Things soon became rather busy at The Burrow.

Harry’s owl to Remus Lupin was answered almost immediately, and the man agreed to come ‘round The Burrow at lunch the following day. Mrs. Weasley insisted on the timing — she displayed a fondness for the reserved man, and never missed an opportunity to feed him. Harry found that slightly amusing, given the hints of disapproval she’d displayed regarding Sirius. He wondered how all that might change if she discovered that the two of them were Marauders — Fred and George’s role models as pranksters.

"It’s good to see you again, Harry," Remus said as the dishes were cleared. "But I take it you had something you wished to discuss?"

"Well, I wanted to congratulate you on your new job," Harry replied. "I’ll have to get used to calling you ‘Professor’ now."

The man cracked a rare grin, and it seemed to subtract years from his face. "Not outside of Hogwarts, Harry."

"I’ll still need to get into the habit," Harry replied with a shrug. "What would you say to fitting in a little teaching practice before you start? With a friendly audience?"

Remus chuckled. "I’ll be glad to show you anything you want, Harry, but you won’t be able to practice it until September."

Harry took out the partially-completed Ministry form and slid it across the table toward Remus. Harry watched his brows furrow as he read through the jargon-laced instructions. "I wasn’t aware of this law," he said after he’d finished. "I take it you’d like me to sign this form?"

Harry nodded. "And teach us as well. There are ‘people’ out there who’d like to have me and the Weasleys out of the way, so we need to know how to defend ourselves."

Remus nodded. "Agreed, but I won’t take any money for this, Harry. Your parents were very dear friends of mine, and—"

"Er, not to be a pain about it, but actually, you have to," Harry said. He pointed at a blank on the form where the instructor’s wage was reported. "I don’t think they will approve it if you don’t. And you need to spend the money too, in ways that can be proven. I’m probably going to be put under a magnifying glass by the Ministry and anyone else who this will inconvenience. So everything needs to be completely above-board. Buy clothes, buy a new broom, buy calligraphy supplies — but keep the receipts so they can’t say you gave the money back under the table."

Remus’ eyes narrowed. "You’ve given this a lot of thought," he said slowly.

Harry nodded. "Last year the Malfoys sent me a box of angry Doxies for my birthday, trying to get me expelled for under-age magic use in a Muggle home. I don’t doubt they’ll be looking for any pretext to haul me up in front of the Wizengamot."

Remus sighed heavily and Harry had to suppress a grin. "Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be getting our money’s worth," he reassured the man.

"We?" Remus asked, frowning curiously.

Harry nodded. "Me, Ron, Ginny — the twins and Percy, if they want to — and Hermione, Luna, and Neville when they can make it. Call it a Defence Against the Dark Arts summer seminar."

"Harry, I’m not sure I can teach things that everyone would find useful," the professor-to-be objected.

"I wouldn’t be too sure of that," Harry said with a sigh. "The last two Defence professors have been bloody awful."

"Ah, I guess I will be starting from scratch then."

"Not quite," Harry said. "We’ve been practicing our spell work most mornings at school," he explained. "We’re familiar with most of the basic hexes and jinxes, as well as some of the more advanced spells like Stupefy, Incarcerous, Reducto, Diffindo, and Protego."

"All of you?" Remus asked quickly.

"Well, not Percy, and the twins miss a lot of practices, usually because they are up to something," Harry explained.

"First- and second-year students are practicing spells like that?" Remus asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "It’s not like the incantations are that hard. I read them right out of the fifth- and sixth-year Defence books. It’s not like a Jelly-Legs Jinx will do more than inconvenience a Death Eater."

"Really? I wouldn’t think you and your friends would have the magic to cast such powerful spells. The lot of you must be very gifted."

Harry shrugged, a little embarrassed at the praise as well as for the slip. "Well, we did practice a lot. I think that helped more than anything."

"What kind of practicing?" Remus asked dubiously.

"Casting repeatedly at the edge of the Hogwarts lake to build up our power," he explained, trying not to think about the time Ron startled him and he’d accidentally cast a Reducto at full power, dousing them all, "or at conjured bubbles to work on accuracy. That’s when Luna found out she needed glasses for distance work."

"Interesting," Remus said thoughtfully. "If you did that every morning, I can see where you’d develop your potential much more quickly than normal. Is there a reason you all are working so hard at this?" he asked quietly.

Harry sighed. "Dumbledore told me the prophecy," he said flatly. "But even before that we were having trouble with the Slytherins."

"He told you?" Remus asked, clearly shocked.

Harry nodded. "It wasn’t like I gave him a lot of choices. Voldemort already hinted about it when I confronted him first year when we were tussling over the Philosopher’s Stone. Besides, if I know what’s coming I can prepare for it, rather than sit around wasting my time trying to be a normal student."

"Harry, there’s nothing wrong with having a life," Remus said in a firm voice.

Harry sighed. "One of these days, Remus, he’ll be back. One way or another, I’m going to have to deal with him. He’s killed too many people we love already… including my mum and dad. I’ll have plenty of time for a life after I’ve sent him back to hell, where he belongs!" he said, banging the table. He’d felt his chest tightening as he spoke, and the last words left his mouth as little more than a snarl.

Remus Lupin recoiled a little when Harry’s fist thumped the wood. Then he smiled. It was a little wistful, but this time it lit up the tired-looking wizard’s face. "I’d say you inherited James’ and Lily’s tempers, Harry. I’ll go through my advanced lesson plans and see what I can come up with." He quickly filled out the Ministry form, signing it with a flourish. "If we use the same hourly rate that I will draw at Hogwarts, I don’t see where anyone can complain, yes?"

Harry nodded. That remark about his parents had caught him slightly off guard.

Remus gave a sharp nod. "Right. I assume you want me to start tomorrow?"

Harry nodded again.

The shabbily-dressed man stood up from the table. "I’ll get started on a preliminary syllabus," he said. He paused as he moved toward the fireplace, and gently placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. "I think they’d be proud of you, Harry," he said. "I know I am."

OoOoO

After a somewhat shaky start, things soon fell into a routine around The Burrow. Their mornings would begin with a run around the inner boundary of the wards, followed by a solid hour of martial arts practice. Most days Luna would join them for sparring, having jogged all the way from the village. Fred and George began to join them more often, especially after Ron made some less-than-subtle hints about being able to thrash them if they pranked him again. Harry was about to roll his eyes at his friend when he noticed Ron wearing a very self-satisfied smirk.

The idea of Ron being subtle anywhere outside of the chessboard felt like an utter violation of the natural order, but there it was.

Hermione’s first letter after Harry invited her to the summer lessons with Remus was rather hard to read. Over the years, he’d noticed that her normally precise hand became less than neat when she was agitated. Between her indignant outrage over the law that favoured pureblood students and her excitement at the opportunity to learn new things over the summer, her reply was nearly illegible.

After talking to Mrs. Weasley, the Grangers decided to go ahead and get their home hooked up to the Floo Network, so it was much easier for her to arrive at The Burrow in time for the morning run. At the same time, her parents were less than enthused that she would be gone most of the weekdays.

Harry actually ended up Flooing over to the Grangers after their house was connected to talk to Hermione about the letter. Her parents could tell that she was working hard on more than one project, and she could tell they were feeling increasingly excluded from her life. The solution ended up being simpler than he thought it would be. They moved the early evening martial arts practice to the Granger’s fenced-in back garden.

That arrangement meant a lot more Flooing around, but Harry just owl-ordered several large bags of Floo Powder for everyone to use. He wished he could buy a simple cure for the nausea and dizziness as easily as he’d just purchased the powder!

Hermione seemed to be right about her parents wanting to get to know her friends better, though her dad seemed very keen to chat with Ron in particular at every opportunity. After talking to Harry, Mr. Granger also had his friend, Paul Ishimura, come by while they were practicing.

Harry’s study of the martial arts was haphazard at best. He’d learned some from the American War Mages, some from books, and some from bloody hard work. But he knew enough to notice how Mr. Ishimura moved. The man seemed to almost glide as he walked, and his centre of gravity was always planted squarely between his feet. Harry couldn’t help but feel impressed.

After watching them practice, he asked Harry who their teacher was. He didn’t seem too surprised when Harry admitted they’d picked up most of it from books and self-study. "It’s no reflection on you," Mr. Ishimura said, "but there are some flaws in your stances and such that a good teacher should have corrected. But if you pretty much taught yourselves, well, it’s understandable. What got you interested?"

Harry explained that they had a fairly bad bullying situation at the school they attended — which was the literal truth. Luna also added in the part about the television programme she’d seen with her father, making the middle-aged Eurasian man crack a broad grin. Mr. Ishimura was quite willing to talk about his favourite subject, and in between stories about his teachers, he showed Harry quite a few things Harry and his friends could improve on.

By the time he left to go home for dinner with his family, Harry was amazed at the changes a couple of tweaks made in the strength and flexibility of his stances; something as small as turning a foot farther inward seemed to make an enormous difference. All in all, he was grateful for the pointers.

Mr. Ishimura was good friends with the Grangers, and he ended up dropping by a couple of evenings each week as they trained with his goddaughter. Occasionally, the students stayed to eat with the Grangers, and Harry and Hermione had to quietly demonstrate for their friends the intricacies of various Muggle conveniences.

After a week or so of visits, the Grangers seemed much more at ease with things, and Hermione told Harry privately that her mum didn’t feel so excluded from her life.

The real capstone to the holidays was the lessons with Remus. His first class with them was spent behind The Burrow, demonstrating practically every bit of defensive magic they knew. Fred and George were far too curious to exclude themselves from the lesson, and even Percy was drawn in without much effort. All other considerations aside, the fact that the man would be a Hogwarts professor next term carried considerable weight with Ron’s fastidious older brother.

Of course, between Harry’s extra training and the incompetence of Quirrell and Lockhart, even Percy wasn’t that far ahead of the first- and second-year students. Harry made sure to mention within earshot that Percy had also received one of the highest Defence scores in his class. While that soothed the prefect’s wounded pride, it made Remus grimace. He’d likely have a job making sure Percy and his classmates passed their N.E.W.T.s.

While Mrs. Weasley accepted Harry paying for Professor Lupin’s tutorial fee, she also insisted on feeding him a substantial lunch as well. After the first session, they sat down to a generous array of sandwiches served with fruit and chips when she rather hesitantly asked how their morning had gone.

"Quite good, Mrs. Weasley," Remus replied after swallowing.

"Call me Molly, Professor," she said with a smile.

"Only if you call me Remus; every time you say ‘professor’ I want to look around to see who you are addressing," he replied. "I’d say that those morning practices last year were more effective than I’d have thought possible."

"I’ll say," Fred said ruefully. "Ickle Gin-Gin won the Duelling Association tournament at the end of the term."

Harry winced. He’d noticed Ginny’s reluctance to mention that award in front of her mother, but he hadn’t pressed her about it. Fred, on the other hand, had no such compunctions about spilling the beans.

"Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley asked her daughter, who was currently glaring at her supremely unconcerned brother.

"Might as well show her," Harry suggested with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Their… whatever it was between them was quite confusing. Some days they seemed to share the same brain, and the next day they would be awkward over inconsequential things and then be almost too embarrassed to speak with each other. He knew quite well how his future self had felt about that Ginny, but for himself? This body hadn’t even finished puberty yet! But this Ginny was even braver, and he…

Harry shook his head as Ginny returned to the kitchen with her trophy, and rather hesitantly handed it to her mum. Mrs. Weasley’s eyes grew wide as she read the inscription. She looked up at the others seated at the table.

"Harry and Ron fought in the semi-final match," George explained. "Gin took Harry in the final."

"I tried to snag her legs with Incarcerous," Harry explained, watching Ginny. She looked like she wanted to explode and sink through the floor at the same time. "She jumped over it and Stunned me while she was still airborne. Beautiful shot, it was." He nodded and took another bite from his corned beef on rye.

Ginny let out a startled yelp as she was engulfed in a hug from her mother. "I’m very proud of you, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley said, "In your first year, yet!"

The twins were staring at them, clearly outraged. Ron struggled to contain his laughter and Percy just shook his head.

"I’m not surprised most of you placed well," Professor Lupin said. "Not with the way you’ve been doing accuracy drills. Precision casting is not something emphasized in the Defence curriculum."

"It’s good to know we were doing something more productive than scaring the fish," Ron said as he refilled his plate.

"Prat," Ginny said, but her heart wasn’t really in it. She was staring as her mother set the trophy on the mantle in a place of honour — next to awards and mementos from Bill, Charlie, and Percy. Harry imagined that the twins’ numerous disciplinary notices ended up inside the fireplace instead of on the mantle.

After lunch, Remus told them that he’d be previewing some things that might be covered in later Defence classes, but that he’d also try to include curses and techniques that were not in the standard class work. "Frankly, your basic skills are sufficient that it would be a waste of time for me to drill you further on those," he explained. "Continue working as you have been and I’ll touch on anything that needs special attention."

By the time Remus left that afternoon, Harry felt better about their preparations than he had in months. There were only two sore points: two people who were missing.

Sirius had not returned to The Burrow. There had been no announcements of his capture, and Harry couldn’t imagine Fudge keeping that quiet. Announcing his capture would reassure his supporters, as well as justify pushing to have him executed before he escaped again. Harry could only assume he was still on his self-imposed mission to retrieve the Horcruxes.

The other absence was Neville. When Mrs. Weasley Flooed the Longbottoms to invite him over, she was rather coolly informed by his grandmother that he was busy. Harry’d had a bad feeling about the way she acted at Kings Cross, and it appeared he was right.

This was borne out as his friend was not allowed to attend any of the sessions for the rest of that week. As they returned from the Grangers’ Friday evening, he was troubled by how quiet Luna had become. After the blond girl Flooed back to her house (she offered to jog back for exercise, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t hear of it), Harry went up to the room he shared with Ron. Hedwig eyed him curiously as he dug some parchment out of his trunk, sat on his bed, and began writing.

> Neville,

> Hey mate! How are you doing? Your grandmother told Mrs. Weasley you were busy all this week, but we’ve really missed you. Is everything all right with you? I don’t want to make you feel bad, but we’ve got Professor Lupin, who’ll be teaching Defence at Hogwarts next term, tutoring us mornings and afternoons. While he’s doing that, we have an exemption to use our wands during holiday.

> Maybe if you tell her about that, she’ll let you come over. This could really give us a leg up on our classes, as well as other things.

> Wishing you were here,

> —Harry

"Now, Hedwig," Harry said as he rolled up the parchment. "I know you usually deliver mail in the mornings, but I’m not sure that would be a good idea with this one. Can you give it directly to Neville tonight? Or next evening, if it’s too far? And wait for him to give you a reply. Can you do that, girl?"

Hedwig just clicked her beak at him and stuck out her leg for the note. As soon as he’d secured it, she was flying out the window into the gathering gloom.

"Is that for Neville?" Ginny asked from the doorway, making him jump.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, "this has been going on too long."

"It’s only a week," Ginny said, "but still… Did you notice Luna?"

Harry nodded. "She barely said a word today."

"Harry, she didn’t mention a single imaginary creature today. She’s really depressed."

Harry sighed. "I know, but what else can I do?"

"Nothing really," Ginny agreed. "So don’t beat yourself up about it. Mum sent me up because dinner will be ready soon."

"Ah," Harry grunted as he stood up. He smirked. "Your mum surprised you a bit, didn’t she? About the Duelling trophy?"

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes at him. "Not really, she just waited until later to warn me."

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, she came by my room that evening for a little chat," Ginny said shaking her head ruefully. "She warned me about how, if I was too aggressive or too skilful, it might intimidate boys. She didn’t tell me I should have thrown the tournament, otherwise you would have heard an explosion, but she didn’t want me to be disappointed if I kept it up and hurt my social life later on."

Harry winced. "And how did you reply to that?" he asked in a small voice.

Ginny tossed her head and used a large elastic band to tie her hair back into a loose pony-tail. "I said that any boy who’d be intimidated by that wasn’t worth wasting time on. And then I told her you were proud of me for beating you."

Harry coughed. "I imagine that went over well."

Ginny shrugged as she turned toward the hallway. "She didn’t bat an eye, so I’d say you were right, she at least considers it a possibility. But she did look at me like I was hopelessly naïve."

"Well," Harry said as he followed her down the stairs, "if I turn into a prat again as I get older, you can always hex me."

OoOoO

Their training was suspended on the weekends, mostly so they could rest, catch up on household projects, and work on whatever summer assignments they’d been given. Hermione and Luna’s parents also appreciated seeing more of them, Harry imagined. The pace wasn’t exactly gruelling, but their days were full. It was a little surprising that no one balked at this, but Harry supposed that his revelation in the Chamber of Secrets had given most of them a certain sense of urgency. Fred, George, and Percy probably regarded the lessons with Professor Lupin as something of a novelty. Harry had also hinted to the twins that they might learn a thing or two for their ‘vocation.’

Harry still went for his morning jog that first Saturday, but his other plans fell by the wayside when he saw that Hedwig had returned from visiting Neville. He thought she looked a trifle smug as she extended her leg with a note attached.

> Dear Harry,

> Gran is being very odd, but I’m not sure why. She says I have duties at home that I need to attend to, and won’t let me leave. I’m not quite sure what these duties are since the greenhouse is immaculate, and she hasn’t asked me to help around the house — not that the house-elves would let us.

> We have had an awful lot of people dropping by, pretty much every day. Some of them are distant relatives; others are families of people Gran says she went to school with. I’ve never known her to be very sociable, but maybe she’s making up for lost time.

> I really wish I could be there with you. The sessions you describe sound very interesting. If Gran doesn’t change her mind, I’m afraid I’ll be far behind you lot when the term starts.

> Sincerely,

> Neville

> PS — How did Hedwig know where my room was? She came right to me, and not the regular owl perch, which was probably a good idea, now that I think about it.

Harry immediately started digging out some owl treats for his familiar. Rather, for his very clever familiar.

After that, Harry spent a couple of hours writing down everything he could remember Professor Lupin covering since he started working with them. When he was confident he’d got it all, and Ron and Ginny could think of nothing to add, he folded up the parchment, added a short note and sent it to Neville via Hedwig. Neither of them could think of what Neville’s grandmother was playing at, but they definitely didn’t want him to feel left out.

Mrs. Weasley assigned some major tasks to everyone as they ate lunch. Ron and the twins were a little boggled at the number of tasks, until she reminded them that they could now legally use their wands.

Painting the shed was more fun than work after Mr. Weasley showed them a paint spreading charm. Not that the twins didn’t still manage to get more paint on each other than their assigned wall. Still, with magic, the work went much faster. Following that with a couple of hours working with Ron in the garden, Harry had a healthy appetite for dinner.

The food was good, as always, but there was an underlying tension around the dinner table. Harry had taken a few minutes each night to probe Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s Occlumency barriers. With each session, there were fewer and fewer leaks for him to highlight. Last night there were only a few faint cracks.

Percy, on the other hand, seemed to have mastered Occlumency faster than Harry anticipated. When Harry checked his shields at dinner the previous night, they were nearly flawless. Harry wondered if the desire to know had driven Percy to work extra hard to overcome the difficulty younger minds seemed to have with Occlumency. It was possible that being at odds with much of his family made it easier for him to learn how to conceal his thoughts. Likewise, Fred and George’s defences were secure before they even left Hogwarts, but Harry didn’t completely trust them not to tease Percy if they knew before he did.

Of course, that also gave him an excuse to put off telling anyone else his secret.

As Harry chewed his last bite of shepherd’s pie, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Harry," he said, "would you mind sticking around for a moment after the table is cleared?"

He nodded and locked eyes with his guardian. Harry tried not to let any disappointment show on his face when he failed to find any flaws in his Occlumency. Instead, he smiled and nodded, then turned to Mrs. Weasley.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Hers was perfect as well. Bugger, he thought. It’s time.

"We might as well all sit back down," Harry said as Fred and George began to leave. "As best I can tell, you’ve all mastered Occlumency."

"About time, Harry!" Fred said with a grin. "Now what’s this secret all about? You make it sound like a matter of life and death…"

Harry inhaled sharply, and reminded himself that cursing Fred here and now would be somewhat counterproductive to convincing his guardians to keep his secrets.

"Both of you idiots sit down and shut up!" Ron snarled. "This is bloody serious!"

"Ron! Language!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"Sorry, Mum," Ron replied, never taking his eyes off the twins. Harry didn’t think he sounded very apologetic.

Fred’s mouth was still hanging open at Ron’s ferocity, and George was looking only slightly less gob-smacked.

"Right," Harry said in a voice that felt both too tight and too loud. "As far as I can tell, you’ve all mastered Occlumency, so you can keep secrets. I… I’d ask that you all keep your Occlumency and what I’m going to tell you to yourselves. I think when you hear what I am talking about, you will understand why."

He frowned for a moment, wondering where to start. He felt something nudge his calf and he saw Ginny out of the corner of his eye, giving him an encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and pulled out his wand.

"This will save some time," Harry said as he raised his wand. "I swear, upon my magic, that the secrets I will impart tonight are, to the best of my knowledge, true and factual." Forewarned by the last oath he’d sworn in this kitchen, he squinted against the glare as his magic flared up. He knew he was tense enough that it was likely to surge again.

When he fully opened his eyes, everyone was blinking rapidly. "Harry, dear, was that really necessary?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry shrugged. "What I’m going to say is sort of hard to believe. I thought that might help move things along."

He opened his mouth to continue, but then stopped. "Are all of you familiar with what a Time-Turner does?" he finally asked.

"It’s a restricted artefact," Percy replied in a dubious voice, "that allows the user to move backward in time for short jumps."

"That’s right," Harry agreed, "but there are other ways to do it. Some are not as limited in how far you can go back." He noticed Arthur’s eyes growing wider. Somehow he wasn’t surprised that he would put it together first.

"But if that was possible, why haven’t we heard about it? Or is it a Ministry secret?" Percy asked, brows furrowed.

"What if the Ministry didn’t develop it?" George asked.

"Then who did?" Fred countered.

"I did," Harry said quietly. "With some help from Professor Dumbledore," he added, wary of his oath.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, "I thought you were rather at odds with the Headmaster?" she asked in a hopeful voice.

"With his portrait," Harry clarified, shaking his head.

"You’re mucking it up, mate," Ron said. "Just tell them like you told us."

Harry nodded. He glanced over at Ginny, who was very quiet, but seemed to be listening intently. She nodded once in agreement.

"You’re right. Best to be more direct about this… In another time, there was another Harry Potter. He wasn’t nearly as good in school, but he was still clever enough to make friends with Ron Weasley the first time he rode the Hogwarts Express. He had no idea that he was already a marked man, and at the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, he was kidnapped by one of Voldemort’s agents. His blood was used in a ritual to reincarnate Voldemort. This Harry eventually escaped, but not before the damage was done. While the Ministry dithered and denied that ‘You-Know-Who’ had returned, Voldemort built up his forces. Eventually, Voldemort struck, and there was a terrible war; it lasted for years. This Harry eventually killed Voldemort, but by then everyone he cared about, along with more than half the British Wizarding world, was dead."

By now, everyone’s eyes were bulging, except for Ron and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley was slowly shaking her head.

"This Harry didn’t really know what to do with himself. He was recovering from the final battle when he read a journal article regarding temporal transit fields. They were largely theoretical exercises, since nothing that had any mass could be passed through one. But Harry saw a way to use it anyway. With the help of the portrait of the late Professor Dumbledore, Harry was able to work out the equations for a transit field that could stretch back nineteen years."

He stared down at his hands, clasped together so tightly his fingers were white from loss of circulation.

"He Apparated to the ruins of number four, Privet Drive, set up the field around himself, and then he separated his spirit from his body, allowing it to pass through the field." He paused and swallowed. "Once in the past, his soul was attracted to the still-living analogue of its former body. The two began to merge over the space of about a day, and, after a particularly vivid nightmare, eleven-year-old Harry Potter received all the memories from his future self."

Harry looked up. Mrs. Weasley was still slowly shaking her head, but her face had gone deathly pale. Mr. Weasley and his sons were sitting so still, it was if they’d been Petrified. "Since then, I’ve been trying to arrange things so the war doesn’t happen again," he continued. "I was able to intercept Professor Quirrell without much trouble. This time he didn’t get his hands on me, and Ron and Hermione weren’t hurt. Other things still managed to get past me, like that ruddy diary. My older self knew Occlumency, and passed that on to me. In my first class with Snape, I discovered he was using Legilimency on me, and probably had been all along. After watching him murder Professor Dumbledore in my memories, I wasn’t about to risk him finding out the truth. I don’t want to try and imagine what the Ministry would do if they found out."

"They’d arrest you on the spot," Percy breathed. "Tampering with the past is strictly forbidden!"

"I don’t think you really understand how bad it had become," Harry whispered. "The last vestiges of the Ministry of Magic were wiped off the map more than five years before the war ended. We had Americans trying to reclaim Britain, and rescue the pitiful few survivors that remained; that’s how bad it had become. The Muggles were told it was some terrible civil insurrection, but the Statute of Secrecy was wearing very thin. An American Wizarding general, chap by the name of Hastings, said it was only a matter of time before the Muggles figured everything out. The worst case scenario his superiors were considering was another war with the Muggles, one they couldn’t possibly win."

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, "All this… training? You’re teaching our children how to fight this war?"

His guardian’s voice sounded concerned, and Harry knew Mr. Weasley had to be less than enthusiastic about what he was hearing. "I want them to know how to survive," he clarified. "Voldemort galvanized his supporters with the old blood prejudices. Being Muggleborn automatically made Hermione a target. Aside from your family’s relationship with me, it was no secret that the Weasleys supported Dumbledore and doing what was right. That’s why you were… targeted so early in the war."

"Targeted?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a sick voice.

Harry turned toward the trembling woman and slowly nodded. "Ginny — died first; she was still attending Hogwarts when it was attacked and destroyed. Mr. Weasley was next. You should know that Lucius Malfoy has a poisoned blade concealed in that pretentious cane of his. Percy gave his life saving many of his co-workers when the Ministry building was overrun. Fred and George were lost in an attack on Diagon Alley. Bill and Charlie died striking back at Voldemort’s armies. Ron… Ron was with me almost until the end, when he gave his life to save mine." Harry took a shaky breath, and something seemed to break inside him as his composure shattered. "I am not letting that happen this time!" he half-shouted as his eyes burned.

"Shhh… we know that Harry," Ginny murmured. "Just don’t destroy the kitchen. It didn’t do anything to deserve it."

Harry shook his head as he realized that the pots, pans, and dishes were all rattling in the cupboards. He took a deep breath and forced his magic back down. Within moments, the clamour subsided. "Sorry," he muttered, hanging his head, wondering if he could have screwed this up any worse.

Mrs. Weasley’s reaction, however, was still unexpected. "Stanhope," she said suddenly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Your healer at Saint Mungo’s," she said, frowning. "He spoke to me before you were released. He was concerned by the extent of your nightmares and wanted to make sure we knew what to expect. But you weren’t just dreaming about the Dursleys, were you, Harry?"

He shook his head. "I hardly ever dreamed about them," he admitted. "It’s not like I really cared that much about what happened to them. You lot were more of a family to me than they ever wanted to be."

Mrs. Weasley visibly bit back the first thing she wanted to say. "He also discussed your physical condition with us as your guardians. That secondary corpus magi he found… it’s not from your curse scar, is it?"

Harry shook his head. "I think I have my future self’s magic as well as his memories. My magic is stronger than I ‘remember’ it being at this age. Healer Stanhope said it would likely get stronger as I got older and the two cores finished merging. He predicted I’d keep doing accidental magic until then, and he was spot on with that."

"So you’re going to keep this older Harry’s magic?" George asked, frowning.

"That’s a rum deal for him, isn’t it?" Fred added.

Harry paused as he groped for how to answer that.

"How did you, or rather he, separate his spirit from his body?" Percy asked shrewdly.

"Avada Kedavra," Harry whispered, hunching his shoulders, "the Killing Curse."

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then everyone was speaking at once. The voices all blurred together, but he could pick out expressions of shock, dismay, and horror.

Harry lurched to his feet and bolted from the room.

OoOoO

Ginny found him in the orchard, sitting under a tree. She extinguished the Lumos spell on her wand and sat down beside him with a sigh.

"So… how long before I need to clear out?" Harry asked. His voice was a little ragged, but he’d managed to get his emotions under control again.

"Don’t be dense," Ginny said. "You’re missing quite a show right now."

"What?" Harry asked. "Did they already call the Aurors?" he asked, "Or did they send for someone from St. Mungo’s?"

"Neither," she said. "Ron would probably hex them if they even thought of touching the Floo powder right now. He’s currently tearing the rest of the family up one side and down the other." She gave a little laugh. "I suppose he’s learned more from Mum than anyone thought, because he’s doing her Howler impression spot on."

"You’re having me on," Harry said.

"Not one bit," Ginny replied. "As I was heading out the door, he was asking if he should just change his name to Malfoy and be done with it."

Harry’s mouth dropped open. "That can’t have gone over well," he said.

"It didn’t," Ginny agreed. "I could still hear them past the garden." She gingerly patted his knee. "I don’t think we should leave him all alone in there, do you?" she asked. "He’s likely to start hexing them if they don’t start listening."

Harry rose to his feet. "I’m not going to let it go that far. I didn’t come here to break up your family, Ginny. If I’m not welcome at The Burrow anymore, I’ll just go catch up with Sirius. Besides, if I’m out of the picture, your family might be able to avoid the worst of what’s to come."

No sooner did the words leave his mouth than he found himself hopping on one foot, holding his bruised shin.

"If you will stop trying to martyr yourself for a moment," Ginny demanded, "and actually think, you’ll know what a stupid idea that was. As if you could take off like that without the rest of us chasing you down and bringing you back! You belong here, Harry James Potter, and don’t you forget it. Now… now get back in that house before I hex you."

Her voice went a little ragged at the end, and Harry realized she was struggling not to cry. It was too dark to clearly see her face, but he had little doubt that he’d both scared her and hurt her feelings as well. "Sorry, Gin," he muttered in a very small voice, "you’re right, it was a stupid idea. I’m just… wound up… a bit right now."

She sniffed once. "I suppose you are, so I’ll forgive you. But don’t let it happen again."

The house was ominously quiet as they approached the back door. Harry opened it first, just in case someone cursed him. He only had it halfway open before it was pulled open and he was dragged forward off his feet. It took him a moment to realize that he’d been pulled into a very firm embrace by Mrs. Weasley and he stopping trying to grab for his wand.

"Harry, dear Harry, don’t think we… it’s not that…" she began. He felt her take a deep breath without slackening her grip the tiniest bit. "It’s just all a lot to take in at once."

"I understand," Harry breathed and awkwardly patted her back.

She let him go, but steadied him as he stumbled. Her eyes were a bit teary, but she was smiling, at least. "Let me make some tea," she murmured and headed toward the kitchen.

Harry didn’t protest as Ginny and Mr. Weasley led him back to the table.

"I think further details can wait for another day," Mr. Weasley said firmly, sending a quelling glare at the twins.

Fred was holding a wet towel to his eye; George had a split lip. Harry glanced over at Ron who looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley continued, "I assume you’d like us to not reveal this to anyone else?"

Harry nodded. "Sirius knows. The order had him studying Occlumency during the first war, because of his family."

Mr. Weasley blinked at the casual mention of the Order of the Phoenix, but Percy’s outrage was far more audible. "Sirius Black?" he gasped.

"He made it to The Burrow during Christmas hols," Harry confirmed.

"Harry, he’s an escaped convict," Percy half-shouted, ignoring Ron’s scowl as the youngest son reached for his wand again.

"He’s completely damn innocent, Percy!" Harry shouted. "He was condemned to hell on Earth in Azkaban because the Ministry you worship was too busy pardoning rich Death Eaters to even bother to give him a trial!"

Percy froze in place as Harry leaned across the table, utterly furious now. His own actions might be questionable, but Sirius had done nothing to deserve his fate. "Even after all that, in my old time, when he escaped, he still joined the fight against Voldemort, and he died rescuing me and some other students when we were trapped by Death Eaters within the Department of Mysteries."

"Is the Ministry that corrupt, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, clearly disturbed by the implications of Harry’s words.

Harry nodded. "As best I can tell, every suspected Death Eater that was found ‘Not Guilty’ because they were allegedly under the Imperius curse, rejoined Voldemort the minute he returned. Lucius and his allies have their nasty little fingers in almost every department, and the Malfoys owned Fudge outright. The first year after I saw Voldemort return, the Ministry ignored him and spent all their time trying to publicly discredit me as a liar and getting Dumbledore removed from power. Fudge had to see Dumbledore fighting Voldemort in the lobby of the Ministry Headquarters before he would believe he’d returned. I might also add that, after Fudge was thrown out of office, you were made a senior department head within a week."

Harry took a deep breath. "I trust the Ministry about as far as I can spit a dead ferret."

Mr. Weasley’s face had gone grim, and Harry supposed he’d done little more than confirm some of his nagging doubts. Percy, on the other hand, looked like a little boy who’d been told Christmas was cancelled.

"Anyway," Harry continued, "Sirius knows. Goldfarb at Gringotts might suspect, but I think he’ll stay quiet if he does somehow guess."

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley asked, "why don’t you want to get Professor Dumbledore involved? Couldn’t he help a lot?"

"He could," Harry agreed. "But he might also decide that my future knowledge was dangerous and decide to remove it."

"You mean Obliviate you?" George asked, aghast.

"Harry! He wouldn’t do that," Mrs. Weasley assured him.

"His own portrait in the future warned me it was possible. The consequences of a temporal paradox are supposed to be severe, but I haven’t encountered any of them, aside from a certain tendency for things from my memory to repeat… and that may just be my imagination." Harry shrugged. "That’s why I think travelling back into the past has created an alternate timeline to the one my future self grew up in. That would explain why my future memories remain unchanged, no matter what I do now."

Harry took a sip of tea to soothe his throat. "But present-day Dumbledore doesn’t know that. If he finds out, he may try to Obliviate me immediately before I can tell him too much and cause a paradox. He may not even agree that the probability that this is a parallel timeline justifies taking the risk."

"Then why would his portrait agree to help you?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry looked down for a moment. "I don’t think either of us really had anything to lose at that point. I was basically the last living person he knew, and I’d been fighting repeating bouts of depression… pretty soon I would get into one that I couldn’t come back out of. It takes a lot of self-loathing to use the Killing Curse on yourself, you know."

Harry’s eyes were riveted to his teacup, but no one had anything to say to that. "I don’t feel that way now. I mean, right now I have a chance to make sure none of this happens; maybe I can even prevent him from coming back at all. But I can remember how that other Harry felt. He’d be happier dead than being the sole survivor. The only reason he hung on until the end was to avenge everyone he’d lost."

He looked up, almost out of reflex, when Mrs. Weasley refilled his cup. She absent-mindedly smoothed back his fringe as she poured. "I don’t really understand it though," she murmured. "If Voldemort was gone, then he was free of everything. Why…?" She shook her head.

Harry inhaled the fragrant steam from his cup as he struggled to find the proper words. "The Weasleys were the only family either of us had known," was all he could say. "Hogwarts and The Burrow were the only places he’d ever felt at home, and both of them were gone as well. Even without Voldemort, there was nothing left for him. Without family and home, there was nothing left to live for." It felt better, more comfortable to refer to his future self in the third person. He didn’t know if this was caused by further integration of his personality, or if he was simply keeping the pain at arm’s length.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said after she sat back down. "I think it would be best to involve Professor Dumbledore as early as possible. If you can explain yourself fully, I don’t think he’d overreact."

Harry took a deep breath but otherwise remained silent.

"However," she continued. "I also think you need to act as you think best. It’s going to be… difficult… to think of you as older. You still look like a boy to me."

"He still is, Mum," Ginny said quickly. "He honestly thought we were going to kick him out of The Burrow over this, stupid prat."

Harry cringed, but Mrs. Weasley seemed oddly comforted by that. "We’d do no such thing!" she said in a shocked voice. "There’s a large difference, Harry, between being surprised and angry, though maybe you haven’t seen many people that make a distinction between the two. I want you to promise that you will stop and talk to Arthur and me before you make any precipitous decisions. Is that understood?"

Though her voice was stern, Harry felt oddly relieved. This was despite the fact that he was being chewed out. He nodded.

"Good," she said. "I think maybe we should all make an early night of it? We’ve got a lot to think about, and everyone looks worn out."

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be shooed out of the kitchen with the others.

"Ron?" Mr. Weasley asked as they began to climb the stairs.

Harry hung back as his friend slowly turned to face his father.

"I understand why you did what you felt you needed to do," Mr. Weasley said slowly as his youngest son swallowed. "But you should understand that this was a unique occurrence. I trust that such behaviour will not occur again in the future."

"I hope not," Ron said with a grimace.

"Good lad," Mr. Weasley said, clapping his startled son on the shoulder. "It took guts to do what you did, and I’m sure Harry appreciates that. Don’t you, Harry?"

Harry jumped guiltily, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. "I do. I just… don’t think it was really necessary, was it?" he asked his friend.

Ron started to open his mouth, but Mr. Weasley spoke first. "I doubt you two will ever agree on that, so it might be better to just let it lie. Now, off to bed with you!"

Neither of them spoke again until they were both settled in their beds, staring up at the ceiling.

"Thanks, mate," Harry whispered.

"You’re welcome, Harry," Ron answered. "Bit of a relief?"

Harry pondered the question. "It wasn’t anything like what I expected, but yes."

"Sometimes we’re all a bit like Mum," Ron said philosophically. "When we get surprised we say a lot of things, some of which we mean. But we don’t do anything until we’ve thought it through; most of the time, anyway. Saying you’d used the Killing Curse was a bit of a shocker, it’s supposed to be pretty Dark magic, from what Mum said, and Percy agreed. Saying you used it on yourself, well… that kind of pushed them over the top. I had to point out a few things."

"Like what?" Harry asked, honestly confused.

"Like you did it to come back and save us all," Ron said, turning toward him and grinning at Harry’s embarrassment. "How Ginny might already be dead now if not for you. How we’d all likely end up owing you our lives if we survive this thing. You know, little things like that."

"How did I end up with such a manipulative wanker for a friend?" Harry asked the ceiling.

"You’re making up for a past life of sin and debauchery," Ron answered, "at least, that’s what the twins think, anyway."

OoOoO

Surprisingly, Harry slept without a single dream that night, and Ron actually had to wake him up in the morning for their pre-breakfast run. After drinking some water and washing his face, Harry felt unusually refreshed by his abnormally long slumber. He celebrated this fact by knocking Ron on his arse five straight times when they sparred.

"What’s got you so bloody chipper this morning?" Ron groused as Harry gave him a hand up after his leg-sweep had sent the red-haired boy tumbling.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother’s intermittent clueless-ness and smiled at Harry. "Ron, what happened last night?" she asked sweetly.

"We talked about… oh, right." He cocked his head and peered curiously at Harry. "You even tried to have a lie in today. Is it really making that big a difference?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "I’m not going to see a single person today that I have to keep any secrets from. I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in… years."

"That’s good to hear," Ron said, "even if it is a bit hard on my bum."

"Let’s not talk about your bum, Ron," Ginny shot back, rolling her eyes.

"All right then, what do you want to worry about now?" Ron asked with a grin.

"How about Neville?" Harry replied with a frown.

"Blimey, I wasn’t serious, Harry!" Ron objected, shaking his head.

"Well, his grandmother is acting very peculiar," Harry said.

"Luna is upset about it too," Ginny added. "She seems to think that it’s her fault."

"Do you remember his gran doing anything odd like this the, er, before?" Ron asked, a little hesitantly.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "But then again, I didn’t know him nearly as well, so he might not have talked about it."

Ron frowned. "Well, Luna might be right, you know."

Harry nodded. "Because she’s doing something she doesn’t seem to have done before, and Luna’s, er, friendship with Neville is new too? I suppose they might be related."

"I don’t know that ‘friendship’ is the right word," Ron shot back.

That earned him a glare from Ginny. "I’ll have you know, I think it’s rather sweet!"

"That’s because you’re a girl," Ron replied, rolling his eyes. "It’s like it’s built in for your kind, liking mushy rot like that."

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. "I think we should continue this conversation when Hermione’s around, with her wand. I don’t want to be the only girl sticking up for my kind."

"Don’t look at me," Harry insisted, raising his hands. "I happen to think she’s good for him. She drives him crazy at times, but I think he’s getting used to that."

Ron gave Harry a betrayed look which he blithely ignored.

"Hedwig is able to deliver your notes to him," Ginny mused. "I wonder if Luna would like to send her own notes along with yours?"

Harry nodded. "I don’t think Hedwig would mind at all."

OoOoO

After a day of relaxation and light jobs, they returned to their training with a vengeance the following Monday. Luna visibly brightened after Harry told her about Hedwig’s cleverness. The blond witch said she’d Owled Neville twice so far, but both letters had been returned unopened. The next day she handed Harry a rather thick packet of parchment. When Hedwig returned, she brought two replies, one addressed to Luna.

Two weeks later, Neville explained some of what was going on at the Longbottom manor house.

> Well, Harry, I think I know what Gran is up to, thanks to an explanation from a fifth cousin of mine, one Melinda Hawkshorne. I didn’t really pick up on the fact that each set of visitors to date has included a young, unmarried female, mainly because most of them were far older than I was. The youngest was fifteen, for Merlin’s sake!

> Anyway, I’m not quite as dense as Ron, so once I realized that, I put the rest of the pieces together. I don’t think Gran approves of Luna for some reason, so this promises to be a real pain this summer.

> When I talked to her, she just said that if I was lonely, then I needed to "cultivate better companions" or something like that. I actually asked her if she thought I could find a better companion than ‘The Boy Who Lived’ and that put her off balance for a moment. If you suddenly felt your ears burning yesterday afternoon, I heartily apologize!

> I don’t know why she doesn’t approve of Luna, because she won’t say. Maybe she thinks The Quibbler is silly or something, but that seems awfully petty to me.

> I brought up the fact that I was missing out on the tutoring sessions with the rest of you, so she went and hired one of her friends who was a tutor somewhere around the dawn of time. I don’t mean to be disrespectful to Madam Esmeralda, as she does know a lot of magic, but I don’t think she’s been around children very much this century. She looks even older than Dumbledore, and she just sat me down and asked me what I wanted to know. At least with those outlines you sent me, I could ask her to show me something useful.

> I’m still exercising and working on my katas, but without anyone to spar against, my timing is going to be rubbish by beginning of next term. This is very frustrating. I never imagined I’d want the summer to be over so fast.

> Your friend,

> —Neville

Harry restrained his first impulse, which was to Floo over to Neville’s and give Augusta Longbottom a piece of his mind. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were similarly incensed, but no one could come up with a course of action that wasn’t more likely to backfire.

Luna wondered if Mrs. Longbottom might relent if she stopped coming to The Burrow, but everyone vetoed that decision. Loudly.

OoOoO

The summer wore on. Harry’s birthday party was also an early celebration of his first year at The Burrow. Knowing that Neville’s birthday was nearly the same day, he made a point of sending a formal invitation to his friend, but no response came back. Neville later confirmed that his grandmother made no mention of the invitation, which infuriated Harry even more.

He made an effort not to let it cast a pall over the celebration, but every time he saw Luna’s sad smile, he wanted to blow up something.

Mrs. Weasley, of course, made it a far bigger production than Harry was really comfortable with… but he’d been foolish enough to answer truthfully when she’d asked how he’d spent previous birthdays, so he had no one to blame but himself.

It wasn’t that bad, to be honest. She’d just invited over everyone that Harry had more than a passing acquaintance with, fed them an enormous dinner, and baked a cake that seemed larger than Hagrid. The latter, fortunately, had taken the Knight Bus to Ottery St. Catchpole, rather than Flooing into Mrs. Weasley’s already-crowded kitchen.

Harry really enjoyed the dragon-hide boots that his family had clubbed up to get him. They were sturdy and surprisingly comfortable after they contracted to conform to his feet. Harry thought the glossy dark hide looked very smart with the blackened metal fittings.

He was, however, secretly glad that they hadn’t bought him a bunch of expensive presents. He was a little surprised that Mr. Weasley didn’t win this year’s Daily Prophet Galleon Draw, but he supposed his presence had changed things enough that his guardian bought a different ticket this time. Of course, Bill was in Hong Kong at the moment, still working with Carpenter, Fitz-Willis, and Holmes, who were improving the wards around specific hidden areas of the British Consulate. Mrs. Weasley was happy at her eldest son’s success, but not so pleased at how far away from home his new job took him. Errol was definitely not up to carrying responses halfway around the world, so Harry volunteered Hedwig. She’d given him a long withering look when he asked if she could fly to China. Evidently, according to Hedwig’s view of the world, he shouldn’t question her abilities.

Harry wondered if the Weasley trip to Egypt was just something that Fate didn’t really care about, or if it the parallels were breaking down as the time lines diverged. It wasn’t a question he’d be able to really answer until after the fact, but that didn’t stop him from brooding over it. Only Hermione seemed to enjoy pondering such things for extended periods of time, and after hours of circular, inconclusive internal debates, Harry determined that she was welcome to them.

But all in all, the birthday celebration turned out to be a very fun day. He was a little shocked when Professor McGonagall arrived. She wished him a happy birthday and then handed him a very thick sheaf of parchment. Harry paged through it, puzzled.

"I’ve prepared notes for the Duelling Association curriculum, Mr. Potter," she explained. "As you have older students expressing some interest, I’ve taken the liberty of breaking down some of the topics and referencing at what point in the year students of various years will have the necessary background knowledge to perform various exercises. As you can imagine, not everyone will be ready for some of the topics you may be prepared to cover next term." She actually smiled at that point. "I was made aware of your holiday arrangements. I commend all of you on your industriousness, and I expect to see great things from my Gryffindors next term."

Ron’s face looked a bit green, but Harry just smiled up at her.

Harry slipped away after dinner and took a walk around the property in his new boots. It had been a fun, albeit exhausting, day and it felt good to unwind a bit. He also found his thoughts drifting back to an uncomfortable topic.

He’d been fairly certain that Sirius would have made it back to The Burrow by now. His godfather certainly knew his birthday, and Harry didn’t think that gathering up the Horcruxes would be able to keep him away.

Unless he was in trouble.

Harry paced through the orchard, trying to organize his thoughts. While a small, childish part of him wanted Sirius to be there, he was more concerned about the implications of his absence. It was true that Sirius’ mission was far more important than a stupid birthday party, but it seemed almost out of character for him to exercise that degree of restraint. It was also possible that Sirius was hiding out somewhere, unaware of the date. Perhaps he’d been delayed while travelling.

There were a lot of variables, Harry reminded himself, and there wasn’t a lot he could do about it anyway. Except, perhaps, walking in the twilight and glaring at innocent trees.

Harry sighed aloud at his foolishness and turned to head back to The Burrow when he heard a distant baying that raised the hairs along the back of his neck.

He spun toward the south-eastern corner of the property, the direction the sound seemed to be coming from. It was probably just a local farmer’s dog, but that didn’t stop Harry from sprinting toward the sound.

Harry dove around the slate-grey stone hut that marked the corner of the Weasleys’ land, ignoring the tingle across his skin as he passed through the wards. A couple of minutes later he emerged from the woods and slipped past a tumbled-down stone wall into an overgrown pasture.

The baying had stopped, but his instincts drove Harry to continue on in the direction it had come from. Something dark burst from the trees on the opposite edge of the pasture, loping toward him. Harry let out a sigh of relief as the crescent moon shed enough light to reveal the outlines of a very familiar, very large, black dog.

But then he stiffened as a chill ran down his spine. The dog’s eyes were rolling wildly in their sockets and the black muzzle was flecked with foam. Its gait was uneven and its flanks heaved as though it were out of breath. In the back of his mind, Harry could hear the faint double-echo of a woman screaming. Harry felt his hands tremble as his whole body felt like it had been dunked in ice-water as the evening sky grew darker.

Under the trees on the opposite side of the pasture, a host of dark cloaked figures surged out into the dimming moonlight.