Time Warp - Chapter 3

Summary: An incident with the Time Turners during the Battle of the Ministry sends Harry hurtling through time. Lost in a world that is no longer his own, he's forced to turn to the most unlikely of places for help…

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Chapter 3: Answers?

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“Arcturus.”

“Charlus.” The elder Black grunted back.

Charlus Potter gave the man an appraising look before letting out a ‘hmph!’ and stepping to the side. Arcturus nodded his thanks as he entered, the tastefully decorated walls of Potter Manor greeting him for the first time in nearly six years.

The Potter Lord spoke not a word as he waved for Arcturus to follow. He led them through the halls and into a warmly lit study, the very same study that Arcturus had nearly torn apart in a fit of rage nearly forty years prior after a much younger Charlus Potter had asked for his sister’s hand in marriage. In hindsight, Arcturus would call his reaction little more than a tantrum, though the effortless way in which Charlus had batted away his seething hexes had been one of the first steps towards eventually gaining Arcturus’s respect.

“My sister?” Arcturus asked as the two men sat at Charlus’s desk.

“Hogwarts shopping with James.” Charlus answered as he retrieved two glasses and a decanter of scotch from the desk. “Sirius is with them.” The man added.

Arcturus nodded and fought down the spike of anger he felt at the mention of his grandson. The anger was not directed at Sirius, however, but at the cow he called mother. Walburga had done everything she could to alienate her own son over the years and Arcturus had been too distracted by the duties of Lordship ever to see it. Sirius wasn’t exactly innocent either in this whole affair; Arcturus was well aware of that. The boy had a knack for trouble, one that seemed to culminate in a rebellious streak that did little to calm Walburga’s ire. It had all come to a head the summer before last in a shouting match that, from what Orion told him, was loud enough to wake dragons from stone. In the end, his grandson had stormed out with a promise to never return whilst his daughter-in-law had screached on and on like the harpy she was, at least until Arcturus became aware of what transpired.

That night had been the closest he’d ever come to killing the poisonous wench. The length of which he held her under the cruciatus nearly drove her insane, and if it hadn’t been for his eldest son’s pleas to spare his wife, he would have ended the harpy’s misery with a slash to her throat–A decision he was regretting as of late.

Instead of replying with a biting remark, Arcturus accepted the glass of scotch with a barely restrained scowl.

“I hope my grandson is acting his part as a grateful guest?” He ground out. The fact that Sirius had fled to the Potter’s was embarrassing enough, but staying with them for over a year now meant that Arcturus was firmly in Charlus’s debt. A lesser man would have jumped at the chance of the Lord Black owing them a favour. Thankfully, Charlus was better than that, though it did little to soothe the blow to Arcturus’s pride.

Charlus surprised him with a snort as he took a sip from his own glass. It was only when the other lord swallowed that Arcturus drank from his cup. He had no fear of Charlus poisoning him, but well, old habits and all that.

“If by that you mean he’s been raising all kinds of hell with James, then sure.” Charlus chuckled. “He’s fine, Arcturus. Dorea and I are happy to have him here, and I know James has been over the moon to have his best friend so close. The boy is family.”

Arcturus grunted and sat down his glass. “He’s also my heir Charlus, and he should be damn well acting like it.”

“He has years to learn how to be the perfect stuck-up lord. What’s the harm in allowing him some joy before then?” Charlus asked. “Unless you’re planning on kicking the bucket anytime soon?”

Arcturus shot the man a withering glare. Many men among the Wizengamot would be cowed by such a look from the Lord Black, but unfortunately, Charlus was not one of them. That wasn’t much of a surprise, though, considering who he was married to. People always did used to say Arcturus was nice one between him and Dorea…

Deciding to table this argument for another time, Arcturus sighed and leaned back into his chair.

“As enjoyable as your input on my House’s future is, Sirius’s avoidance of his duties is not why I am here.” Arcturus eyed the man for a moment. “Your family records…I take it they acquired a new addition recently?”

Charlus was silent for a moment, hazel eyes boring into Arcturus’s onyx ones. A beat passed, and then another. Finally, Charlus nodded with a grunt, reaching forth to take a healthy swig of scotch.

“Harry Peverell. Certainly a strange name considering the Peverells died out a hundred odd years ago.” Charlus hummed.

“Indeed.” Arcturus nodded. “And the fact that he is supposedly related to both the Potter and Black family lines makes this all the more strange. Magic itself deemed him blood, yet there is not even a shred of evidence surrounding this individual's very existence.”

“Could it be a trick? Some way he could have duped the lineage magic?” Chrlus asked.

Arcturus shook his head with a frown. “That magic was put in place before even the founding of the Wizengamot. It’s iron-clad and for good reason. I doubt this Harry Peverell is capable of usurping the arcane protections any more than you or I. No, he is blood, of that I’m certain.”

Charlus stroked his chin for a moment in thought, pondering Arcturus’s words before nodding to himself and standing to his full height. “Then we find him. I’ll not have a member of my House lost to the wind, especially with so many unknowns in place. He could still be a threat.”

Arcturus felt the edges of his mouth turn upwards into a smirk. There was the Charlus he knew. The man who had his back more than once during Grindelwald’s war. The man who faced down a legion of dark wizards with a vicious grin and blazing wand.

Woe be those who got in his way.

-

‘Peverell…’

Harry stirred as the ghostly voice whispered in his mind.

‘You must wake Peverell…’

He groaned, fumbling for his glasses in the dark. The grogginess of sleep made it a bit more difficult, but fortunately, he was able to find the familiar circular lenses and place them on his nose shortly after. 

‘You have little time, Peverell…They are coming…’ The ghostly voice grew more urgent in his head.

“Wha’?” Harry groaned. He sat up, the motion causing a brief spasm of pain to bloom from his aching chest. “What are you talking about?”

The voice seemingly growled in Harry’s ears, forcing him to wince in pain.

‘Cease your questions and flee, Peverell! You have not the strength to face them! Flee now!’

Harry wanted to ask who ‘them’ was and why on Earth they were coming for him, but thought better of it. Arguing with the personification of Death whispering in his ear was probably not the best idea. Instead, he drew himself up on unsteady legs and retrieved his wand. It took him a moment to transfigure the thin hospital gown into something a bit more reliable. The pair of jeans and grey t-shirt that morphed over his body was shoddy work at best, yet the drain on his magic was heavy enough to leave Harry winded. It seemed that Death was right about his current strength.

Gritting his teeth, Harry forced himself to move, wrenching the door to his room open as quietly as possible. It was the middle of the night, fortunately, which meant there was but a skeleton crew of Healers in his way. Still, Harry moved as quietly as possible. The voice of Death was utterly silent in his ears now. Only the sound of his thumping heart kept him company. It was as he was descending to the second floor that he heard it. A trio of pounding footfalls upon the tiled floors. Peeking over the railing of the stairs, Harry cursed as he spotted three figures in black robes marching towards him. They hadn’t spotted him, thankfully, but by the way they held their wands at the ready, Harry guessed it wouldn’t be good for him to stick around much longer.

Turning on his heel, he dashed back up the stairs. The action caused his stiff muscles to whine in protest, but he stamped down the pain and continued on. Their footfalls were growing louder behind him. It wouldn’t be long before they were on his floor and he’d be effectively trapped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted it, his saving grace–A set of double doors marked ‘Authorized Personnel Only’. Surely there was another stairwell that the Hospital employees used right? Deciding to find out sooner rather than later, Harry turned and dashed through the doors just as the three figures turned the corner on the patient floor. Harry didn’t bother looking back. He wasn't sure if they had seen him or not, and right now he wasn't willing to risk it. Instead, he forced himself to dash to the side to avoid crashing into a bewildered janitor. The move caused another spike of pain to bloom from his aching legs but he pressed on.

With every door he passed, Harry grew more and more worried. He scanned the signs above each one, searching for some sort of exit. Phlebotomy Lab 1. Muggle Artifact Storage 4. Employee Break Room.

He was forced to dive into that last one as one of the dark cloaked figures turned the corner a little ways in front of him. Harry slammed the door behind prayed to whatever deity was listening that he hadn’t been seen, completely oblivious to the only other occupant in the room.

“I’d say you’re not supposed to be in here, but I take it you know that already.”

Harry snapped his gaze towards the voice’s origin. He nearly shouted in surprise and reached for his wand when the face of Bellatrix Lestrange greeted him, only to realize that something was…off about her. For starters, Bellatrix’s hair was a wild mess of raven black ringlets, while the woman before him was brunette with sleek straight hair. Her eyes were different as well. A dark, almost black onyx to Bellatrix’s bright indigo. They were the same colour as Sirius’s he realized. The final clue was how she looked at him. Her face was kind with more than a hint of amusement as she lazily clutched her coffee mug between her hands–A far cry from Bellatrix’s mad, twisted smirk.

So she wasn’t Bellatrix then, and considering he was in the past, that really only left one option.

“Andromeda?” Harry asked with a bit of trepidation. Boy it’d be awkward if he were wrong.

Thankfully, the mystery woman nodded with a confused chuckle. “That’s me. Sorry, do we know each other?”

Thinking quickly, Harry came up with the first excuse that popped into his mind. “Your sister–Narcissa, mentioned you. Said you worked here as well. You look like her, so I figured you must be the sister she spoke about.”

Andromeda nodded, though she didn’t look all that convinced. “I see. Well you figured right. Might I ask what you’re doing in the employee lounge Mr…?”

“Harry. Harry Po-Peverell.” He mentally cursed himself for the near slip-up, but thankfully, Andromeda didn’t seem to notice. “I–uhm–was just looking for the exit. Guess I got turned around is all.”

“I’ll say.” Andromeda snorted. “Well the main entrance is that way-” She said, pointing over Harry’s shoulder. “Take two lefts and then a right at the Cath’ Lab and you’ll come out at the main stairwell. You’ll need to give your discharge papers to Gladice at the front desk before you can lea- hang on.” She paused and scrunched up her face in thought. “There’s no way they’d discharge you yet. Not after the level of magical exhaustion you suffered.”

Harry silently cursed as Andromeda peered at him with a much more guarded expression. As if things couldn’t get any worse, a voice suddenly sounded out across the Hospital’s PA system.

“Attention St. Mungo’s patients and staff: This is an official notice of lockdown. Please remain calm and do not attempt to leave the premises. Patients are advised not to leave their rooms without being accompanied by a member of staff. Again, this is a notice of lockdown.” As the voice spoke, a loud clanging sound echoed out, signalling a series of security wards activating.

Andromeda cocked a brow towards him and gently sat down her cup of coffee.

“Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that, would you Harry?”

Harry's mind worked overtime trying to form some sort of answer. “Would you believe me if I said no?” That made Andromeda cross her arms with a pointed look. “Okay, yeah knew that one wasn’t going to fly. Look, I dunno what’s going on alright? All I know is that one minute I’m in bed feeling like I just got run over by the Knightbus, and the next these three blokes in black robes are stalking through the halls with their wands out searching for me!”

“Why are they searching for you? Do you owe them money or something?” She questioned.

“What? No!” Harry shook his head. “I don’t know what they want!” With an aggravated sigh, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Look could you just tell me if there’s a way out nearby? I’m not looking for any sort of trouble, I just want to leave.”

Andromeda pursed her lips in thought. She remained silent for a few seconds, simply staring ahead at Harry with slightly narrowed eyes. The unease in his stomach grew as she sat there, until finally, Andromeda sighed and pushed her cup of coffee away.

“With the lockdown in place, almost every exit has been magically sealed and is probably under guard. Your only hope is to use the emergency Floo line downstairs.” She explained.

“Great! How do I get there?”

The brunette witch snorted and stood. “You don’t, not unless you’re wanting to get caught. It’s meant to be an intake only for emergent patients. Only Senior Healers have the access clearance to use it as an exit. Lucky for you-” She said, pulling a flat I.D. badge from within her lab coat pocket. Across the top read Andromeda Tonks - Senior Healer Physician “-I just got a promotion two weeks ago.”

-

Narcissa forced herself not to groan out in boredom as her dance partner dove into another long-winded tale about his father’s investment portfolio. The oaf could not be more oblivious to her disinterest and instead regaled her with more and more pitiful boasts about his family's financials and social prospects–As if his meager inheritance was anything compared to the Black’s.

Narcissa scoffed internally.

This was her mother’s fault, of course. She had only attended the Dupont Family’s summer ball at her mother’s insistence that she get out more. Of course, Narciss knew the real reason. Her mother was trying to save face from the humiliation of her sister’s betrayal by parading her around like some prized Abraxan Pegasus. It was pitiful, really. 

Narcissa bemoaned the fact that this was her first day off in well over two weeks and instead of enjoying it unconscious in the comfort of her own bed, she was forced to squeeze into what must be the world’s most unforgettable dress and allow the drooling neanderthals that were the male members of the ton try to boast their way into her good graces. She was eagerly counting down the minutes until it wouldn’t seem rude of her to up and leave. Stupid high-society rules.

Normally balls, galas, any event featuring dancing, music, and the dazzle of high-class was something Narcissa looked forward to. That was until she became of age. Then the balls and galas were no longer about dancing and fun, but the constant battle of finding her a potential suitor, preferably one with strong political ties and a deep coin purse, cause ‘what else was a daughter good for’ as her father oft reminded her. It was times like these that Narcissa truly envied Andy, sans the marrying a muggle-born part, of course.

As the music faded, Narcissa couldn’t help but sigh in relief, all but snatching her hand away from the man whose name she’d long forgotten by now.

“Thank you for the dance my lord.” She said with a small curtsy, even mindful of her manners.

“No thank you Miss Black. Perhaps I could steal a bit more of your time with a walk through the gardens? I’d so love to continue our conversation.” He said with a not-so-subtle leer in his voice. He obviously had other intentions during their so-called walk.

Narcissa nearly failed to hold back the grimace that threatened to overtake her features. Thankfully, she managed a polite, if somewhat strained smile, and shook her head. “I’m afraid I must decline my lord. I fear I’ve grown tired of the evening’s festivities and wish to retire home for the night.”

The man frowned and reached out for her hand. “Ah are you sure my lady? The gardens here are a sight to behold-”

Before his hand could make contact with hers, another appeared and smacked the upstart lord’s appendage away. There, standing with a vicious scowl on her face, was Bellatrix, her sister’s violet eyes blazing with icy fury.

“I believe my sister already told you to sod off my lord. Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore the command of your betters?” Bellatrix hissed.

The dumbfounded wizard instinctively took a step back. Bellatrix had a reputation for being particularly vicious when angered, and it seemed that her dance partner was very aware of that fact.

“I will not ask twice.” Bellatrix hissed again. “Leave.”

Without a word, the man turned and scampered away, an embarrassed flush adorning his cheeks. Narcissa watched him leave with disinterest, though the disgust in her stomach was now lessened by a great deal.

“I had that handled.” She said dryly.

Beside her, Bellatrix snorted and linked their arms together, more to dissuade any more potential dance partners than any sort of comfort.

“Sure you did Cissy.” Her sister spoke with a mocking voice. “You're the big shot Healer now, just like our dear sweet Andy. Who knows? With how disgusted you looked dancing with that imbecile, you may follow our sister’s footsteps further and elope with your own pet mud-Omph!” Bellatrix grunted as Narcissa dug her elbow painfully into her sister’s ribs.

“Will you shut your fucking mouth?” She hissed through a faux smile. “Mother will have a fit if anyone hears you speak of that humiliation.”

Bellatrix shot her a sharp glare. “So what? It’s not like it isn’t already the talk of the town! What harm will speaking of it bring?”

“How about you ask grandfather and see if you like his answer?” Narcissa shot back. That forced Bellatrix to deflate some. The older witch had no qualms with ignoring their parents’ commands and even crossed wands with their father once or twice, but their grandfather was someone she absolutely refused to disobey. The rest of the family believed it was because Bella feared Lord Black, but Narcissa knew better. Bellatrix night as well believe Arcturus Black hung the very moon and stars. He was everything her sister wished to be and more, the one man she looked up to and respected. Disappointing him was worse than death where Bella was concerned.

“Fine.” Bella huffed. “You used to be a lot more fun Cissy.”

Narcissa ignored that comment and instead studied the surrounding crowd on the off chance someone did hear her sister’s words. Thankfully, everyone seemed far too engrossed with their own conversations to have noticed her and Bella. Everyone except the dark-haired man staring at them from his place at the bar. Or more accurately, staring at Bellatrix.

“It seems you’ve caught the eye of your own imbecile.” Narcissa smirked, gesturing as discreetly as she could towards the dark-haired man. Bellatrix hummed and made a sweep of the room so as not to look directly. 

“A Lestrange, I believe? The father died recently, and the eldest took his place as Lord if I recall. I suppose that must be him.” Bellatrix noted. “A bit more prestigious than your oafish stock broken but still not nearly deserving of a Black’s time.”

Narcissa laughed at the haughtiness in her sister’s voice. “And mother calls me the picky one.”

Bellatrix joined her in her laughter as the two sisters found their way to the exit as discreetly as they could.

“Ready to get out of here then? This whole affair has been dreadfully…tame.” Bellatrix said with disgust.

“Just because curses weren’t flung around and no one got a limb severed off doesn’t mean something is boring,” Narcissa said with a roll of her eyes. “Those late-night outings of yours have really skewed your perception of fun, sister.”

Before Bellatrix could reply, a small buzzing sound emanated from within the folds Narcissa’s dress. Puzzled, the blonde reached within her hidden pocket and pulled free her St. Mungo’s I.D. badge, only to be greeted with a small message from Healer Abbott.

Come in now. Peverell gone.

Narcissa hesitated. Gone? What could he mean gone? People didn’t just bloody disappear. Especially not people who were supposed to be under guard until the aurors arrived. With a growl she stuffed her badge back into the folds of her robes. “I have to go.” She huffed. “It’s work.”

“What? Got more bedpans to scrub or something?” Bella smirked.

“Someone misplaced a patient of mine.” She replied, ignoring the bait.

Bellatrix scoffed and shook her head. “And what? They can’t handle finding one wandering, injured man?”

“Apparently not. You’ll handle mother for me? Explain why I didn’t come home?” She asked with a pleading tone.

Bellatrix sighed but nodded, earning a grateful smile from Narcissa before she turned and walked into the nearest Apparition point.

She was going to kill her night-shift replacement.

-

Author’s Note

A little on the shorter side this go around but next chapter will more than make up for it! Keep a look out!

Thanks for reading!