2017

It was quite late at night when Harry Potter staggered away from the Quidditch pitch, drenched due to the torrential rainfall that certainly hadn't made practice an enjoyable experience. He couldn't wait to collapse onto his bed in the warm, dry dormitory where the rest of the Gryffindor first-year boys were laying, probably already sound asleep.

"Remember, we have practice again on Monday!" Wood called out from behind him. "Be sure not to forget!" Harry felt too miserable to answer.

"Got it!" replied Fred. "We'll make sure to be sick that day."

This made Harry grin a little, but it did not make his journey to the entrance hall any more pleasant. Once inside, he was at least dry, but it would still be a long climb up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. He therefore decided to linger on the ground floor for awhile... just until he felt a little less winded. He staggered through the doorway that led to a bunch of unused classrooms, where he caught a flash of silver coming out of an open door. Entranced, Harry approached it.

The silver light seemed to be coming from an old-fashioned wind-up alarm clock that had what looked like a mechanical odometer in place of a clock face. However, the odometer-like device displayed six letters ("MCMXCI") instead of numbers. In sharp contrast to everything else in the room, the clock looked shiny and new -- it could have been manufactured yesterday. Harry picked it up in fascination and stared at, partially forgetting why he was there.

Harry decided it wouldn't hurt to see what would happen if he wound up the clock, so he gave the knob a big turn. This was a mistake. The letters in the center spun so that they read "MMXVII" and a ticking sound started. Panicking, Harry looked desperately around as though hoping to see someone standing in a corner that could tell him how to undo whatever it was that he just did. After about ten seconds, the alarm went off and there was a bright flash of silver light.

A blast knocked Harry off his feet and threw him into a nearby desk. Once he got to his feet, he looked around. He couldn't see anything that had changed. Still gasping for breath, Harry placed the clock, still reading "MMXVII", back where he found it, hoping the change in its display wouldn't be incriminating. Clutching his Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick, he quickly backed out of the classroom and headed for the common room as fast as he could. By the time he reached the Fat Lady, he was completely out of breath.

"Password?" she asked in a half sleep.

"Pig snout," Harry answered. There was a tense moment of silence.

"I'm sorry, that's not correct," she said eventually. Harry was flabbergasted.

"What d'you mean that's not correct?" he asked frantically.

"Just what I said," the Fat Lady repeated. "That's not the password." Harry racked his brains. He couldn't remember the password being changed.

"Look, so I don't remember the new password," he told her. "Couldn't you just let me in anyway? I mean, you know who I am."

"I'm sorry, Albus," the Fat Lady replied, "but rules are rules. If you've gone sneaking out at night again and you can't remember the password to get in that's your problem."

"There's no need to be facetious," Harry said angrily.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, calling me 'Albus' -- it's really uncalled-for."

"Well, isn't that your name?"

"No!" Harry said in exasperation. "My name's Harry Potter. You know, as in the 'Boy Who Lived'."

"Don't be ridicules, Albus," said the Fat Lady, "you can't be Harry Potter."

"Why?" asked Harry, feeling quite irritated by now.

"As you well know, Harry Potter -- your father -- is now thirty-seven and living with his wife in --"

"His -- his wife?" Harry stammered in confusion. "My fath-- wait, I'm -- I'm my father?" The Fat Lady glared at him.

"I don't have time for this, Potter!" she said sharply. "Goodnight!" With that, she left her portrait. Gasping for breath, Harry stared at the empty portrait for a couple seconds -- it was like the midnight duel all over again.

Something was going on -- something that was certainly a lot more serious than Harry forgetting the password. He decided that his only hope was Hagrid, so he took off down the corridor as fast as he could, half forgetting about the possibility of running into Filch. Luckily, Filch was nowhere to be seen and Harry made it to Hagrid's hut without incident. He banged on the door for a few seconds before Hagrid opened it.

"All right, wha' is it?" Hagrid asked in annoyance. Hagrid was another shock -- his hair had gone partly gray.

"Hagrid, what happened to your hair?" Harry asked without thinking.

"I'm glad you noticed," Hagrid said, sounding delighted. "I just got m' hair cut yesterday. What brings you here?" Harry took a deep breath as he stepped into the hut.

"Hagrid, the Fat Lady won't let me into the common room," he said as calmly as he could, "and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"All right, did you insult her?" Hagrid asked, sounding a bit amusedly. "Frankly, that sounds more like yer brother, but --"

"What?" Harry asked in surprise. "My brother? I don't have a brother... do I?"

"Well, yeah, you got a brother," Hagrid told him. "I thought you might've noticed after living with him all your life. Your brother James --"

"Wait, don't you mean my father James?" Harry asked, thinking that Hagrid must have been drinking a little too much last night. "You know, as in James and Lily Potter."

"Oh, don't be silly, Albus," Hagrid said and hearing himself called that again sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "James and Lily were yer grandparents. Your parents are Harry and Ginny. I had 'em here at Hogwarts back in the day. Surly I told ya 'bout that."

"No!" Harry said immediately. "Hagrid, I am Harry Potter and my name's not Albus; Albus is the name of the headmaster!" Hagrid looked at Harry strangely.

"Albus Dumbledore's been dead since before you were born, Albus," he said eventually.

"MY NAME'S NOT ALBUS!!" Harry shouted, completely losing his temper. "MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER!! WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP CALLING ME 'ALBUS'?" Hagrid sighed deeply.

"Now look, Albus," he said in as solemn a voice as he could muster, "your father was a great man -- no doubt about it -- but you've got ter find your own identity. Now, you may look like a lot your father when he first arrived here back in 1991, but yer definitely not --"

"'Back' in 1991?" Harry asked in a panic. There seemed to be a sudden chill in the air as a horrible possibility struck him. "What year is it?" he asked. Hagrid looked surprised and slightly confused by this question.

"2017, o' course."

"2017?!" Harry was aghast. "It's the year 2017?!! Since when has it been 2017?"

"Well, since about when 2016 ended, I s'pose," Hagrid replied, rather taken aback by Harry's shouting. Harry calmed down.

"Hagrid, you've got to believe me," he said desperately. "I am Harry Potter and the last thing I knew it was 1991 -- just a few moments ago. It must have been the clock thing -- I guess it sent me forward in time or something. Hagrid, you've got to help me get back to the year 1991!" Hagrid looked impressed.

"My God," he said. "Do you know what this means? It means you have inherited an aptitude for practical jokes -- it's your Weasley blood, I guess. Well done!"

"I can prove it!" Harry said desperately. "Look at my forehead -- see, there's the lightning bolt scar right there!"

"I'll be," Hagrid said. "That's very impressive magic. Did James do that for you, Albus?"

"I'm Harry!" Harry yelled. He was getting quite fed-up by this point. "I'm Harry Potter from 1991 and I can prove it! Ask me something. Anything! Something only Harry would know."

"Well, I dunno, about that," Hagrid said slowly. "From what I've heard yer mum and dad love ter tell you stories about their school years. I guess I'll give it a try anyway; what form does your Patronus take?"

"What's a Patronus?" asked Harry.

"Oh, that's right," Hagrid said, "you hadn't heard of those in your first year. Very clever."

"Okay, why don't you let me speak to... McGonagall?" Harry suggested, recalling that Dumbledore was dead.

"Professor McGonagall's been retired for five years now," replied Hagrid.

"Okay, take me to whoever the headmaster is," Harry implored, "please." Hagrid sighed.

"All right, but he's not gonna like it," he said and with that they took off for the headmaster's office. Harry had never seen where the headmaster lived before and was quite looking forward to finding out when a woman voice screamed at them.

"HAGRID!!"

She was young, but certainly not at all attractive. Her hair was unkempt and she was dressed in a ragged-looking overcoat. Something in the air about her seemed slightly familiar to Harry, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Mornin', Filch," Hagrid said to this woman. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"

"Morning is right," she said hoarsely, "it's three minutes past midnight. What are doing out at night with Albus Potter?"

"Well, that's not really your concern, now is it, Filch?" Hagrid said harshly. "Now, we're on our way to see the headmaster. Any idea where he is?"

"Professor Weasley is attended to some very important business, Hagrid, and I suggest you leave him alone," replied the woman called Filch. "Believe me, I just tried to convince him to expel Peeves and he refused again! I swear I'll finish my father's work and get rid of that bloody poltergeist or my name's not Dolores Filch! Come, Mr. Norris, we're leaving." With that Dolores Filch walked off down the corridor with her cat, which looked uncannily like Mrs. Norris, following her.

"Well, I guess that's that," Hagrid said. "I don't think we should disturb Professor Weasley about this."

"Who is the headmaster?" Harry asked, wondering whether they would be a relative of Ron.

"Well, Bill Weasley, o' course," Hagrid answered. "He's been headmaster since McGonagall left. You all right, Albus?" Harry considered his situation.

"What's the password to Gryffindor Tower?" he asked.

"Bianca Ryan," Hagrid replied.

"Bianca who?"

"Muggle singer," Hagrid explained. "Apparently she was discovered on some Muggle talent show just over ten years ago and now she's this huge fad with all the Muggle-borns. Is that somethin', or what?"

"All right, 'Bianca Ryan' was it?" Harry asked.

"That's right," Hagrid assured him. "Hope the Fat Lady will let you in this time, Albus." As Hagrid walked off carefully, due to his more advanced age, Harry stood in the corridor, his heart racing as never before.