Take Time (a Harry Potter fan fiction)

2: The Dementors

Chapter Two:

The Dementors

[Al]

He froze.

Al’s feelings went to war against each other; one part of him wanted to open his mouth and yell at his Dad; another, more rational part wanted him to shut up and hide and perhaps find a way to get out of the freaking place; and yet another part of him argued that he’d probably have more chance of getting back to his time if Harry knew, and a meek voice interrupted to tell them that he wouldn’t exist if he told Harry at all.

“Some Gryffindor you are,” Al muttered scathingly to himself. “At least follow him, figure out a plan later.”

He scrambled up and dusted himself off, then took to stalking Harry, regarding him interestedly.

Al would swear that he had never, to date, seen his father so distressed. There was no saying what he had on mind; no matter how much Al racked his brains he couldn’t come up with anything that both reasoned why Harry was wearing such a distraught face and made sense. There was Voldemort, he supposed, but that particular explanation violated the fact that Harry was here, out in the open, without having Death Eaters on his heels, supposedly when Voldemort was at the peak of his power Harry was the most wanted of Britain, Undesirable Number One.

The thought of Death Eaters on Harry’s heels brought up the fact that if Harry spotted him, he would be falsely accused of being a follower of Voldemort. Al snorted at the thought of being accused of using Polyjuice Potion to imitate Harry of all people. He didn’t need Polyjuice to look like his Dad. His ruddy genes did that for him.

He stopped in his tracks. Genes. Genes. Genes. He wasn’t even bloody born yet. Lily and Hugo, Louis, Molly, Lucy, Rose, Dominique, James, Fred, Victoire… even Teddy didn’t exist.

Why was he here, then?

Stupid time displacement, he thought derisively.

He snapped his head up in curiosity as he noted where Harry had led him, however unwittingly: a play park.

This was the last place he expected Harry to be headed to: a torn-down, vandalized, dilapidated, destroyed playground. He didn’t even realize that his father had ever been to a play park of all places. As far as he knew, there had never been a play park involved in his father’s stories. Of course, Al had only ever focused on the more magical parts; if there had ever been a play area mentioned, he hadn’t taken note of it, although Lily probably would have. Al doubted that this playground would ever have been mentioned, though, as decrepit as it was.

He scrutinized the scene in fascination as Harry settled himself on the only intact swing and coiled his arm through the chain. Al vaguely wondered what Harry was thinking about for him to look so morose. Al had been running through the various tales he had been told by his Uncle Ron about their times at Hogwarts, coming up with nothing, when he realized that Harry had risen.

Al glanced warily around for whatever change had triggered this reaction. The only substantial difference he spotted in the environment was the sudden appearance of a gang-ish group of boys on what seemed to be racing bikes; Al couldn’t be sure, he wasn’t particularly aware or fond of Muggle sports or trends. For some reason, though, Harry took the sudden appearance of these delinquent boys as a signal to go back to the Dursleys’, and since Al was to imitate his Dad’s actions if he ever wanted to get anywhere, he got to his feet and stretched to get rid of the drowsiness.