Chapter 31.2- Doom Days

“Want to talk to him?” Hermione asked as she followed my eyes t see where I’d been looking. I scoffed, instead of replying. Ronald Weasley was barely more than useless on his best day.

“You’ve changed, Harry” She said, giving me a sad look.

“We both have” I replied.

“No. No one has changed the way you have. You used to need my help telling the difference between Monkshood and Asphodel, and now you’re getting the highest possible grades on your OWLS after taking them a whole year early. Even I couldn’t do something like that.”

“I guess just pressure from the tournament” I said, trying to deflect what was threatening to become a very sensitive conversation. Instead, she just scowled as my words registered, looking angry and was that hurt?

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lie to me, Harry” she said, looking me in the eyes. I met her gaze evenly.

“I wondered if it was you for a time, you know? Then I checked with the Marauder’s Map during one of ur practice sessions and I was sure you remained you. Then I wondered if it was a possession. But I’ve used locks of your hair to cast tree different exorcism rituals and not a single one of them has managed to do a thing. So that means you’re Harry Potter. Or at least, you are until I can find a way to prove you aren’t. But my instincts don’t lie.”

“Hermione, don’t be riduculous…” I began, but she just spoke over me.

“You might be Harry James Potter, but you’re not my Harry. My Harry had a heart bigger than his rage. My Harry would have forgiven Ron the second he asked because he loved him— loved all his friends. You haven’t even spared Ginny a second glance all year, the Quidditch team say you don’t even shoot a word their way, and Neville died but you didn’t seem to care one whit. Professor Dumbledore was right” She said the last phrase and she got up and left the compartment without saying a word. I was too shocked to reply.

What had that been about Dumbledore? What had he been right about? And Hermione? How had she had suspicions for so long and I hadn’t even noticed anything about it. No signs, nothing, nada. Was she a spy for Dumbledore? How long had she been a spy for— if she was? What did she know? I’d invited her into my home. Fuck. She knew about the Villa now. The place wasn’t even warded so she could just go around talking about it, even point it out on a map. Fuck. Fuckity, fuck, fuck.

Anger coursing through my body, I didn’t even think it through when I slammed my hands against the chair I was seated on. It wasn’t until I began to feel heat on my arse that I’d noticed I’d set the seat on fire. Fuck me.

XXXXX

A time turner was one hell of a tool. And this as one I could use to its full extent since the owner had given it to me sans the regular Ministry limits. I’d had to read a two-hundred page primer to make sure I didn’t accidentally wipe myself out of reality but beyond that, I had carte blanche. That had initially struck me as careless but it turned out that there was little damage other than that of the self-inflicted variety that one could inflict with one of these. Nothing about creating singularities or paradoxes or anything else. It had been tested quite thoroughly, and while there were a few ways in which I could cause myself to cease existing, there were none for causing that to others.