Unfogging the Past

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It was nearing the end of summer, and the Leaky Cauldron was filled to the brim. Witches and wizards from all over Britain lingered in the dark pub drinking and talking. Once in a while, a burst of laughter would be heard; however, the happiness was short-lived. You-Know-Who was back, and he would show no mercy. Behind the pub was a large brick wall to which any witch or wizard (should they know the correct combination of bricks to press) could enter the well-renowned Diagon Alley which was Wizarding World must-see while visiting England.

Sixteen-year-old Harry Potter stood watching the patrons of the wizarding shopping strip mill around from store to store. He knew somewhere in the mass of wizarding throng were members of the Order of the Phoenix, ordered to watch him as he went about his school shopping. It had taken weeks to convince Dumbledore to allow the boy to do his own shopping instead of counting on the Order to do so for him. Standing there in the middle of the cobblestreet with the bright sun beating down his back, Harry felt free for the first time. Freedom was something his godfather, Sirius, had not experienced even after he had escaped from Azkaban Prison. Freedom, Harry learned, had come with a price; Sirius had paid the price with his life and Harry had yet to pay the price for his outing. Harry mulled over the thought that everything in life came with a price. He noticed many patrons stopping and glancing his way. Even now, two months after the Ministry had formally apologized to Albus Dumbledore and Harry for making a mockery out of them, members of polite wizarding society had to wonder if the rumors of last year were true. Was Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, mentally unstable?

Harry sighed, glancing at a clock that was in the window of Hickory Dock's Custom Clocks. It was half past twelve, and according to Albus Dumbledore, he was allowed only two and half-hours to shop. Ignoring the glances thrown his way, Harry made his way past Flourish and Blotts, Madam Malkins Robes and other shops, and finally to the large marble building of Gringott's bank.

Entering Gringotts Bank, Harry made his way to one of the goblin tellers. Handing over his key, he was directed to the trolley that would take him down to the cavern below. His vault, he knew, had quite a stash of money. After finding out about the gold galleons he had in the vault, Harry became very responsible with his money, spending little, except on birthday gifts for his two best friends. Money had never been a problem for him after he had been introduced to the Wizarding World, but Harry knew that like many great things, money didn't last forever.

"We don't have all day, Mr. Potter," an impatient goblin sneered.

The goblin was quite short as all goblins were, with a pointed face, long fingers, and a swarthy appearance. He looked vaguely familiar. It took a while but Harry remembered.

"Griphook!" he greeted, smiling apologetically.

The goblin looked up at the sound of his name.

"Sorry," Harry apologized again, "I was lost in thought. I won't take anymore of your time."

With that, Harry stepped into the cart that was held on its narrow track and they were on their way down vault to number 687.

The cart came to a jerky hault, nearly throwing Harry from it. Watching the goblin get out, Harry soon followed after. Inside his vault he knew he'd find his money, among other family items.

"Key, please?" Griphook asked holding out a scabby hand.

Digging inside the pocket of his jeans, Harry grasped the small key and handed it to the snarky goblin. With a twist of the lock, the vault door opened with an alarming creak. Harry still couldn't help but be amazed at how much gold his parents had left him.

Stepping inside the vault, Harry began filling his money pouch with as much money as he would need for the coming term. He had to buy his school supplies, a birthday present for Hermione, have enough money for snacks on the train and the trips he would be making to Hogsmeade with his friends. Harry knew he had enough money to spare, as he finished filling his pouch.

Exiting the vault, Harry looked at Griphook.

"I've got all I need," Harry muttered, taking a seat in the cart and waiting for it to whip off to the surface.

Whip off to the surface it did. Harry could have sworn he had saw smoke and fire. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe Gringotts had dragons that protected the vaults. The cart started to slow and come closer to the light when suddenly a loud boom shook the building. Debris of rock and dirt tumbled upon Harry's head and another boom sounded.

"What's that sound?" Harry asked, trying to slow his racing heart.

Taking a deep breath, Harry bolted out of the cart, through the bank, and out to the street. Many wizards and witches were running in all sorts of directions. Tonks and Remus appeared at his side almost immediately after he exited. Two tight hands clamped on his shoulders, pulling him away from the bank. Harry tried to protest, but knew neither Remus nor Tonks would listen to him.

"Stop right there!" a gruff voice commanded.

Three men in black robes appeared in front of them, and as they turned around, they witnessed even more coming to surround them.

"Well, well, look who we have here!" the middle Death Eater addressed them, her voice clearly feminine. "It's da wittle werewolf and wittle baby Hawwy with my wittle niece da halfblood."

Harry felt his breath stop as he looked straight at the owner of the voice. It was the bitch Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange had killed his godfather a couple months ago. Harry would have his revenge.

Bella and her other friends cackled at the expressions of the three.

"Did I hurt wittle Baby Potter's feewings?" she laughed, taking off her mask. "Does wittle Potty miss his wittle dogfather. Are you going to cry?"

All the Death Eaters were so focused on Harry's facial expression that they didn't notice Tonks going for her wand till a moment too late.

"Expelliarmus!" she bellowed disarming several Death Eaters.

Harry wanted nothing more than to make Bellatrix hurt; he fought against Remus' hands on his shoulders. Scowling, he balled his hands into fists. Fighting a werewolf wasn't as easy as Harry had thought. He knew it would be useless to fight against Remus, and he knew there were other Order Members in Diagon Alley. The screams echoed in his ears, the angry spill of curses, hexes and jinxes could be heard.

Turning Harry so that his back hit the wall, Remus kept his hands firmly on Harry's shoulders. Ducking a hex he said, "Harry, I want you to run as fast as you can back into Gringotts and stay there until an Order Member or Dumbledore comes to get you."

"No, Professor!" Harry replied in defiance, going for his wand. "I'm not leaving this fight. I don't need anybody else getting hurt because of me!"

"Harry James Potter!" Remus snapped and Harry flinched.

Remus never snapped like that.

"As I'm now your guardian, I tell you to get your arse into Gringotts or-"

Remus didn't even hear the curse coming, but it did. The once professor fell to his knees, howling in agony.

Harry's eyes widened and he scanned the area for the caster of the curse. In the corner of his eye was Bellatrix with an insane look in her eyes and a huge Cheshire grin.

Harry snarled; he was going to make Bellatrix pay for hurting his family, as Remus was now really the only person left among his father's friends who cared for him. Forgetting his wand, he pounced on Bellatrix, hitting her with all the strength he had mustered over the summer. He really hated the woman.

"Leave him alone!" he growled, a fist coming down onto her face.

"Oh, but it's so fun to get a rise out of you," Bellatrix laughed.

The sudden impact of Harry pouncing on Bellatrix caused the witch to lose her wand. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw her trying to get it back.

"What is this, too Muggle for you?" he snapped, backhanding her sharply.

Holding the side of her face between his hands, Harry pounded it into the cobblestone floor.

"You killed my godfather!" he cried. "I'll make you pay you stupid little bitch!"

Bellatrix was knocked out cold. Harry felt no remorse for his actions.

Harry stepped away from the unconscious Bellatrix only to be hit with a spell he had been unable to hear correctly. Before he knew what happened he was no longer in Diagon Alley, no longer with Remus. He stood in a deep forest, a beaten path beneath his feet. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't been so lucky as to lose the Death Eater that had cursed him.

Dizzy from the spell, Harry turned to the Death Eater who was spread out over the grass. From the deep breaths the fellow was taking, Harry assumed he was still alive. Crouching down, Harry gently took off the white mask, revealing Bellatrix's husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. At that moment, Rodolphus's eyes opened and the first thing out of his mouth was a hex. Luckily, Harry dodged it. Soon, both were in a dueling stance, anticipating the others move.

In the distance they could hear rushing hooves beating down on the ground. Harry stepped back off the road just as a rider passed him, stopping on the path.

"Who attacks a mere boy, mongrel?" the man said, speaking harshly to Rodolphus.

"Mongrel?" Rodolphus said in a thick Scottish accent.

"Saxon!" the man growled.

Harry just blinked a few times watching the two men. Where was he? One minute he was in Diagon Alley getting attacked by Death Eaters and the next he was in a forest with a horse rider and a Death Eater.

"You dare talk to me?" Rodolphus sneered. "You should be bowing down, Muggle!"

Almost offhandedly he turned to Harry and snapped, "Crucio."

Harry's knees buckled under the intense pain that shot throughout his body. His nerves were on fire. Oh, he wished it would be over soon. Through blinding haze, Harry watched as the rider's horse kicked the Death Eater to the ground, ending the curse.

"You'll pay for that, Muggle!" Lestrange cried, using the term Muggle, as it was as foul as garbage.

"Avada Keda-"

With a wave of his hand, the horse rider had disarmed the Death Eater and had him bound and gagged.

The fellow turned and smiled, "Are thou well, my child?"

Harry's eyes roamed over the man's appearance. He was a rugged sort with dark hair and broad shoulders. Harry wanted to believe he was harmless, but not even Albus Dumbledore could control wandless magic with a wave of his hand!

Staring wasn't going to help his situation any, in fact, he was sure that by the way the man spoke, staring would likely get him in trouble.

Lowering his eyes to the ground, Harry responded, "Umm...I'm fine, really."

What was he supposed to say? "Sorry sir, I think I got a concussion when we were thrown back in time, Merlin knows how many years." For all he knew, Merlin could be the man on the horse.

"Why are thou here? Thou should be in thy home with thy mother and father," the man inquired curiously. "Thou art but a child!"

Harry visibly bristled at the comment. Sure he was a teenager, but didn't he deserve the right to be spoken to like a man? He, for Merlin's sake, not only stopped the Dark Lord for years, but he had also dueled with Death Eaters, and slain a basilisk!

"My parents were killed when I was a baby," Harry replied politely, though obviously outraged by the question.

"Serves them right!" Rodolphus snapped.

Didn't that Rider guy gag and bound him with ropes? Harry peered over at the Death Eater. He was still struggling with his binds but his gag was undone.

"How the hell did you get ungagged?" Harry questioned, his hand tightening over his wand.

Harry didn't remember how he came into contact with his wand, but he was itching to hex the scumbag who licked Voldemort's boots.

"That's none of your business, Potter!" Rodolphus growled, twisting his wrists. You'd think that having a wife like Bellatrix, he'd have found a way of getting out of ropes, but some how, the rider's binds were tighter and stronger than Bellatrix's. Snarling and snapping, Rodolphus managed to get to his knees. Sitting comfortably now would allow him extra leverage to get the binds undone.

"If you even try to get out of those, Lestrange, you're going to regret it!" Harry said triumphantly. He happened to like seeing the side of evil losing for once. After all, this was the man married to the woman who killed his godfather. "You'll pay for killing Sirius!"

"Your godfather was a fool, just like your meddlesome parents."

"Learning new tricks from Malfoy?" Harry almost laughed.

Harry turned to the rider and said, "Sir, I know that this must be very confusing but we are not from this year. By the way, what year is it?"

"It is the year 982, Lord Potter. And, you are in the forest called Daihen in Honeysuckle, England," the rider replied lifting an eyebrow.

"My name is Sir Hayden. Come we must be off." He laughed joyfully, levitating Lestrange.

'982?' Harry's mind boggled as he mulled over the implications. How could he be in 982? What the hell spell did Lestrange use on him? A number of thoughts and questions, and concerns began to erupt in Harry's mind as he followed along side the rider at a staggered pace. None of this made any sense to Harry. He had been thrown into a wall, after all; maybe he did have a concussion. This is a dream, Harry surmised. 'Any minute, I'll wake up,' was his inner-mantra. It was the only logical explanation Harry could arrive at.

"Sir," Harry began, "h-how did you do that without a wand?"

"Aye, Wandless Magic takes time and patience, my lord." Sir Hayden chuckled. "I was lucky, Sir Potter. I was apprenticed to the best master in the land."

"Oh," Harry replied. Inside, he was shaking with disbelief.

'Apprentices, Masters, time and patience? I just want to go home back to 1996 where I can play Exploding Snap with Ron and Hermione and eat Mrs. Weasley's beef stew.' Harry found a new level in hating Voldemort.

"You don't have to call me Sir Potter, sir," Harry replied, running a hand through his messy hair. "Call me Harry, please. Thank you for saving me. I really appreciate it."

"If sir Hayden here, hadn't of showed up when he did, Lord Voldemort would have had you in his possession. You wouldn't last long against him now, Potter!" Lestrange cackled.

Harry turned to Lestrange.

"Yeah okay. This coming from a sniveling Death Eater that's bound at my feet. Just shut up, Lestrange!" Harry said.

"This Vold-e-mort you speak of, is he a member of the Roman Catholic Church?" Hayden questioned, watching Harry laugh.

"No. He's a sadistic sociopath who has been trying to kill me since I was a baby." Harry then began to explain the history of Tom Riddle (of course leaving out the fact that he was Salazar Slytherin's heir, just in case he was in the founder's era), the Triwizard Tournament, the incident in the Department of Mysteries, his godfather, Peter Pettigrew, and anything else he found relevant to help the man understand his situation.

"Blasphemy! Such foul lords should respect the rules of engagement!" Hayden said, visibly roused by the information.

"I know," Harry looked down at the ground sadly. "If he respected the rules, my parents, godfather, and many other people would be alive today... er, I mean the present."

Harry was horrible at tenses.

Sir Hayden stepped off his horse, walking to the upset teen. Putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he spoke quietly, "Young Harold, I swear upon the souls of my ancestors that we will return thee to thy rightful home. Thou must not despair, for the sun is high and I am at thy service." He finished his speech with a low bow, and Harry felt more than a little awkward.

Help? Help would be nice. Maybe he'd be taken to Godric, or Rowena--they'd know how to get him back to Hogwarts. He just wanted to go home. He'd only been gone, he was sure, a few hours at most and already he missed Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Luna, Remus and Tonks. Even at the kind words, Harry felt unsettled about the present. He wanted more than anything to know how Remus and Tonks were fairing after the attack on Diagon Alley. He hoped they weren't hurt, or worse, dead. He couldn't bear to lose another friend to Voldemort; it only raised his animosity towards the vile creature that he was.

"I know of someone who will help, Young Harold." Sir Hayden said quietly.

"Who?" Harry questioned, not more than a whisper. He wasn't sure what would come of him or Rodolphus, but it was dangerous in both the eras. "They are trustworthy, yes?"

"They are as trustworthy as a phoenix to its master," replied Sir Hayden with a grin. "However, we must journey for many miles until we reach their home. Come along."

Sir Hayden levitated Lestrange onto the horse and they began walking eastward. The sun's heat was beating hot down their backs; still they continued, stopping only for water at a nearby stream. Lestrange let out a series of curses.

"Shut up, will you?" Harry shouted and was rewarded with a flick of the finger.

Hours later, Harry asked for rest. His legs were aching and he was starving.

"Only for a little while, young Harold." Hayden's brown eyes twinkled. "I hope that we shall reach the Lady's house before nightfall."

Sitting on a nearby rock, Harry stared out at the landscape before him. It was nothing like the Wizarding World he knew, or even Muggle, for that matter. Much of the land was covered in majestic grasslands, large lush forests, flowers for which he had no name, and not a house or any hint of civilization as far as the eye could see. The whole area, at least from what he had seen of it since his arrival, had been untouched by human hands. It was unbelievable seeing this time period. One thing was for sure--he would definitely have a tale to tell in History of Magic now.

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TBC