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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, ideas, and situations created by JR Rowling and owned by her and her publishers. I own the original elements & characters. No money is being made by me, and no trademark or copyright infringement is intended.


Chapter IV
Friday, August 18, 1995


"Now, Severus," Dumbledore said, "what effect did the Prophecy have on Voldemort?" Snape was just back from another meeting with his other Master. "He must have listened to it by now."

"He's convinced that this is all a trick on your part," Snape admitted.

"I wish I was that clever, and others might wish I were that powerful for that matter," Dumbledore said.


"Back again, Miss Tonks?"

"Yes, good morning, Mrs. Granger," Tonks said. "I told you I'm going to come back every morning at this time, and I'm going to ask if you've heard from Hermione." Tonks took a deep breath and said, "and even if you have heard from her, I will understand if you say you haven't."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we don't know what's going on," Tonks admitted. "Professor Dumbledore is certain something is seriously wrong, and many of us just don't know. If you want to clue me in on anything, I would appreciate it. If not, I'll understand."

"I take you haven't heard anything, then," Mr. Granger said, coming forward.

"Not a thing," Tonks agreed. He looked at them and shrugged. "I'll talk with you tomorrow."

"We'll look forward to it," Mr. Granger said drily.

As she shut the door, Emma Granger asked, "I take it you don't have any doubts about not telling them about the letter?"

"None at all," Dan Granger answered. "It doesn't say much, but it does have one of the passwords Hermione set up."

"So she's either doing this of her own free will, or she's really been totally taken over," Emma agreed. "I hope they come visit soon."

"She said they would, so they will," Dan said, with a confidence he didn't feel.


"I should stay here in case Harry sends a message," Molly said determinedly for the fifth time. Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Fine," Sirius snapped. "Let me put this in terms even you can understand. Get out of my house!"

Molly reared back in raw anger. Sirius cut in on her. "Out! I've had enough of you! I don't wonder that one son ran off to Egypt and now avoids you as much as he can, another ran off to Romania and refuses to come near you, and that a third won't even speak to you. You're an overbearing, suffocating woman, and in your own way as rude as my mother. The wards on your own house have been strengthened, so it should be safe there. Now, get out!" He turned and stalked out of the kitchen.

"I can see how even his minimal influence may have contaminated Harry," Molly said with a hurt sniff. "I will leave, so that my children won't be exposed to him any longer."



Later that morning, Hermione awoke when Harry gave a loud snort. She realized that she was laying nude in the master suite's bed, and Harry was at a small desk in a corner. "What's amusing?" she asked. She winced and added, "And why does my mouth taste like rotten leather and every bit of my body ache?"

"Dumbledore asked Mrs. Weasley to leave Headquarters, and Sirius had to get rude to get her out," Harry said. "I have some powerful spying spells on parts of the house, and get transcriptions of what's said. Your aches, and the bad taste, are because of the potions you took last night. I'm surprised you don't have to. . . ."

"Harry!" Hermione suddenly said. "I need to pee! Badly! And I can't move!"

Harry came to help her. "You can, you're just stiff, but I'll help."

Twenty minutes later, Hermione had urinated and freshened her mouth, and then she and Harry had showered together, the hot water and Harry's gentle hands easing her aches. She was examining her body in the mirror in the dressing room off the main suite. Harry was also examining her.

The night before, Hermione had stood 5 foot 3 and measured 34B- 25-36. She now stood 5 foot 4 and measured 36C-22-35. She was toned and, she thought, attractive.

Harry thought she was drop-dead sexy.

Hermione frowned at Harry. "You took the potions last night, too. Why could you move so easily?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm used to it. And I think I've hit my full growth, from the potions I mean."

Hermione looked at Harry hungrily. He was now 5 foot 10 and was a fairly leanly-muscled 11 stone 1 (155 pounds). "What do you have scheduled for us now?" she asked in a husky whisper.

"How about some time together, then lunch, and then some more Occlumency lessons?" Harry suggested. "Then some shopping for Muggle clothes that actually fit instead of being transfigured. When we come back, some advanced spell work and physical exercise, dinner, and some more snuggle time."

"'Snuggle time'?" Hermione teased.

"Fine, I would like to make passionate love with you this morning and again tonight," Harry said. "My tongue aches to taste you, and I love being inside your sexy mouth almost as much as I love kissing it. How's that?"

"Much better," Hermione said. "And tonight, we'll lose our virginity together."

"As you wish," Harry said with a small smile and slight bow.

"You think you're Wesley to my Buttercup?" Hermione asked with a return smile.

"Yes, and I think I'll have to play the Dred Pirate Roberts to everyone but you," Harry answered.



"What are you up to, Mad-eye?" Sirius asked as Remus returned from taking the charred painting of Sirius' mother off to the trash heap. He would have to take care of Kreacher's body as well, as the elf had died of a stroke as he had been restrained from saving the painting from the three wizards attacking it together.

"Dumbledore's treatment of Potter has never really made much sense to me," Moody answered. "It's as if there are two or three conflicting plans running about in his brain, so he winds up doing as little as possible. Now, despite that, I think Potter might be in trouble. No matter if Potter is a free agent or not, I think he's likely to be in contact with the pair of you. If he's not a free agent, he will be in touch if only to give the illusion that he is. I want to make certain I'm around when that contact happens, so we can start to figure things out."

"Whose side are you on, Moody?" Remus asked.

"Do you really expect me to answer that?"

"No, but if you do, I'll know it's honest," Remus retorted.

That actually brought a slight flush to the jaded old auror's face. "Then I'll tell you. I'm on Harry's side. If I can ever get any sort of reasonable answer out of Albus, I'll decide if it's a good idea to follow him as well. In the meantime, if the boy's in trouble, I want to help him."

Remus and Sirius blinked at that. Sirius recovered first. "I know I should be worried, too," Sirius agreed. "I don't know why, and I know I could be wrong, but I just feel Harry's not in trouble."

"I hope he's not, for his sake as well as the lass'."



Just after dusk, sore and aching, but in different and more pleasant ways than she had been when she had awakened that morning, Hermione snuggled around her lover and fell asleep, with her cat laying on the foot of the bed.

Domesticity was not Hermione's goal in life, but she decided it had its place.


Sunday, August 20, 1995


Emma and Dan Granger were startled by the knock on their half- closed bedroom door at 7:05 on the Sunday morning, which then swung fully open. "Hermione!" After their surprise, they both leapt out of bed to hug her.

Hermione hugged her parents back, and after the long hug, the Grangers stepped back and looked at their daughter and her escort. Hermione, they both realized with a shock, was no longer a girl. It wasn't just that she had grown an inch and developed a fantastic body, but that she had lost the bits of baby fat in her face and even carried herself differently. Her slightly rounded shoulders were gone and she looked them right in the eye instead of shyly avoiding just that -- she was a confident woman.

Harry was an even greater surprise. He had been slightly shorter and lighter than Hermione back in June. He was now just over average height for an adult, had the well-muscled body of a swimmer or distance runner, and was not wearing his glasses.

"Mister Granger, Mrs. Granger," Harry said, "I can understand that you're probably upset with Hermione and myself, not to mention that you likely feel concerned and even confused. However, if you would like, I'd like to invite you to my home for the next few days. I understand you are on holiday this week."

The Grangers looked at each other. "Hermione can help you pack, and then magically take you there. I need to visit the Headmaster and talk with him."

"Miss Tonks said she'd be here at Eight-thirty to ask if we've heard from you," Dan said.

"Then we should pack quickly," Hermione said. "Don't worry about the food in the fridge. We can send someone to take care of that later."

The Grangers' eyebrows went up at that statement. This was an aspect of their daughter they had not expected.

"Mister and Mrs. Granger?" Harry broke in. "I hope we'll get to know each other over the next week." Harry popped away.

"I think you have a lot of explaining to do, young lady," Emma said to her daughter.

"I do," Hermione, "but not here. I'm afraid that will have to come at Harry's." She easily withstood her parents' glare.



Harry popped into existence inside the Shrieking Shack, where he was met by Dobby. Dobby had never been in Dumbledore's bedroom, but he was able to confirm its location and that Dumbledore was there via the other elves. Harry made himself a portkey, put on his glasses with the clear glass, messed up his hair a bit more than usual, and then, wand in hand, activated the portkey. He would be able to activate it with a twitch of his left hand if he needed to leave quickly.



Albus Dumbledore was an eccentric old man. He knew it, and he cultivated his eccentricities, in part because it amused him, in part to deflate the awe too many people held him in, but mostly because it made people underestimate him. One of his most famous eccentricities were his oddly colored clothing. His clashing robes were well-known and custom made.

In his nightwear, however, Dumbledore was a good Victorian, wearing a long plain light flannel nightgown as he sat at the little breakfast table, since he was breakfasting alone. For his first meeting, he had planned a dark orange robe with neon green and violent pink polka dots zooming around the hems and collar.

When Harry appeared via the portkey, holding a wand on him, the old Headmaster was caught totally unaware and nearly choked on his hot chocolate. "Who are . . . Harry?" He only recognized Harry because of his resemblance to James and his scar.

"Headmaster," Harry said formally, his voice a major third lower than it had been before.

"What . . . what has happened to you?"

Harry shrugged. "I've grown up."

"No one can grow this much in less than two weeks!"

Harry grinned. "Magic." Dumbledore frowned. "I would imagine you think I was possessed at my illegal trial, which no one bothered telling me ahead of time was illegal."

"Yes, the thought had more than occurred to me," Dumbledore agreed warily.

"Well, you were right," Harry said evilly. "I was possessed."

Dumbledore sat up straight. "You were?" He had not expected Harry to admit it.

"I was," Harry agreed. "Do you know who possessed me?"

"No, who were they?" Dumbledore asked eagerly.

"They?" Harry asked, puzzled. "No, it was just one person."

That surprised Dumbledore. "Then who? Who has that much power?"

"Harry James Potter."

Silence.

Then, a puzzled Dumbledore asked, "What?"

"I possessed myself," Harry said. "Me, from the future, from June 2013 to be slightly more precise. I had defeated Voldemort in June, 1998, but magical Britain fought a civil war and laid in ruins. Too many people died, mostly because of your poor leadership and Fudge's stupidity, followed by Scrimgeour's rigidity."

"Scrimgeour? Rufus Scrimgeour?"

"The next minister," Harry said. "He took power next July, after Voldemort was exposed next June. Fudge did nothing during this upcoming year, except plant Umbridge here, kicking you out next spring. You did nothing proactive for this upcoming year, although you finally took out one Horcrux between the end of term and early July, although it cursed your hand and nearly killed you. For the year after that, all you did was tell me the history Tom Riddle, which you could have done in one afternoon. Taking me to find the next Horcrux in June of 1997, you were caught and murdered by Draco Malfoy and your pet project, Snape."

Dumbledore was shocked by all this. Still, what got to him was, "Wait! you think Severus would murder me?"

"He did murder you in the other time line. He ended up as Voldemort's planning lieutenant, while Bellatrix Lestrage was the operational chief. I killed them both." Harry pulled out a sheaf of paper. "Here's the time line, not that it really matters now. I am both the Harry of August, 1995, and the Harry of June, 2013, with the magic and control of the latter. If you're worried, my two personalities have fully merged into one. If you're wondering why I'm bothering telling you all this, when I hold you responsible for cocking up Light magic's response to Voldemort for over a fifty year period, well, I figure it would just too difficult to work around you."

As Dumbledore was making no sound, even if his jaw was moving, Harry went on. "The time lines are of course all disrupted now. That doesn't change the fact that Snape is playing you. Admit it and deal with it, or he will remain a knife threatening the Order, as well as yourself and myself personally. And remember, he is Marked, and therefore anathema to me. That's another reason why I've had to tell you, otherwise you'd be thinking up silly schemes, trying to force us to work together."

"As you might have guessed, Hermione and I have formed a relationship. If Snape hurts her, I will also strike. You have until Tuesday at noon to decide what to do. You may also request that Hermione and I attend Beauxbatons, or the Swiss School, the Ecole in the Alps."

That idea jarred the Headmaster even more than the apparent fact that Snape would betray him, and likely already had. He felt the need to at least supervise Harry, if not control him. And, of course, Dumbledore was still trying to come to terms with all that Harry was claiming.

"I also need to tell you that my merge during the trial was a mistake. My future self was aiming for just before the Third Task. I would then have been able to take the Cup before Cedric. The plan was then to let Voldemort reanimate himself."

"Why?" Dumbledore demanded, finally finding his voice.

"Because he couldn't be killed in his previous form, as you know perfectly well," Harry said simply. "I am also a master of wandless magic. The plan was to hit Voldemort when he was just remade and weak, but after he had sent the signal to the Death Eaters. I could have captured them as them arrived separately. The Ministry could never have held Voldemort, of course, but it would have proven to Fudge that he was indeed back, and of course Pettigrew's capture would have freed Sirius."

Dumbledore nodded his understanding.

"Of course, I would still would have had to find and destroy the six Horcruxes," Harry went on. Now Dumbledore's waning hope that Harry had somehow been fooled into believing this story had taken its next major hit. Another was coming.

Harry tossed Gryffindor's knife and Slytherin's locket on Dumbledore's breakfast table. He placed Slytherin's ring on his finger. "So, I've now destroyed four of the six Horcruxes. I don't know where Hufflepuff's Cup is; I suspect Lucius Malfoy has it, but I could be wrong. I found it being guarded by Nagini in a temporary hideout in the previous time line. Nagini was magically enlarged thirty years ago, when Voldemort was investigating a hide-away created by Slytherin in Albania. He then fed Ravenclaw's healing emerald to the snake, which has been mutating it ever since."

Harry pulled out more rings from his pocket. "As you know, but never told me, I am not only the heir to the Potter line of Clan Gryffindor, but head of the Clan as well. Lily Evans was descended from Hufflepuff, although there were some generations of Squibs before her. I have been recognized by the Ravenclaw Founder's Vault as being worthy of being considered a magical heir, and Slytherin's vault has recognized me as being the senior remaining magical heir, since Voldemort is no longer a blood heir."

"Before getting to any questions you might have, have you found a Defense professor? Or will we be stuck with Umbitch?"

"Madam Umbridge has been sent to Sarawak," Dumbledore said, coming out of his daze. "I am still searching for a Defense teacher. If I don't have one by Tuesday, Minister Fudge will again appoint some other follower."

Harry gave Dumbledore an evil smile. "Tell you what. Why don't you go to Horace Slughorn and tell him that 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' made an appeal that you ask him personally to come back. I'll even write you a note to give him, if you'd like. Give Snape the Defense job, on the condition that he and I fight a Class Two duel, under Professor Flitwick's supervision. If he wins, I will swear to be obedient in class. If I win, he swears an Unbreakable Vow to follow all the proper rules and regulations and not to give unwarranted detentions, submit all point decisions to the headmasters' portraits, and to grade all home and class room work fairly. Of course, if he goes over the line during the duel, I will have the right to dispose of him on the spot -- and I will." Harry's expression hardened. "I suggest you talk Moody into either taking the Defense job right from the start, or have him in the wings, because Snape is incapable of fighting me fairly, just as he has always been incapable of treating me fairly."

Dumbledore stayed silent, thinking, for several moments. Before he could say anything, Harry swore an impressive oath that what he had told Dumbledore about his time travel and merger was the truth. It was then that Dumbledore noticed the details of Harry's new wand. "Harry, where did you get that wand?"

"From vault number one," Harry answered, "known as Merlin's vault. I also took one of his staves." Harry put the wand away and held out his right hand. The staff appeared, the emerald glowing.

"Merlin's. . . ." Dumbledore was struck speechless, for he knew what that meant. That Harry was the magical heir of Merlin, and possibly the most powerful magic user alive.

Harry broke the mood. "You may check with the goblins, if you wish."

"You seem to be friendly with them," Dumbledore managed to probe.

"I am," Harry answered. "I believe in a much more democratic wizarding world than you do, and a more cooperative magical one as well." He shrugged. "In any case, you know your options. Oh, and the Grangers are visiting me for the week. Where we're staying is under the Fidelius, so questioning them, even under Legilimency or a truth potion, wouldn't help. Please keep an eye on the dementors; they allowed the Death Eaters in Azkaban to escape in late autumn. Oh, and Hagrid's mission to the giants will fail. A few of the remaining giants showed up next summer. You might want to get the International involved."

"What can we do? Giants are by nature dangerous, perhaps even vicious, and I really do believe there is almost no chance of them surviving much longer as a species. At current count, there are likely less than a hundred, perhaps less than seventy, and nearly all of them are females."

"Grab all the largest, most aggressive males left and set them in a fight to see who gets all the females, let them kill each other, and then kill the winner," Harry said. Dumbledore's eyes went wide. "Only let the few that aren't so aggressive or who are a lot smaller survive. Then split the women up evenly with the few remaining males and set them in separate reserves. See if there are any wizards as crazy as Hagrid's father to mate with a few of the women if any are interested." Harry grinned, "I'd hate the first part as much as you, but it might allow the giants to survive as a species, even if a little selective breeding helped them down-size a little and have a little less aggression. As for the second, I think the wizarding gene pool could use a bit more giant blood in it."

"A practical, if immoral, solution," Dumbledore agreed.

"Is it really more immoral than letting them all die out?" Harry asked. "I know enough to know each is immoral on a different level, but not enough to know which is worse." Harry shrugged. "We, well 'we' meaning the wizarding world, would then have to keep splitting the groups up and culling some of the males, so there is only ever one relatively unaggressive male per female group. New females would have to be sent to the other groups, most new males would have to be killed or castrated young or else they'd just restart the internal cycle of slaughter. It would take an on-going effort, and most would object to helping giants survive in the first place, and the others would have the moral qualms we feel, or more likely have the same objections that would first occur to Hermione."

"True," Dumbledore agreed.

"So, I'm sure the real wizarding response will be to do nothing, except kill any giants deemed to have gone 'rogue', and then congratulate themselves for being tolerant of the dwindling number of survivors," Harry went on. "We're doing similar things, in less violent ways, to the merpeople and centaurs and most other magical creatures and beings, as the Muggles slowly take over their environment." Harry looked downcast. "Even if wizarding world survives, the magical world isn't likely to, except a few small pockets. Right?"

"Very likely," Dumbledore agreed. "Granted, large tracks of North and South America, and Australia for that matter, are magically protected, the rest of the magical world has been very careless, especially in Europe and north Africa." He sighed sadly.

"Good bye, Headmaster." With that, Harry portkeyed out.

Dumbledore looked at his now-cold chocolate with distaste. He knew had had best get moving.



"Exactly how involved are you with this boy?" Emma Granger demanded. She and Dan refused to be impressed by the upper-class elegance of Potter Manor, not that Hermione could even mention the name, since it was under the Fidelius. Now that she had her daughter away from Harry, the gloves came off. "And what about that other boy? Ron?"

"I've always liked both Ron and Harry," Hermione admitted. "But Harry was more interested in another girl until this summer. Ron was interested in another girl until he saw me with another boy, and since then, he wants to possess me. Mrs. Weasley has this vision of One Big Happy Weasley Family, which includes Harry with Ginny and me with Ron. Harry's grown up a lot this summer, and he's taken charge of his life."

"And here you are, without chaperons and without permission," Emma castigated.

"Mum, if Ron or Harry had worked up the nerve to do anything with me or Ginny respectively short of intercourse, Mrs. Weasley would haven't have just turned a blind eye, she would have been giving us pointers. And I can assure you that Harry is the most honorable wizard there is."

"And?" Dan demanded, knowing his daughter was leaving at least something out.

"And he would like to give me a promise ring, and I would like to accept it," Hermione admitted.

"Which means?"

"Which means I will consider no other while I wear it," Hermione said simply. "It's not anything I can't take off if I choose to."

"How about him?" Dan said. "You didn't say the two of you couldn't consider, just that you couldn't consider anyone else."

"With someone of Harry's wealth, status, and power, he could have at least three wives under current law, I believe," Hermione admitted. "Maybe as many as a dozen. I'm not too worried about that." 'Maybe two, but not three,' she thought, remembering Luna.

"We'll talk some more when he comes back," Emma said.