"I have great pride in announcing," Albus Dumbledore said to the Great Hall at large, his eyes twinkling as always, "that the graduation festival will be held in two weeks time, on the last day of school."

Great muttering began amongst the seventh years. After seven long years at Hogwarts, they were finally going to leave it!

Only one student seemed sad at leaving the great castle. Harry Potter looked around at his friends, who were looking excited at the prospect. Harry frowned at his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. They were too busy immersing themselves at their plans after Hogwarts to notice him at this particular point, however. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, soon to be Hermione Weasley, had been dating since their sixth year; Ron had proposed to her just three weeks ago. Hermione had blushed furiously, but accepted. Their plans after Hogwarts were still undecided, though Harry never wanted to stay around when they talked about it--he didn't seem to be included in their plans.

As everyone started to leave (Dumbledore seemed to have dismissed them), Harry couldn't blame them. Was he going to hang around Ron and Hermione forever? All of them had their own lives to get on with. If Ron and Hermione were getting married, then their lives would interlock. Harry would just... move on... somewhere.... He'd get his own house and live on his own, just like anyone should do. It was no big deal, really... he was only losing his two best friends since his first year... no big deal....

Oh, yes, no big thing at all! Harry thought sarcastically. Just the first friends you ever had!

Harry went to bed that night still arguing with himself while Ron and Hermione adamantly discussed their future.

--

Eleven days later, he was still doing the same thing.

"Ron!" someone called as Ron, Hermione, and Harry entered the Great Hall three days before their graduation. Harry looked up--Mrs. Weasley had spoken, her husband and all her sons but Percy beside her.

"Congratulations, Ron," Mr. Weasley greeted, giving his son a hug. "We're really proud of you."

"You mean ickle Ronnikins has finally graduated?" Fred teased.

"Yes, I have!" said Ron defiantly. "And for your information, 'ickle Ronnikins' has got himself a decent job, too!"

"What?" George asked dismissively, waving his hand effortlessly as though he really didn't care.

"We got the results in," Ron said, his face glowing with pride as Harry grinned, knowing what was about to burst, "and I'm going to Auror finals!"

It was true; results for their careers had come in. Hermione, having gotten S.P.E.W. to go tons farther, would be remaining head of that. Ron and Harry both had been selected for finals. They, and three other people, would be taking the Auror training. If they passed that, they would become Aurors.

"Oh, Ron, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, embracing her youngest son as Fred and George started to gag.

"Congrats, Ron," Charlie said, thumping Fred and George on the head. They yelled in protest and pain at this; Charlie was very strong, working with dragons, and Harry imagined his hitting the twins would hurt.

"Yeah, good job," Bill agreed. Mrs. Weasley stood up and eyed Bill after hearing her eldest son talk. She opened her mouth to speak, but Bill interrupted. "No, mum, my hair's staying like it is."

She glared at him all the way through breakfast.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you..." Ron said as they were about to leave the Great Hall to show the Weasley's how Hogwarts had changed. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand, and she blushed. "I... well, I was waiting until you arrived, and here you are, so..." he took a deep breath, "Hermione and I are getting married."

There was an outburst of noise.

"Wow! Congratulations, Ron!" Bill said, sounding amazed.

"ICKLE RONNIKINS IS GETTING WHAT?!?!?!" Fred screamed.

"Congrats, Ron! That's really cool!" Charlie exclaimed.

"No..." George whispered, horrified. "Ron can't get the 'm' word... no... I thought we'd taught him better than that! Fred, WE FAILED!!!" (He and Fred left in hysterical sobs afterwards.)

Mr. Weasley just smiled and said, "Well done, Ron."

Mrs. Weasley started the entire motherly routine. "Oh, Ron, are you sure? You don't want to get married too early. Why, your uncle Alfred got married without really thinking about it, and look what happened to him! He married a werewolf that bit him in the night! No one knows where he is now.... Of course, we know Hermione's not a werewolf, but are you sure? How long have you been dating now? Surely it hasn't been long enough... I mean, you really should--"

"Mum, calm down!" Ron exclaimed, laughing. "I'm sure, I'm sure."

"Oh... I've just remembered..." Harry started, ready to make up some homework he hadn't completed, but some more voices interrupted him.

"Oh, Hermione, dear!" someone else called from the doors to the Great Hall. "Hermione!"

"Mum! Dad!" Hermione exclaimed, racing over to them. "Oh, you won't believe it! I've got so much to tell you!"

"Really? Like what?" Mrs. Granger asked, hugging her daughter.

"Ron and I are getting married!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

"You're what?" Mrs. Granger asked, sure she had misheard her daughter.

"We're getting married," Hermione said, a little more quietly. "Isn't... don't you think that's...?"

"That's excellent, darling!" Mr. Granger exclaimed, beaming at her. "Come on, let's go meet your fiancé...."

"I'll... just..." --But no one was paying attention to Harry now-- "go...."

And so he left.

He walked up to the common room slowly, trying to fight back tears. Why did all this have to happen to him? Why could Ron and Hermione have such happiness, have such families, while he was stuck with neither great things? Why couldn't he have his family back? Why...?

But the answer was so simple, so obvious: Voldemort. The reason he couldn't fall in love was because of Voldemort. Until Voldemort was dead, it wouldn't be safe to fall in love in case Voldemort took hostages. Harry's girlfriend would surely be first on the list. Again, Voldemort was the answer: Harry had no family because Voldemort had murdered them.

He had no family, unless you counted the Dursley's. But he would be leaving them as soon as he got a place of his own, and he would start looking the moment he had unpacked his things at Number four, Privet Drive.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked before he realized where he was.

"Garshwald," Harry said.

The portrait of the Fat Lady opened. Harry stood there, then murmured an apology and turned away. He couldn't stand this anymore. What he was going to try was drastic, but he would do it if he could.

Harry stealthily raced down to McGonagall's office. He looked inside through a window; it was empty. He took out his wand and pointed it at the doorknob. "Alohomora!"

The door unlocked itself. Harry silently opened the door and shut it behind him. He turned around and started opening drawers.

In the middle drawer in McGonagall's desk, he found what he was looking for. He was amazed she still had it, but was quite thankful she did. Harry pulled out the time-turner and slid it onto his neck. He looked down upon it, entirely uncertain how to work it. Harry guessingly turned the time-turner and hoped he set it for the right time. If he could go back and save his parents, how different his life would have been.

Harry did the last turn and disappeared, just as McGonagall turned the doorknob to enter her office.

--

Harry reappeared in a very unfamiliar place. It was a street, a street that Harry once suspected looked like Privet Drive. Now, it was in ruins. Some houses looked like they had been just recently burned down; others looked like they'd been in ruins for years.

"Where… am I? This isn't… this can't be…." Harry muttered to himself.

"Dark Lord!" someone behind Harry exclaimed.

Harry turned around. Several people in black cloaks were staring at him, unbelieving.

"He's back…." a voice said, that Harry was surprised to recognize.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Harry Potter…" Draco Malfoy said, lowering his hood. "But it can't--you're--"

"What?" Harry asked.

"The Dark Lord killed you… YOU CAN'T BE BACK!" Malfoy yelled.

"What is it, Draco? Stop your complaining…." the voice trailed off. "You!"

"Er… me?" Harry asked, confused by the high, cold voice.

"I killed you!" the man screeched, his hood flying off to reveal Lord Voldemort. His red eyes were still like a cats, his nostrils in slits like a snakes.

Harry looked at him. Something was wrong. "What?"

"I KILLED YOU! YOU CAN'T BE BACK! AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort yelled.

Harry ran to the side to avoid getting hit. "What are you talking about?" Harry said quickly.

"Hold on, Master," Draco said, looking at just below Harry's neck. "He's wearing a time-turner."

Voldemort looked at the time-turner around Harry's neck. "So… this is why…."

Voldemort stared at him. "I'll just kill your past self, too, then," Voldemort said quietly. "Take out your wand and prepare to duel, Potter, so that I may show my Death Eaters again that I can beat you. That shall remove any doubts from our last match… or rather, your last match…." He smirked and took out his wand, getting into the dueling stance. "Come now, Potter, we haven't got all day."

And it suddenly hit Harry just what had happened. He hadn't gone sixteen years back in time, he'd gone sixteen years forward in time where he was dead and Voldemort ruled the world.