Harry nibbled on the stale piece of toast, intent on taking as long as was humanly possible to eat it. If he gulped it, like his aching stomach obviously wished him to, he would just vomit it up again and then where would he be? In his room, with a pile of smelly vomit and no food at all. No, it was better this way, he decided as he stared mournfully at Hedwig's empty cage. Thank Merlin that he had had the foresight to sneak her out of the house.

Finally finishing with his piece of bread and seemingly no less hungry than he had been before, Harry lay back down on his bed, peering at the grimy sheets and wondering vaguely if Aunt Petunia would allow him some clean ones. Of course not. He lay down anyway, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring at the ceiling, his eyes following the familiar lines of the cracks in the plaster. There was the one that looked like Dudley. Or an odd hippopotamus-flounder hybrid. And there was the Dumbledore crack, though that 'beard' was a bit long.

His contemplations were interrupted by a crack! that he had only heard once before and, by now, had no desire to hear again. Dobby. He sat up in bed and glared at the little creature. "What do you want?" he spat. Or attempted to. What came out was more of a rasping croak. "See what you've done to me?"

Dobby looked devastated. "Dobby is sorry, sorry sorry sorry!" he wailed, grabbing the desk lamp and beating himself over his head. "Dobby only wished to protect Harry Potter and Dobby has hurt him instead. Oh -- bad Dobby!"

Harry absently wondered if he should perhaps take the lamp away from his head, but he found that he simply could not muster up the energy to do anything about it. "Stop that," he muttered, collapsing back on the bed. "I told you I had to go to Hogwarts. See? They're trying to kill me."

Dobby froze, the lamp about half a meter from his head, and his eyes grew very wide. "Bad muggles try to kill the great Harry Potter?" he asked. He dropped the lamp on the floor and scampered up to sit on Harry's chest. "Dobby cannot allow Harry Potter to go to Hogwarts," he said again. "Harry Potter is in great danger--"

"But I'm in danger here!" Harry exclaimed, his outburst dislodging the house-elf, who fell to the mattress with a squeak. The shout drew another bout of coughing from his tortured lungs. "Just go away already. Let me die in peace."

"Harry Potter must not die," Dobby declared, poking Harry in the forehead with one long finger to emphasize each word. "Harry Potter's house is not safe for Harry Potter. Hogwarts is not safe for Harry Potter." He got a crafty look on his face. "Dobby knows how to keep Harry Potter safe."

Dobby placed one hand on Harry's forehead, smiled, and said, "Harry Potter will be very safe." Then he lifted his other hand and snapped his fingers. The world flashed blue, then black, and Harry slept.

Harry opened his eyes and found himself in a strange room. It was circular, with rich reddish-brown colored wood paneled walls. He was lying on some sort of matress-like surface that was just wide enough for him to lay comfortably upon.

"Greetings."

Harry turned his head and saw the man who had addressed him. His robes were entirely black and trimmed with red, his hood pushed back so that Harry could see his face. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Professor Snape, and had brown hair and beard that blended splendidly with the woodwork.

"Where am I?" Harry asked. The sound of his voice surprised him -- it was no longer raspy. For that matter, he didn't feel hungry, or empty; it was a feeling that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Who are you?"

The man laughed in reply. "My name is Amer Razt. I am a member of the Temporal Transportation Division of the Department of Mysteries. Taking that into account, the best question might be 'when am I?'"

Harry stared at Razt, who laughed again and continued. "As an officer of the TT Division, it is my duty to welcome you to the time -- today is August 31, 1971 -- and perform the initial interrogation," he said as he pulled out a spiral bound notebook. He tapped his foot twice and a desk and chair grew out of the floor. "You can get off of the bed if you'd like," he added as he took a seat. "Just imagine your favorite type of chair and tap your foot."

Doing as he was told, Harry was delighted at the neon green arm chair and accompanying purple ottoman that appeared.

"Right," Razt continued as Harry made himself comfortable. "Now the first thing we have to establish is your origin -- what was the exact date and time that you left your time?"

"Er," Harry stalled, trying to remember. "It was around 8 o'clock at night. Um, a Saturday I think. Yeah. Late August, 1992."

Razt didn't even blink when Harry told him he was from twenty years in the future. "Can you be more specific?" he asked, scribbling away in his notebook. Harry shook his head and Razt made another note.

"Will telling me your full birth name cause, in your opinion, a paradox?" he asked, flipping pages in the notebook.

"Yes," Harry replied. He concentrated on a fluffy pillow and tapped his foot, grinning when the bright canary-yellow monstrosity plopped into his lap.

"Will telling me your first name do so?"

"No -- it's Harry." He wondered absently if the foot-tapping mechanism could modify the ambience of the room as well.

"How old are you? What school do you attend?"

"12. Hogwarts." Two taps and the walls were suddenly polka-dotted. Another two and the floor was covered in a thick, red shag carpet.

"What was your purpose of travelling back in time?"

"Er, it was an accident?"

Razt glanced up, a faintly amused look on his face. "Harry, you transported yourself back in time nearly 21 years exactly -- a feat which I must point out requires no small bit of ability and research -- and you are trying to claim it was entirely an accident?"

"Well it was," Harry humphed defensively. "I didn't even want to come, but that insane house-elf sent me!"

"Now we're getting somewhere," Razt replied, turning back to his notebook. "This house-elf, what was his name and who was his owner?"

"His name was Dobby and I don't know who owned him." Harry thought a bit and tapped his foot. The walls and floor disappeared and they were sitting in the middle of the African savannah. "He said that I couldn't go back to Hogwarts because it was too dangerous and he was sending me somewhere safe."

"Obviously this house-elf believed the past was safer, though why I don't know." Razt made another few notes in the notebook. "Are you sure you can't tell me your full name?"

"Yeah." Harry tapped his foot twice more. The floor started to tremble. In the distance, a herd of stampeding antelope appeared, heading right for them.

"Do be sure to remove those before they reach us -- I've no desire to become roadkill at this point in my career," Razt remarked absently as he chewed on the end of his quill. His expression was thoughtful. "I have some bad news for you, Harry."

After tapping the antelope into a peaceful herd some yards away, Harry turned his full attention back onto the official. "Since you were not the actual caster of the spell and the Department of Mysteries has never actually had a case of time-travel-by-house-elf, it is going to be impossible to send you back to 1992," Razt told him. "As such, you're going to have to grow up here in 1971. In order for this to happen we need to accomplish three things. First we need to give you a name, a home, and money. Second, you need to have your memories contained. That way, while you'll still be able to remember certain aspects of your previous life and of the future, you won't be able to impart any harmful information which will damage the timeline. Third, you need to get enrolled at Hogwarts."

Harry stared at Razt. "I can't go back?" he exclaimed. "Why? Can't you do a spell, or something? I don't know, a ritual?" What was he going to do? What about Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore....

"Harry, this is so far beyond our abilities that we're going to actually have to create a new taskforce to study the extent of house-elves' powers of time manipulation," Razt replied gently. "As of ten minutes ago, we were unaware that house elves actually had that sort of power at all."

The room went back to normal with another tap of Harry's foot. "Can I talk to them?" he asked. "Send them a message somehow?"

Razt closed his notebook and tucked it back into his cloak. "Only if you live to see them again," he replied. "We do, however, allow for victims of irreversible time travel to place a sealed, time-delay message into the archives to be opened after you've left." He stood up. "Come with me. We need to get you settled down."

His head was itching again, a little negligible itch that seemed to migrate elsewhere every time he moved to scratch it. Rubbing irritatedly at his ear, he grumbled, "Does it ever stop itching like this?"

Razt, who had pulled his hood up after they left the Department, shrugged. "It's a side-effect of the spell. It'll wear off, I hear, after a day or so."

After leaving the receiving room, the two had gone before a council of Razt's superiors who had decided that the best guardian for Harry would be Razt himself. After a bit of initial grumbling, the official had agreed. The council had also performed the spell to restrict Harry's abilities to reveal information about the future, and had given him a new official name. So Harry James Potter, born 31 July 1980, became Henry "Harry" Garret, born 31 July 1960. His name was down on the registrar for Hogwarts as a first year, even though he had tried to point out to unsympatheric ears that he had already finished his first year.

"Stop dawdling," Razt barked, pausing in the middle of Diagon Alley to allow Harry to catch up. "At this rate you're going to miss the train."

Harry scurried to catch up. Walking alongside the ministry official, he was sort of amused by the fact that people scampered out of the way of the cloaked man, whispering about 'Unspeakables' and 'Department of Mysteries -- they'll come if you think wrong, you know. You just disappear--' and other such strange nonsense. It didn't take them long to gather his materials, which Razt was obliging enough to pay for after assuring Harry that he'd keep a tab so that his charge could pay him back when he got older.

They finally came to the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry was pleasantly surprised to see that Tom was still the barkeep. Walking over to the fireplace, Razt picked up a jar and asked, "Have you flooed before, Harry?"

At Harry's negative response, he quickly outlined the methodology behind the odd form of travel and offered the ceramic pot to Harry. "Remember," he cautioned. "Enunciate clearly -- Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

Harry nodded, made sure his mineaturized trunk was securely in his pocket, and stepped through the flames into the bustling train station.

The platform was exactly as he remembered it from his first year. The scarlet train stood patiently in front of the hordes of parents hugging their children and wishing them well. Harry glanced around for someone he recognized before remembering that this was not his time anymore. His head itched and he scratched it absently.

Loud laughter drifted over to him from a group of boys standing off to one side. Drawing close, Harry saw that there were four of them clustered about a fifth who they seemed to be teasing.

"Aw, look -- he's got tears in his eyes. You sure you got your name right? 'Cus it seems to me it should be Snivellus!"

The jeering one was the biggest of the grouop, with a strong build that foretold a broad-shouldered form in adulthood. His back was to Harry, who immediately decided he didn't like this character. He drew closer anyway, trying to see exactly who these boys were.

To his utmost surprise, he recognized the boy they were teasing. It was Snape, his greasy, sarcastic, nasty Potions Master. But now he was not quite nearly so intimidating with tears rolling down his face and ragged, patched robes. Harry wanted to feel triumphant, to revel in the fact that these boys were accomplishing something that he had wanted to do ever since his first potions class, but instead he felt a strange sort of pity for the other boy. It was rather much like how Dudley and his gang had picked on little Harry.

Then the biggest boy, the one who had called Snape 'Snivellus' reached out and shoved his victim hard. Snape sprawled out on the floor. The boys laughed again. "Nice, Sirius -- send the trash right were it belongs. In the dirt!" called out the boy alongside the big bully. Harry's breath caught in his throat -- it was his father, James!

But his father wasn't good and kind like everybody had told him, he was a bully, like that Sirius character, like Dudley. It couldn't be. Harry stared at them numbly.

The train whistled a warning. Fifteen minutes until departure. Sirius turned to his companions and said, "Just leave the trash. Let's get on the train. I hear that Melanie Applegate actually got permission to bring a monkey as a familiar..."

As the boys walked away, Harry turned to look back at his future Potions professor. The boy was still sitting where they had thrown him, head bowed in humiliation, long hair masking his face, sniffling quietly. Harry thought about all of the times he had been left sitting in the dirt, when nobody came to comfort him after Dudley handed out his daily humiliation, and quickly decided upon a course of action.

He walked up in front of Snape, so the other boy could see the tips of his shoes and extended his hand in a friendly manner. Snape looked up and glared at him through his tears, as if trying to scare him off so that Harry would not tease him about his inability to be strong. Harry, however, smiled and said, "I'm Harry Garret. Would you like to sit with me on the train?"

They stared at each other, evaluating. The train whistle sounded a five minute warning. And Snape reached up, grasped Harry's hand, and allowed him to pull him to his feet.

Harry and Severus found themselves an empty compartment near the back of the train. Harry made a show of re-enlarging his trunk and rooting about inside for his school robes as his companion attempted to compose himself. Soon, though, the redness was fading from Severus's eyes and the train was rolling out of the station.

"Who were those boys?" Harry asked as he made himself comfortable on one of the benches.

Severus reddened faintly. "Bullies," he muttered, glancing away. "Sirius Black and James Potter, I knew before. They're Heirs of old pure-blooded families. I don't know the other two."

Images of Dudley immediately came to the forefront of Harry's mind. "I don't like bullies," he said succinctly. "So I s'pose we'd best stick together, eh?"

A loose thread at the end of one of his patched-up sleeves suddenly became extremely interesting to Severus. "It--" he hesitated, trying to decide whether or not he should actually give voice to the thought. Then he sighed. "It would not be... prudent... for you to associate yourself with me."

"Hmmm... and why is that?" Harry asked, trying to catch his companion's eye but failing miserably. "Because you're poor? Is that why?"

"N--yes. No. Something like that." Severus sighed and gave up worrying the threads on his sleeves. He turned his attention to the window. "My mother was a Prince, the old family, you know. She had money and a good name and she gave it all up to marry a muggle." He was most definitely avoiding Harry's gaze now. "A filthy, poor bastard of a muggle. She sullied the Prince name forever -- and the other families like the Blacks and the Potters wouldn't stand for it. They're immensely popular, the Potters at least; and other follow the popular ones and the trend is set..." Now he looked up into Harry's eyes and Harry blinked at the pain in them. "I... I... I'll go now, I think," Severus muttered, gathering his patchy robes about him as he lurched to his feet, eyes falling away from Harry's once more. "You... you should stay away from me..."

Before he had even fully realized what he was doing, Harry's seeker reflexes had snagged the side of Severus's belt and pulled him down onto the bench alongside of Harry. The other boy looked astonished at Harry's audacity and blinked at him in surprise a number of times. "What--?" he began, but was quickly interrupted.

Harry fixed his eyes on Severus's and refused to break the gaze. "Nobody's going to tell me who I can't be friends with," he said calmly, surprising even himself at the conviction in his tone. Severus looked away and seemed to be trying not to cry. "Even if I get sorted into Gryffindor House and you become a Slytherin, I'll still be your friend. People shouldn't judge you like that."

Harry leaned his head back and peered out the window at the Scottish countryside. It looked surprisingly much like it had the first time he had ridden the train. He scratched the niggling itch at the back of his head and asked, absently, "Do you know any magic yet, Severus?"

"Just some potions..." Severus murmured. "Father hates magic... all he'd let mother do was some potions..."

Harry 'hmmm'ed in response. "What about quidditch? Do you play? Watch?"

As it turned out, Severus's father disapproved of that too.

When the lady with the snack trolley came by, Harry pulled out his three-sickle allowance and bought four chocolate frogs. Steadfastly ignoring Severus's protestations, he handed his new friend two of the small boxes and settled down to eat his share. They were debating whether Harry's Merlin card would trounce Severus's Dumbledore card in a duel when the door to their compartment slid open. Sirius Black leaned against the doorframe of the compartment and sneered at the two of them.

"Ah! Snivellus, my most favorite person of all. What a wonderful surprise it is to see you here," he exclaimed with a mocking sneer. "Oh, and with chocolate frogs! My, my Snivellus, you do work fast. Tell me, whose charity case are you now?"

Severus started turning red. A number of assorted giggles and snorts could be heard from behind Sirius. James Potter ambled up and leaned against the other side of the doorway, surveying the scene with bright eyes and an easy smile.

Intent on diffusing the situation, Harry rose to his feet smoothly and extended a hand. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced," he said politely to Sirius, trying to imitate Draco Malfoy's charm minus his arrogance. "Henry Garret, at your service."

The other boy studied him for a bit, his smirk still firmly in place, ignoring the outstretched hand. "Sirius Black," he responded simply and then nodded over at James. "And James Potter. I don't recognize your name... muggle-born, are you?"

It was Draco Malfoy all over again. In a way. Not really. But it was close. Harry pulled his hand back and thanked Merlin and related deities that Razt had grilled him on the proper response. "I am a ward of the Ministry of Magic," he replied, carefully enunciating each syllable of the organization's name. "My identity is protected by the Secrecy and Indemnity Clause in Subsection 34 of the Child Protection Act of 1969."

The two boys stared at him, and Harry could feel Severus's gaze on his back. But he held Sirius's eyes and refused to break the stare. After a tense moment, Black shrugged and replied, "Suit yourself. But I warn you, no secrecy clause is gonna protect you if you associated with this sort of trash."

With a nod of his head, which might or might not have been in good taste or simply mocking, Black departed, followed by the two unknown boys. James stayed behind studying Harry for a moment before he, too, nodded his head, though this time it was respectful to a degree, and followed his friends.

Harry slid the compartment door shut and sat back down, patting his pockets to make sure that both of his wands -- the one from his time and the one from this time -- were still safe.

"Are you really a Ministry ward?"

The question was expected and Harry was unsurprised by it. "Yes," he replied truthfully. "Though I can't tell you much more because of the Secrecy Clause."

"But that clause..." Severus trailed offf, still staring at Harry. Then he swallowed and continued. "That clause is only used for children of people whose parents were really important or really powerful and who would be in a lot of danger if people knew their identities."

Harry nodded, unsure of what Severus was trying to allude to. The other boy glanced at his hands and then looked back at Harry. "They use that clause for His followers," he said, his voice shaking only slightly. "The Dark Lord's. Or children of powerful ministry officials or aurors."

Harry just stared at him. Severus took the hint and dropped the subject. "It's getting late -- we're probably almost there," he said instead. As if on cue, someone banged on their compartment door and yelled for them to get their robes on and get ready to go.

As they packed together their belongings, Severus was deathly quiet. He looked pale and frightened and just before they left the compartment to go mingle with the other first years, Harry squeezed his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. Severus smiled back, slightly relieved, and together they left for Hogwarts.

Hagrid looked quite a bit younger. His beard was not quite as bushy, but trimmed instead, and his hair appeared to have undergone at least an attempt at brushing. But his manner was as gruff as always and his voice as booming as Harry remembered as the groundskeeper turned the group of "firs' years" over to Professor McGonagall. She, on the other hand, looked just like she had before, if not with a little less grey in her hair. She gazed at them sternly over her rectangular spectacles and introduced the concept of the houses once more.

The miniature horde of first years followed her into the hall which was also just like Harry remembered it, though the faces were different. He caught a glimpse of a boy who looked uncannily like Draco Malfoy -- perhaps it was his father? -- and another that looked like one of the two lumps that had followed Malfoy around. Dumbledore still looked the same, eyes twinkling merrily as he surveyed his domain. Some of the teachers he didn't recognize. There was a fat, jowly, bald man with a droopy mustache sitting between Professor Flitwick and McGonagall's empty chair, who must be the head of Slytherin House.

Up in the front, on the same stool as the last time, was the ragged old Sorting Hat. McGonagall marched up and stood beside it, and the old thing opened the tear that served as a mouth and began to sing.

My duty is to so-ort each 'n' every one of you
To place you in your house for when you come to school
They will be your friends, your family, and p'r'aps even your tools
This is my great task.

Gryffindor is first, he the bravest of the brave
There was never a fair maiden that he could not, would not save
They have courage and ability and not one of them's a knave
This may be the house for you.

Hufflepuff is kind and strong and loyal to a fault
All their strength and understanding is something to exalt
Their loyalty is solid and glory's the result
This may be the house for you.

Ravenclaw has knowledge that all the others yearn
What sets them all apart is their great desire t' learn
Not one of them is dumb, and that great title they have earn'd
This may be the house for you.

Slytherin is last with its cunning and ambition
They strive for what they want and thus their dreams come to fruition
Hiding in the shadows, they all will complete their mission
This too may be the house for you.

Now that you know all about our many varied Houses
It is time for me to choose where ever to stick you louses
I'm sure to stick you somewhere else they'll feed me to the mouses
Let's find the house for you.

The students broke out into applause, and Harry found himself clapping too. It was a much better song than the one the Hat had sung before his sorting. A rough idea of what was going to happen was taking shape in his head. He couldn't mess up this timeline, so he would have to stay clear of his father. They would mean letting the Hat sort him into Slytherin, if it chose to do so once again. It didn't bother him so much this time around, perhaps because he had seen just what bullies his father and his friends had been.

McGonagall was calling names. "Black, Sirius."

Severus stiffened beside Harry, and they both waited during the minute or so that Black sat on the stool. He seemed to be arguing with the Hat, if the clenching of his jaw and his white-knuckled grasp of the stool were anything to go by. Then the Hat snorted, opened its rim, and declared, "GRYFFINDOR!"

A number of other students were sorted and then, "Garret, Henry."

Harry sat down and placed the hat firmly on his head. As the darkness settled about his eyes, he thought, Hello, hat.

Why hello, again, Mister Potter. Though 'again' might not be the appropriate term as I have not seen you yet. Oh dear. I hate time.

Harry smirked. Can you sort me please? he asked mentally.

Why of course. But you've already been sorted, haven't you? So Gr--

No! The vehemence of his reply took even him by surprise. No. Please. Anywhere but Gryffindor.

There was silence from the Hat. And then: My, you have changed your tune. The last time you were here -- or, perhaps I should say will be -- I see that you were rather adamant about it being anywhere but Slytherin...

There are... reasons... Harry began.

Yes, yes. Mr Snape, for one. And, oh my -- your father really is an arse... Oh never mind. It is obvious that your place is now in -- "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry peeled the hat off of his head and handed it back to Professor McGonagall before walking towards the Slytherin table. He stopped briefly to wave cheekily at Black, who was boo-ing over at the Gryffindor table, and then sat down. He placed his cap on the seat next to him to reserve it for Severus.

Remus Lupin, one of the unknown boys who had been hanging out with Black at the train station, went into Gryffindor. Peter Pettigrew, the remaining unknown, went as well. James, much like Draco Malfoy would do many years in the future, was sorted into Gryffindor before the hat even touched his head. Then, McGonagall called, "Snape, Severus."

The whispers that followed Severus up to the stool were horrible, some of which had apparently reached McGonagall's ears as her lips thinned and nearly disappeared. She kindly helped Severus steady himself on the stool and then placed the hat on his head. Not ten seconds had passed before the hat declared, "SLYTHERIN!"

Now the whispers escalated into a dull chattering roar. Severus handed the hat back to McGonagall and moved to sit beside Harry, flinching slightly as the boy on his other side shifted further away. The Professor frowned at this, cleared her throat, and barked, "Silence!"

Unlikely as it seems, this command actually worked and a muted silence descended upon the hall, though everyone seemed to be trying to sneak a glance at this new boy who so fascinated the student body. McGonagall glared at each house in turn before returning to her parchment and calling, "Stanton, Brenna."

The sorting continued in much the same manner, though with no more interruptions, and was soon finished. Then Dumbledore stood and addressed the student body, once more pointing out Mr Filch's extensive list of banned items and the fact that the Forbidden Forest was quite forbidden. He then introduced the new Defense professor, Zanzibar Iulius -- a stooped, slight wizard with crooked shoulders and a protruding tooth -- and let them begin their meal with the slightly off-kilter dismissal of "Bibbity bobbity boop."

The food was as delicious as Harry remembered, and he idly wondered if Hogwarts had house elves. Severus hunched over his plate, with his head down, as people pointed and whispered at him.

"Is that...?" "Yeah..." "...disgrace..." "...blood traitors, the lot..." "...look at that nose... eeew...."

Hearing these, Harry gently squeezed Severus's forearm reassuringly. "It'll be over soon," he muttered to his friend. "Don't worry."

The meal seemed to drag on forever, as did the school song, but then they were dismissed to the dormitories, much to Severus's relief. The Slytherin common room was an austere, elegantly decorated circular room, done in the natural grey of the stone and a rich forest green. A mahogany hearth crackled with brilliant yellow-orange flames, giving both light and heat to the area. Other light filtered down from the ceiling, a transparent affair which seemed to be underneath the lake itself.

Harry and Severus followed the other first years into a hallway off of a flight of steps. "In Slytherin House, you will have acquaintances, allies, and enemies," the Prefect in the front of the group announced. "As such, it is good to have a friend as well, to guard your back. For this reason, all Slytherin students share a room with another Slytherin of the same year. Pick your partner and a room. Each room has a lock, and you are allowed to ward it in any way you wish."

The prefect looked at them. The first years looked back. "Breakfast is served from six-thirty until eight-thirty every morning. I will be in the common room at seven-thirty to take you down to the Great Hall. If you are not there, that is your own problem." They resumed staring at each other. "Well? Are you going to choose your rooms or not?"

There was a flurry of activity as the first years all turned towards each other in an effort to sort themselves out. Harry just grasped Severus's arm and dragged him to the furthest door. "This way we won't be bothered by people walking around in front of our room," he said as they entered. "And if anyone is ever this far down the hall, we know that they're up to no good."

Severus looked exhausted. Harry took one good look at him, shoved him into his bed. Then he spelled the lock shut, just like Hermione had taught him, climbed into his own bed, and fell asleep.