A NORMAL LIFE

1:20 p.m. Sunday, June 12, 1994

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat leisurely under a tree on the lakeshore adjacent to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, waiting for their best friend Hermione Granger to join them. Ever since Ron had become aware of Hermione using a Time-Turner to go to extra classes all year, and Harry having accompanied her in their time-trip to rescue Buckbeak and Sirius Black, Ron had been hounding Hermione to allow him a go at using the Time-Turner. She finally agreed to ask Professor Dumbledore for permission this one time only.

Harry squinted in the bright Sunday afternoon sunlight, scanning the lawn leading toward the castle, until he spotted Hermione walking briskly toward them. He turned to Ron, who was chucking stones at a mischievous Grindylow poking his head out of the water.

“Ron, Hermione’s back,” Harry said, as he tapped his redheaded friend on the arm.

Ron turned around, his eyes wide in anticipation. He met Hermione’s eyes as she sat down and the excitement he had been feeling for the past hour wilted under her despondent gaze. “Dumbledore said we couldn’t go, didn’t he,” Ron stated dejectedly, before angrily tossing the stone he’d been playing with and hitting the Grindylow on the head with a loud thunk.

Harry reached a hand out to console Ron and as he started to speak, Hermione caught his eye; she winked, her smile flashing brilliantly in the sunlight reflecting off the lake. “Maybe it’s not all that bad, Ron,” Harry said quietly. “Let’s hear what Hermione has to say.”

Ron turned back to face Hermione, muttering, “Why? One look at…Oy, what’s with the stupid smirk?” Ron asked, wondering if she was trying to pull one over on him.

Hermione leaned forward and punched him on the arm. “Ron, you’re much too sensitive,” she teased. “Professor Dumbledore said under normal circumstances the answer would be no, but since you distinguished yourself in the Shrieking Shack when you thought Sirius Black was going to kill Harry, he will allow us to go one hour into the past with an immediate return.”

Ron jumped up, thrusting his fist into the air. “Yes!” he exclaimed. “When can we go?” he asked, extending a hand to Harry and pulling him to his feet.

Hermione stood and glanced at her watch. “We go at 1:30 p.m. I told Professor Dumbledore we would be using Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom on the second floor as no one uses it.”

“Ouch,” Ron yelled, jerking his leg. Looking down, the Grindylow he’d clocked had crawled out of the water and attacked his ankle. With a swift kick, he booted the watery pest, sending it skipping across the lake.

As they walked back to the castle, Hermione cheerily peppered Ron and Harry with a list of time traveling rules. “The most important thing to remember is not to interact with anyone in the past or be seen,” Hermione warned. “Terrible things have happened to wizards who disobeyed the rules.”

Harry smiled as he glanced at Ron, who appeared to be oblivious to everything Hermione was telling them. “Hermione, we’re not gonna be there long enough to take a breath, let alone alter time,” Harry said as they jogged up the staircase to the second floor.

Hermione stopped at the bathroom entrance and poked her head inside. “I know we’ll only be there for a few seconds, but it always pays to be prepared for any eventuality,” Hermione countered. “Come on, there’s no one here.”

A loud screech greeted the three Gryffindor’s as they stepped into the bathroom. The ghost of Moaning Myrtle flew out of the third stall, berating Hermione for her inconsiderate remark. “What do you mean, ‘there’s no one here,’ Miss Snooty?” screamed Myrtle. “I’m here! I’m always here!”

She hovered in front of Ron, who recoiled from her presence. “We only meant there were no humans here, not you,” Ron attempted to explain. Myrtle immediately thrust her face at him, nose to nose, and he knew he’d said the wrong thing, again.

“That’s right, Myrtle doesn’t count! Who cares what Myrtle thinks or if she’s in her bathroom or not,” she shouted. With a final ear-splitting screech, Myrtle hurtled through the nearest stall and dived into the toilet, flooding the floor.

“Well, that was cheerful, lucky for us she was in a good mood,” Ron said.

Hermione checked her watch. “We have a few more seconds,” she remarked, pulling a long, thin golden chain from beneath the neckline of her shirt. She slipped the chain over Ron and Harry’s head; attached to the chain was a small golden hourglass within concentric rings she held between her fingers. “Okay, is everyone ready?” Both boys nodded affirmative.

Hermione checked her watch again and began counting down. “I’ll turn the hourglass in reverse one turn and we’ll instantly be transported into the past, one hour,” she informed them.

Harry watched, fascinated, as Hermione rotated the hourglass and immediately felt lightheaded, the world tumbled with an angry buzz and his insides were like writhing snakes fighting to burst his gut. The urge to vomit flashed briefly and then he felt the solid stone floor under his feet, his legs nearly buckling. He stared back at Ron and Hermione who looked as ill as he felt.

“Hermione, what just happened?” Harry asked. “I never felt anything like that the last time. I felt ill…like my stomach was twisted up in knots.”

“I…I’m not sure, Harry, but…” she replied, scanning the room. She looked at her watch. “It’s only been a few seconds in real time and we’re where we should be.” Her worried eyes skipped from Ron to Harry. “But, you’re right, Harry, in every trip I’ve taken, that’s the first time I’ve ever felt sick.”

“I guess it’s probably no good hoping the return will feel normal?” Ron asked, smiling weakly.

Harry returned Ron’s smile, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know about you, mate, but I think my time-traveling days will be officially over once we get back.” He motioned to Hermione. “Well, shall we…”

The door to the bathroom suddenly opened, a short, chubby, dark-haired girl with thick glasses halted immediately at the sight of the three unexpected occupants. “What are you doing in here with two boys?” she shouted. “This is a girl’s bathroom or hadn’t you two noticed?” she asked, glaring at Ron and Harry. “I’m telling a teacher right now!” She spun on her feet and stormed out, slamming the door.

The three of them stood silent, shocked at what had just occurred. Harry’s brain was racing in overdrive. That couldn’t have been…

“Hermione, was that who I think it was?” Harry asked nervously.

“Myrtle,” Hermione answered.

“How could she have been Myrtle?” Ron asked excitedly. “She was human.”

Hermione sighed, “Unless, there’s a Myrtle look-a-like at Hogwarts we don’t know about, then It means we’ve probably been transported back over fifty years, Ron.”

Ron’s face turned whiter than it already was. “Blimey, will we be able to get back?”

Hermione thought for a moment, her brow furrowed as she reflected on all of the knowledge she had been required to learn to use the Time-Turner. “I think I know what’s happened. Before I could begin using the Time-Turner, I had to read all sorts of rules and regulations, case histories of incidents and be familiar with malfunctions that sometimes occur, the worst being what’s just happened to us. In theory, it’s only a matter of reversing the rotation of the hourglass and we should be taken back to our own time.”

“What about Myrtle? Did we change anything…by her seeing us?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Hermione responded. “We won’t know until we’ve gone back, but Harry, we need to think this through before…”

A loud scraping noise filled the bathroom. It sounded like the bricks in the walls were falling apart. All three turned to face the sinks opposite the toilets, in particular, the sink that hid the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. It was opening.

Harry was horrorstruck. This could only mean they were seconds away from certain death if it was the Basilisk emerging from the chamber. “Hermione, quick, get us out of here…if that’s the Basilisk…!” Harry yelled.

“…we’ll be haunting this bathroom with Myrtle,” Ron croaked.

With shaking hands, Hermione took hold of the Time-Turner and rotated the hourglass in the opposite direction. The gut wrenching effect was again instantaneous but ceased within seconds after they materialized.

A first-year student washing her hands at the sink, jumped with a shriek when the three appeared out of thin air. Staring, she backed away then fled out the door.

The first difference Harry noticed was a dull, throbbing pain in his head, nearly causing him to pass out as a flood of conflicting memories of two different lives jockeyed in his mind for dominance. As Harry grabbed Ron for support, he was both shocked and comforted by his friend’s appearance. A part of Harry recoiled at the sight of the short, stocky, dark-haired boy to whom he held onto, just as another part recognized and felt relief at his presence. He remembered the boy standing before him, Christopher Weasley, as his best friend since the age of three, but he also remembered him as Ron Weasley, his best friend since they met on the Hogwarts Express his first year of school. He could see by Hermione’s reaction, she was just as confused.

“Something’s strange, Harry, I don’t feel right,” exclaimed Chris.

“Hermione, why is Chris here, when I know it should be Ron standing there? And why does he look like Chris and not Ron?”

Chris looked at Harry, horrified, “What are you talking about, Harry?” he asked. He slipped off the Time-Turner chain and walked over to the nearest mirror. “Goodness, Harry, what’s…hang on…this is how I’m supposed to look…no, bloody hell…I’m Ron, but…I’m not…” He looked back at Harry and Hermione, real terror in his eyes. “Hermione, what’s happened to me?” he pleaded. “How can I look and feel like Chris and know I should be Ron? Or should I…” He clammed up, realizing he wasn’t sure what he believed.

Hermione took his hands, her eyes wet with tears. “It’s because you are Chris, but you also have Ron’s memories. We did something that caused you to change, but we’ll correct it, I promise you.” She turned back to Harry. “Whatever we’ve done, Harry, we have memories of two timelines. I very vividly remember you receiving your Firebolt at Christmas, but I also remember you never received a Firebolt,” she said. “We really need to find Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded at her, his mind distant…we changed something, he thought…but what? He stared at the sinks…the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets…the chamber opened…if that was the day Myrtle died…of course… “Hermione, we must have prevented Myrtle from dieing as she was intended. That’s what we changed,” Harry exclaimed.

Hermione glanced back at Harry, nodding in agreement, and then poked her head outside the bathroom doorway. “Come on, there’s no one in the corridor.” She looked at her watch and was amazed to see that less than three minutes had passed since she first activated the Time-Turner. They set out toward Dumbledore’s office at a cautious pace, trying hard not to look suspicious.

“Yes, that makes perfect sense, Harry, because…” Hermione paused. Chris was staring at her with tears in his eyes.

“Because…Myrtle…she’s my mother,” he managed to croak weakly. “Harry, how am I supposed feel? What am I supposed to do, knowing she’ll die if we change things back?”

Harry looked away. A feeling of un-reality settled over him. Myrtle Weasley, Moaning Myrtle, was Chris’s mum, not Molly Weasley. It was extremely hard to equate his memories of Myrtle the ghost and Mrs. Myrtle Weasley, his best friend’s mother, his adopted mother. The brief memories of is own mother and father who died when he was three flashed to the fore. He couldn’t remember much of them, but it was more than the other Harry had known.

He couldn’t bear to see Chris like this or imagine what Ron or Chris must be going through, knowing the only thing of Ron that existed in this time was his memories, or that Chris must allow his mum to die in order to return time back to normal.

Harry knew that it was probably also true that he and Hermione had changed but at least they still looked the same. Another thought suddenly occurred to him. He put his hand to his forehead. “Hermione, do I have my scar?” he asked.

Hermione looked at him, puzzled, for a moment. “What? Oh…” she replied. She stopped and brushed the hair from Harry’s forehead and wasn’t surprised to find smooth skin in place of his famous lightening shaped mark. “It’s gone, Harry,” Hermione said with a tinge of sadness. However, didn’t she also feel a touch of relief? “Harry, we’ve changed too, only not in a sense you can see, at least mostly.”

Harry stared back at her and Chris, as another unexpected realization emerged. “Hermione, I have no memory of Voldemort in this time. He didn’t attack me. He didn’t murder my mum and dad.”

“You’re right, Harry. He doesn’t exist in this time,” Hermione replied, “or if he did, he never gained any power. You have a normal life, here.”

Harry smiled. “I have a normal life, here,” he repeated. “Would it really be so bad to live this reality?” he asked. “My parents are still dead, but the Weasleys are my family now.” He looked at Chris and remembered Ron. An intense well of emotion, anger, hopelessness and despair, filled him so suddenly, he thought he would explode. “So is that the answer? Is it that easy? I just chuck Ron Weasley into time’s dustbin and keep Chris! Is that all I have to do for a normal life?” Harry felt sickened and cheap for even having the thought. “That isn’t a choice, Hermione, it’s an ultimatum!”

He met Chris’s gaze and dropped his eyes out of shame. “It’s not mine to have or mine to make!” he said defiantly, with an air of finality. He felt Hermione’s and Chris’s hand rest on his shoulder and the pain lessened, a little.

“Harry, it’s okay, I understand,” Chris replied. “Sometimes, life is never fair.”

They bounded up the last set of stairs before coming to the giant Gargoyle protecting the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. Harry looked up at the large stone monstrosity and realized he didn’t know the password. “Er…does anyone know the password?” he asked.

“It’s ‘Snickerdoodle’,” Hermione replied. “I’ve been helping Professor Dumbledore with a project, so he gave it to me.”

The Gargoyle leapt out of their path, allowing them to mount the rising spiral staircase. At the top of the stairs, they came to a large oak door. Harry knocked three times.

The door slowly opened, revealing Professor Albus Dumbledore sitting quietly behind his desk, conversing with one of the many portraits lining the walls of his office. He greeted them with a welcoming smile as they approached. “Good afternoon and to what special occasion do I owe the pleasure of your company?” he asked pleasantly.

Hermione lifted the Time-Turner over her head and handed it to Dumbledore. “Professor, something terrible has happened. You gave me this Time-Turner to use for a brief one-hour trip into the past. It must be faulty because it transported us over fifty years into the past,” Hermione explained breathlessly. “We were there less than a minute at best, but we accidentally interrupted a crucial event and altered the future. You won’t have remembered because we never made that trip in this timeline.” She paused, then related everything that occurred from the time she activated the Time-Turner.

He surveyed his young students over his half-moon glasses. “Miss Granger, if you are from a different timeline, how is it you know of the memories experienced by the Miss Granger from this timeline?” Dumbledore asked, with a serious, probing stare.

“I don’t know…except, I suppose it’s because we’re really the same person…only, I…I just do,” Hermione replied hesitantly, unable to voice her thoughts coherently.

“Then allow me to explain,” Dumbledore replied. “The complexities of time and space may be infinite; no one has a true grasp of its mysteries. Many learned wizards believe that there are an infinite number of timelines, or parallel universes, co-existing with each other in the same space, but unseen from our point of view because we can only experience ‘one’ reality at a given time. When you changed the past, you also altered your reality. In effect, you and your counterparts physically merged when you returned to the future you made. You are they, and they are you, each possessing the other’s memories. Your friend Ron Weasley appeared as Chris, because it is Chris who exists in this reality, not Ron.” He paused to allow his explanation to sink in. “I ask for your patience. We will work this out.”

He stood and walked to a table holding several strange, silver instruments. “I would think those conflicting memories would be very confusing,” he remarked, as he gently placed the Time-Turner onto one of the silver instruments and with a slight twist locked it into place. He took out his wand and tapped the top of the instrument. A ball of hazy blue light enveloped the Time-Turner, with intermittent streaks of white flashes. “You are quite correct, Miss Granger,” he said glancing at her worried face, “this Time-Turner is slightly out of synchronization.” Dumbledore tapped the instrument again causing it to hum quietly until the color sharpened to a luminous blue and the streaks of white flashes vanished.

He turned back to Hermione and beckoned her forward. “It’s not that I don’t trust you Miss Granger, but before I take your word at face value, you must prove to me that this alteration of time has occurred. Would you please have a seat?”

Hermione came forward and sat in a chair facing Dumbledore’s desk.

“Now, Hermione, can you deduce how I might prove your account?” he asked.

“Legilimency,” she responded confidently.

“Very good,” Dumbledore replied. You are correct.” He noticed the concern on Harry and Chris’s faces and assured them the procedure would not harm Hermione. “Legilimency will allow me to examine her memories and emotions. If she indeed, has memories of two timelines, I will know without a doubt.”

He positioned himself in front of Hermione and gazed unblinking into her eyes. “Look directly at me, Hermione, and relax your mind; don’t resist.” For several minutes they stared at one another, locked in each other’s gaze, Dumbledore occasionally murmuring words like ‘fascinating’ and ‘how curious’. He then broke eye contact and she slumped over, unconscious.

Harry and Chris knelt beside her until she regained consciousness. “Are you okay?” they asked in unison.

She nodded and looked up at Dumbledore. “Did you see what you needed?” she asked.

“Yes, more than enough, Miss Granger. I must say I don’t envy my counterpart, but we do not always have a say in the choices that life presents us. We must live the life we are given.”

“Listen to me very carefully, all of you,” he said in a grave voice, “it is imperative that this time anomaly be corrected as soon as possible. The longer you remain in this reality, the less you will remember of the former, until eventually, your memories of your past life will be lost to your conscious mind. You may still have vague flashes of memories, most likely in your dreams, but dreams are all they will ever be. In order to return you to your original timeline, Myrtle must not encounter your original selves. If I am successful then none of this will have occurred for you.”

“You, why must you do this, Professor?” Hermione asked.

“From what I experienced in your memories, there will only be a few precious seconds from the time you appear in the bathroom until Myrtle enters. If I am unsuccessful in sending yourselves back before Myrtle arrives, I do have a variety of spells and other abilities I can use to prevent her from seeing you or remembering that she saw you.”

“Then, if you’re successful…what…what happens to me? Will I die?” Chris asked in a scared and trembling voice.

“Life for Chris Weasley will return to its former state,” Dumbledore replied. “You will not die, Chris, your perception of reality will simply, change. However, you may still have vague memories of Ron’s experiences for a short time, like faint impressions of a dream; but, for you, Ron Weasley will not exist.”

He turned back to the silver instrument holding the Time-Turner and tapped a rear portion of it with his wand, causing the blue light surrounding the Time-Turner to change to a brilliant red. “Miss Granger, how accurate can you be as to the time and location you materialized in the bathroom?” Dumbledore asked.

Hermione glanced at her watch and thought for a moment. “We appeared about 8 feet inside the door and I looked at my watch only a few seconds after we arrived. It was approximately 1:30 p.m. and ten seconds,” she replied.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore replied, “I will synchronize the Time-Turner so that I arrive just prior to your original arrival.” Bending over the instrument, he twiddled with some small knobs and buttons, and then tapped it again with his wand, causing the luminous blue light to return.

“Excuse me, Professor,” Harry said, his voice filled with confusion. “How do you know what day and year to return to?”

A wise and knowing smile crossed Dumbledore’s face as he met Harry’s gaze. “The answer to that, Harry, lies in Miss Granger’s excellent and ordered mind. In addition to her experiences with you and Mr. Weasley concerning Myrtle, she has read many books, including three that give the date and year of Myrtle’s unfortunate death.”

Hermione lowered her head, her face blushing pink.

As they walked with Dumbledore, along the corridor to Myrtle’s bathroom, Harry mentally compared his conflicting memories. Because of the knowledge he had of both timelines, he understood how different his life and those of Hermione, Chris and Ron were changed and he willingly accepted those facts. However, there was one glaring fact that was missing in this timeline and it distressed him greatly. He had no memory of Hagrid. None, not even a whisper.

Harry stepped in front of Professor Dumbledore, forcing him to halt. Chris and Hermione shot Harry a quizzical look. “Professor, there’s something I need to ask you concerning this timeline.”

“By all means, ask, Harry and I will try to answer.”

Harry didn’t know why, but he was suddenly chilled. He knew as certain as there were twenty-four hours in a day that he did not want to hear Dumbledore’s answer to his question, but he also knew he didn’t have the will to stop himself from asking. He dropped his eyes for a moment, steeling his nerves. “In the other timeline, Professor, the school’s Gamekeeper is a man named Rubeus Hagrid. He’s one of my best friends. Can you tell me what has happened to him?” Dumbledore stared blankly at him for a few seconds, his left eye twitched slightly. Harry suddenly wished he could take back the question.

“Hagrid,” he whispered softly, “Hagrid…” His face darkened as a bitter sadness stole over him, and in those few moments, Albus Dumbledore grew very old. “Rubeus Hagrid, now that’s a name I hadn’t heard in a long time, a long time. I appreciate having seen in your memory, Hermione, the man he has become.”

“Harry, don’t…I…I don’t want to hear this,” Hermione said quietly, tears streaming down her face.

Harry was determined. “Hermione, we caused this. I have to know. I have to.”

Dumbledore began to speak, quietly, almost reverently. “Rubeus was a fine boy. I don’t think I’ve met anyone before or since who had a kinder heart, but I don’t have to tell you that. You know the man I’ve never known,” He paused to collect his thoughts and to quell the emotion welling inside. “You will have to forgive me, it’s been such a long time since I last saw him; it was the day he left on the Hogwarts Express at the end of his third year. As I recall, he was in very good spirits and he was looking forward to a trip to Ireland to see some ‘very interesting animals’ as I believe he put it. Three weeks later, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement received an owl from an unknown wizard stating straight out that he intensely disliked Rubeus, had killed him, and intended to kill others. The letter contained no other reason for his murder. Extensive searches found no body, nor has anyone seen him since. Some years later, ministry law enforcement wizards traced the murder to Tom Riddle, who eventually confessed. He said he simply killed him because he felt Rubeus was not worthy to be a wizard. He was convicted and sent to Azkaban Prison, where he eventually died, raving mad, insisting he be called Lord Vol…”

Harry interrupted him, “Professor, that’s enough,” He put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve heard what we needed to hear.”

“Very well, Harry.”

As they came to Myrtle’s bathroom door, Dumbledore pulled out his strange watch, with its twelve hands and planets circling the rim. “I will need to activate the Time-Turner in exactly 1 minute and 42 seconds. I would please ask you three to remain outside in the corridor and prevent anyone from entering. If I am successful, your timeline will return to its original course.”

He knocked on the door. Pausing, he stuck his head inside and satisfied the room was empty of students, entered. Taking a position near to where Harry, Hermione and Ron would appear, he waited until the appointed time, and then rotated the Time-Turner’s hourglass.

Immediately upon materializing, Dumbledore checked his watch and satisfied he had arrived at the correct place and time, muttered an incantation and promptly became invisible. As the seconds ticked off, he analyzed his strategy, and then stood silent and watched.

When Hermione, Ron and Harry appeared, Dumbledore revealed himself, speaking urgently and forcefully, “You three listen to me! Do not speak! Your Time-Turner is defective; if you do not return immediately, Hagrid will die. When you return, bring the Time-Turner directly to me.” With a flick of his wand, he rotated Hermione’s Time-Turner and as they vanished, Albus Dumbledore faded away.



***



“Chris, what’s wrong?” asked Hermione. She watched, puzzled, as he stared at the retreating, red haired figure of Professor Molly Prewett, Hogwarts’ Potions teacher.

“I don’t know…I…I had the strangest thought when Professor Prewett said hello to me.” He turned to Hermione; a slight smile adorned his face, touched with a bit of sadness. “For a second…I…I almost…I wanted to call her ‘mum’.”

Harry cracked up, laughing, “Hey, yeah, and then maybe you’d have red hair like your brothers Oliver and James.”

“Or maybe you’d have red hair and be Head Boy, like your brother Rupert,” Hermione chimed in.

“Shut up, Hermione, who’d ever want to be that pompous git?” Chris replied as they walked laughing, into the Gryffindor Common room.


***


An instant later, Harry, Ron and Hermione materialized in Myrtle’s bathroom. “What was that all about?” Ron exclaimed as he grimaced in pain. “Why was Dumbledore waiting for us?”

When the nausea had passed and Hermione had regained her composure, she replied, “We must have gone back in time and changed something. Dumbledore obviously was able to meet us in the past and prevent us from doing whatever it was that we’d done.” She peered closely at the Time-Turner and flicking a small lever, locked the hourglass. “One thing’s for certain, if he was correct about this Time-Turner being defective, he wants us to return it to him immediately.”

“But nothing happened, Hermione,” Harry replied. “How could we have changed anything?”

“Harry, we obviously appeared in Myrtle’s bathroom at least once before and altered the past. That must have been why Dumbledore was waiting for us. We could have made that trip a hundred times for all we know. We don’t remember what we changed, because Dumbledore prevented it from happening. Does that make sense?”

“It makes my head hurt, is what it does,” Harry replied.

As they exited the bathroom, amidst Myrtle’s sobbing, Harry had made up his mind about time travel. “Whatever we did, it killed Hagrid,” he said solemnly. “I don’t want to ever see that Time-Turner again.”

“It was probably your fault anyway, Harry. You probably turned all evil and such,” Ron remarked.

“Me? You’re the evil one, Weasley,” Harry countered with a grin.

“Well, I know it couldn’t have been me. I’m just too good and pure,” Hermione declared.

Ron began making violent choking sounds.

Harry laughed. “She’s right, to a point, Ron,” Harry replied. “She’s too good, ‘not’ to be evil.”

“Oh, shut up, Harry,” Hermione responded, laughing, as she punched him in the arm.

“Hermione,” Ron replied, “promise me, if I ever ask to use that Time-Turner again, you’ll slap me like a blonde haired Slytherin.”

Their laughter rang loud and joyous throughout the corridors of Hogwarts and they were still laughing, tears streaming down their faces when they collapsed on the staircase spiraling them up to Dumbledore’s office.