Harry Potter and the Song of Time

Harry Potter and the Song of Time
by Crazy Ivan

Prologue: Coda dal Fine

Harry Potter walked down the corridor of Gryffindor tower one sunny morning in April, giving his "Head Boy" badge a quick polish with his sleeve. Outside, the sunlight was making the ripples on the lake sparkle, making it seem as if it were gilded. Entering the Gryffindor common room, Harry smiled at Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, who were leafing through the Daily Prophet. "Morning," he said brightly. "It's Pensieve day today, isn't it?"

The three students had been looking forward to making their own Pensieves in Charms ever since, three weeks ago, Professor Flitwick had announced that, as final-year students, they should begin research on the topic. A Pensieve allowed the owner's thoughts to be examined objectively, and Harry remembered how, in his fourth year at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore's Pensieve had helped him to unravel the secret behind the Triwizard tournament. He, Hermione and Ron were now in their seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, studying for their N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests).

"Yes," Hermione said, smiling. "I know just what I'm going to try to unravel as well."
"What are you going to look at?" asked Ron interestedly.
"I'll hardly tell you, Ron Weasley," she said in mock reproach. Silently, she thought of that scene in the wardrobe of Malfoy Mansion...
"Hermione?" Harry asked, breaking into her train of thought as if he expected an answer.
"Yes? Sorry?" Hermione stuttered, looking up confusedly.
"I'd just asked which of the two styles of charm you'd be using." Harry sounded concerned. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine, just thinking about something," Hermione said. She picked up her bag, bulging with books as normal, and headed towards the portrait hole, followed by Harry and Ron, who were giving each other bemused looks.

Arriving in Professor Flitwick's classroom, they found the rest of the Charms NEWT class pulling on laboratory coats and protective goggles over their robes. Professor Flitwick was, as usual, standing on a pile of textbooks on his chair in order to see over the top of his desk.
"Now, is everybody here?" he asked, doing a quick head-count with his wand. "Excellent. Each working group of three students should find their materials laid out in front of them. You should each have the following..."

Professor Flitwick ran quickly through the assorted things set out on the workbenches in front of them. There was a large stone bowl for each of them, as well as several beakers and jars of interestingly-coloured liquids and several long metal spoons, obviously for use in stirring the liquids. Ron picked up a closed beaker filled with a glutenous green substance and read the label on it. "Vermicious Ectoplasm, 5%." He picked up another, containing a viscous red lump of goo. "Fermented Manticore Venom, 100 proof. Nasty stuff."
"Is that the technical term for it?" Hermione asked with her tongue firmly implanted in her cheek. Ron shot her a dark look.

"Right then," Flitwick said, "take the Manticore Venom, yes, that's the red lumpy one, and mix it with the extract of bat spleen in your bowls. Make sure that you put the venom in first, however, or it won't mix properly. Now, dribble in the Octopod ink, stirring constantly. That's right, Potter, there you go."

He continued to direct their experiments, adding one noxious ingredient after another, until the contents turned (with the addition of the Vermicious Ectoplasm) silvery and opaque. "Now," Flitwick said, "a simple charm will set the bowl swirling. "Eolus!" he commanded at the bowl, and the silver contents started to swirl around. Harry picked up his wand and muttered "Eolus" at the bowl, the liquid revolving clockwise as if down a drain.

"Right," said Professor Flitwick. "You should all be able to extract one thought and put it in the Pensieve. Go on now...one at a time...there we go Miss Patil...well done Mr Finnigan...excellent, Miss Granger." Hermione was staring into the Pensieve when a bright flash washed over her. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she realised where she was.

Hermione stood cramped in Draco Malfoy's small wardrobe in the as-yet unrefurbished Malfoy Mansion. As her eyes became accustomed to the light, she could make out two figures, one which she knew was Draco and the other herself. She gazed thoughtfully at them, pondering. She frowned and concentrated, trying to hear what they -- she -- were saying.

"What part of 'it locks from the outside' didn't you understand?" Draco sounded irritated. There's a surprise, Hermione thought to herself. She wasn't concentrating and missed the next few lines.
"Granger?" the other Hermione made a noise of exasperation. "First Harry, now you! Why are both of you acting like you hate me all of a sudden..."

Hermione swore loudly as the Pensieve began to pull her back to reality. She was really no further along the road to understanding the exchange that had taken place in the cupboard than she was to understanding how Divination could be classified as an academic subject. Harry, Ron and the rest of Professor Flitwick's classroom came into view as Hermione's conscious returned.

"So, what did you go back to, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Er--Moaning Myrtle's loo, of all places," Hermione lied. "Remember, in second-year, when we were making the you-know-what to counteract You-Know-Who you-know-where?"
"Which you-know-what and which you-know-where?" Ron asked, sounding confused.
"A certain feline you-know-what, and a certain dark and dangerous you-know-where," Harry said. "With a certain you-know-how many times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile contest."
"Oh, that you-know-what, with you-know-who and You-Know-Who you-know-where."

Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnigan were giving them very strange looks from the next workbench along, which Hermione met with a rather uncanny resemblance of a McGonagall Arctic Look. "You next, Ron," she said, fishing her thought out of the bowl. Ron tapped his head with his wand and plopped the thought into the bowl, staring after it.

From Harry and Hermione's point of view, he had only been looking down for a minute when, looking very contented, he looked up at them dreamily. "How long was I out of it?" he asked.

"A minute, maybe a minute and a half, why?" Hermione asked.
"Is that all?" Ron said quizzically. "I'm sure I spent longer than that in there..."
"Time distortion," Harry said. "How far back did you go?"
"First year," Ron replied.
"There you go," Harry said. "Funny that Hermione was down for longer, though. She went back to second year."
At that, Hermione looked away hurriedly, hoping that Harry and Ron wouldn't think to ask her any more questions about when -- and where -- she had been. "Harry, your turn," she said, rather flustered.

Harry tapped his wand to his head and, like Ron, made as if to flick the thought into the Pensieve. However, it bounced off the far side of the bowl as it fell in, splashing Ron and Hermione with liquid. Harry, however, hadn't noticed, and leant down over the bowl.

"Haaarrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyy!" he heard as Hermione and Ron followed him down into the Pensieve's depths. Hermione thought that he must be going back very far indeed, because the Pensieve took some time to focus itself into a picture of a large country manor in a verdant valley surrounded by tall, snow-capped hills. She turned and tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Nice one," Ron said, and Harry whirled as if Voldemort himself had said it.
"Wha--how--why--" he stuttered, looking at them and around them.
"We were splashed with some Pensieve juice," Ron said. "I guess we must have been pulled along with you."
"Actually," Hermione put in, "there are records of this happening on just such an occasion. In fact, the Pensieve Participation Procedure is often used in important wizard trials -- it's almost as good as an eyewitness. The theory of it is in A Precis Of Magical Jurisprudence, which isn't really a precis at all, it's actually rather an imprecis, but--"
"Harry," Ron broke in, suddenly realising where they probably were, "where are we?"
"Godric's Hollow," came the response. "Nineteen eighty-one. October thirty-first, Nineteen eighty-one."
"Harry," Hermione breathed. "Surely you can't remember..."
"Actually," Harry said, turning back to her with a strange look on his face, "it would appear that I can. If you want to come along, feel free. Otherwise...you're welcome to just wait out here."

It was hot and sunny, and the ivy growing up one side of the house glowed in the warm glow of the autumn evening sunshine. A table and some chairs were set outside a large open french window, and two people sat playing with a small child. The shorter of the two picked the child up and they moved inside. The elder Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was evening and a roaring fire was crackling away in the hearth. A man with black hair was roasting some chestnuts in an old frying pan over the fire, watched intently by the child. "Dada," the child said endearingly.

Hermione covered her eyes with her hands, not daring to look. It was like reading a novel for the umpteenth time -- you knew what was going to happen, what disaster was going to befall the characters who were now carrying on their normal existence. Hands in hair, she opened her eyes as the far wall exploded in a shower of stone and glass. The woman from earlier on, who Hermione now knew to be Lily Potter, rushed in from the other room, urgent questions dying unasked on her lips as she looked through the settling dust to the ethereal skull and serpent hanging above the garden.
"Take him, Lily, run!" James Potter yelled, throwing baby Harry to her in an enchanted pass. Lily, however, stood stock-still, feet rooted to the ground, and Hermione was unable to hear what she was shouting to her husband, for a tall figure in sweeping black robes had just walked through the door.
"Good evening, Potters," Lord Voldemort said. "I do hope I'm not interrupting. It's just, well, I've come to murder you."
"Lily!" James bellowed. "Take Harry and run!"
With a wave of his gloved hand, Voldemort fixed Lily to the spot.
"Now Potter..." he stopped, and looked right in the direction of the older Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Visitors?" he asked. "Well, well. How tiresome. Avada--"
"Expelliarmus! Petrificus totalus! Disapparatus!" the three students yelled simultaneously, wands outstretched. Voldemort exploded with a meaty splat as the three curses intertwined, showering the rubble of the wall behind him with bits of flesh and bone.

All three of them looked stunned for about half a second, until a bang rather like the noise an exploding balloon makes engulfed them all, sweeping them back into nothingness. Hermione could see Harry and Ron buffeted in the sudden wind, and the scene in front of them started to swirl before their eyes, moving away first slowly and then faster. She felt rather than saw herself being pulled closer to Harry and Ron, raising an arm to fend herself off, but instead coalesced right through Harry. Stunned, she tried to swing herself back towards him, but realised that she could see right through him.

It was as if she was watching a Muggle film, she thought. All of Harry's formative experiences, from the green light of Voldemort's curse to finding himself on top of his prep school kitchens to escape Dudley's gang to Hagrid's entrance into the small hut on the rock where he had been given his Hogwarts Letter to Cedric Diggory's death -- all the experiences that made Harry who he was, that gave him his essential Harryness, were laid out in front of Hermione. Unwillingly, she drifted away from him and towards Ron, and saw a similar effect -- from images of seven Weasley children running around the Burrow to the Mirror of Erised to the rockfall in the Chamber of Secrets to his first Quidditch match for Gryffindor -- it was all there, plain for her to see.

Only then did she look around her, for her own experiences were displayed as if on a sphere. Her parents, books, the wardrobe moment, kissing Harry, kissing Draco, kissing Viktor Krum...it was all there, especaially the amazing number of book pages flying around in the middle. She spotted a diagram from Hogwarts: A History, a picture from a S.P.E.W. pamphlet, a line drawing of a Manticore...the essences of all three of them were floating like bubbles through, well, whatever they were floating through. She noticed the bubbles of Harryness and Ronness converging with hers, and for a brief moment felt as if she were everywhere and nowhere at once. The moment was, however, only brief, as she was grabbed out of her bubble, soaring upwards. She could see Harry and Ron being similarly extracted as all three bubbles burst into fragments, and then they were lying on the floor of Professor Flitwick's classroom, with only Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick present, all looking as if the three students had just died.

Hermione blinked and McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Miss Granger?" she asked quietly. "Can you hear me?"
Hermione wanted to say yes but her voice wouldn't let her. None of her body was working.
"Blink three times if you can hear me," McGonagall said, and Hermione did so gratefully. The wave of relief which washed over all three of the Professors' faces was palpable. "You've been out for hours. We were quite concerned for you."
"Harry?" Dumbledore was saying, "can you hear me?"

The next few hours were something of a bore. All three of their bodies eventually snapped back into use, and Madam Pomfrey declared them fit and able to return to their common rooms as long as they didn't leave them for the rest of the evening. Hermione frowned -- she was sure that Harry would want to tell Draco -- but kept quiet.

"We will interview you in the morning if that's all right," Dumbledore had said to them. "No need to be up for breakfast, just send me a message with Hedwig, Harry, and I'll have some sent up to my study."

"What the hell was that?" Ron asked finally as they made their way through the portrait-hole.
"Didn't come up in A Precis Of Magical Jurisprudence," Hermione said ruefully. Harry remained silent, sinking down into a chair in front of the fire, but then springing back up again, memories of the Pensieve obviously returning.
"Deignis," Hermione said at the fire with a wave of her hand, and the fire simply disappeared. "Harry, are you--"
"All right? Oh, yes, shit like that happens to me every fucking day, Hermione," Harry snarled, pacing the floor like a cornered animal. "You know, wake up, brush teeth, read paper, have breakfast, blow the world's most evil wizard into dog food before lessons, the usual sort of thing. Nothing out of the ordinary...in fact I'd be surprised if it even came up in the Daily Prophet. You know, 'Hero Potter Kills You-Know-Who Again'." He continued in a raised voice -- a good imitation of Sumo Gregor, presenter of the Two Day Programme from the Wizarding Wireless Network, in fact -- "Hogwarts sources today denied that the most famous wizard in the world, Harry Potter, Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, again killed He Who Must Not Be Named in a rematch using a Pensieve, with the help of Hermione Granger, Head Girl, and Ronald Weasley, Prefect and Quidditch Captain."

Hermione gulped. She had never seen Harry this...what was it? Scared? Angry? Stunned? A mixture of all three? Judging by the look on his face, Ron hadn't either. Harry turned and strode quickly towards them. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I have no idea what happened, or why, or how... I always thought that Pensieve participants couldn't interact with the reality."
"Me too," Ron said. "But only You-Know-Who could see us. Lil--er, nobody else could."
"But the effects can't be permanent, or else Harry wouldn't be here, would he?" Hermione asked.
"Obviously not," said Harry bluntly.

Hermione thought about how Harry must be feeling at that moment, and realised that she knew. Knew not only how he was feeling, but what he was thinking as well. "Harry..."
"...we all know..." Harry interrupted.
"...what the others are thinking," Ron finished.
"Oh, shit." Harry didn't mince words. "Not only did we just turn Voldy into a Big Mac, but we're now mental Siamese twins? This is a little much for one day."
"So that means you all know about--" Hermione began.
"--the wardrobe," Harry and Ron finished.
"And the--" Ron started.
"spyhole into the girls showers," Harry and Hermione finished.
"And --" Harry groaned.
"Cho." Ron and Hermione concluded.
"Bollocks," they chorused.

* * *

It wasn't easy to conceal their newfound ability from the teachers and other students for the rest of the term. After all, Hermione said philosophically, it wasn't as if they were telepathically communicating. They had just all shared every experience of each others' lives and knew everything that the others did up until that day in April. After that...it was down to simply realising how the others actually processed thoughts, but it was easy enough to do with practice. As time passed, the ability to complete each others' sentences weakened, but the knowledge they had gained remained the same.

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were particularly interested in what had happened with the Pensieve as it had been one of Professor Trelawney's rare accurate predictions. Apparently, she had told the girls that "a great meeting of minds will happen today," which they had initially put down to the International Confederation of Very Intelligent Warlocks meeting in the Great Hall all day, but later had realised that the prediction could equally easily have covered the Pensieve incident.

The NEWTs, however, almost completely took their mind -- and the teachers' minds -- off the Pensieve. Harry and Ron only just had time to squeeze in Quidditch practice between study sessions. "Honestly," Ron had said, "you'd think Hermione was rubbing off on us."

Eventually, to a mixture of joy and sadness, the examinations were over and it was the final day of term. Harry, Ron and Hermione said their good-byes to all the Hogwarts staff and, in a whirlwind of activity, everyone was back on the Hogwarts Express, heading back to London and Platform 9 3/4. It was a tearful time for everyone in the first four carriages, as good-byes were said, addresses exchanged and promises made to meet in Diagon Alley when the NEWT results were relased by the Department of Magical Education.

"Oh, yes," Neville was saying, "if my Herbology results come through all right, I'll be joining the Ministry of Magic's Herbology Department. Professor Sprout put me in contact with the chief wizard there."

Seamus Finnigan had been signed to the Bruton Barbarians Quidditch team as Reserve Chaser, and Dean Thomas was looking into joining Gringotts. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had decided to take a year out and research Divination at Hogwarts with Professor Trelawney.

"So what're you doing, Harry?" Seamus was keen to know.
"Well," Harry said enthusiastically, "I'm entering a course for Magids up in Scotland, at St Andrews. Dumbledore recommends it highly."
"And I'm joining him," Ron put in, "but I'll be taking Advanced Charms with Applied Potions. It's a new course, just started this year."
"And I've got a research job with the British Wizarding Library up there, catalogueing and investigating Arithmancical History while studying for my Master of Wizardry," Hermione said.
"Sounds enthralling," Ron grinned. "Will you be coming up to the sunlight, or do we have to call in that American Auror, what's her name, Boofy or Bufty or something. She specialises in creatures who are afraid of the light, y'know."
"Very funny, Ron," Hermione said. She would have said more but the magically amplified voice announcing the imminent stop at King's Cross cut her off.

All of the Gryffindors took one last look at each other, and Ron pulled out his camera, asking them all to pose. Snapping off a few shots, he slipped it back into the bag and grinned. "I'll send some on."

It was mayhem on Platform 9 3/4. First-years ran towards their parents, seventh-years hung behind, not wanting their magical time at Hogwarts to end, and the rest lugged trunks, pets and smaller siblings towards the end of the platform.

Draco Malfoy walked up to Harry, Ron and Hermione with a smile on his face. "Come on, Harry, you're lagging behind. Again."
"Shut up, Draco," Harry said, but smiled. It seemed like a very long time since they had last spoken, but it was in fact only yesterday. It just hadn't seemed right, somehow, not to mention against Hogwarts rules, to let Draco into their Common Room.

"There are Sirius and mother," Draco said, waving madly. "Good-bye, Weasley, good-bye, Hermione. Feel free to visit."
"And why do you rate first-name basis, Hermione?" Ron asked pointedly.
"Ron, you already know, so don't even think about asking me," Hermione snapped back.
"Weasley, do open your eyes. The world really is an interesting place," Draco drawled. Ron would have turned him into a slimy creature or a pen, but settled for only making little ferret faces at him behind Narcissa Black's back. Hermione kissed Ron, Harry, Draco and Sirius and ran over to hug her parents, who, despite seven years of a daughter at Hogwarts, had never quite got used to the people appearing from between Platforms 9 and 10.

Sirius, Narcissa, Harry and Draco wandered over to where Molly Weasley had Ron and Ginny in a hug. "Did you drive, Molly?" he asked. "No, Arthur did, but he couldn't find a parking space," Mrs Weasley said. "He's waiting outside near the door. Do you need a lift to Diagon Alley?"
"No, we'll be fine," Sirius said, motioning to Harry and Draco. "Magids in the family, you know."
Molly Weasley smiled and raised an eyebrow at Sirius. "Well, at least respectable folk like us don't have to worry about our roof being blown off."
"Didn't Fred and George do that last year, Mum?" Ginny asked, winking at Harry.
Her mother blushed and chuckled. "Well, it wasn't the whole roof..."
"That's not what you told them," Ron pointed out.
"Well, come along, Ron, your father's waiting outside," Molly said. "And goodness knows what Muggle contraptions he'll have fixed his eye on now..."
"Bye," Ron said over his shoulder as they walked off, past the WH Smith newsagent and out of the station. Harry headed towards Hermione, while Draco remained behind.

"And we're on the 2.49," Hermione's father was saying.
"But Dad, it's 2.47 now," Hermione pointed out.
"What?" he spun to face the large board with departure times. "Quick! Run!"
"Bye Harry!" Hermione yelled as she pushed the trolley with her trunk laden on top towards Platform 5.

"'Bye'?" Draco said to Harry as they walked towards the Portkey around the corner which led to Diagon Alley. "Is that all your best friends managed? Poor Pansy Parkinson was crying her eyes out when Dashing Draco bid her adieu."
"Draco, now is just not the time," Harry growled, turning away to rub the tears out of his eyes.