are from the future. Would I be correct?"

"Six hours ago we were in 1996," Harry supplied with ease.

"Preposterous!" Dippet laughed with incredulity. "Albus, these are current students under the influence of polyjuice attempting to weasel their way out of punishment."

"There is a boy known to you," Harry elaborated, ignoring Dippet, "His name is Tom Riddle." Dumbledore started at the name. "He graduated two years ago, correct?" Dumbledore nodded slowly. "His full name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, he uses the letters of his given name to spell out 'I am Lord Voldemort', an anagram. Under the nom de guerre Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle will become the most feared dark lord since Grindelwald. He is quiet now, and will be for a while. He's building his knowledge, undertaking rituals, and gathering an army. In the 1960s and '70s he will rise to power and reveal himself, declaring open war on the Ministry.

"He will fall the first time on Halloween 1981, when, after murdering my parents, he will attempt to kill me. My mother's sacrifice will protect me, and the killing curse rebounds to him, destroying his body. His soul will remain tied to Earth, though I don't know how. In June 1995, he will restore himself to power through a dark ritual his minions kidnap me for. That man," Harry accused, pointing at Crabbe, "was one of his minions.

"Six hours ago, I was lured to the Department of Mysteries, because I was led to believe my godfather, Sirius Black, had been captured by Tom Riddle's minions, known as Death Eaters, and taken there. We went to the Hall of Prophecy, where we were confronted by these Death Eaters, and a fight ensued. Hermione, Neville, and myself escaped into a time room, filled with time turners and other devices. That man," again Harry pointed at Crabbe, "and another Death Eater followed us into the room.

"A reductor curse hit a cabinet of time turners, which exploded, hitting a glass bell jar full of magic. The resulting interaction threw us back in time exactly forty-nine years. We fled the Ministry, not knowing what had happened. When we figured it out, we returned, finding the other Death Eater had murdered the night watchman at the Ministry. We fought him, but he apparated away, splinching himself. He's now missing a leg.

"We retrieved that man and brought him here on the Knight Bus, hoping you could help us out, but we had an unfortunate run-in with Mr. Pringle and the Headmaster, here," Harry concluded, blowing out the rest of his breath.

"Amazing," Dumbledore said at last, looking them over again. "Who is this man?" he asked, gesturing to the body.

"Andrew Crabbe," Neville spoke up. "Of a minor dark house."

"I'm familiar with the Crabbes," Dumbledore replied politely. "As I am with the Potters, Longbottoms, Dagworth-Grangers, and a host of other families."

"Such as the LeStranges?" Harry asked pointedly.

"Why do you enquire about them?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

"The man who escaped from the Ministry tonight was Rabastan LeStrange," Harry replied running a hand through his hair.

"Hmm," was all Dumbledore said.

"You don't seriously believe these miscreants…" Dippet sputtered, his authority clearly usurped by Dumbledore.

"Their story seems credible to me," Dumbledore replied after careful consideration. "I have to admit, I had my doubts about Tom Riddle. I've been to the Hall of Prophecy, and the existence of a room in the Department of Mysteries set aside for the study of time is rumoured…"

"These children are merely repeating that rumour!" Dippet protested with fire. Just then, Mr. Pringle reappeared hauling the chains and whip up the stairs. "Finally, it's time for punishment!" Dippet exulted.

"I know all about the Chamber of Secrets!" Harry blurted out, trying desperately to think of anything he could do to cement the veracity of his story in Dumbledore's mind.

"Oh, no!" Dippet promptly contradicted him. "That was settled in '43. Rubeus Hagrid was expelled and the attacks stopped."

"Tom Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets, unleashing a basilisk on the school." The words came bubbling out of Harry. "He killed Myrtle Warren, and only stopped because you," he accused Dippet, "said that if the attacks were to continue you'd have to close the school. He loves this school more than anything because it took him away from the orphanage he used to live in. So instead, he framed Hagrid and his pet acromantula for the murder."

"That's preposterous!" Dippet laughed, only stopping when Harry start to walk off. "Where do you think you're going?" he shouted, as Harry was already walking quickly away.

"To open the Chamber of Secrets, to prove to you I'm not lying," Harry shot back. "Because if there's one thing I don't do, it's tell lies!" By the time he finished yelling, Hermione, Neville, and Professor Dumbledore had all started to follow him. Dippet, shaking with anger, had little choice but to follow them.

Soon, Harry was pushing open door to the second floor girls lavatory. "Oi, Myrtle, are you in here?" he called. A ghostly head popped through the cubicle door.

"You shouldn't be in the girls loo," Myrtle said acidly.

"It's alright this time," Harry replied cheerily. "I'm with a professor."

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Myrtle welcomed as the rest of them piled into the restroom. "Hello Headmaster."

"Myrtle, how did you die?" Harry asked without preamble.

"It was dreadful," she began, as he'd remembered. "It happened right in here. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny, a different language, I think it must've been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then... I died."

"Who was the boy?" Harry prompted leaning against the sinks and crossing his arms.

"Let me think," Myrtle thought, pulling the rest of her form through the cubicle door. "I'm not sure I remember."

"Was it Rubeus Hagrid?" Harry asked pointedly. "The largest boy in school?"

"No," Myrtle answered easily. "It wasn't him. He'd talk to me sometimes when the others wouldn't."

"Was it Tom Riddle, the Slytherin?" Harry tried again. Myrtle's forehead creased in ghostly thought, then she brightened considerably.

"Yes!" she shouted in triumph. "It was Tom Riddle. And he was speaking a foreign language, but it didn't sound like any foreign language I've ever heard."

"That's because he was speaking parseltongue," Harry informed them, smirking. He pushed himself off the sinks and turned, finding the one with the snake on the faucet. "Open," he commanded in parseltongue. With a rumble, the sink dropped into the floor, descending out of sight and revealing a dark opening leading beneath the castle.

"Great Merlin's ghost!" Dippet gasped in shock, but Harry was already sliding down the pipe. Dumbledore promptly followed, as did Hermione and Neville. Dippet was left gaping in the girls toilet.

A/N: I switched the pair of Death Eaters that entered the time room in the OOTP excerpt. It was supposed to be Jugson and Dolohov, but I thought Crabbe and LeStrange would be a better pair. Crabbe has a relation to Hogwarts, and LeStrange and Neville have history. Sorry to disappoint.