Time And Time Again

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1975, Summer

"I know you're there," Mrs. McElheny called out as she surveyed the disaster area that, up until five minutes ago, was her flower garden. "Come out right now and I might go easy on you!"

"Yeah, right," a tall black-haired boy mouthed to the person standing next to him, well hidden behind a large tree. They knew perfectly well the old lady would only be too happy to force them to repair her lawn. So...maybe it was their fault...it's just soo hard to control a rampaging, giant, purple rabbit.

"She's not looking our way; we should make a run for it." A second tall black-haired boy whispered to the first.

"Okay. On three. One...two..."

"Hold it right there!" Mrs. McElhney appeared directly in front of the two boys, blocking their escape.

The two boys exchanged quick glances, knowing immediately what to do.

They ran, at full speed, towards the frail old woman.

Poor Mrs. McElhney thought they were going to attack her and rolled herself into a ball. ("Head tucked in!" The always perky self-defense teacher had said.)

Laughing maniacally, Sirius Black and James Potter raced down the street. *************************

1995, Summer

"I know you're there," Petunia Dursley called out shrilly. "You come out right now or I'll make sure Vernon hears of this!"

A few moments passed before the bedroom door opened, and a tall black- haired boy appeared.

Petunia's eyes widened slightly, before she forced her features to return to normal. She had always had a slight crush on James Potter. Not that she would ever tell anyone that, least likely of all her nephew, his son. But the few times that she had met James, she had been forced to admit, he was one fine specimen of manhood.

And everyday she had to watch his son become more and more of a heart- throb. Everyday she had to be reminded of how much better her sister was at... well, everything.

Petunia pushed back the bitter anger that always came when she thought of her sister, cleared her throat and addressed her nephew.

"There's trash to be taken out. The lawn needs mowing and I want you to prune the roses (they're looking straggly) and then wash and wax the car. When you're done with that, we'll see if anything else needs done."

Harry nodded dully before turning and heading down the stairs and into the kitchen. Of course Petunia knew why Harry had been so down that summer. Just before he returned from that god-awful school that June, a letter had come for her. (It was only addressed to her: Petunia Dursley, The Bedroom at the End of the Hall, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Almost as if they knew that she was slightly more open about these kind of things than her husband.)

Some student had died during some contest and Harry was somehow involved. The sender, Professor Dumblebee or something, had asked that she try to go a little easy on him this summer.

Well, Petunia didn't know what that boy's death had to do with Harry, but the best way to beat the blues was to keep your mind occupied. So she gave him even more chores to do this year than ever before. It was good for him. Really. It had absolutely nothing to do with Lily.

Petunia moved to the kitchen sink, looking through the window and watched the boy lower bags of garbage into trash cans. Lily had all the luck. *******************

1975, Summer

Growing up, Petunia assumed that being the oldest Evans girl, she'd be the best at everything. It was, after all, her birthright. And for a while that was true.

Petunia had always thought of herself as a suave, sophisticated beauty. True, she was no supermodel, but she did have long blonde hair and perfect blue eyes. (No glasses for her: Petunia had twenty-twenty vision.) She had a tall curvy body, with long shapely legs. There was not a single flaw on her body.

Lily on the other hand, had short, bright red hair with unmanageable curls. Just like a clown, Petunia always said. Lily was always reading some book and spouting off unimportant facts at odd intervals. She was short and so toothpick straight, she could be mistaken for a boy.

Petunia wasn't very smart, and sometimes she was a little snippety, but all she had to do was smile and the boys would fall all over themselves. Petunia smiled a lot.

Then Lily turned 15. Her unruly red hair turned into shiny, fire- colored waves. She came back from that school (if you can call a bunch of witches and warlocks chanting over a cauldron school) 3 inches taller and with the beginnings of a shapely body. Her face, which, before, had always been hidden in a book, finally showed itself, revealing porcelain smooth skin and uncanny green eyes.

Lily was beautiful, but no more so than Petunia. The difference, the one thing that made Lily the star and Petunia the sideshow, was her mysteriousness. Where did she go every school year? What were the books she read...the ones she hid behind her back whenever someone approached? The boys followed Lily everywhere, quickly forgetting about Petunia, always trying to get Lily's attention, always her asking questions.

But no one could get her to talk about her school. Lily was an impenetrable fortress when it came to that. Unfortunately, Petunia was not.

One day, in the first week of August, Lily was sitting in the park reading 202 Medicinal Herbs and What To Do With Them, when she felt something hit her head.

"Ow!" Her hand went to the back of her head and came back with a small spot of blood on her palm. "Wha?"

"Freak!"

Lily turned her head towards the sound. Three boys from the neighborhood, Nick Crophedy, Dylan Stafford and Frank Lewis, were standing about 10 meters from her. Lily considered asking them what they thought they were doing, but something made her change her mind. The way they were looking at her, the way they were standing...She didn't want to mess with them right now.

Dylan leant down and picked up a largish rock. He bounced it a few times in his hand. "Making another love potion, are we?"

Lily shook her head, almost replying that love potions were illegal, before realizing...they knew! How?

Then, Lily remembered the essay she's just written for History of Magic: Why Muggles Burned Witches Throughout History.

The first rock hit her shin. The second hit her shoulder. By the time the third one hit, Lily was running at top speed.

The three boys laughed maniacally, chasing her down the street.

******************** 1995, Summer

"Hot, isn't it?" Dudley said casually, taking another lick from his large ice cream cone.

Harry tried to ignore him, but the ice cream looked so good. Creamy. Sweet. Cold.

He let out a small moan, then went back to his work.

All I do is work, Harry though bitterly. His back was aching from bending over so long, and the back of his neck was surely bright red and peeling. His fingers and palms had cuts all over them from thorns. He was tired, hungry and bruised.

But he wasn't thinking about Cedric.

So...all in all, the summer wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be.

He had sent numerous letters to Sirius and Professor Dumbledore, asking if he could spend the summer with Ron and the Weasleys, but each response came back negative. They thought Privet Drive was the safest place for him considering the happenings of the last school year. Namely, Lord Voldemort regaining his physical body.

Deep down, Harry was slightly glad that he wasn't allowed to visit the Burrow. He wasn't sure how he'd be able to deal with Mrs. Weasley's mothering and Ron's questioning. They, he knew, wanted to make sure that he was okay with Cedric's death, but he wasn't sure if he was okay with it.

If he hadn't offered to share the trophy with Cedric, he's still be alive. If his name hadn't been pulled out of the Goblet, the Tournament would have gone the way it should have: Cedric would have won, Voldemort wouldn't have gotten his body, Barty Crouch might not have died.

So many "ifs." There was nothing Harry could do to change the past, he knew this, but, oh, how he wished....

Sometimes, late at night when he couldn't sleep because of nightmares (they came more often now), he would imagine how it could have been. He imagined that his parents were alive and he wasn't "famous Harry Potter." He was just some normal kid, with chores and homework, who got yelled at by his mum for having a messy room. Maybe he had siblings, a brother and a sister, maybe. Maybe he got into fights with them. That'd be nice. Just to be normal.

Harry sighed. There was no point wishing for what couldn't be.

He stood up from the rose bushes and began stretching. His muscles were tight and hurt from kneeling for so long in such an uncomfortable position.

As he headed towards the garage, he watched Dudley eating his ice cream, walking to the front porch . Suddenly Dudley slipped on a slippery patch of grass.

SPLAT!

Dudley landed head first into his ice cream cone.

Harry buried his face in the crook of his arm to keep from laughing out loud.

*Yeah. This summer isn't so bad.*

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1975, Summer

Lily placed her purse in the middle of the backseat of the car, between herself and Petunia, who narrowed her eyes in return, before turning to stare out the window.

She didn't understand why her parents had made Petunia come to see her off to Hogwarts. It's not like Lily wanted Petunia there, and it was obvious that Petunia felt the same way. They probably thought Lily and Petunia would make up once they realized that they wouldn't see each other for the rest of the year. Fat chance, Lily thought.

Lily and Petunia hadn't spoken to each other for nearly 3 weeks. Ever since Lily had learned that Petunia told those boys that she was a witch. Petunia claimed that it had simply slipped out when she was talking to them, that she didn't mean to tell anyone. But Lily saw the malicious gleam in Petunia's eyes, even if their parents had not.

Honestly, Lily thought, how can we even be related? She has to be adopted.

There was very little traffic so they arrived at King's Cross ahead of schedule. Lilly and her parents loaded her luggage onto a cart while Petunia stood around looking...petulant.

The Evans quietly wove their way through the people in the station. Muggles, Lily thought, I have to remember they're Muggles. She had been having a hard time learning to distinguish between Muggles and Wizards. She wasn't quite sure why it was important that she do so, but James and Sirius could point out a Wizard from a group of Muggles at 50 meters. Lily tried to do that, but had to admit, Muggles and Wizards looked very much alike.

When they reached the entrance to Platform 9 ¾, a plain brick wall in the middle of the terminal, Petunia gave a little sniff. As if to say, I can't believe I'm doing this. Lily ignored her, walking determinedly up to the barrier, then through it to the other side.

Lily was so determined to ignore he sister that she wasn't paying much attention to where she was going and ended up walking into someone.

"Hey! Watch it!"

Lily looked up, an apology on the tip of her tongue and saw the smiling face of James Potter.

"Hey yourself." She quickly replied.

James ignored her, purposefully looking over her body. He circled her, looking her up and down as he did so.

Finally he stopped in front of her again and asked, "Are you okay?"

Lily knew he was talking about the boys who had attacked her, she had written all of her friends about it during the two days when she was fuming.

"Yes, I'm fine. I think I might have exaggerated a little bit." She added sheepishly.

James shook his head solemnly, eyeing the bruise just above Lily's shoulder blade. "You never exaggerate."

"Lily!"

Turning around, Lily saw her mother rushing towards her from the Platform entrance.

"Thank....God. We... thought..... we'd.... lost you." Mrs. Evans said as she came to a stop, huffing and wheezing from her unintentional exercise.

Mr. Evans and Petunia came up, in a more respectable manner, shortly after.

Eyeing James warily, Mr. Evans addressed Lily, "Why don't you introduce us to your...friend, Lils?"

Dad! Lily thought, could you be any more obvious?

"Dad," Lily said, "this is my friend, James Potter. James, this is my Dad, my mum....and my sister."

Petunia eyed James appreciatively, but didn't say anything, possibly because Lily was shooting daggers at her.

"Nice to meet--" James was interrupted by a loud scream.

"Aaaaaarrrrrrgggghhhhhh!"

Someone jumped out of the crowd and at James' back, only to be punched in the stomach.

"Hi, Sirius." Lily said blandly. He waved cheerily at her, hunched over and wheezing.

Abruptly standing up, Sirius pulled his wand from his pocket and faced James.

"Hello," he said with a terrible Spanish accent. "My name is Sirius Black. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

James grinned, pulling his own wand from his pocket. "En Garde!" And off they went, wands clashing, red and purple sparks flying everywhere.

Lily stood there, watching them go off and shaking her head, quite sure that her parents thought her friends were insane. Which they probably were.

"Reminds me of your father when he was that age," Mrs. Evans said.

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

1995, Summer

Vernon Dursley grumbled loudly to himself as he heaved Harry's trunk out of the car's backseat.

"...Ruddy school...forcing me to go out of my way...urrgh." The trunk fell to the ground with a loud thump. Harry winced, hoping that nothing got broken; he had a few fragile items in there.

"There, boy," Vernon said, turning to face Harry. "Stay out of trouble. I swear if I get one letter telling me you've been causing trouble, I'll thrash you from here to kingdom come. Got it?" He leaned in towards Harry, bringing their faces only inches from each other. Harry nodded numbly.

"I got it."

With that, Vernon stepped into the car and sped off, with hardly a backwards glance at Harry.

Good riddance, Harry thought to himself.

He placed Hedwig's cage on top of his trunk (He had sent Hedwig along to Hogwarts ahead of him. She tended to attract too much attention around Muggles.) and looked around the station for a cart to carry his things with.

Once he had his things settled, Harry made his way through the station and towards the entrance to Platform 9 ¾.

He was anxious to see Ron and Hermione again, but a little afraid. He didn't want them to worry too much about him. He knew that after the end of the last school year he wasn't too lucid. But 3 months of talking to no one but Hedwig had cleared him of that. He'd come to a few conclusions about a few things. (1) Cedric's death was not his fault and (2) his parents' death was not his fault

Harry owed this new-found knowledge to a self-help book he'd found while dusting the Dursley's bookshelf. He had stuffed it into the waistband of his baggy jeans (they were hand-me-downs from Dudley, therefore there was enough room in them to hide a baby elephant) and waited until he got a chance to hide it in his bedroom under the loose floorboard that he used to hide his spell books. He had forgotten about it for a few days until he sat down to do his Transfiguration essay and pulled it out instead of his Transfiguration book. Once he started reading it, Harry had immediately decided that whoever wrote it was spot on about things. They knew exactly how he felt about Cedric's death. He re-read the book 4 times over during the summer (one more time than he'd Quidditch Through the Ages) and tucked it into his trunk while he was packing for school.

As he came to the entrance to Platform 9 ¾, Harry surreptitiously checked to make sure no one was looking his way, then quickly slipped through the barrier.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry scanned the scene before him. The bright red train sat on the tracks, surrounded by hundreds of students, parents, owls, cats, and (not so many) frogs.

Towards the left, near the train, Harry spotted a group of redheads.

He pushed his way through the crowd to the Weasleys, ignoring the few stares he received.

"Oi! Harry!" Ron shouted as he spied Harry heading towards him, "What's up?"

"Not much," Harry replied, wincing a little when Ron slapped him jovially on the back. Ron was getting a pretty good arm on him.

"Did you get the birthday present I sent? Pig was acting a little off when I sent him to you, so I thought I'd check."

Harry had gotten the present, a set of Quidditch balls, like the ones the professionals used. Pig, Ron's miniature owl, had flown into Harry's room at high speed on his birthday and crashed straight into his closet. Harry had spent fifteen minutes untangling the tiny owl from heaps of discarded trousers and shirts.

Harry grinned, remembering the shocked look on Hedwig's feathered face, when he had told her that Pig would be spending a few days in her cage until the owl had recovered.

"Did Hermione tell you?" Harry asked, referring to the Hermione being made Prefect.

"Yeah! I don't know whether to be happy or sad..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it," Ron said, as he helped Harry carry his trunk to a storage compartment. "Either 'Mione will let us get away with all kinds of stuff, keep us from getting in trouble, or...she'll make us clean up our acts."

"Don't you think it's time you did that nonetheless?"

Ron groaned. Hermione had come up behind them.

"Why should I?"

"Because," she began, "we're Fifth Years now, we have OWLs soon, we should be doing our best to prepare for them and to be good influences on the younger students. Our actions reflect on people's opinions of Hogwarts. I know that I, personally, want them to have a good one, don't you?" She glared at Ron, daring him to say no.

"Hi, 'Mione. How was your summer?"

"Harry!" Hermione turned, noticing Harry for the first time. She threw her arms around him, giving him a hug.

"Oh, Harry, how are you?"

"Fine," he replied before lowering Hermione to the ground.

Wow, he thought, she's changed.

Hermione had obviously spent time in the sun as her skin had a darker tint and a nice, warm glow. Her hair was lighter and the curls she always complained about seemed smoother. She was taller, too. Although it was only a few inches, it was enough to be noticeable. And with what he could tell from that hug she just gave him, a few inches wasn't the only thing she'd grown. Harry wasn't interested in Hermione in that way, but, hey, he was a guy.

"How are you about....." She asked.

Harry grimaced a little at that. He was right about her worrying about him.

While he and Ron were lifting her trunk into the storage compartment, Harry told her about the self-help book he'd found, and the newfound wisdom he'd acquired. Ron looked at him oddly at this, as if he weren't sure whether to admire Harry for his growth or to think that he was insane for reading something that wasn't assigned by a professor. Harry laughed at the strange expression on Ron's face, clapped him soundly on his back (Ron wasn't the only one who was getting a good arm on him-Ron winced slightly when Harry did this.) and promised to never read anything that wasn't assigned unless it had to do with Quidditch.

The group made their way into an empty compartment. When the train began to move, Harry, Ron and Hermione leaned out of the window and waved madly at Mrs. Weasley until all that was left of her was an odd shaped blob with red hair.

The trio quickly caught up with each other as they talked about things they had done over the summer. Ron had practiced Quidditch all summer long. With Oliver Wood gone, the Gryffindor team's Keeper position was open and Ron hoped to win it. Harry hoped he did, he didn't want people to always think of Ron as Harry Potter's faithful sidekick.

Hermione, it turned out, had visited Victor Krum over the holidays, much to Ron's disappointment. According to Hermione, though, Victor had gotten the wrong idea by her visiting him. Two days into the trip, he cornered her in the library.

"Did he try to take advantage of you?" Ron asked slowly, his face growing redder with every word.

Hermione huffed in offense. "No one takes advantage of me, Ron Weasley. He just tried to kiss me."

"And what did you do?" asked Harry.

"I told him, in no uncertain terms, that I was only interested in his friendship. Nothing more."

"And how'd he react to that?" Ron seemed slightly happier about that, but still had a glowering look on his face.

"Well, he suddenly had a Quidditch game in Ireland that he had to go to and my visit was cut short."

Ron smiled at this, then pulled a pack of exploding snap out of his pocket. "Wanna play?"

The next few hours went by quickly. Harry was relieved to find that everything seemed to be back to normal. But something was missing. Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but something was keeping the day from seeming just like every other September 1st since he was eleven.

That elusive something appeared just as the middle-aged woman who sold snacks off a cart was leaving their compartment. The three friends were making so much noise, opening boxes of Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs, that they didn't hear the compartment door slid open.

In walked a short, slight boy, with a small pointed face and blonde, almost white hair. On each side he was flanked by two large, mostly indiscrete boys, known only as Crabbe and Goyle.

"Look who we found! The orphan, the Mudblood and the charity case." Malfoy said, as if he was surprised that he'd walked into the compartment Harry and his friends used every year and had found them there.

"Get..out." Ron said simply.

"Or do you want a repeat of last year?" Harry added.

At the end of the last school year, Malfoy and his goons had insulted Cedric Diggory and made light of the Dark Lord's return. They ended up being on the receiving end of multiple curses because of that. Harry was pleased to see that Draco still had hex marks on his face, like a bad case of acne that went haywire.

"I'd like to see you try." Malfoy answered. "You may have gotten away with it before, but not this time."

Both Ron and Harry stood at Draco's challenge. Harry was pleased to see that Draco swallowed nervously, once he noticed that Ron and Harry had each grown several inches over the summer. Obviously, he was starting to rethink his position.

He slowly back up, taking Crabbe and Goyle with him, until they were just outside the door. Then, just before he ran as fast he could down the corridor, he said, "Rumor has it, Chang thinks you killed Cedric." Then he was gone.

Harry moaned loudly. "I forgot about Cho." How could I forget about Cho?! He asked himself. He had never wondered what she thought about him now, especially after the Tournament. Harry realized that his feelings for her had changed-he saw now (thanks mostly to the self-help book) that his feelings for her had been superficial, that he didn't know anything about her, not enough to base a relationship on. And, frankly, after Cedric's death, Harry didn't want a relationship with Cho, at least not a romantic one, anyway.

"I'm sure that Malfoy was lying." Hermione said immediately.

"Yeah. Everybody heard what Dumbledore said at the end of year feast. That You-Know-Who killed Cedric." Ron quickly added.

"But..."

"No 'buts,' Harry," Hermione interrupted. "There is no reason for her to think that was your fault. Why would you go through all the trouble to bring back Cedric's body if you wanted to be rid of him? And why would you set up a Portkey to do it? You could have let Victor finish him off in the maze. And why..."

"Alright, alright. I get it. I couldn't have killed him."

"Good." Hermione nodded once, then pulled a large book from her purse (When did 'Mione start carrying a purse?) and began reading. In moments she was oblivious to everything around her, even Ron making silly faces at her from across the compartment.

The rest of the trip went quickly. Other students came in and out of the cabin, just to say hello and to see if Harry was alright. Harry tried to remind himself that they were trying to help, but constantly being looked at as if he was going to break down into tears was starting to grate on his nerves.

Fred and George came in later, and began a game called "Alright, Harry?" Every time someone asked "Alright, Harry?" Fred, Ron, George and Harry would eat a Chocolate Frog. By the time the train reached the Hogsmeade station, Harry had eaten 27 Frogs and his face had taken on a greenish tint, only causing more people to ask "Alright, Harry?"

*****