2017

Harry could hear the wind howling outside and rain splattering the castle's windows. Clearly it was the storm that had wrecked havoc on Quidditch practice -- in fact, he realized, it was probably still doing just that. He contemplated how he had fought gusts of wind as he struggled to stay aboard his Nimbus Two Thousand and became surreally aware that his other self was undoubtedly out there in that very position. In several minutes, the other him would come inside, find the clock and be whisked off to the future before eventually coming back and landing himself right where Harry was standing now...

"All right," said Hermione, putting the Time-Turner away as she stood back up, "let's go check the room where you'll find the clock. You lead the way." Still vaguely aware of the weirdness of this entire situation, Harry led her into the corridor with the unused classrooms. It felt weird having the adult Hermione in his own time -- she just didn't belong there.

"It was this classroom here," said Harry, pointing at the door. "The door was kind of creaked open when I found it." Hermione pushed the door open.

"You're sure this is the right one?" she asked him.

"Yeah, why?" Harry asked.

"'Cause there's no clock in there," she replied. Harry peeked in and, sure enough, there were no silvery, time-traveling alarm clocks resting anywhere.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked in a panic, sure this wasn't good. Hermione, however, was studying the clock that had brought them back to 1991 in her hands. Suddenly, her eyes became very round.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "This is the clock that'll take you to the future!"

"I know it is," Harry replied. "That's where we got it from, isn't it?"

"No, you don't understand," Hermione said breathlessly, "I think that this clock -- the one we brought back in time -- will become the one that took you to the future. That's where it came from in the first place. What we have to do is leave it here so that the other you finds it."

"Wh-- wait," Harry stammered, "How could that be possible?" Hermione considered it.

"Don't think about it," she said eventually, "it's too complicated. Anyway, this just means we'll have to rework our plan a little. Now, I'll take care of you before the other you shows up. Then I'll turn invisible and hide in the classroom where you found the clock. Therefore, the clock'll take both of us -- well, not you, the other you -- to the year 2017. Once the other you leaves the classroom, I'll use the Time-Turner to go forward several hours to the time when I left 2017."

"Okay, wait," said Harry, "If that is the same clock, why don't you just not leave it there for my other self to find? That way, I'd've never come to the future in the first place and none of this would've ever happen."

"Because we already know this plan will work," Hermione replied briskly. "Besides, it's already played out that way in the future, so trying to change it could cause a major paradox."

"Okay, okay, it was just a thought," Harry said quickly. "I... assume you understand the plan." Harry hadn't quite grasped it.

"Of course, I do!" Hermione said immediately. "It's perfect. And the beauty of it is that we already know it will work -- that's what you said about the dementors in our third year. Now, I'll set the clock right here and leave the door creaked slightly open. That way, it should catch the attention of the other you."

Hermione did just that and stood back for a moment to admire her work.

"Well, it looks almost exactly like it did when I found it," Harry told her.

"Actually," she replied, "I think it is exactly like it was when you found it. C'mon, we'd better go keep a lookout for when you'll show up!"

Harry followed Hermione out the entrance hall door and was immediately hit by the cold, stormy weather -- he had already half-forgotten about it. He staggered through it, trying to keep up with Hermione.

"Where are we going?" he asked her breathlessly.

"We've got to get close enough to see what the other you's doing," she shouted over the wind.

"Won't my other self see us?" asked Harry.

"Not in this weather," she assured him. "It should keep us nicely obscured."

Before long, they made it to a tree located about fifty yards from the Quidditch pitch. Harry could just barely see silhouettes of the Gryffindor players -- including himself -- flying through the air and struggling to not be blown away by the wind. They were too far away to tell who was who, but it still brought a weird sense of déjà vu to Harry.

"It's 11:31 now," said Hermione, glancing at her watch, which actually read 9:31. She hadn't adjusted it for the ten hours they had gone back in time.

"The other me should be along pretty soon then," Harry replied. "You know, I have one question," he added. "If I was 'destined' to be brought back here and live out the rest of my life the way I already had in 2017, doesn't that mean I have no free will?" Hermione sighed.

"Well... in a sense," she said. "Technically, you can control what you do, but -- given the sum total of your personality traits -- it can be determined what you will do even if you have 'control' over it. That's partially why we need to erase your memory -- so that you can maintain the illusion that you have free will. After all, no human could function knowing that their future is fixed."

"So," Harry began awkwardly, "I, uh, take it I'll just be left with the memory of you pointing your wand at me, but I won't know what it was."

"Exactly," Hermione explained. "You'll write it off as a hallucination for the next twenty-six years. However, in the year 2017, when you hear about how the younger you was accidentally sent forward in time, you'll realize what that memory actually was and we'll use it to figure out how we ended up sending you back."

"Oh," said Harry, feeling dazed.

They continued to watch the Quidditch practice unfold for another ten minutes or so. Eventually, the brooms came down from the sky and Harry soon spotted a barely visible Quidditch team standing in the rain right outside the pitch.

"Okay, it looks like we're leaving!" he told Hermione. This was confirmed a second later when he heard voices coming from the distant silhouettes.

"Remember," he vaguely heard Wood holler, "we have practice again on Monday! Be sure not to forget!"

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

"Okay, let's go!" Hermione said, grabbing onto Harry's hand and practically pulling him along. It was just like when he was walking back from the Quidditch pitch earlier -- which, he realized, the other him was doing at that very moment -- except that he was going faster. However, speed did not make the journey any more enjoyable and Harry fought to keep a hold on Hermione's hand. As an adult, she had longer legs and was much faster. Though Harry's feet kept slipping in the mud, he just barely managed to stay upright.

But they were still falling behind and any moment they would slip into the view of the other Harry or the Quidditch team. And what would happen then? At the very best, there would be an awful lot of awkward and bizarre explaining. As he struggled to keep a hold on his Nimbus Two Thousand, which was slippery from the rain, a thought struck him. He was holding what was -- in 1991, anyway -- the world's fastest broomstick. With that in his hand, how could he possibly be worried about being too slow? Hermione still holding on to him, Harry jumped on his broom and kicked off from the ground.

Hermione struggled for a moment to grasp onto the broom, but soon they were both speeding off towards the entrance hall. Harry could barely see ahead, but he already knew what direction he needed to fly in. Though he kept his broom just a few feet off the ground, its speed quickly left the other Harry far behind. The time-traveling Harry could hardly look up with all the rain and wind flying in his face, but he focused all his energy on keeping the broom steady and not changing its course.

In what was barely seven seconds, they burst through the doors of the entrance hall and Harry hastily steered the broom into the corridor with the unused classrooms. He was going so fast by now that he had no choice but to come in for a crash landing. They hit floor quite violently, but Hermione looked up completely beaming. Harry had never seen either the 1991 or the 2017 version of her smile like that.

"That -- was -- brilliant," she managed to breath, before again glancing at her watch. "11:44; we don't have much time!" Harry scrambled to his feet and Hermione quickly pushed him into a dark corner of the hallway.

"Okay," she told him, taking out her wand, "I'll do it here. You'll have to be able to instantly realize where you are when you wake up -- otherwise, you might think you're lost and wander around aimlessly."

"But wouldn't my other self see me here?" Harry asked in concern.

"You were your other self," Hermione replied. "Did you look in this corner when you passed into the classroom with the clock?"

"No, I just immediately noticed the clock thing and didn't really look at anything else," Harry answered.

"Well, there you are," said Hermione. "We know you won't look over here because you already didn't. Now, hold still." She pointed her wand at his forehead.

"Obliviate," she said.

Harry felt a huge portion of his memory go blank. He couldn't remember why he was standing there or even where he was standing. Nor could he remember who the woman standing in front of him was. Just before he could think to wonder about any of that, she pointed her wand at him.

"Stupefy," she whispered gently.

* * *

Harry awoke with the realization that he was lying on something very hard. He opened his eyes and saw he was in the ground-floor hallway that led off from the entrance hall. His Nimbus Two Thousand was lying on the floor right next to him. What was he doing there in the dead of night? What if Filch caught him? Harry sat up and racked his brains. He could remember leaving Quidditch practice and deciding to rest in this corridor for a minute, but he couldn't recall anything that had happened after that. He figured that he must have been so tired that he just nodded off.

However, a strange image kept hitting his mind -- an image of an adult woman -- a witch -- pointing her wand at him and whispering a spell. He could bring the image of this woman with her bushy brown hair fully into his mind, but he couldn't place her. It was especially maddening since her face did seem strangely familiar. Nevertheless, all he knew was that the image of her was clear -- sparkling clear -- but everything else that had happened after he entered the corridor was a big blank. His thoughts were interrupted by a clanging bell announcing the arrival of midnight.

Writing her off as a figment of his imagination, Harry got to his feet and, grabbing hold of his broomstick, sped off towards the dormitories, hoping he would get there in time.

THE END