The Dark Lord's Playbook of Nefarious Misdeeds

Wagon Wheels Part 1

Previously....

"And do you, Hermione? Trust me?" well, that was a loaded question.

"Yes," it sounded more breathless than it should have, and against my better judgment, I did trust him. He stepped into my personal space and tipped my head back. I thought he was finally going to kiss me conflicting as that was- but no, he kissed me softly on the cheek letting his lips linger.

I closed my eyes and let him pull me into his chest; he rested his chin on top of my head. I don't think either of us knows what it is we are doing. By a strange twist of fate and Dumbledore's machinations, we are both each other's anchors in this time and place.

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Harry third-person POV

Back in the present

Harry watched as the older man still shuffled around his desk trying to find whatever it was he was trying to find while muttering incoherent things under his breath. It made him wonder if Dumbledore knew what he was doing, or was he stalling until it was too late? This whole thing seemed more like an experiment than an iron-clad idea, and that made him a little angry. I mean trapping someone in a time turner? He still couldn't quite get his head around it. It was something that should be in a Dr Who episode.

Harry always prided himself at trying to uphold the ideals his parents would want to him have. He wondered what they would do in this situation. Would they just let it slide- one sacrifice for the many? Or bring both of them back to the present and deal with the consequences? He wasn't going to deny that releasing Voldemort was a tad worrying and doubts started to creep in, what would Hermione do? Honestly, she would probably fight for his return if the situation were reversed. He never thought his life would turn out like this or secretly he never thought he would survive this long. A teenage boy of mediocre magical ability to take down the most powerful dark wizard of this century, the idea was absurd.

He knew deep down this whole thing was to martyr him off, and he only realised it when it was too late, the dominoes had already begun falling. This whole twisted mess had started decades before he was born, and Dumbledore and Voldemort were too obsessed with ripping each other to shreds. It shouldn't be his problem. While the ex-headmaster was an extraordinary wizard, he couldn't dodge getting his hands dirty forever. Up until now because of he had a short time for reflection, he realised Dumbledore rarely interfered except at the Department of Mysteries because he ultimately had no choice, and how could he pass up a grand showing of his abilities?

He removed his glasses and pushed his fingertips into his eyes to relieve some of the pressure. He had a headache- not from Voldemort-, and he was exhausted. Would things ever get better? It seemed like things would only get worse before they got better. Part of him just wanted to cry, sob in despair and desperation. But he was supposed to be the saviour of the wizarding world and him breaking down would not be good for anyone.

He sensed someone crouch down in front of him and placed a comforting hand on his knee.

"Are you alright, Harry?", he heard the soft-spoken voice of his former professor, Remus Lupin.

Harry lifted his head and put his glasses back on. Otherwise, he was practically blind without them.

"I'm fine Remus, just tired. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course Harry," Remus stood up and shooed Ron over to make space for him to sit.

"What do you think my parents would do in this situation? Did I make the right decision?" Harry felt distressed at the prospect of disappointing his parents, even their faint memories.