The Time-Turner Chronicles

Chapter 12

Three Sisters

Harry sat in his chair staring at the headmaster openly, thoughts racing through his mind at high speed. Thoughts, all kinds of thoughts and memories, starting from seeing Hermione in the crystal ball, something that seemed to have happened so long ago, pictures, brief flashbacks of sitting in the bubble with the others, making escape plans, Lily throwing herself at him when she had run into the Entrance Hall... the few moments he and James had stared at each other, unbelievingly, transfixed... suddenly, Sirius was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, suddenly he was falling through the veil... Sirius was dead... his parents were dead... but now, they were so alive, so full of life and hope, so innocent... Harry hardly noticed that he was getting up again and pushed Hermione's hand away absently.

"No. No, I can't let you wipe their memories," Harry whispered.

Waking from his dreamy state, he suddenly tore away from Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron and Draco, nearly knocking over the little spindle-legged tables with the weird instruments and ran over to the door, fear mounting and threatening to drown him, he couldn't let them run into their fate's like this, not now when he might be able to save them from it, he couldn't just sit and watch it all happen, he couldn't, he just couldn't....

"Harry!" Hermione and Ron's voice yelled behind him, but it all seemed so far away; he didn't take it in at all. All Harry could think about, was how we could not let them get their memories wiped, because it was like signing their death sentence with his own quill. He would not let them die, not this time, not when he had the chance to prevent it.

Before he even reached the door, it flew open. Harry wondered dimly why, but in his confusion he hadn't noticed the now already familiar power within him surfacing and opening the door magically. He ran out, heading down the spiral stone staircase quickly. He would find them, he would talk to them... and if he had to take them out of class... he would find them, of course he would. He could use the Marauder's Map; it was still in his pocket. Harry nearly tripped on the hem of his robes as he rushed down the staircase, but caught himself again. He reached into his pocket and felt the cool wood of his wand and the old piece of parchment, the precious map, in it. At last, Harry could see the end of the stairs and jumped the last few steps - but only to stop dead in his tracks. The wall the stone gargoyle stood in front of on the other side was closed. Harry couldn't ever remember coming down the staircase to not find it open. Well, it might be like all other password-protected passages, for instance the Fat Lady of Gryffindor Tower, he thought. Harry took a step towards it and pushed against the wall, expecting it to move.

But it did not budge.

Feeling stupid and a little helpless, he stepped back. What now? A thought occurred to him and Harry laughed. What an idiot! Dumbledore had used the password in front of their very eyes. He smiled triumphantly and cleared his throat.

"Jelly Slugs," he announced to the dark stone wall.

However, contrary to his expectation, the wall did not see fit state to open up, it did not slide away like he wanted it to. Harry waited for a while, hoping that the mechanism just worked very slowly, but after several seconds, he knew that it was wishful thinking; the wall would not open. Furious at the wall, Dumbledore and also himself, Harry let out an angry yell.

"Open up, you stupid wall!" he shouted and kicked it.

Of course, he paid for that at once as a throbbing pain spread up from his foot. Hopping on one leg, holding his shoe and trying to ignore the way his big toe was aching, he glared at the wall, enraged. Dumbledore had done something to the wall to keep it from opening up; there was no other explanation. Quite suddenly, Harry felt the pain vanishing and nearly toppled over in shock, when he remembered that it was probably healing up. He couldn't help grinning a little. The newly found power was really not bad. Not bad at all. But, all the same, he had to admit defeat. He couldn't get out. Harry was tempted into trying to open the wall with his wand, but didn't bother. A normal spell would hardly do the trick. He turned around, fuming, and started climbing the staircase quickly for it was not moving. It was the second time that Dumbledore had played that trick on him... just locking him in like that... Harry stepped up and found himself facing the gleaming oak door again. It was closed, and a brass door knocker, shaped as a Griphon, twinkled at him malevolently.

"Come on in," Dumbledore's cheery voice sounded from inside, making Harry want to vomit and he pushed the door open grimly, stepping back into the office.

Hermione, Ron and Draco had turned in their seats and were looking at him in a rather worried way; Dumbledore was resting his chin on his fingertips that were placed against each other again. And he was grinning. Harry went in and slammed the door shut behind him. A few headmasters and headmistresses started mumbling in disapprobation, but Harry didn't care; he tried to ignore them.

"Honestly," he heard one of them mutter distinctively. "Typical of those nasty little brats."

Harry turned and was not surprised to find Phineas Nigellus gazing at him. He resisted the urge to throw something at the portrait of the ancient headmaster, Sirius's great-great-grandfather. Sirius. Of course, everything reminded him of either Sirius or his parents. But somehow... Sirius's death had become so much harder to support than the fact he didn't have parents....

"Just like my great-great-grandson, that one. Same outbreaks of-"

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared at Phineas, whose mouth was twitching, probably in an attempt to not laugh out loud.

"Phineas, please. Do not press the matter; that was quite sufficient. Now, Harry, would you like to sit back down with us?" Dumbledore continued pleasantly, as if nothing had happened.

Harry shot a glare full of loathing at Phineas Nigellus, but then strode over to his vacant armchair and sunk into it. Hermione cleared her throat but as Harry stared at her angrily, she didn't breathe a word. Ron's mouth was slightly open, but he closed it quickly as he received the same glare. Draco wasn't doing anything Harry felt he could punish him for, so he turned his gaze to Dumbledore who did not blink, but looked back at him with his annoying, omniscient stare.

"You like doing that, don't you?" Harry hissed.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, sounding a little astounded, still not blinking. But Harry knew better now. Dumbledore knew exactly what Harry meant. Exactly.

"Nothing," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Nothing at all."

After a short round of silence in which Harry was still fuming, Hermione was still trying to work up the courage to give him a lecture, Ron was still looking as if he had seen a Hippogriff dancing Can-Can with a house-elf, Draco was still keeping out of the whole issue and Dumbledore was still even more annoying than all three of them together, the headmaster finally started to speak again.

"So... where were we? Ah, yes. Professor Dumbledore (at this, he grinned) asked me to send you back as quickly as possible."

For a moment, Harry nearly forgot his wrath and was sure that all four of them, Hermione, Ron, Draco and himself, looked as if they had just seen a group of twenty singing Hippogriffs dancing Can-Can with drunk, red-nosed house-elves.

"Yes, yes, Fawkes brought me his letter. I'm sure you witnessed," Dumbledore continued, looking very pleased at the confusion he was causing. "As Fawkes will always die and be reborn from his ashes, he doesn't have quite the same notion of time as we do... but I'm sure you know what extraordinary animals phoenixes are. Now, as I said before - my, this conversation really does get interrupted a lot, don't you think? - I will be sending you back in a few minutes. I was going to ask you, Harry, if you still had that interesting power, but as you demonstrated when you charged out of the room, it does look like it. Good. Now... I'll be needing an object that will do for a time-dimension Portkey..." Dumbledore got up from his high-backed seat, looking around his office and answered Hermione's question before she had even thought of asking it aloud. "The Time-Turner is quite risky, Miss Granger, that is why I do not wish to use it. It might so happen that the Reinforcement Charm - a rather excellent idea, if I may say so - could have worn off a little. Since there is no way of finding out if one turn will really take you back in time for a whole year... no, back to the future of course... it simply is too risky. You could end up only going forward in time for only a few months. But you must take it back with you of course. Ah! This will do fine," he said happily and walked past them, taking an odd miniscule cauldron from a shelf; it fitted easily in the palm of this hand. "I have so many of these, and I am quite sure that I'll have lost them all in twenty-three years," he said, smiling mysteriously.

"Are we not going to see them at least one last time, Professor?" Draco asked, the first word he had spoken since they had entered the room.

"I am sorry, but that will not be possible."

"Not at all?" Hermione asked, aghast. "We didn't even really say good-bye!"

"You can't do that!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up again.

"I know, I know. Believe me, I understand better than you think. But you cannot see them again, otherwise we will be having a lot of problem concerning the memory-"

"We don't want them to have their memories modified-" Harry started angrily.

"Now, now... surely, you do want to be born, don't you?" Dumbledore asked rather sternly, putting the little cauldron down on his table. "There is too much at stake. It is important that you go back to the future as soon as possible. If your parents and the other students keep the knowledge of this day, they will not only put you all in danger, but also themselves. They will be one of Lord Voldemort's (Draco and Ron flinched) targets, for the information, as useless as it seems to you right now, has immense value. We - myself and I, that is (and again, Dumbledore grinned) - we weren't sure about not modifying all your memories as well, but as you are going back to the future, that is not much of a problem."

Harry fell back into his chair quietly. Dumbledore took their silence for some sort of understanding and went to pick up a thick volume covered with spider webs and dust from a shelf. He placed it on his desk carefully - it seemed to be rather ancient and ready to fall apart - and started leafing through it until he found a chapter entitled "Time-Dimension-Portkeys". Hermione frowned and bent forward, trying to read the old text; but it seemed to be near impossible. The microscopic writing was fading and the paper of the book was crumbling to pieces. Just as Harry realized the concentrated expression on her face as well as her eyes darting forward and backward, indicating that she had overcome the difficulties of reading the historic text, Dumbledore shut the book quickly. Hermione jumped, sneezing as a cloud of dust issued from the tome. "Bless you," Dumbledore said without any hint of reproach; yet Hermione reddened, ashamed of having been caught. The headmaster placed the book back on the shelf and then picked up a small vial, filled with a violent turquoise liquid. With meticulous accuracy, he let four exactly equal drops fall into the tiny cauldron, and tapped it with his wand. "Portus Dimensionis."

The cauldron trembled, glowing in a mixture of blue and white light, but stopped quivering soon after, resting on the table as if nothing had happened, a normal, even if very small, pewter cauldron.

"We have to drink that?" Hermione asked, eyeing the vial apprehensively. "I've heard of the potion. A lot of things can easily go wrong when it's brewed."

"But," Dumbledore said, taking out four spoons and dripping one drop on each, "as you have seen, the potion works; otherwise, the cauldron would not have glowed - it would have burst into flames if the liquid was useless. Now," he continued, closing the vial with a cork, "Have you all used a Portkey before?" All four nodded glumly. "Good. This will be nothing different to a normal Portkey-travel, there's no need to worry. It might take slightly longer and you might feel a little dizzy afterwards. Come quickly, you must leave now."

Ron reached for a spoon and drank the tiny glistening pearl of liquid quickly. "I don't feel any different - whoa..." he said, suddenly gripping the table tightly and closing his eyes. "I going to be sick..."

"Ah, very good," Dumbledore said, turning to Hermione, "another indication that the potion is in fine working condition. Now, please..." he trailed off, pointing at the three untouched spoons. However, Draco, Hermione and Harry were far from accepting what was happening. Very far from it. Draco shook his head slowly.

"You can't make us leave just like that," he mumbled.

Dumbledore looked at them calmly before he spoke again. "I will meet all of them, including Mr Potter and Mr Black, even though they were not directly involved in the Meeting of the Houses, this evening in my office. Before performing the memory modifications, I will explain what happened and who you were. I will explain everything about you, all of you. Yes, also about you, Harry," he continued with a nod in his direction. "After that, and before the memory wipes, I shall ask them if they want to tell you anything in form of a letter. Fawkes will bring them to you."

Harry's heart leapt with relief, although he still wanted to be furious with Dumbledore. He also had the impression that Hermione and Draco relaxed a little at his side.

"Is that an offer?" Dumbledore asked.

Hermione nodded slowly and got up, followed by Draco. They both picked up a spoon and drank the liquid carefully. Hermione shuddered and swayed, just as Harry pushed himself out of the armchair. He caught her around the middle before she fell over. "Thanks," she muttered, stumbling back to her chair feebly, her eyes shut, a hand on her forehead. Draco seemed to be coping better than both Ron and Hermione. True, his hand was clasping the table rather tightly and his face was pale, but other than that, he appeared stable. Finally, Harry took the last spoon and swallowed the turquoise drop. For a moment, he wrinkled his nose at the intense taste of soap and as the tiny drop descended his throat, it left behind a sore, burning trace. Then, suddenly, it was gone. Bracing himself for the wave of sickness, Harry shut his eyes and willed himself not to vomit - his belly twisted and churned violently. He felt like when he was younger and sitting in the Dursleys' car, Uncle Vernon driving far too fast for the windy road, Harry's stomach turning, his face white as a sheet, as Dudley unpacked chocolate bars and peanut butter sandwiches.

Becoming accustomed to the plummeting feeling in his stomach, Harry swallowed, breathing deeply, and opened his eyes again to find Ron, Draco and Hermione touching the little cauldron. Following them, he went forward to come in contact with the cauldron as well, standing between them, facing Dumbledore.

"All right. Are you all touching the cauldron? On the count of three then."

"Professor?" Harry asked before he could help himself.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Dumbledore smiled. "One... two... three!"

All of a sudden, Harry felt the familiar, powerful jerk from behind his navel and the sensation of his feet losing touch of the ground as he whirled around in a mist of colours, fast forward... his finger was stuck to the cauldron, pulling him onward, it seemed... the others' shoulders were banging into him as they spun back to the future madly, wind howling in their ears... it was taking longer than he had ever travelled by Portkey with... just as Harry started to feel dizzy, he had the impression that everything was slowing down... and a second later, his feet hit the solid ground once again, the cauldron fell to the stone floor and all four of them slumped down next to it, unable to keep up straight.

~

"Ouch! Ron, that's my hand you're sitting on!"

"Sorry, Hermione... I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, just bloody GET OFF IT!"

Harry laughed at his two friends bickering as usually and got up with Draco. He pulled Hermione up after him who was still glaring furiously at Ron, picking up the tiny cauldron.

"Honestly," she mumbled and helped him up as well.

Harry already knew that they were standing in Dumbledore's office and was not in the slightest surprised when he looked around. In direct comparison with Dumbledore's office 23 years ago, not that much had changed. The headmaster had accumulated a few more curious objects and peculiar mechanisms, but otherwise, the room had remained the way it had been. Neither Ron nor Hermione lost a word about it either, but Draco was scanning it with interest.

"I didn't want to say it back in the past, but Dumbledore has a nice little office here," he muttered, still gazing around.

"Never been in it before?" Harry asked, surprised. "Never in seven years of school?"

"Nope," Draco answered, grinning. "I try to keep out of trouble, you see."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry laughed.

"Well, look at it - I meet you lot in a classroom, the next thing I know is I'm being kidnapped, taken to the past, nearly get killed by the Dark Lord, manage to escape, am brought back and find myself where? In Dumbledore's office. Sounds like trouble to me. Do you do that kind of stuff often?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied, smiling. "At least once a year."

They all laughed. Hermione placed the small cauldron on Dumbledore's claw-footed desk in the middle of the room, wondering where the headmaster could possibly be. She had actually expected him waiting for them.

"But you know, being in Dumbledore's office doesn't necessarily mean trouble. It actually means not being punished for loads of trouble," Ron said thoughtfully.

"And yes, we do that at least once a year as well," Hermione added and they laughed again.

Sobering up, Harry looked around. The headmasters and headmistresses on the portraits were eyeing them with great interest yet again. Of course, how often did students just appear out of nowhere? Well, it seemed to be happening more and more often since Harry had started Hogwarts. One of the headmistresses, a particularly plump witch with wide purple robes, caught Harry's eye and winked.

"How did you get here, my dears? What do you want?"

"Oh, a few time-turning turbulences," Harry said, grinning. "Nothing worth mentioning. Could you perhaps tell me where Dumbledore is, please?"

"He should be around any minute, I'm quite sure."

"Thanks," Harry said, wondering if he wanted to see Dumbledore at all. If it hadn't been for him, they could have stayed in the past longer, they could have spoken to his parents properly. Then they might not have got their memories wiped. This annoyed him a little, but at the same time, he knew deep down that Dumbledore must have had his reasons... he always had reasons for acting the way he did.

But sometimes they lead to the wrong decisions, Harry thought, casting a weary eye over Phineas Nigellus's portrait. The most unpopular headmaster of Hogwarts sat in a chair, snoring. But he was probably awake, acting as if he was sleeping so that he could eavesdrop.

"Ah, finally. I was getting quite worried, you know," a voice suddenly came from the other side of the room. Harry and the others whipped around just in time to see a bookcase sliding back in place, hiding a secret passageway behind Albus Dumbledore, today in deep red robes.

He stepped towards them slowly, looking relieved and anxious at the same time. Soon, they should understand why.

~

"Narcissa."

Albus Dumbledore nodded and pulled out a seat for her. Narcissa Malfoy sat down gracefully, her fine blond hair shining in the afternoon sun that was pouring in through the windows as she folded her hands in her lap. The headmaster picked up her black cloak and hung it up near the door. He returned towards his desk and sank into his high-backed chair, looking at Lucius Malfoy's wife thoughtfully.

"You wanted to speak to me," Albus Dumbledore then said.

"Yes, indeed," Narcissa Malfoy answered. She looked up from her perfectly manicured nails abruptly and with a determined glint in her usually cold and unreadable eyes. "The matter is pressing."

~

"Sit down, please," Dumbledore said and pointed at four seats in front of his desk. "I've been waiting for you, I even prepared the seats in advance. Dear, dear, I can't remember myself ever being that impatient before."

Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ron sat down behind his desk, but this time on the very edge of their seats.

"Professor," Harry started. "You must know that none of the others bear any responsibility for-"

"No, I'm aware of that. But something you might not know is that you don't bear any responsibility either," Dumbledore said, sighing. "Where should I start, where should I start... well, I need to know how much you know of what has happened in the last few hours first."

"Well... Professor Dumbledore... uhm, your old -well, actually younger self..." Hermione started awkwardly, "... told us that there was more behind this than Harry's wish to go back to the past..."

"Yes, but he didn't explain much more," Ron added.

"All we actually know is what we worked out with the other houses," Draco said slowly, thinking of a way to explain what had happened. "Especially what Lily told us."

"You see, Professor," Harry said, "We had a few strange encounters."

"Yes... I know what you mean," Dumbledore said. "After all, I've already been through the story before."

~

Albus Dumbledore nodded wisely although he was not sure where Narcissa Malfoy wanted to lead this story to. Perhaps it had something to do with Lucius; perhaps she had heard from a plan for the Death Eaters that were still in Azkaban with him to escape. He knew that she had never been a Death Eater, although she did hold with the pureblood mania. But not all wizards that believed in being pureblood were on Voldemort's side. Even if someone would have expected it of Narcissa Malfoy. And, he accused himself gravely, he had been of the same opinion until he had got her owl a few days ago.

"Please, I beg you to speak," Albus Dumbledore insisted.

Narcissa Malfoy nodded. "Yes, it's just hard to find the beginning... I presume I should start with a recent event," she said, her voice shaking a little. "About a week ago, I found out what happened to Andromeda."

Albus Dumbledore was surprised, but did not show it. Interesting. He hadn't thought that Narcissa would have cared. "Andromeda... she was your sister, after all."

"Yes, a long time ago," Narcissa replied silently. "A very long time ago we were sisters... it's hard to understand how people as close as we were can drift apart so rapidly... but things started going downhill after her marriage to Ted Tonks. She was my sister. And now she can never be again."

The headmaster did not interrupt, observing Narcissa carefully through his half-moon spectacles. She had turned her head away from him and was looking out of the open window sadly. Her eyes were sparkling with tears, he remarked. And although the issue was by no means a happy one, he was pleasantly surprised.

"I hadn't spoken to her in years. Not since her daughter was born... Nymphadora, I think. That was just before my marriage to Lucius," she added rather reluctantly, it seemed. "I had invited Andromeda, although most of the family had protested. She came all the same. It was the last time I ever saw her.... I've always rather detested family reunions.

"Last week I received a letter from her husband... about her death," Narcissa said in a whisper. She pulled out a black tissue and dabbed her eyes with it. "I - I was devastated and it surprised me. The reason Ted Tonks had written was because she had left a letter addressed to me. She had written it the evening after that disastrous wedding of mine. Saying that she didn't blame me for anything. That I would always be her little sister. Always, no matter what.

"But she hasn't been my elder sister for me since then. I didn't talk to her anymore, didn't write, didn't bother sending birthday cards. Lucius wanted me to stay away from her. Mudblood-influence, he used to say. And now, I feel so guilty about it... so guilty...

"I was always the sandwich-daughter, in more than one way. First, of course, I was born after Andromeda and before Bellatrix. The girl in the middle. Then, I would be friends with Andromeda one day and, under the influence of Bella, hate her the next. My two sisters always rather despised each other... especially Bella loathed Andromeda. She said Andromeda was our parents' favourite child... she might have been until she married anyway.... But they had never got along well, you see, and I was always between them. The worst time I had was that one year at Hogwarts when Andromeda was in seventh and Bella in first.... However, Andromeda never said anything against Bella when I was with her. She would never retaliate when Bella insulted her....

"And I was between them in yet another aspect. Andromeda had a lot of friends among muggle-born students. Andromeda had - in secret, of course - a totally different view of blood and being pure than the rest of the family. And as long as Andromeda was around, I believed her.

"But then Bella stepped in. After Andromeda had left school, I found myself to be rather lonely and spent a lot of time with my younger sister... my younger, brain-washed sister that believed in everything our parents said about pure-bloods being better and who always took the view that was opposing to Andromeda's anyway. And so, I started to drift away from my older sister more and more... I should have known what Bella was heading for... and true to her belief, shortly after Andromeda and Ted married, she announced that she had been welcomed into the Dark Lord's circle as a Death Eater.

"As far as I know, you haven't found out who killed Andromeda, have you yet, Dumbledore?" Narcissa asked, looking up. "Well, I'll tell you who it was. It was Bellatrix. Bella killed her own sister. My sister."