Part Two:
“Time Travel is a Crazy Business, Harry”
WHEN WE LAST LEFT Harry, he had done a little bit of the following:
Harry enjoyed the terrible and embarrassing events of book four, but then, in a shocking plot twist, he swallowed a Time Turner, causing him to spiral through the fabric of time itself, first to the Quidditch Cup, forward to the ill-fated Yule Ball, back again (cough) to his first year, and finally smashing into his sixth year, right in one of his relevant plot-important discussions with the Headmaster regarding Voldemort's quest for immortality. Where will Harry jump to next? Let's find out shall we, and join Harry as he quite intelligently says:
“Huh?” Harry shook his head to clear the sudden cobwebs. Voldemort? Immortality? Horcruxes? Voldemort? Dumbledore? The diary? Harry was a bit lost, to put it mildly. He breathed in deeply, listening carefully to Dumbledore's convoluted explanation of Voldemort's “Horcrux” quest, waiting for a moment where he might ask a question of clarification.
But alas, Albus was on a roll.
“Multifarious maleficence, Harry! Immortal immolation!” Albus shook his fist in righteous fury. “Desperate decadence! Floo! Dumbledore!” The Headmaster had gotten so caught up in his tirade, he had stopped saying sentences with any meaning. This was actually quite normal for Dumbledore, but nobody ever figured this out, as the Headmaster was always careful to Obliviate his listening audience every time.
Harry thought frantically, his thoughts jumbled and disordered. He needed a plan, a way to find out where and when he was – and perhaps even to attempt to understand the nonsense Dumbledore was spouting. Perhaps, Harry pondered to himself, I should use my Slytherin side to deal with this tense situation. Harry then immediately discarded this idea, as he realized that it not only made no sense, it was also too ridiculous a concept to even put into words or thoughts. And yet...
Trying his best to pay attention to Dumbledore, Harry allowed himself to get lost in a fantasy of a Slytherin Harry, a Harry where everyone didn't know your name...
“Shut your ugly face, Slytherharry! I hate your face, I hate your wand, I hate your stupid, stupid name, and most of all, I HATE-” A furious Draco yelled, his precious robes in tatters and his wand broken in two and shoved in his ears. Draco was then quite dead a moment later.
“Ah...” Harry sighed in contentment. “This is the life. The Slytherin life. Or so I assume. Filled with excitement, brand new names, and dead Dracos.”
“Potter... snap out of it you young idiot... Potter!”
Harry stiffened instantly in his seat, and jerked in surprise. Who had said that? It was almost like... someone had spoken in his head... But that was impossible, no one and nothing had ever done that, with one exception.
With growing horror, Harry's eyes crept over to the nearby desk, where the ratty old Hat sat with a stupid, smug grin on its hideous, ugly face. That worthless piece of fabric grinned toothlessly, seemingly echoing the sentiment of “I know a lot more than you, merely because I'm unfathomably old and I can read people's minds and souls, etc”. Naturally, this may be have been true, but really, it was just a coincidence.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but a sudden mental “nudge” forestalled his reply.
“Not out loud, you young fool,” the Hat said inside Harry's head. “Just Think it to me. Try it, you probably are capable of such a thing, inexperienced you may be.”
Harry focused, closing his eyes in deep concentration, and tried to follow the Hat's instructions, attempting to “think” at the floppy head covering. “Can you hear me, Professor Hat?” Harry asked as politely as he could.
“I'm hardly a Professor, Potter,” the Hat said inside Harry's head. “And open your eyes before Albus notices!”
Panicked, Harry opened his eyes and nodded at the Headmaster's latest question.
“Harry,” Albus intoned solemnly. “I feel it behooves me to inform you that I am worried about you. I know the prophecy must be 'getting you down', as I understand it is said these days. Yes, only you or the 'Dark Lord can live while the other survives', as the prophecy stated, but you must consider the source! A crazy, batty, old fraud. And now Harry, please sit still, I have an important spell to cast.”
The Headmaster had just about crazytalked himself out, and realized that Harry needed his memory modified. It was one thing to think of Dumbledore as a little barmy, that wasn't so bad, but flat out wall to the groin bonkers? Dumbledore needed to protect his precious image, and if a few minds got Obliviated along the way? All for the greater good.
The Hat looked alarmed and coughed loudly, distracting both Harry and Dumbledore.
The Headmaster looked suspiciously back at the Hat. “You have something to say, Sorting Hat? I do not recall you ever interrupting me at any point.” Dumbledore stopped to ponder the oddness. Could a Hat be Obliviated? Did it even matter?
“A sherbet lemon, Potter,” the Hat thought at Harry. “Quickly now, before it's too late! Albus has no idea what he might do if he tried to Obliviate you now!”
“Obliviate me?” Harry thought in a panic. “Why would he do that?”
“I'll explain later, Potter... that is, I'll explain earlier... oh bloody hell, Potter, just swallow the blasted lemon right now!”
Obliging, Harry reached over and popped the sour treat into his mouth.
“BOO!” The Hat shouted suddenly in Harry's head, causing him to swallow the candy.
Harry coughed and looked at the Hat in astonishment. But then, a miracle happened!
Harry burped.
“Back off, Snivellus, or we'll shove your wand so far up your bum you'll be shooting sparks out of your nose!” A young, vaguely Harry Potterish looking boy was yelling at what appeared to be a large pillar of grease.
Harry was shocked. Dumbledore’s office had been rather dark and mysterious, and the sudden shift to a bright, sunny day was a bit off-putting to young Harry. Not to mention that the odd nature of the candy and the Time-Turner had caused a slightly unexpected twist to the story… but I’ll get to that in a few lines of dialogue or so. “Where am I?” Harry wondered aloud foolishly.
The gang of miscreants and their intended victim whirled at the sudden sound.
“Hey, Prongs, he looks like your little brother,” the annoying one said with a smirk. “Who is the little bastard?”
“Now wait just a minute,” Harry said indignantly. “Just because I'm shorter than average doesn't mean my parents weren't married, you... you... Malfoy!” Considering how terrible Harry was at insults, this was probably one of his meanest. Of course, the targets didn't quite get it.
“Malfoy?” The ragged (somewhat “lupine”, if you will) blonde boy asked inquiringly. “The Slytherin a few years ahead of us? What does he have to do with anything?”
“Shut your mouth, you monster!” The grease pillar shouted, to Harry's astonishment. The pillar could talk! How adorable!
“Aw, look at you,” Harry said with a beaming smile, completely throwing the young greasy Slytherin off guard. “And hey, you have a wand and everything!”
Now, you may be wondering if Harry had perhaps been dropped on his head as an infant, as he seemed unable to recognize what by now you have cleverly realized are the young Marauders and Snivellus Snape. The answer, of course, is yes – what did you expect? In fact, Harry had also been dropped on the head many times as a small child and even a bit as a slightly larger one. He had no memory of any this, which probably seems like quite a shock.
Harry also was hallucinating from the drugged sherbert lemon, which was not intended to be swallowed all at once. But sadly for our time displaced hero, his euphoric trip was about to end with a unpleasant jolt.
“What's wrong with him, James?” The rat-like one asked the popular one.
“I'm not sure, Wormtail,” James responded.
“He looks like he's taken too many Calming potions or something,” the wolfish one pointed out.
Wait a minute... Harry's head snapped up, everything coming into focus. Wormtail? Harry looked at the young Peter Pettigrew and for an instant, Harry could see the resemblance.
“Wormtail, I'll kill you!” Harry lunged at the surprised traitor-to-be and knocked him to the ground. He laid into the poor traitor with angry fists and many, many kicks to the groin. Wormtail would not be propagating his genetic material anytime soon, if you catch my drift.
The other Marauders pulled Harry off Wormtail and tossed him to the side.
James walked over angrily to Harry and pulled out his wand. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't curse your balls off right now, oddball!”
Harry's jaw dropped. Could it be? He'd recognize that angry face anywhere – his dear old Dad. Harry was just about to jump up and give his dear old dad a big, friendly hug when he stopped to think for a second. Yes, it was about damn time.
If he had truly jumped to the past, perhaps it wouldn't be the best idea to interfere so early – who knows, Harry might even accidentally erase himself from existence all together! A terrifying thought.
But Harry was saved by the intervention of a red-headed angel.
“Potter! Who are you bullying this time?” A vision in red hair appeared, glaring at Harry's father.
Harry looked at the beautiful older girl, feeling odd but faintly intrigued.
James dropped his wand and smiled widely at the girl. “My dear Lily Evans, we were merely informing this daft young lad that St. Mungo’s is open at all hours and is ready and waiting to receive him.”
Sirius laughed. “He does seem a bit addled, doesn’t he? Weird looking bugger.”
James frowned. “Watch it, Black, he’s not that odd-looking. Just clearly not all there.”
Lily harrumphed loudly. “Stop that at once, Potter! Can’t you see he’s not the brightest of bulbs?”
Sirius scratched his head. “Bulbs?”
“Hey, that’s not very nice, Mum,” Harry said. “You always said I was smart!”
Lily turned her angry gaze at her once and future son. “What did you call me?” Her eyes widened. “Wow, you really do look like Potter, don’t you? Are you related?”
Realizing his slipup, Harry grinned sickly. “Um, why, not at all, of course! I’ve never even met the dad- fellow. Fellow. I’ve never even met the fellow.”
Fed up, James sheathed his wand. “Enough of this foolishness. It’s almost time for class and I don’t care about Snivellus or the new little wanker. Let’s go.”
He trotted off quickly, the other Marauders falling in line behind him.
Lily walked over to Harry and Snape with a concerned, but wary look on her face. “Are you two all right, then? I mean, they didn’t do anything, did they?”
“Nope,” Harry grinned. “In fact, I kicked that bloody Wormtail…” Harry growled as he said the name. “Right between his legs. Wormtail…” Harry growled again. Lily looked a bit disconcerted at this.
“We don’t need your help, Evans,” Snape spat. “Or the help of your kind!”
Lily stood, her Harry Potter-esque green eyes alight with fury. “Fine, then! Be that way!” She stormed off, her legendary Weasley temper getting the best of her. Wait… that didn’t sound quite right.
Harry sighed and plopped down next to the confused Snape. “You know, Snivellus,” Harry said in a friendly tone. “James seems like a bit of an arse, doesn’t he?”
“What?” Snape sputtered. “It’s… not that… name, you… you… It’s Severus, you, uh, idiot!”
Harry laughed. "Come on, now Snivellus, I know that can't be your real name." Harry was quite sure of this – after all, what kind of stupid name was Severus?”
“Seriously, though, Snivellus,” Harry said seriously. “I apologize for James – maybe you should find a girl of your own, eh?”
Snape looked at Harry askance. “What are you blathering about you malignant pustule?”
Harry nodded, not having any idea what most of those words meant. “Right, so what about that Narcissa Malfoy? She’s probably a looker in the past, which means now, right?”
“Narcissa? You mean Narcissa Black? I suppose she is somewhat comely… in a wan, vain sort of manner.” Snape frowned thoughtfully. “But it matters not, she would not be interested in one such as I.”
“Don’t be so down on yourself, Snivellus!” Harry smacked Snape on the back hard. “You deserve at least three times as much happiness as Lucius Malfoy! And if you and Narcissa get together – that could mean… no more Draco! Just think of it.” Harry allowed himself once again to get lost in a fantasy…
“Harry, aren’t you worried about Malfoy?” Ron asked worriedly.
“Nope, Ron, cause he doesn’t exist, remember?” Harry grinned widely.
Ron laughed. “I forgot! Thanks for changing the past, Harry. Thanks a bunch.”
“It’s not Sniv… oh, never mind,” Snape had decided to ignore Harry’s unintentional insulting usage of his most hated appellation. Because honestly, it wasn’t worth the energy. “Draco… that’s not such a bad name.”
“Shut your filthy GOB, Severus,” Harry spat using what he thought was a terrible insult. He then instantly mellowed. “I’m sure Narcissa would just love you to pieces if you just hexed Lucius or something. Don’t Slytherins value cunning or evil or something?”Snape considered this and stroked his malformed chin. “I suppose… I do have a few spells I’ve invented I know he can’t yet block.”
“You’ve invented spells?” Harry asked in shock. “That’s great! So just go and neuter Malfoy, and I’ll forget everything nasty you’ve ever said to me. Deal?”
“Um… I suppose so,” Snape answered slowly. The deal seemed too good to be true, and a Slytherin always took those odds. “Yes, yes, I’ll do it!” Snape clenched his fist and snarled in a friendly fashion, the epitome of Slytherin chic. “That arrogant Malfoy won’t see it coming! Then comeuppance shall be mine!”
“Ha!” Harry crowed triumphantly. Another blow for the amazing Time-Smashing Harry Potter. Now all he had to do was get back to the future.
Harry coughed and choked a bit, trying to forcibly self-burpify. Snape looked at him with alarm. But it seemed to work, as Harry could feel “something” rippling through him.
“Just… remember one thing, Snivellus,” Harry rasped out. “In the future don’t forget to…”
Harry burped.
“Hurry, now, Potter!”
Harry started, startled. Snivel- sorry, Severus Snape glowered down at him from his comfortable place in book number six.
“If you don’t want anyone to know about our Occlumency lessons, you had better hurry it up. I’m sure Drakon is quite curious, and I don’t like lying to him.”
Harry scratched his head in befuddlement. It didn’t look like Snape had changed much at all. Same greasy hair, same greasy, glowery demeanor. But wait a tic… Drakon? Drakon? Could it be? Could Drakon, er, that is, Draco have been erased from history altogether.
Harry huzzahed preemptively in his head. Things might just be looking up. Of course, if Harry had any notion of what was about to happen, he may just have cried – or cheered louder, depending on your perspective.
END OF PART TWO
Next time on Harvey Potsler and the Temporal Digestive Tract:
“Harry, just decide between us, or we’ll hex your nuts off!”
Harry didn’t quite know whether to cheer or cry (see?).