5 Helping People and Helping Yourself

Day: Evening of Day Two (Time to work on some issues)

"I need your help"

Harry stood in the empty classroom at a loss for what to say. That had been the last thing he'd expected to hear from angry teen he'd gotten to know; this Sirius hated him, and truth be told, Harry wasn't especially fond of him boy was too caught up in his disputes with the Slytherins, too convinced of his own superiority—so much so that he couldn't let Harry's intervention yesterday slide. Perhaps it was cruel to think, but all the torment that the adult Sirius had endured had made him stronger. Somehow those empty years in Azkaban had tempered his ire. This boy before him, wasn't the man Harry knew.

"What?" Harry finally managed to say. He didn't look at Sirius as he spoke, instead he stared out a window to the loft. While empty, this room was spotless, another show of the House elf's dedication to their vocation.

Sirius looked away uncomfortably, "I wouldn't come to you if it wasn't important. I'm not going to lie, and act like we're friends. You're not my friend."

Harry let out a breath of air, "You're really convincing me to help you," he said sarcastically.

"Shut it," Sirius said fiercely, "I don't like asking for this, but I need it."

Harry shook his head.

"What do you need?" he found himself saying. Despite all that had happened Harry couldn't reject Sirius, because Sirius Black, the man, meant more to Harry than his teenage counterpart could know. He'd died for him. Sirius could have asked for anything and Harry would never have been able to say no.

"I..." Sirius looked away again. "You need to help me break the Imperius Curse."

"Why?" Harry asked, honestly confused.

Sirius just shrugged, "It doesn't matter."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Then I don't need to help you," he bluffed. He turned around to leave.

Sirius moved forward and caught his shoulder.

"Wait," he protested, his voice for the first time sounding human, loosing the commanding tone that had dominated his 'request'. "Just wait."

Harry's expression softened. "Why?" he asked again without turning around.

Black stared the boy's back, letting his hand fall to his side and ball into a fist. Sirius was madder than he'd ever been. If Tempus thought he was gonna humble himself and beg...The young pureblood swallowed. Hell, he realized with a crushing sensation...if that was what it took...

"Okay," Harry said. "I'll tell you how I do it, but I don't know if it will really help. When I learned my professor kept casting the curse on me until I could break it completely."

"So..."

"So, I'll help you all I can, but I can't cast the Unforgivables." Harry spoke hesitantly, wondering if he was telling the truth. When he'd first witnessed the spells only a few years ago, he'd have thought that it was impossible for him to even consider such magic. But only last year at the Ministry he'd attempted one.

Sirius nodded, not noticing the other's discomfort. "I already spoke to Professor Barten, and he said he'd help... but he said even he couldn't break the curse. I was hoping that if you were there... and you helped me..." Sirius didn't grin, but his face had lost some of its desperate quality. He was looking more like the young man he should be.

"Barten said he had time tomorrow, after dinner." Sirius nodded, trying not to look in Harry's direction.

Harry nodded. "Alright."

Sirius made a move to leave but stopped short in the doorway, his back tensing.

"I don't want people knowing this. If you can do that, I'll think about letting the other thing go."

With a clipped walk Sirius Black left the empty classroom and a rather confused Harry Potter.

Harry stood alone for a moment trying to piece things together, but in the end he decided it wasn't worth thinking about, the curfew had past and he needed to get back the the Gryffindor Common Room. Sirius Black was a good man, him being able to block the Imperius curse could only be a good thing. Did it really matter why he needed to know so desperately? He realized the flaw in his logic. This teenage boy wasn't quite a good man yet. But for all his faults, sometimes Harry had a hard time looking at him and not seeing the person he would become.

Harry left the empty room behind and entered the Common Room. He spotted Sirius joking and laughing with his friends, looking completely different than the man he'd seen only moments ago. That meant that whatever was involved, Sirius wasn't confiding with his friends.

Harry sat down in an armchair, choosing one with its back to the marauders.

What to do? He couldn't remember what classes he had tomorrow, and he wouldn't study for them if he did. He stared off blankly, looking at this Common Room a little wearily. For all his lies, he really was like a new student. No one here looked very familiar. It was disconcerting to be in a place you knew well, even be sitting in a chair you'd sat in hundreds of times, and yet feel misplaced. If he were hope he and Ron might play a game of chess while Hermione lectured them to do their homework, all while secretly helping Harry in his hopeless quest to beat Ron. Hermione was brillent and Harry was lucky, but even the pair of them couldn't overcome Ron's mastery of the game.

"Hey, Harry," a voice intruded in his memories.

Harry looked up, what's his name, Ethan something-or-other, was standing above him.

"Hey," Harry greeted.

"Frank and I were planning on a game of Exploding Snap, want to join?" The seventh year was somewhat tall and lanky, with brown hair and noticeable stubble on his chin, but he'd seemed nice enough.

Harry shrugged.

"Sure." He had no other plans that evening, and perhaps a little time away from the parents would do him good.

Half an hour into the game, Harry was starting to suspect that Frank and his buddies took Exploding Snap a little more seriously than anyone Harry had ever met. For them the game was almost as competitive as Quidditch. Frank, Ethan and two other seventh year Gryffindors all seemed more like a bunch of mobsters playing cards than four dorm mates. They gathered around hiding their cards carefully, constantly accusing the others of cheating and if anyone played exceptionally well there were suspicious mutters from the others around the table.

"Glad I didn't start a game of poker with you guys," Harry said when they'd finished a hand.

"What's poker?" one of seventh years asked. He was one of the ones Harry had just met, which meant he was either Barty or Mack. But Harry couldn't tell them apart. In his head he'd labeled them Draco and Ron, as one was blonde and the other red headed.(Imagining playing exploding snap with Neville's dad, Ron Weasly, and Draco Malfoy, caused him to be in a slightly ridiculous mood, which is the best mood to be in when playing cards with strangers.)

"It's a muggle card game, one with betting," Harry explained.

"Are you a muggle born Tempus?" Draco asked sounding surprised.

"No," Harry answered, examining the cards he'd been dealt. "But I was raised by muggles."

Ron leaned forward, "I never would have thought that," he mused before playing a card.

"Cheating bastard!" Draco cried.

"What's with having four fives? You've been getting good hands all night," accused Ethan.

Ron just grinned, "What can I say, Lady Luck is on my side."

"I still say we take a good look at your sleeves," Draco muttered mutinously.

"Want me to play starkers?" Ron asked with a grin. "Didn't know you were that sort."

Draco merely smiled, and Ron quickly got back to shuffling the cards.

"So you were raised by muggles? What was that like?" Frank asked with honest curiosity.

"Okay," Harry lied with a shrug.

The others shared a glance.

"Not a good liar is our Harry," Draco mused.

"So if you aren't a muggle born, any relation to James Potter?" Ethan probed. The card players spared a glance for the Potter heir who was discussing something in whispers with his friends.

Harry glanced too, "Not that I know of. But my Dad was the pureblood and he died when I was little. But then aren't all the old wizarding families connected in some way."

"Yeah, maybe you're cousins of some sort, all the old families are intermarried." Ethan cringed as he said this.

The others hooted and jostled Ethan.

"I forgot about that! How far did you get with that girl before you found out she was your second cousin." Ron shoved at Ethan playfully, while the taller boy tried to shake him off.

"Shut up! She was one nice bird," Ethan argued in his defense.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco said with a grin, "That she was. You wouldn't happen to have her floo number handy?"

Ethan smacked Draco with a text book that was lying nearby. Apparently this had started as a study session.

"What, it's not like you're gonna use it," Draco protested before being coshed again.

"You must be related then. Look too much alike to be coincidence." Ron drew another card while the others watched him carefully.

"I don't think I've heard the name Tempus before," Frank said thoughtfully. He turned to Draco who also shook his head in the negative.

"Well you and Barty would know," Ron allowed. He nudged Harry. "Ethan and I are half-bloods as well," Harry looked at him for a moment, okay, so he's probably Mack.

"Raised by muggles though, that was a tough break," Draco, perhaps Barty, said with a cringe.

Harry shrugged, "They weren't too fond of me. But they took me in," he said, thinking that the excuse sounded reasonable.

Draco shook his head, "Wizarding kids shouldn't be given to muggles," he argued.

Frank shifted a bit. "I don't know, I mean muggles have got just as much rights to their kids and family as wizards."

Draco shrugged in a non-committal way.

The players returned to the game, leaving such weighty issues behind. Harry was glad. He also managed to lose most of the games, so he got along well with everyone. Some time before eleven o'clock the activity of the day caught up to them and everyone started heading to bed. Harry stayed behind for a moment to find out what classes they had tomorrow. Defense, Charms and Double Potions. Great, he'd have to devise some sort of essay to hand in tomorrow for Defense. But what did the grade matter anyway?

Frank was collecting the cards that had scattered away during the many explosions of the evening. Harry found himself lending a hand.

"You guys always play like that?" Harry asked.

Frank grinned.

"Since first year. We were dorm mates and couldn't really find anything else we all liked, because we're all really different. So we play a few games every once and awhile keeps it friendly, which is good since, between classes, meals and the dorm, we see a fair bit of each other," he said. "We still haven't figured out how Mack cheats though," he admitted with a grin.

Harry knelt under the table to remove a jack that had somehow wedged itself under the leg.

"About Barty," Frank started, "He didn't mean anything bad about your muggle relatives. His Dad's a ministry hard nose, I think he has to hear a lot of the politics at home."

Harry didn't really care, "S'alright," he said a yawn stretching the sentence. Then he stopped dead.

"Barty." He said the name softly. Suddenly the youthful face under a pile of straw colored hair took on a different meaning.

"Night," Harry muttered. He hastily dropped the cards he'd gathered on the table.

"Night," Frank agreed watching as the younger man practically ran to the staircase.

Up in the dorm for the sixth years Harry felt like he was going to throw up, or hit someone. Barty. Barty Crouch Jr. Why hadn't he recognized him before? He didn't look all that different than when he had been dragged out of courtroom ten, he'd seen it in Dumbledore's pensieve. Merlin, that was all going to happen in only a few short years.

Harry rushed to the bathroom and splashed cold water into his face, trying to numb the nausea that had taken hold of him.

"Shit," he cursed at the mirror, his fists pounding the porcelain of the sink. Why hadn't anyone told him that Crouch had been a Gryffindor? That he had been a dorm mate and friend to a man he'd later torture into madness?

Voldemort he could take. The man was a nutter with a god complex, evil to the core of his blackened heart. That was somehow easy and acceptable. It was all the mess that Vodemort left in his wake that seemed to jump up and bite at Harry. It wasn't right that Frank Longbottom had played cards with the man that would torture him and his wife. It wasn't right that James Potter protected and sought revenge for Peter Pettigrew when the rat would someday betray James, his wife and his son.

"Fucking hell," Harry muttered. He stared at his face in the mirror and realized just how pale he was.

Harry moved back into the dorm room and got into his pajamas, the same green trousers he'd worn the other night.

"Well it shouldn't be that hard– " James Potter followed by Sirius and Remus entered the dorm room lugging books and bags.

"Hello Harry, you going to bed?" Remus said.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. He climbed into bed, shut the hangings, and lay in the darkness, listening as the other three got ready for bed.

"Too bad Peter's stuck in the Hospital Wing," James said.

"I won't miss his snoring," Sirius's wry voice commented, "But we'll have a nice surprise for him when he gets out."

Harry didn't need to see Sirius to picture the man's wolfish expression.

"Shhh," James ordered.

The voices dropped. But Harry didn't care. He was past worrying about what sort of revenge the marauders had in mind for the Slytherins. It was stupid, and would only result in worse problems, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

It wasn't long before everyone else stumbled into their beds and the lights were extinguished. When you slept with your curtains closed, it was practically pitch dark. If Harry couldn't feel the bed beneath him, he might question if he wasn't floating through some void.

He kicked at his covers ruthlessly, unable to sleep. He felt a little too upset to just drop off to sleep as he found himself remembering all the stupid things Barty had done during the game. He tried to find some hint of the monestrous deatheater that lay beneath that genial face, but he couldn't. The man was slick. Hadn't Harry believed the boy's performance in the pensieve? Hadn't he been willing to believe that Crouch sent his innocent son to Azkaban and death? And all those months as Moody, deceiving even Dumbledore...

Or wasn't he that man yet? Was that only what he would become?

Without realizing it, Harry tumbled into disturbing dreams.

Lily Evans had stayed up later than she'd intended. It had been the essay she'd been working on for Defense—she'd only intended to write the required amount, but somehow she'd gotten interested and the length had extended. She'd always taken her studies seriously, but she wasn't exactly an over achiever. Maybe if she were to describe herself, she'd call herself an advocate. Advocating what, though? She didn't really know yet. But someday she wanted to help people, maybe make the wizarding world a better place, have it give up its prejudices and stereotypes. Harry had called her a crusader, and perhaps he was right.

But there was something about this assignment that had sparked her interest. It wasn't as if she was sort of witch that was fascinated with the dark arts, but the Ministry's history with these curses was interesting—they'd been legalized, banned, punishable by fine, constantly changing depending on who was in power. It was even worse when muggles were involved, because prior to 1842 there was no punishment if these curses were cast on muggles. Being muggle born, Lily found that little tidbit somewhat alarming.

As she climbed into bed, she wondered how many other laws weren't extended to muggles. Hopefully things had improved in recent years, but what it must have been like for muggleborns in the past?

"Lily?" A voice intruded on her thoughts.

Lily looked up and cringed. "Hortense," she greeted, "Going to bed?"

Hortense Muller was standing beside her bed dressed in a pink beribboned night gown.

"Yes," The girl said softly, "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Did you now?" Lily asked with false cheer. The girl before her didn't mind the false enthusiasm and moved forward.

"Yes, you are in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class right?" the girl asked.

"Yes," Lily agreed somewhat confused. Defense wasn't exactly a subject that had ever interested Hortense.

"Maggie said that the new boy, Harry Tempus, managed to throw off the Imperius, is that true."

And the world righted itself. Lily should have known that Muller wasn't interested in the subject. "Yes," she admitted without offering any details.

"Oh," Hortense said, she seemed to brighten some, her eyes taking on a glow. She gave Lily a pretty smile.

"Now you aren't thinking of stringing him along too?" she asked with a girlish giggle.

"What?" Lily asked feeling completely lost.

Hortense's smile became a trifle forced.

"It's just, you know Lily, your thing." She said the word "thing" with an emphasis that left Lily feeling no less confused.

"My thing?" she repeated.

Horstense sighed before smiling again.

"Oh don't misunderstand, I'm sure you get a good time out of watching James Potter dangle, and it's most amusing for us too." Hortense's tone said quite clearly that she wasn't amused, "But you really don't need to be that way with every boy, and Tempus really shows promise." With another smile Hortense went back to her bed.

Lily was fuming. She had been an idiot not to get the subtle insult thrown her way. It was times like this that she hated being a girl. There had to be some release in getting in an actual fight—these biting comments always left her floundering. Oddly enough it was different when she was arguing with James Potter; then it was like the words just flowed off her tongue.

Lily turned her back on the dreadful Hortense and let herself fantasize for a moment. If they were both men then it could have been a proper fight. She honestly wouldn't mind hitting Hortense anyway, but that would just cause more trouble—Hortense would blubber on an on about how Lily had attacked her from nowhere, how she was the innocent party. And Lily was a prefect, and hitting students wasn't one of the privileges allowed under that title. But it was nice, for a short while, to imagine the shocked expression on the pig's face when she got what she had coming.

"I know that look," Alice said, joining Lily on her bed. The blonde girl's hair was wrapped in a towel and her face was flushed from a warm shower.

"Sometimes she just makes me so mad," Lily moaned. She looked behind her, but Muller was busy painting her toenails and seemed to be ignoring Lily now.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. She's just jealous because she's spent her Hogwarts's years trying to get a husband and no one is interested in her, and you know James is pretty— "

"Don't say it," Lily interrupted.

"I'm just saying," Alice pressed on, "He's pretty consistent. Ever since he starting focusing on you he hasn't been seeing other girls."

"That we know of," Lily commented darkly.

"We'd know, Lily; most girls would shout it from the astronomy tower if the prince of Quidditch asked them out," Alice said, rubbing at her hair and giving her friend a humorous glance.

Lily rolled her eyes, "Whatever that means. And it isn't like I'm trying to get him to like me!" Lily vented, targeting in on the one thing that had insulted her the most.

"Nope, so... doesn't that say he likes the real you?"

Lily didn't know what to say to that. Ever since her best friend had 'fallen in love' she'd grown increasingly cryptic. "I'm going to sleep," she stated, promising herself that she'd forget this entire conversation.

Alice shook her head, "You know, if you were as decisive about James Potter as you were about everything else, you wouldn't have nearly the amount of trouble that you do."

Lily shut her curtains and didn't say anything.

Day 3 (And there are reasons why sleep is good.)

Harry awoke feeling feverish. His dreams had been worse than usual—he'd awoken sometime after three and only fallen asleep again at five. He was also once again certain that he'd ventured into dark territory. But which Dark Lord's head had he been visiting? The active one here, or the one that was currently comatose in his time? Everything had been too foggy to see clearly, so all he'd been left with were swirling emotions. Hate, anger, vengeance, and some sort of emptiness that Harry couldn't quite name...

He opened his curtains enough to peer out; everyone still seemed to be asleep. He reached out and he grabbed the watch that had been lying on his night table. Only a little past six. Harry sighed—he'd been hoping to get a little more respite. But it couldn't be helped and after the last hour of quasi slumber, he sincerely wanted to get away from sleep. He found no rest there.

Getting out of bed he tugged on his uniform and selected the books he'd need for the day. Defense, Charms and Potions, if he recalled correctly. Thinking of Defense made him remember the essay that was due. While he had no intention of producing quality work, Harry didn't want detention for not turning in an assignment. He'd write it before class during breakfast.

With this is mind, Harry left his dorm and the Gryffindor Common Room. If only it was as easy to leave his frustration behind... It had only been two days and he was sick of this time. He wanted to be back in place where he didn't know the future. For all Trelawny nattered on about it, knowing the future, quite frankly, sucked. He didn't want to rub elbows with future betrayers, murderers and their victims. He'd managed to learn a bit more about his parents, now all he wanted was to go home.

Harry walked through the halls with his head down, he was weary from a night of little sleep. Not many of the other students were awake yet, and he enjoyed the quiet of the halls. When he entered the Great Hall for breakfast it wasn't quite as quiet. A few other students were already present, as were most of the staff. A few people were reading newspapers with grim headlines. It was an odd feeling for Harry. There was still Voldemort, there was still war, but in many ways he had never been safer.

Harry settled at the Gryffindor table. The food wasn't out yet, which left more room for Harry to spread out his parchment.

Harry blandly titled his essay, "The Unforgivables."

In the first paragraph Harry described the Imperius curse and how it could be broken. He also wrote a small portion on how to best identify those under its sway, taking his information from Bartimus Crouch Sr. as well as Viktor Krum. For the Cruciatus, Harry described what it felt like, as well as the potential long term effects. The paragraph on Avada Kedavra was a little less thick. Harry described the color of the light, the fact that it couldn't be blocked. Well, technically it could, but no one knew that yet and Harry wasn't about the share that information. Being the onl person to ever survive the Killing curse had brought his enough fame in the future already. Finally, on the last line, Harry offered the small consolation that the killing curse didn't seem to cause its victims pain. Death from the killing curse often came as a surprise.

It wasn't quite as long as it should be, but it was enough to demonstrate he'd put in some work. At least worthy of an Acceptable, Harry thought. At the very least he wouldn't have to spend detention with the Defense professor. Merlin only knew what sort of thing Barten would have him do.

And the food appeared.

Harry wasn't particularly hungry, again, but he nibbled some toast half heartedly. He spread on the marmalade extra thick, and sipped some pumpkin juice as well.

Remus Lupin sat down beside him.

"I give up," the bookish boy announced as he sat down.

"On what?" Harry asked.

"Those two, if they want to make it to class in time they should buy a bloody alarm clock." The werewolf cursing seemed somewhat out of character, but then Harry was just beginning to get to know him as a friend.

"Finishing an essay?" Remus asked peering at the parchment that was somewhat splattered with jam.

"Writing it," Harry answered with a grin.

Remus looked at the title, "Cutting it a little close eh?" he inquired. "I thought you liked Defense."

Harry took another sip of his juice, "Yeah, but not the homework." He folded up the parchment and tucked it in his bag.

"Sorry I didn't ask, but how did your conversation with Dumbledore go?" Remus asked while choosing his own breakfast.

"How do you know about that?" Harry wondered aloud. The werewolf and his trouble making friends hadn't been present when the headmaster had requested a word.

Remus merely gave Harry a patronizing glance.

"Ah, the gossip network," Harry acknowledged, although with an ounce of annoyance. "It went fine, the headmaster just wanted to remind me not to toss the faculty about. Undermines their ability to lead, or something like that." Harry glanced up at the batty old man as he spoke, to which Dumbledore raised a fruity looking glass in response. Harry found himself looking longingly at the small green umbrella that was floating in the beverage.

"Now that is just unfair," he muttered.

"Huh?" a confused Remus asked.

"Nothing," Harry dismissed. He turned back to Remus, "So Defense, Potions and Charms."

Remus straightened.

"Professor Slughorn teaches Potions. He's...friendly," the werewolf allowed with a forced voice. "Professor Flitwick teaches Charms, he's a good teacher," this time he spoke with conviction. "He was also a dueling champ, twenty years ago or so."

Harry nodded.

"So...it's Friday," Remus mentioned, watching Harry's reaction.

"Yeah?" Harry asked in a questioning manner.

"Nothing, just wondering why the day meant so much to you yesterday." Remus helped himself to his food.

"No, just Thursdays," Harry said. "I used to like Tuesdays...suppose given the odds it's still my best day. But Thursdays are tricky. I've never got the hang of Thursdays."

Remus merely shrugged, as if to say that Harry was a brand of crazy that he didn't want to be involved with.

"So what do you do on the weekends," Harry asked.

"Not much this weekend," Remus stated, "Although James is sure to get a pick-me-up game of Quidditch going. The season hasn't started yet but both he and Sirius are more than a little obsessed."

Harry's eyes took of a hint of a gleam, "Excellent."

Remus rubbed his temples, "I forgot, you're a nutter for the game too."

"Of course," Harry said with a grin.

"What position?"

"Seeker," Harry grinned, taking another sip of his juice.

Remus grew thoughtful, "James started as seeker, but he became a chaser as soon as a slot opened. You know it is eerie how similar you two can be at times. I pretty sure James doesn't have any relatives...otherwise I'd swear you were related."

"Hey," James said, plopping down next to Harry, "Me and this bugger aren't anything alike." Swinging his arm around the other boy he said with a grin, "Only with a great deal of work and perhaps some human transfiguration could he hope to equal my handsomeness."

Harry rolled his eyes. Still... "So, you planning a quidditch game this weekend?" he asked hopefully.

James grinned, "Sure, that's right, you're a player too."

"Course it's next weekend that is going to be fun," Sirius said. He'd still managed to situate himself away from Harry, but he was no longer ignoring his existence.

"Next weekend?" Harry asked.

Sirius was rapidly piling his plate with food, so James found himself answering, "Hogsmeade weekend, first of the year."

"Oh." Harry nodded.

A bell chimed.

"Class," Remus called. Harry nodded and they both rose to their feet.

"But my breakfast," Sirius complained.

Harry grinned, "See you there," he said, allowing Remus to drag his friends away from the table.

However, he regretted his hasty departure when he arrived at the Defense classroom, only to find he was the first student to arrive. Barten was at his desk and watched Harry carefully as he entered. It seemed to take longer to get to a desk than usual and Harry quickly settled himself.

Barten continued to stare at him steadily. "Did you complete your essay Mr. Tempus?" Barten addressed him with a cool tone.

"Uh, yes sir," Harry replied. He was now very glad that he'd written it.

"Well, turn it in Mr. Tempus, I'm very interested in what you have to tell us."

Harry gulped. He fiddled with his bag, locating the wrinkled parchment he'd finished only moments ago. Finding it he stood to his feet and walked to the front of the room. Barten continued to watch him and Harry straightened, refusing to be intimidated by the Defense professor, he'd faced worse.

"Thank you," the professor claimed, taking the parchment. His lips curled somewhat as he took in the breakfast stains that marred the document.

Harry returned to his seat and released a sigh when two other students entered. They were Slytherins, but not ones he was familiar with. Barten had them leave their essays on his desk, but Harry realized with a nervous kick in his stomach that the man was currently reading his.

The Slytherins watched Harry with a slightly appraising look, almost as if he were a curious artifact. Harry had a feeling that his display in class hadn't been forgotten yet.

Remus, trailed by James and Sirius, also entered. Sirius ignored Harry and settled in the back, and James followed, although Remus seemed to hesitate for a moment before following his friends.

Of course, Harry didn't have to worry about being alone. "Morning," Lily greeted.

"Morning," Harry agreed. He watched at the red head settled herself next to Harry, arranging her books beside her. Alice seemed to be running a little late again.

"I was a little surprised when I did the research for the essay," Lily commented.

"Oh," Harry didn't have anything to add considering he hadn't researched anything.

Lily looked at him as if she knew all his failings, "Yes. I mean to think that muggles weren't protected, even in recent times? Muggle hunting was once actually a sport! Can you believe that?"

Harry considered some of purebloods he knew.

"Yep," he nodded with all seriousness. It was quite easy to picture Draco Malfoy enjoying such a sport, provided he didn't have to get his hands dirty.

"Well I think it's barbaric," Lily announced.

Harry didn't think anyone was really going to argue with her there.

Alice entered, finding a seat next to her friend. "Good Morning, Lily, Harry," she greeted with a sappy sort of smile, one that Harry was beginning to interpret meant that she had spent some time with Frank.

Another bell chimed and everyone turned to face the professor. It seemed starting class with the Unforgivables had given the man a sense of respect from his students.

"Good, class, today we are going to move onto the Cruciatus curse."

Harry stared ahead mutely. He wasn't quite certain what the man had up his sleeve that he meant to spend the entire class on one unforgivable. With the Imperius there was something that could be learned but the Cruciatus curse was a pretty basic one. How long did it take to explain: duck or OUCH!

Harry found that, indeed, the Defense Professor could drone on about one curse. The man discussed its history, who invented it and why, he explored the possible benefits of the curse... or at least the ones that had been argued (including use as a trusty childcare device), as well as exploring some of the medical explanations for why exactly the curse caused pain.

Harry pretty much ignored the whole thing. Knowledge was all well and good, but he'd go back to his previous statement; all you really needed to know was duck or OUCH! Not really that complicated. Perhaps he would add one thing. If you are hit with it don't try and be a hero and not scream. Go ahead and bloody well scream.

"Now that we've discussed some of the medical implications behind the curse," Barten concluded. "I think it best to move on to how the curse feels, to the victim cast upon. I want you all to realize the reality of this curse. Do not underestimate it."

Harry had no idea why the man thought they would 'underestimate' the Cruciatus. But then, Harry supposed, that even with all his lecturing, Barten hadn't demonstrated it. Harry found himself looking upward, wondering why the man hadn't. The Defense Professor hadn't faltered when casting the Imperius. But why wasn't we demonstrating the Cruciatus, not on students of course, but the bugs the fake Moody had provided were convincing enough.

"Mr. Tempus," Barten called, causing Harry to stir in his chair.

"Yes sir," he said, with some reservation.

"I noticed your essay was very detailed about how the curse feels, perhaps you would like to share your information with the class?"

All eyes were on Harry; however, the raven haired boy appeared calm.

Inside Harry was fuming. What was Barten getting at? It was one thing to write about this in some assignment—even knowing that it would be read and graded, somehow writing something always seemed more anonymous. But to explain it aloud? Harry had never told anyone what that felt like! The only time he'd even come close had been with Dumbledore and Sirius after the event in the graveyard. But even then, they hadn't felt the need to pry into what it felt like to have an Unforgivable torture curse cast upon you. He'd never even told Ron and Hermione.

"It hurts," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Explain, Mr. Tempus, you did a fine job in your essay, please be as explicit for the class."

Harry was shaking slightly. It was to such a small degree that not many would notice, and his hands, throbbing in rage, were hidden under his desk.

"Would you like me to read your essay aloud?" Barten asked with a keen eye.

Harry felt it was time to take his cue from Hermione, before he said or did anything he would regret. Rising to his feet, he met the professors gaze as he swept toward the door.

"Mr. Tempus," Barten called firmly as Harry grasped the door knob, "Class is not over."

Harry ignored him, opening the door. He fought the urge to petulantly slam it behind him, settling for a quick snap instead.

Harry had managed to outgrow most of his teenage angst, but some of it snuck up at odd times. He'd be damned if he was going to spill his guts on how the Cruciatus curse felt to his parents. He couldn't do it with Alice, Neville's mum, seated so near to him. In an odd way Harry felt angry that Barten had wanted them, indeed all of them, to know. They felt like such... children.

Which was stupid. He was the same age as they. He knew better than anyone what sort of trials they would face. Wouldn't it be better to have them fully prepared? Still, even with this logic he didn't want to do it. Perhaps that was all it came down to. Some things are personal, and if a man can't keep his own torture to himself, then what can he?

Harry was beginning to realize he should have just taken the detention for the missed assignment.

Without really knowing why, Harry went to his next class. Which was Charm, if he recalled correctly. He found himself waiting in front of Flitwick's classroom, leaning against the wall, watching the empty hallways with detached eyes.

He fumbled with his bag for a moment and found what he'd been searching for, the bag of lemon drops that Dumbledore had thought to include in his monstrosity of a trunk. He took one out and allowed the sour sweet flavor to take his mind off his mood. He didn't want to be that bloke again, not the one who gave into every frustration. But he sure as bloody hell wasn't going to be meditating into so fire, so candy would have to do the trick.

The Charms class let out, a stream of first years, all of whom seemed very short, they emerged smiling and excited. Harry found himself smiling too, remembering his first year and discovering how wonderful magic could be.

"Hello Harry," a squeaky voice said at his side.

Harry turned and tried not to flinch, "Pettigrew," he greeted.

"Didn't you have Defense," the shorter boy asked curiously.

"Yeah," Harry dismissed. "You look better," he added.

Peter shrugged, "Yeah...well, Madam Pomfrey does good work. I'm always amazed at how she patches up Remus."

Suddenly Peter paled, horrified at his slip of the tongue. He shot Tempus a somewhat panicked look, but the Harry acted as if he hadn't paid any attention to his words.

"So, you're taking charms," Harry asked dumbly.

"Yep. My best class." There was a tinge of pride in his voice at that. Harry supposed everyone had to be good at something. Come to think of it, Peter must have had some role is casting the Fidelius Charm, which couldn't have been the easiest spell in the book.

The pair stood in a somewhat awkward silence, running out of things to say. However finally it seemed like the last of the first years had left the classroom, Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and entered.

Harry didn't bother looking around, and found a seat in the back with a good view of the window. To his disappointment Peter seemed to have decided to find a seat near him. Harry chanted a new mantra in his head, 'no good deed goes unpunished.' Well if Pettigrew thought that he and Harry were friends, he would be quickly disillusioned.

Flintwick didn't look much different either, at least not to Harry's mind. The man still seemed to zoom about the classroom as if on a permanent sugar high, and for all Harry knew he was. Dumbledore and himself couldn't be the only wizards with a fetish for sweets.

The other students, the ones who hadn't escaped their classes early, were arriving. Harry was only spotting Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Perhaps Charms was popular enough that the class would be split the standard way between two houses. Harry decided he'd had enough questioning what the student body of the 70s was like and decided to stare out the window. Oh look, a bird.

It wasn't long before the Gryffindors from Defense class entered. Lily forsook her usual seat in the front to go and sit in the desk in front of Harry.

"Hey," she prodded.

Harry ignored her.

"Harry," she tried agin.

More ignoring. If she bloody asked him if he was alright he was ditching Charms as well.

The Marauders joined Peter, smiling in greeting. Pettigrew's face seemed to relax some now that they were here. He smiled too, looking quite pleased when Sirius gave him a pat on the back. Sirius moved a little closer, saying something so low that probably only Peter could hear. The boy nodded, his eyes gleaming in excitement.

"Hello class!" Flitwick greeted. The man stood almost eye level with the desks but that didn't seem to dismay him.

"Last class we discussed the freezing charm, as well as other water related wand work. Today we will be going in the opposite direction and looking into how charms can control the earth. And hopefully teach you some useful charms for gardening as well," Flitwick coughed, seeming a little sheepish, "But I wouldn't try these spells in Herbology. Professor Pod isn't found of 'cheating' as he puts it."

Flintwick soon produced three large boxes, which began to fly around the room. He instructed each student to remove one item from inside of each Harry peered in the first box that approached—it was a collection of rocks. Harry chose one at random. The next box contained small bottles of sand, the third a small, and rather unhealthy looking, plant, possibly a marigold.

Soon everything was piled on his desk and Harry wondered what they were going to do with all this. However, he did find himself somewhat excited as this was the first lesson which wasn't a repeat for him. Not that being taught things he already knew didn't make him feel smart, but he supposed it really wasn't a good use of his time. And it got boring.

Flitwick began lecturing on how different charms could impact the things he'd provided. One charm could turn rocky soil into fertile earth, another could manipulate rock formations, and a third could really aide in the health of non-magical plants.

"Everyone into pairs to practice," the friendly man squeaked, somehow saying the words Harry least wanted to hear.

He looked around wondering which group he should be most wary of. Lily and her need to 'make sure he was alright', or the Marauders and their boundless questions?

However, when Harry emerged from his fretful decision making, he discovered how pointless it all had been. Remus and Peter had already gathered together, as had James and Sirius. Lily and Alice were also now sharing the same desk. Indeed it seemed the whole class had partnered up.

Harry scratched his head. Well, that was interesting.

"Without a partner?" asked a voice coming from his elbow. Harry looked down to see the younger looking Flitwick gazing at him kindly.

"Yeah, but I don't mind working alone," Harry was quick to suggest.

"Nonsense," the small professor argued. He moved towards Lily. "Miss Evans, would you mind taking on a third?"

Lily smiled warmly. "Of course not, professor."

Harry didn't bash his head against his desk, an exercise in extreme self control.

Harry moved himself beside Alice, hoping she'd be a buffer. "So Charms, and doesn't it look exciting."

Alice snorted. The blonde witch smiled as she watched Lily glare at the dark haired boy.

"So, lets try and give this marigold some life," Harry tried again. He pulled out his wand, looking at the dour plant. "Vetrius" he cast.

Under the yellow-green light that came from his wand, the sickly looking plant seemed to burst with life. Springing into the air the plant became a bush and towered over their heads. Harry looked up with a curious expression.

"Well, that wasn't right," he said.

"Mr. Tempus!" Flitwick joined them, "Well cast, Mr. Tempus. Not quite what I'd intended, but good work. I daresay we might find a home for this one somewhere about the grounds."

Harry scratched the top of his head, "But this isn't what's supposed to happen, right?"

"Well no, but it still looks wonderful, doesn't it? Lily, perhaps you could help Mr. Tempus exert a little more control over his spell, hm?"

His mother and the Charms teacher seemed to have a good relationship, and the red head smiled and again said, "Of course Professor."

Flitwick levitated the plant off their desks, as it had overtaken their workspace. However when the man's back was turned Lily raised an eyebrow.

"And what were you on about last class? Just walking out on a Professor like that?" Harry noted that she seemed more angered about the implied disrespect than his actually missing the class.

Harry smiled, or rather attempted to.

"What, class wasn't over? I could have sworn I heard a bell."

Alice hid a smile while her best friend spluttered.

"I think what she wanted to know was why you pulled a runner just because Barten was asking to read your essay."

Harry shrugged, "He wasn't asking anyone else to read theirs."

"Then it should have been an honor to have him think your essay was so well done!" Lily argued.

"How about this rock to earth charm? Anyone want to try that?" Harry offered.

"Sure," Alice agreed, deciding to help him along. While Lily was energized by the support of a teacher, not everyone felt that way. She raised her wand and pointed it at the small grayish rock that she had chosen. "Eurthasis."

The rock crumbled into a powdery substance.

"Not bad," Harry encouraged.

Alice tipped her head in his direction, "If utterly failing is not bad."

"It just needs more of a flick at the end," Lily coached. She pulled her own stone forward, "Euthasis." Lily's stone also shattered into powder, but the shade changed to a dark, blackish brown color. A perfect soil for growing plants.

"Don't think I'm letting the matter in Defense drop," the red head added with a nod in Harry's direction. "You just can't act that way with a professor."

"He started it," Harry argued lamely.

"I just don't understand why you didn't read your essay. You don't seem really like the shy type," Lily pressed on.

"Look, he shouldn't have asked," Harry said. He pulled out his own wand, feeling a little frustrated he cast the Eurthasis charm with a little more force than needed. Like Alice, Harry's rock also turned to powder, it also managed to explode, covering the people in the immediate vicinity with a gray dust.

"Sorry," Harry called. His two partners were the most covered and both girls sneezed, wiping at their faces and hair to try and clear the sooty substance away.

"Mr. Tempus?" Flitwick asked, he neared the class again. "Perhaps you should just observe your partners today."

Harry nodded.

Flitwick cast a quick cleaning charm and soon the desks and the students were clean.

"Fine," Lily said. "I don't get it, though! It's not like it's anything personal, not like you've been under the Cruciatus yourself, but whatever. Just don't treat a professor so poorly."

"Barten doesn't deserve my respect." Harry said, glad that the red head hadn't noticed his slight flinch at her previous statement.

"He's a Professor," she argued.

"And that doesn't mean he's always right. Professors are people, and people make mistakes." Harry spoke with a firmness, this was something that he believed in.

Lily opened her mouth but Alice nudged her, silently advising her to let the matter drop.

The threesome managed to finish Charms without any more explosions, something everyone was thankful for. Harry's large marigold plant was put aside to be planted on the Hogwarts's grounds. Harry wondered if he would be able to find it once he returned to the future.

Once class was over Harry managed to blend into the stream of students heading toward the Great Hall. He hadn't spent much time with the Marauders, but if they had taken note of his action in Defense, it didn't show. But perhaps he shouldn't expect much outrage from a group that spent their free time planning pranks.

Lunch was a rather empty event. Harry ate at the Gryffindor table. Lily was ignoring him, which he didn't really mind, Alice was chatting with Frank, and the Marauders were absent. The other seventh year Gryffindors, whom Harry had played Exploding Snap with the previous evening, tried to draw Harry into their conversation, he wasn't interested. Ethan in particular seemed eager to chat with him, but Harry kept his answers brief and tried to look busy with his food.

Potions was next, which meant Professor Slughorn would be teaching. Harry had met the man on a few occasions—originally Dumbledore had intended to hire the wizard to teach Potions. However, when Harry had "defeated" Voldemort over the summer, it seemed that things had been put on hold. However, for some reason the headmaster had wanted Professor Slughorn handy, seeming to fear for the old wizards safety. Thus, Slughorn had volunteered to teach the younger years. (Originally he had asked for the sixth and seventh years, but apparently Snape had raised such a stink that Slughorn had amicably chosen the first through third years.) Despite the fact that Harry wasn't exactly his student, the Potions Master still sought him out for his collection of famous wizards. That manipulative aspect of the man's character didn't make him Harry's favorite person, but he'd willingly admit that he did envy the younger years. A potions lesson without the greasy bat... it was a wonderful, if impossible, dream.

For such could never be. He'd managed to slip through time and was still sharing the same classroom with Severus Snape, albeit in a different role.

Harry had left lunch early and arrived when only a few students were milling about. It was no surprise that Severus Snape was already present; the future Potions' Professor was paging though his text and scribbling into the margins. Harry wondered if Slughorn, as Head of Slytherins House, had already clued in his students what potion they would be dealing with today. It would be a very Slytherin thing to do.

Harry chose an empty desk on the Gryffindor side and pawed through the potions supplies McGonagall had provided. She'd been somewhat perturbed to have to do so, even if the Headmaster had assured her that Harry would be getting his own in a few weeks. Still, she hadn't skimped; he had all the basic ingredients.

Someone pulled the chair next to him, taking a seat. Harry looked over... He didn't know her. The girl who had taken up residence beside him had tightly curled brown hair. She flashed him a smile, one which he returned hesitantly.

"Hello," she greeted. "I don't think we've met before."

Harry shrugged. "I haven't met a lot of people." He was tempted to turn back to his cauldron and leave it at that. But it seemed a little rude. "Harry Tempus," he said with a half smile, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

"Hortense Muller," she replied, taking his hand with a light grasp.

Harry nodded. All right the introductions were done, he could go back to staring at his side of the desk.

"I'm so glad I get to share a class with you," she said with a simpering voice.

Harry nodded, "Eh, yeah. I haven't seen you in any of my others."

Hortense giggled, "Oh, I'm not smart enough to get into NEWT level Defense or Transfiguration," she said simply. "You must be very clever."

Harry looked at her a little oddly, "Eh, not really," he admitted quite honestly. Hermione was the smart one, he just got by.

"Oh don't be silly," she admonished, her hand petting his shoulder as she spoke.

Harry had the feeling that her hand was lingering longer than necessary. He found himself looking at her a little closer, wondering why he had this vague feeling that something was missing. Ah! She needed an 'I 'heart' Harry Potter' button. Then she'd be the picture perfect example of one of his fan girls.

Harry found himself inching subtly away. Where was the bloody Professor when he needed one?

Thankfully, the class was quickly filling up. The Marauders traipsed in with a cocky air: Sirius was looking far too smug and it didn't sit well with Harry. Lily entered and with her usual zeal found a place in front. If Harry recalled his mother was quite good at Potions, even if she did prefer Charms.

"Good afternoon class!" Slughorn welcomed. The very over-weight man didn't look much different than he would in the Harry's time. His moustache still had a touch of gold, but it had mostly passed to silver. He stomach was just as large and even clothed in a waistcoat that Harry thought he'd seen him wear in the future.

"Now last class we discussed some of the tricky, but helpful, medical potions that we will be making this year. Today we will be working on a fever reducing potions. Very useful, but also potentially poisonous if brewed wrong. 'When in doubt, go to St. Mungo's, they'll help you out' Very catchy phrase, I know Benjamin Barrel who dreamed it up. As well as the slogan for Wiz's Men's Wear, 'If it's a custom fit, It's a Wiz'. Very clever chap."

Slughorn tapped his wand on the board and the potion's instructions appeared.

Harry recalled that he'd made this before... in his fifth year. Of course, he also recalled his potion had ended up looking like a cauldron of mud, as opposed to the turquoise shade it was supposed to be. Slughorn walked about the room chatting with his students, lecturing about the potion and offering helpful hints.

Serverus Snape was not listening. He was writing in his textbook and ignoring the cheerful hints Slughorn was passing around.

"Right, you all got that. Pip Pip, get to it then," Slughorn grinned and waved his hands in an encouraging manner.

Harry got to work, this time trying to pay attention, although Hortense was making that difficult.

"You know you look a great deal like James Potter," Hortense whispered, leaning toward him as she spoke.

"You don't say," Harry said as he measured out his essence of Oleander.

"Yes, you really do." She moved a little closer. "He's quite popular you know, eveyone thinks he's very handsome."

"Uh huh," Harry agreed. Where were those beetle eyes? Slughorn had said they need to be ground to a fine powder.

Hortense huffed.

"Are you related?"

"To who?" Harry asked. He added the two ingredients together and made certain that the fire was slightly blue, hinting that it was the right temperature.

"James Potter," Hortense pressed on.

"Oh, him. Eh, no, not that I know of," he lied. "Shouldn't we be concentrating on our potion?"

Hortense giggled, "Oh I'd never be able to manage a tricky potion like this."

Harry paused to stare at her.

"Then why are you even taking the class?" he asked curiously.

Hortense shrugged, "Because I needed another class."

"What do you want to do when you graduate then?" Harry was honestly curious. In his time, he didn't spend too much time chatting with fan girls; he spent more time running. But he wasn't famous here.

Hortense looked at him blankly. "I'm going to get married," she answered, as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh, well, congratulations," Harry said. He quickly turned back to his work. Yes, he'd been right to run.

It was about this point when three of the Slytherin cauldrons started smoking. The four all looked at the potions in confusion, not seeming to understand the problem. One of the four raised his hand.

"Professor?" he called.

Slughorn was toward the front chatting with Lily, both seeming to enjoy the conversation.

Suddenly the four smoking cauldron's exploded, and the bright red liquid inside coated the four Slythrins with a thick paste. They all shrieked in either surprise or anger, Harry wasn't certain. One of the students was Severus Snape, and the future Potions master wasted no time in turning towards the back of the classroom, where James Potter and his friends had settled themselves. Sirius waved in a friendly manner at the four potion covered students. The pureblood swung his arm around Peter, grinning all the wider.

"What is going on?" Slughorn asked. He approached the students, careful to not step in the potion.

"We did everything right," one of the Slytherin's complained.

"Obviously not," Slughorn said in a friendly manner. "Well, no matter, even the best Potions Masters wreck a cauldron from time to time. Why, Charlus Bigweither even destroyed his counter top, and we all know he went on to invent the Sickly Stomach Elixir, which helped me after a fine meal on more than a few occasions."

Snape, however, wasn't appeased by the man's geniality, and he continued to stare harshly at the Marauders, likely mumbling his plans for vengeance under his breath.

"Scourgify," one of the Slytherins tried. The potion disappeared; sadly, the color did not. The Slytherins and their clothes were speckled with varying splotches of red—one them seemed to have taken the blast almost full in the face. He now resembled a tomato more than anything else.

The Gryffindors were laughing. Even Harry had to admit that seeing Snape with rosy red cheeks was enough to get a snicker out of him.

"I think I know what happened," Slughorn said in all seriousness. "You boys need to make sure that you clean your cauldrons throughly before working. There must have been a trace of Belladonna, that tends to react... surprisingly... with Essence of Oleander. And with the beetle eyes... well, you will get that distinctive shade."

The four Slytherins seemed to join Snape in his glaring; however, to Harry's surprise, none of them seemed to try and alter Slughorn's perception. If anything, that was an even darker sign, as it seemed that, indeed, a feud was starting between the two houses. One where professor invention wasn't wanted.

"Well, you four are dismissed. I'd try linseed oil... good luck. Everyone else continue with their potion brewing," Slughorn instructed the students.

Harry got back to his potion, as well as parrying Hortense's questions. He had to hand it to her, the girl was persistent. Still, by the end of the double period, Harry was happy that he'd emerged with a potion that was turquoise, although not as brilliant a shade as the one that earned Lily two points. He also emerged from class without a fianceė, which, considering Hortense's efforts, was the greater achievement.

"At dinner you can come and sit with my friends and me," Hortense said, pulling his arm, "You must be so tired of having Lily boss you around. And she's a terrible flirt... I wouldn't take any of her attention too seriously."

Harry pulled his arm loose. "Actually, there is something I have to do." With that, he did the only sane thing and bolted.

He reached the library before he stopped, he looked at the doors in a reverent manner. If there was any place that Hortense Muller wasn't likely to visit, it was here.

"I didn't expect to see you here," a now familiar voice said.

Harry turned to see Lily standing with her arms full of books.

"Here, let me get the door," he offered.

The prefect nodded.

"Thanks." The pair entered the library, Lily stacked the books on the librarian's returns desk, and Harry, for no apparent reason, decided to stand beside her.

"You're not avoiding me anymore?" the red head asked.

"You're not mad at me?" he questioned right back.

Lily rolled her eyes.

"Having to deal with Hortense Muller for a double period is punishment enough."

Harry laughed, "According to her, you're a terrible flirt, and I shouldn't give your attention any importance."

Lily's mouth opened, her green eyes flashing. "That...URG, she is so annoying."

"Maybe you should prank her," Harry suggested. "I'm sure James will have some suggestions."

Harry was a little surprised that she didn't immediately reject the idea.

"Let's get to dinner. I'll be a terrible flirt and keep her away from you. I think she'll find that worse than any prank."

Harry grinned, "And yet I'll be thankful."

Dinner. Why did that strike a chord in Harry's mind? It wasn't until he and Lily reached the Great Hall that he remembered. Tonight, after dinner, he was going to give Sirius Black his first lesson on breaking the Imperius Curse.

Harry Tempus, Sirius Black, and Professor Barten, all in the same room, bandying about a Unforgivable curse. No reason to worry at all.