Forever Ago

Chapter 4: Defense Against the Dark Arts

As soon as Harry left the dormitory, to go to the bathroom, the Marauders began talking.

"Why didn't you want me to ask about his name?" Sirius whispered to James.

"He'd want to know how we knew he lied, besides something could be wrong with the map; we haven't had it that long," James suggested.

"I don't think that's likely," Remus cut in. "Maybe, his last name used to be 'Potter' and it was changed or something."

"Why would anybody change their last name?" Sirius asked.

"No idea."

"I think we should keep an eye on him," Peter suggested nervously.

"I agree. A seventeen year old wizard doesn't just appear out of thin air. I think he's lying and we had better make sure he isn't up to anything," James stated.

"We'd better be quiet; Harry will be coming out of the bathroom any minute, we don't want him to hear us," Remus said. Just seconds after Remus stopped talking Harry walked out of the bathroom yawning.

"Morning," Harry greeted the four and tried to stifle another yawn. He hadn't slept well the night before. It took him forever to get to sleep and then, he had another nightmare about the killing Wormtail.

"Let's go down to breakfast. I'm starving," Sirius said.

"Oh, I have t'go to Professor Dumbledore's office to pick up my timetables and I think he wants to talk to me about something," Harry shrugged. Just then he noticed the four of them standing in a circle looking slightly nervous.

"Need help finding his office?" James asked.

"Er, yeah, he told me the password but..."

The Marauders and Harry walked towards Dumbledore's office finishing their conversation about Quidditch from the night before. Just when Peter and Remus had just started arguing about the merits of a clean sweep over a shooting star they reached Dumbledore's office.

"Thanks for showing me the way," Harry said awkwardly. The Marauders left giving Harry curious (and suspicious) glances. Harry muttered the password ("Mars Bars") and entered Dumbledore's office. His office's décor was very different from how Harry remembered it, but it was still full of fascinating items. An octagonal hour glass caught Harry's eyes when, suddenly, he realized Dumbledore was giving him a penetrating stare. Their eyes meet and Harry couldn't see the usual twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, but the moment passed, and Dumbledore cracked a smile.

"Tootsies Pop?" Dumbledore offered.

"Huh? Are you out of Lemon Drops?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Lemon Drops? I don't believe I've ever heard of those. Good are they?" Harry nodded his head, felt his way over to the chair in front of Dumbledore desk and sat down. He was oddly numb. It had just hit home--he was in the past. This wasn't some dream about meeting his long-dead parents; this was real. Of all the things in the world that never changed was Dumbledore's love of Lemon Drops. Harry was suddenly quite worried he couldn't handle this after all.

"Sir, do you know how to send me back?" Harry asked abruptly.

"No, Harry I haven't had much time to research it, but I will let you know as soon as I can. If you don't mind, may I ask you some questions?" Harry nodded politely.

"Do you have any idea why you were sent here?"

"Er, no, Sir"

"Do you have any enemies who might have sent you here to get rid of you?" Dumbledore said with concern. At this Harry laughed outright. The idea was ludicrous: Dumbledore was actually asking him if he had enemies. Harry ran his hands through his hair. The more Harry thought about it the funnier it seemed. Soon Harry was laughing so hard tears were streaming from his eyes.

Wiping the tears from his eyes he burst out, "Course I do! Er, sorry Professor..." If Dumbledore was surprised by Harry's behavior, Harry couldn't tell.

"It would be helpful if you told me who they are or will be for that mater," Dumbledore prompted.

"Do you want a list? Should I tell you the names of the people who have actively tried to kill me, the people who just want me dead, or people who dislike me?" Harry said with dark humor.

"How about the people you think would most likely do this to you?"

"Malfoy, Nott, Zabini ...Bellatrix, no she's dead. I'd say those are the most likely candidates."

"And why, child, would they want to kill you?" Dumbledore coaxed. Harry snorted, thinking that very obvious.

"For the sake of the future I'm not going to go into detail, but I'll tell you this, we found ourselves on opposite sides of a war. I've earned many enemies, and by more than birth right," Harry spat the last sentence angrily. Dumbledore gave Harry another appraising look his blue eyes piercing into Harry.

"You're so young, though. Surely the future isn't so bad that even children are forced to fight in wars?" Dumbledore looked troubled by this thought.

"Dumbledore--" Harry longed to tell Dumbledore it would be all right. Voldemort would be defeated. Everything would be all right. No, not everything Harry thought bitterly.

"No, Harry. You can't tell me what the future holds, time travel is a very dangerous type of magic. Harry I need you to trust me for a moment, so I can trust you. A cranky old cousin of mine taught me a spell, so I could judge somebody's character. These are dangerous times Harry if you would just relax your mind for me."

Harry knew what Dumbledore was about to do and locked his green eyes with Dumbledore's blue's eyes. Dumbledore recognized the pain in Harry's eye's, and it struck him how mature Harry seemed for a seventeen-year-old. And then, Dumbledore subtly pushed into Harry's mind. Harry recognized Dumbledore was using a mild form of Legilimency. Harry could tell from his years of training with Snape that Dumbledore was only trying to find out surface information. Dumbledore was talented enough he could get general impressions of a person's character, using basic Legilimency. Harry didn't try to resist; Dumbledore was simply trying to discover if he should trust Harry. The moment lasted for about a second, but it felt like an eternity. Trusting people with blind faith in dark times wasn't a good idea.

"So what classes are you taking?" Dumbledore's sudden change of topic startled Harry; Dumbledore must have decided he was trustworthy and had discovered everything he should.

"Um, well, last year I took Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and er, Potions and Divination." Harry had been deeply upset when Dumbledore forced Snape to except him in to his advanced Potions class and then forced Harry to take Potions. Dumbledore had also insisted Harry stay in Divination; Harry had no idea why.

Dumbledore drew up a timetable, literally, with his wand and handed it to Harry. Harry groaned.

"You know, I wouldn't mind dropping Potions," Harry said hopefully. Dumbledore just smiled, his eyes twinkling.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Marauders were half-way through their breakfast by the time, Harry got down to the Great Hall. Harry greeted them, sat down, and started wolfing down his food. He felt like it had been a month since he last ate. Just after he finished his second piece of toast Lily Evans entered the Great Hall and walked towards Harry.

"Good morning, Harry. So, how do you like Hogwarts so far?" Lily asked as she sat down next to James and across from Harry.

"Er, well, I haven't seen much of it, but so far I love it," Harry answered.

"I bet it's better than being home schooled," Sirius said. "What classes do you have today?"

"Um, I have Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and, urg, Double Potions," Harry said.

"You're in Potions? That is great! I was the only Gryffindor to get accepted into the NEWT level class. I won't have to be partners a Slytherin anymore," Lily exclaimed.

"I hate Potions," Harry mumbled. He had thought he wouldn't have to take Potions after defeating Voldemort had been defeated, but the Dumbledore of this time hadn't let him drop it either.

"We all have Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures together," said James. He then explained that none of the Marauders had their third class of the day together. Sirius was in Muggle Studies (mostly to spite his family). Lupin was in Arithmancy, James was in Healing Studies (a class not offered until seventh year), and Peter was in Study of Ancient Ruins.

Just then, as in Harry's time, the mail arrived by owls. Thousands of owls started swooping down to the tables, dropping off letters and hoping for a treat. Harry gazed up looking for Hedwig, out of habit, and Lily caught him staring at the owls.

"It's amazing, isn't it? I remember the first time I saw it I was so confused." Lily said to Harry. He just nodded and noticed Lily was the only one to receive mail. She got one letter from her family and one from the Daily Prophet.

"Do you get lots of mail from your family?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes, my parents feel it's important that I'm included in the family, even though I'm a witch," Lily said.

"You're lucky...you know," Harry mumbled, surprised that Lily's parents were so involved with her. Harry wondered what happened to them. Petunia never told Harry anything about his grandparents. Before Harry could reach a conclusion, Remus cut into his thoughts.

"Somebody broke into the Department of Mysteries," Remus announced looking at the Daily Prophet. The group crowded around the article. Remus began to read the article aloud.

The Department of Mysteries under Attack by Unknown Persons

By: Seamus Lovingburg

Late last night three unidentified people broke into the Department of Mysteries. Aurors, at this very moment, are investigating to find out who committed this crime. The Aurors do admit there are several missing items, however, they stress that people should not panic. All the missing artifacts have locater spells on them and will be tracked down quickly. There is some speculation as to whether this is another of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named plots to gain power. At this time, there is no evidence that He is involved. But it is highly likely that You-Know-Who is responsible. Alastor Moody said, "We Aurors take this very seriously. We won't stop investigating 'til we find out who is behind this. The Death Eaters responsible will be caught!" Even though there isn't any proof Death Eaters are responsible, most Aurors believe they are the ones who broke in. And, let's face it--who else would break into the Department of Mysteries? Nothing more is known about the break-in at this time.

"You don't think it has anything to do with Voldemort, do you?" Lily asked; Peter, still covered in ink, squeaked at the sound of Voldemort's name. James, Remus, and Sirius all look uncomfortable.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it does," James said seriously. He squeezed Lily's hand comfortingly. Harry didn't notice. Rising anger was flowing through Harry's veins. He had just killed Voldemort in his own time and now he had to deal with him here. Harry felt he would never escape Voldemort.

"There's no point in worrying about it. There's nothing we can do about it," Sirius said obviously pretending the news didn't disturb him. For the rest of the breakfast everyone was oddly quiet, except when Sirius would joke loudly trying to cheer the rest of them up.

Harry was deep in thought. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad. It was a nice not being "The-Boy-Who-Lived." No one expected him to jump up and solve the problem. And, Harry didn't want to get anywhere near the Department of Mysteries ever again. Harry had been there a total of three times. The first was when Sirius had fallen beyond the black veil; Harry tried to avoid thinking about that. The second was during the final battle. The time he managed to defeat Voldemort for good. It was ancient magic that saved Harry from being killed by Voldemort the first time they met, and it was ancient magic that let Harry kill Voldemort for the final time. But Harry didn't like to think about that either, although he often did. And the third time Harry was there...well, Harry definitely didn't think about that. Ever.

Harry still had trouble believing Voldemort was dead. He had fulfilled the Prophecy. Harry had thought he would finally have a normal life. Harry expected to have a normal seventh year. No more prophecy to worry about, no more Voldemort. Seventh year classes hadn't even started when Harry was pulled back in time. He was happy to be meeting his parents, but a part of him was angry too. His seventh year was supposed to be normal and Voldemort-free. Although for him stopping one of Voldemort's plots was normal. Here in 1977, he had his parents, but the threat of Voldemort was here again as well. Harry decided not to think about it. There wasn't anything he could do about it anyways, and the best part was nobody expected him to do anything about it.

The group of them finished breakfast and got up to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry wondered who the Defense teacher was, and if the, Defense teachers, ever lasted more than a year.

"What's the Defense teacher like," Harry asked.

"Don't know he's new this year. Our Defense teachers never last long," James answered.

"His name is Professor Quirrell and he is supposed to be very well-educated," Lily informed the group. Harry couldn't believe his ears; this was too much. Not only was Voldemort thriving in this time, he was going to have to face Quirrell. How was this possible, he wondered? How would he be able to behave? Quirrell had been his teacher. Quirrell had tried to kill him and now Harry was going to have to be a good little student in his class. Feeling like he couldn't do this, Harry felt tired and angry. Nothing was ever fair in his life. He was supposed to be getting the chance to meet his parents, not worrying about Voldemort and past teachers that had tried to kill him.

"Don't be worried," Lily said. "We'll make sure your first day goes smoothly." She had no idea how hard that would be. They continued walking toward the classroom. By an unspoken agreement, none of them talked about the article. Harry gathered that at this time articles like today's weren't all that uncommon. Harry was slightly unnerved by the thought. Sirius and James were talking about Quidditch and Lily and Remus were talking about Transfiguration. Peter attempted to make small talk with Harry, but Harry brushed off all of Peter's attempts.

Harry was deep in thought about Quirrell. He finally came to a conclusion; Harry had heard that Quirrell had taught for a couple of years and then took a leave of absence to get practical experience. Quirrell must have taught here for some time and then left for the experience. He then returned in time to teach Harry for his first year. Harry wasn't sure but it was the best explanation he could come up with.

The six of them reached the classroom with a couple minutes to spare. James sat down next to Lily and whispered something in here ear; she laughed. Harry sat down next to Remus and to Harry's horror Peter sat down next to Harry. To Harry's great annoyance. He was already upset about Quirrell and Voldemort and now Wormtail decided to pester him.

"I'm really sorry about breaking into you trunk," Peter whined. You're only sorry because you were caught, Harry thought bitterly.

"I'm sure you are. I wouldn't want to walk around with an ink stained face either," Harry responded coldly. Harry knew he shouldn't be so mean to Peter, but everything was becoming too much for him: Voldemort, Quirrell, his parents. Peter still couldn't get the ink off his face. Even though all the Gryffindors had ignored it, Peter was still embarrassed.

"Are you sure you can't do anything to get the ink off," Peter said desperately. They were plenty of things Harry could think of to help; a simple glamour charm would cover it up. But then again there were plenty of things Peter could have done to stop Lily and James's deaths. Harry was losing a battle with his temper.

"Well, I could burn off your skin. It wouldn't be stained anymore then, now would it?" Harry said his voice rising. Harry took a deep breathe and counted to ten inside his head. Why won't he leave me alone? Peter squeaked. Why can't that traitorous rat leave me alone? Harry had spoken loud enough that everybody in the room heard him.

"Harry, don't threaten my friend," Sirius said angrily, "he already apologized." This really ignited Harry's anger. Sirius, his godfather, was angry at him, because he wasn't being nice to the treacherous rat.

"Oh, of course, the spy can't stand up for himself. That's why he clings to you--for protection. You know when he finds somebody more powerful than you, he'll follow him around too, just like the rat he is," Harry hissed, his anger getting the best of him. Peter yelped, stood up and started backing away. Harry was angry and power was radiating off of him. In Harry's time, he was the one of the most powerful wizards, second only to Dumbledore. In the final battle with Voldemort Harry had unleashed a power unseen for past centuries. And right now Harry was practically glowing with anger and power.

"Calm down Harry. You're frightening me," Lily said trying to defuse the situation.

"Er, sorry," Harry muttered his eyes blazing in anger. Harry started to count to ten again and concentrate on his breathing. Hermione had told him about the exercise and although it almost never worked, he would try it. Harry wished he could have kept his temper under control, but making small talk with the man who murdered his parents was beyond him.

"Um, look, I'm sorry about the trunk thing, really," Peter whimpered. At that moment, Professor Quirrell walked into the room and started talking to them. The Marauders were giving Harry nervous looks.

"I'm Professor Quirrell," he introduced himself. "It's nice to see students so eager to learn." This Quirrell was so different from the Quirrell in Harry's time, he wouldn't even have thought they were the same person. This Quirrell had no turban and had no stutter. This was Quirrell before he had meet Voldemort.

James introduced the six of them, hesitating when he introduced Harry. Harry was still livid. When Harry got like this, only Hermione could calm him down. If anybody had thought that Harry had a bad temper before Sirius died, it was nothing compared to after. By the time they were finished introducing themselves most of the class had came in. Quirrell started teaching. Harry still seethed with anger.

"Hello, I would like to introduce myself to the class. I am Professor Quirrell. I have had much professional training and am more than qualified to teach this class. Today I will be teaching you about some useful spell you can use in dueling. I will be starting out with some simple defensive spells. Copy down the notes on the board while I explain them..."

Harry wasn't listening. He had been getting private defense lessons from Aurors since the summer after Sirius's death. After the Ministry accepted that Voldemort was alive the officials wanted to train Harry as much as possible. They wanted their savior prepared, Harry thought bitterly. Harry still spent the summer with his aunt and uncle, but seven days a week, fully trained wizards tutored Harry. As a result, Harry was unbeatable in a duel, knew more charms than Hermione, and could practically brew combat useful potions in his sleep. Harry wasn't about to listen to Quirrell, an idiot in his opinion.

Remus nudged Harry tentatively. "You might want to take notes. I don't know how things were when you were home schooled, but here you probably want to," Remus whispered.

Harry took out a piece a parchment and his quill with the intention of taking notes. He figured he had already made the Marauders mad enough, he felt he could at least try to make Remus happy. After about a minute of copying down notes on a standard stunning charm (the one Hermione used on Neville their first year at Hogwarts), Harry started to draw Quirrell wearing a turban. Harry's anger slowly turned into embarrassment about how he acted in front of his parents.

Peter was still nervously glancing at Harry, wishing desperately he hadn't sat down next to him. Remus rolled his eyes, annoyed at Harry's lack of interest in the class. Even through Remus had already learned the spells, he was too studious not to try and pay attention.

James slipped Remus a note. It read: Something isn't right about him. He got way too upset at Peter. We better keep an eye on him. Let's sneak out at midnight to figure out what were going to do about him. Meet in the Shrieking Shack. Prongs. Remus wrote back a note of agreement.

As the lesson continued, Sirius and James started whispering about Quidditch; Remus pulled out a book on dark creatures and started reading. Harry continued to draw while Peter fidgeted. Finally, Quirrell dismissed the class. Harry was still irritated and wanted to get away from the Marauders and Lily. He grabbed his stuff and started to head to Care of Magically Creatures. Just before Harry reached the first stair case he realized the class probably wasn't in front of Hagrid's hut, and he wasn't supposed to know where it was. Harry turned around to catch the Marauders and Lily,

They were talking in a too causal way. None of them wanted to make Harry angry before they knew more about him. Especially Lily, who saw what he did to Snape the night before.

"So Harry we never did get to talk about Quiddicth. Why did you stop playing after you were 13?" James asked cautiously.

"Well, when I was 14 I, er, went to study dragons and was just too busy, when I was 15 my parents grounded me for lying to them, and I just... did a lot of training when I was 16 and didn't really have the chance to actually play," Harry answered. Harry felt his answer was as near the truth as he could get it. He had had to get past a dragon in the Triwizard Tournament. He was expelled from Quidditch during his 5^th year and he was so busy with Voldemort during is 6^th that he didn't have time.

"You're parents grounded you from flying for a whole year," Sirius exclaimed, forgetting he was anger with Harry for threatening Peter.

"Well it wasn't the whole year, just most of it," Harry answered awkwardly. He was going to have trouble getting used to lying.

"No wonder you weren't close to your parents," Lily said. The six of them continued to make small talk as they walked to Care of Magically Creatures.

Harry started to get the feeling that something was wrong. The stairs seemed to creak with every step he took. Everything seemed louder than normal. Lily's voice rang eerily through the halls.

"All you boys every do is talk about Quidditch..."

Harry started to rub his temples, trying to concentrate. His head throbbed. Suddenly he felt an all too familiar sensation; one he hadn't felt since he killed Voldemort. He scar was on fire. He could feel Voldemort was very, very happy about something.