Turning Time (A Harry Potter Fanfic)

Letter Universe, pt. 2

3 January, 1993

It’s been two weeks and I still don’t know what happened. I’ve caught Professor Faralyn and Snape staring at me; it’s starting to make me anxious. At the same time, they don’t want to talk to me, or look me in the eyes when I talk to them… 

6 January, 1993 

What’s the point in writing anymore? Why bother writing to myself? I don’t understand why you, or I, would tell me what you did. Are we the same person, or is this another lie? Either way, I’m going to keep writing, but I’m not going to meet myself at Hog’s Head. 

Professor Faralyn met with Ron, Hermione, and I. She had a lot to say, but not enough to make sense of what she discovered.

Snape decided to talk to Dumbledore; he didn’t want me to know about his past, and was at least mad at Dumbledore for not telling him about the letter. Faralyn showed them what she’d noticed about the handwriting, and with some tinkering, they discovered that beneath the handwriting charm was…me. I wrote the letters. They don’t know—or at least Faralyn didn’t say—how this is possible. How could I know what happened in the past, and why was I writing as if I knew the future?

I asked if she knew if Snape would keep ignoring me. I felt more comfortable when he acted as though he hated me. 

“It was easier for him to assume you’re like your dad. Severus uses Occlumency to close himself off. I’ve used it before; you have to separate yourself from emotion, and part of that is simplifying a situation that favors how you ‘need’ to feel. This whole letter thing made that harder to do. I don’t know when he’ll come round, and I don’t know everything he’s feeling. You might have more luck asking the Headmaster.” The professor sounded sort of bitter at this, but she recovered.

I asked what I should do. Professor Faralyn told me to stay out of his way, but “if he doesn’t confront you by the end of the year, then you should talk to him.” 

She had another reason to call us to her office. She was concerned about Ginny. “I don’t know if she’s always been so reserved, but she doesn’t seem to have any friends, and she appears to be sick most days, but if I ask she says she’s just tired. She’s having trouble completing assignments.” 

Ron looked at me, and shrugged. “Who knows with girls. She fancies Harry, I think that’s why she’s so crazy.” 

Professor Faralyn sighed. “I don’t think that’s the reason. I’d appreciate it if one of you asked her what’s going on.” 

Hermione offered to help. When we got back to the common room, Ron and I went up to our dorm, leaving Hermione to go up to the girls’ form. At the time, we weren’t worried about what was wrong with Ginny. When it was time for dinner, we looked for Hermione. A third year girl told us she’d seen them leave together shortly after Hermione went upstairs. We found out later that Ginny had been in the dorm, writing in her diary. She was under Tom Riddle’s influence and used some sort of curse to force Hermione to leave with her. 

Ron and I didn’t know where to look. As we walked by the unused girls’ bathroom on our way to dinner, we were about to stop worrying—but we heard noises, so we investigated. Inside, we met Moaning Myrtle, a ghost who saw the two go into the Chamber of Secrets. She also revealed she’d been killed when the Chamber was last open, by a giant snake. I somehow knew how to open the Chamber—I spoke in Parseltongue.

The Chamber was cold, wet, dark, and littered with bones. We found Hermione and Ginny, but they were unconscious. Hermione’s head was bleeding.