Free Will and Fate

Professor McGonagall offered the open tin to Harry, a wide smile on her face. "Have a biscuit, Potter."

Remembering the last time she'd offered him one in her office, Harry took it without hesitating, sure he was about to receive a lecture or detention or something else that was his modus operandi in starting the school year at Hogwarts.

"I would like to speak with you about the events that occurred yesterday."

Harry frowned around the cookie he'd stuffed into his mouth and chewed fiercely, swallowing hard. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Is there something specific you want to talk about?" Surely, the one professor he thought he could trust wasn't working for Snape as well?

"I mean, what happened on your way to school?" She leaned against the front of her desk and smiled faintly, her wand seemingly pointed in his direction. After a few seconds of watching Harry intently, she stood from her desk and moved to sit behind it, levitating the tin forward with a silent spell. "Have another biscuit, Potter."

"I don't know if I should. I have lunch in--"

"I insist." She smiled and Harry was taken aback. Though not a mean woman, Minerva McGonagall hardly smiled at anyone this much, least of all a student with a penchant for breaking the rules.

"I know how teenage boys are," she continued. "By the time you get down to the Great Hall, it'll be as if you'd never eaten anything at all. Go on."

At her direction, he took another ginger cookie, this time carefully shifting them around with his fingers, searching for one near the bottom. He didn't think she'd attempt to poison him, but Harry had no way of knowing if the woman running the school was acting of her own free will. Hadn't he been told that Death Eaters sought to control people in positions of power? He knew firsthand how difficult it was to throw off the Imperius Curse, and that was when he'd known it was coming.

After examining it quickly, he ate the cookie, pondering how to answer her question. "I didn't get on the train yesterday. When it left I was--" using a Time-Turner, his mind screamed at him to say. Shaking the thought off, he said, "I was traveling and didn't make it."

"How did you get to the school then?" She offered the tin again silently and Harry took another cookie without a fuss. "I don't recall Severus leaving Hogwarts to come for you, or receiving a message from you that you had missed the train."

"I...you saw Professor Snape before the train arrived? When?"

"Well, yes. I saw him out on the grounds in the morning." Shaking her head quickly, she persisted. "How did you get to the school, Mr. Potter?"

"I used the Floo Network to get from the Ministry of Magic to the Gryffindor common room." Inwardly, Harry cursed at himself for admitting he'd been at the Ministry at all. He had no reasonable excuse for being there. He reached for a cookie before Professor McGonagall could offer him another one. Eating would give him a chance to avoid talking for a few seconds.

She surveyed him over her square black glasses. Her placating smile had been replaced by her usual scowl. "Did you have business at the Ministry that you felt was more important than catching the train to school, Potter?"

"I wanted to speak to Dumbledore." That, at least, was the truth. Not all of it. Not the reason he was in the building, but it was what he'd been thinking about as he'd stood in the Atrium, realizing the train for school had come and gone. Glancing at the portrait hanging behind the Headmistress's desk, Harry thought he'd seen it blink. That isn't possible, he thought. Not unless Dumbledore is dead. At least, that was how he understood the enchantment to work.

"The Minister? Why?"

"I--" Think! "I have a question for him, about something I need help with."

Only her solitary raised eyebrow betrayed her surprise. "Potter, tell me. The train left at eleven in the morning and you did not arrive at Hogwarts until after dinner had begun. Where were you all that time? I think it is safe to say you were not waiting outside the Minister's office all day on a Sunday."

Harry wracked his brain for a response and could not think of one that wouldn't immediately land him in trouble. He was very fuzzy on the punishments one could receive for time traveling without permission, but he didn't think a year's worth of detention was even going to come close if McGonagall decided to turn him in.

"I don't want to tell you," he finally blurted, alarm crossing his features as he sat back in the chair.

McGonagall levitated the empty tin to the trash can next to her desk. The expressions on her face ran the gamut between confusion and frustration, finally settling on a weary kind of acceptance.

"Did you do something illegal yesterday?" The movement was subtle, but Harry noticed her wand was pointed at him again, trained directly at his chest from its vantage point on the desk. Her fingers lingered lightly over the handle.

"I...no. But, I didn't get permission and I know the Ministry regulates it."

"Regulates? Permission for what?" She paused and turned her head at an angle, studying him from over the tops of her glasses. "Who are you?"

"Pardon?"

"Who are you?" she enunciated slowly.

"Harry Potter." His eyes widened in alarm. Am I--the other me--on the school grounds somewhere? Suddenly afraid she was on the verge of cursing him, he said, "Professor McGonagall, you know me. My birthday is July thirty-first. I've been at Hogwarts since I was eleven." He continued when she looked skeptical, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents were here before me. They were both in Gryffindor. My father was the Chaser for the House team. My mother was Head Girl her last year. I've played Seeker since--"

"You've played Quidditch?" She leaned forward on the desk then, her eyes boring into his.

"I...did. Not recently, though." At least he could be sure Umbridge's lifetime ban would no longer apply. He had to get back on the House team once he'd gotten everything else straightened out.

McGonagall's eyes closed and she leaned back in the chair again, her lips moving in a rapid whisper. "Mr. Potter?" She spoke in a low voice, eyes still closed.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry hadn't been aware of it before, but now all of the paintings in the room seemed awake and alive, no longer shamming sleep as they usually did when the Head of Hogwarts was in office. They all seemed to be watching him closely, some with disapproving scowls on their faces. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus, Sirius Black's great-great-grandfather, seemed most upset of all; the corners of his mouth were twitching as he apparently fought the urge to interrupt the questioning.

Harry suddenly wished he'd thought of other things to say to her, other traits she would recognize as belonging uniquely to him. But there were none, he realized. Every memory he had, save for his own existence, belonged to another world, another Harry that no one here would know. He could only hope he wouldn't end up in Azkaban for what he'd done.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me?" Professor McGonagall opened her eyes then and eyed Harry as he shifted in his chair, his chin wobbling as he struggled to think of an answer. It was a question he'd heard from Dumbledore several times and he'd never been able to answer it.

"Are you going to hurt the students of this school?" she asked.

"Me? No!" He sat up from the back of the chair then. "Why would you think that?"

"What is it you're not telling me, Mr. Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes. His right hand rubbed absently at the tingling scar on his forehead. He was fighting the urge, the almost overwhelming desire to confess everything he'd done, but he couldn't. He knew that giving up all of his information was giving up what little control he did have over the situation. And he just couldn't do that. Not without knowing for sure there was someone in his corner. Not with his own disappearance and hospitalization. Not with Snape out to get him. He couldn't take that chance.

"There's someone here who I think wants to hurt me," he said finally. He opened his eyes to find Professor McGonagall regarding him warily. "I think...he's tried at least once. I don't want to tell you anything about yesterday or what I'm doing now because...I think you'll act on it."

"As well I should, Mr. Potter. If there's any danger--"

"There's no proof." He let the few words hang in the air before continuing. "I don't want to accuse him or anyone else until I know for sure. I don't even know why he's after me. I'm pretty sure the rest of the students are safe, but if I accuse him now, without proof, he'll know I suspect him. And he'll be more careful." Harry frowned, trying to think of another way to phrase the next statement. He had never been able to come to Dumbledore with any of his suspicions like this and it felt strange confessing his fears before the Headmistress now. Would she be willing to let him find out what was happening on his own, without interfering? Or would she not be willing to take that chance?

"I know you have to keep Hogwarts safe." He rubbed at his scar again. "I'm not here to put the other students in danger. I just need...I need you to trust me. T-trust that I want to make sure this other person is not a threat." Warm tears streaked down the sides of his face, wrought from the effort it was taking him not to spill out everything he knew and suspected. "Can you please just give me that? Or are you going to have me arrested?"

"Arrested..." McGonagall turned away from him briefly, glancing at the portrait of Dumbledore behind her desk. She stood abruptly and walked around the desk, stopping in front of Harry. "As far as I know, you haven't done anything against the law, but I have to warn you, Mr. Potter. There are several people interested in what you're doing right now, and I cannot protect you if you step out of line. I would be the first to protect everyone in this school, without hesitating. I want that understood."

Harry nodded, not sure if this was a reprieve from further interrogation or another threat.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter. This person who may be after you...is it a Professor?"

Harry attempted to shake his head and instead turned wide eyes up to her. "You gave me something, didn't you?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"There was something in the cookies. Or a spell. I can't..." Harry dropped his head and picked up his bag, slinging a strap over his shoulder as he stood. "If I tell you, he will try to kill me, Professor. This time, he might actually do it." With that, Harry strode across the room and pushed through the door, sure the Headmistress would keep the door from letting him out. When that didn't happen, Harry nearly sobbed in relief. He made his way down the winding staircase and out into the hall, sure his escape had been narrow, and most definitely temporary. With Hermione to question him next, he could only be so lucky.

Harry turned in front of the Room of Requirement for the third time, shifting from foot to foot impatiently as he waited for the door of the room to form in the wall. The doorknob had just come into being when Hermione stepped up beside him wordlessly. She had several books clutched in her arms and she stared at them rather than look at Harry.

"I'm glad you didn't change your mind about meeting me."

She nodded. "We have to get this over with."

Not liking the finality with which she made the pronouncement, Harry opened the door and let Hermione enter the room before him. He glanced around the hall quickly and then followed her inside, closing the door firmly behind them.

"You got the Room to give us lunch?" Hermione asked as Harry came to stand beside her. "I didn't think that was possible."

"Me either," Harry admitted. "I just asked for it to bring us the plates that would be in our usual spot in the Great Hall. The Hogwarts kitchens did the rest." There was a small table set for two with roast chicken, salad, a plate of sandwiches, chips and two different types of pudding. A pitcher of iced pumpkin juice and two glasses stood to the side. Harry looked at the rest of the room and acknowledged the large throw pillows, overstuffed sofa, and--to his chagrin--a bed off to one corner. He had not requested that last.

Hermione went over to the sofa and dropped her things next to it; her suddenly weary form flopped to the sofa seconds later. Harry followed tentatively. He stood before her at a loss for words, intimidated by the look she gave him, a mixture of anger and fear of what was to come. "Well?" she asked after he'd been standing there a minute.

Harry dropped his bag next to hers and moved back a step. "Maybe we should eat lunch first," he said, gesturing to the table.

Hermione responded by crossing her arms and leaning back into the sofa. "I don't think stalling will solve anything. Talk."

He began to pace back and forth in front of where she sat, fleeting thoughts of the Order, Voldemort and the prophecy currently in his trunk crossing through his mind. Where to begin? It was all too complicated to tell her in the hour they had. He knew she wouldn't give him the extra time needed to explain everything, not on the first day of classes. Hermione was scowling now, looking as if she wanted to leave. He had to say something.

"I don't want you to be upset with me." She snorted. "And I don't want you to be scared," he continued. Hermione's eyes widened at this and she sat up. Her hand slipped into her pocket. "I'm not who you think I am. Not exactly. Not the same person I was." Harry backed away another step as she pulled out her wand and trained it on him. "I am, just not in the way you think."

When Hermione didn't immediately relax, Harry went to the table and began to fix himself a plate, feeling that if he was going to be executed, he'd rather it be on a full stomach. After a couple of minutes, Hermione joined him. He poured them both drinks as she sat down.

"I want to start with the Time-Turner you used to get to classes third year," Harry said, taking a stab that at least that hadn't changed. He'd noticed one of her Ancient Runes books and knew a double schedule years earlier was the only way she could be taking that class now.

Hermione stopped reaching for food in mid-motion. "I...what? No one was supposed to--how did you know?" she sputtered.

"Because you used it with me once."

"No." She shook her head emphatically. "Professor McGonagall would've killed me if I'd done that without permission. Never mind the Ministry."

"There's a reason you don't remember any of it," Harry said. He waited until he caught her eyes across the table before he added, "It never happened."

"What?" She glanced at her wand and then back to Harry. "You've lost me."

"Then let me explain. Without interruptions."

Harry then told Hermione about the fight at the Ministry--but not who had driven him there in the first place--that he'd gone back in time and changed the past, and returning to the school at the wrong date. He decided to leave out the events of the day so far, figuring she had enough to consider. He began eating as Hermione started her rant.

"So to you...we...never?! You don't remember? Or we never?" Her voice rose and her face reddened with each subsequent incomplete question. "And the letters you read? But you're not...? You could end up in Azkaban for this, Harry! And if you're here, but you're not supposed to be, then where are you? Or, the other you? My boyfriend--where is he?" She sighed. "We have to tell Professor McGonagall."

"No!" Harry burst out through a mouthful of food. "That's the last thing we need to do."

"Why? I mean, if all of this is true, we need her help."

"Because," he began, "telling any teacher at this school will probably get me killed."