My dear Scorpius,
Today has been a very boring day. I can’t seem to find enough to keep me busy. I’ve done the washing three times over already… at least James will be happy. His white shirts really do look white this time.
I hate having nothing to do, Scorpius, because on those days I find myself mulling more and more over the past. How things might've have been different. James and I were pushed together by circumstances, in love yes, but young and silly. Maybe it was a mistake.
Sometimes I think my entire life is a mistake...
On the edge of the field, where the nervous little fence runs, James finds a dirt road. It is obviously well used and judging by the tracks on it, some sort of highway. Since he doesn’t recognize the field and can’t find it on the map of Britain that he has brought along, James decides to follow the road and see where it takes him. As he walks, the throbbing of his head lessening with each step, and his determination increasing, he flips through the history book. It took him hours to find it in his own time “ he searched every bookshop in Diagon Alley “ but he hadn’t wanted to leave without it. On the dyed leather cover is the title, A History of Time-Travel.
James knows very well, after hearing stories from his father and Aunt Hermione (Aunt Hermione especially seems loathe to let him forget the dangers) and working in the Department of Mysteries for two years, that time-travel isn’t something to mess with. The easiest thing to do while time-traveling is to take the wrong step, say the wrong word, do the wrong thing “ next thing you know, you find yourself or your friends and family dead, or worse. Time is delicate and fragile and anything can tip the balance and send it spiraling out of control. So James searched for, and bought the book as a reminder. In case things get hard to handle he’ll always have a little something at his side, in his bag or pocket, but close by nonetheless, to make him think before he acts. Something that even he knows he isn’t very good at doing.
James is immersed in the thirteenth chapter of the book, not watching where he is walking, when he begins to hear sounds of life above the pitter-patter of the rain. Creaking, murmuring and banging. James looks up, stuffing the book back into his satchel and making sure that the Time-Turner is out of sight. Finally “ he’ll be able to ask for directions now and get to Laura. His pace quickens at the thought.
As he half-walks, half-jogs down the path, his mind involuntarily finds its way back to his open wounds. He is surprised that as big as his hurts are, the pain does not bother him altogether as much as it should. Going through her letters, her prized possessions, the few personal belongings he didn’t know about, and finding what he had found… it had been a shock, it had hurt, but only for a moment. Now, when he thought of it, his heart clenched and his head hurt, but no tears came. No pain. Only anger. Deep, deep anger. The anger hurts. Not her loss. Not anymore, at least. Only the anger.
When the village comes into sight, James stops short. For a long moment he just stands there, in the middle of the road, baffled.
The village is a nice enough place, a few wooden buildings built close together and designed into various shops: a bakery, butchery, and a general store. In the distance James can see a mill of some sort. It is completely old fashioned but not completely odd to find a quaint, albeit out-of-date village like this in the middle of nowhere. Muggles and wizards alike build them. Muggles, to attract tourists, and wizards, because they are easy to build and don’t require extra “technology”. But what strikes James as odd are the clothes everyone is wearing. The men have on ruffled shirts and breeches, and occasionally a jacket-vest over the shirt or a pair of full trousers instead of short ones. Their fashions choices seem to depend on their class “ whether they are in town to work or buy. The few women seem to be customers and are rather well-dressed, with full bustles, high necklines and full sleeves. The younger girls are wearing dresses too, but there are less bustles to be seen and the necklines are lower.
James’s hands jump to his own clothes. He had decided to wear something Muggle-ish because he and Laura lived in Muggle-area, and it seems like a terrible idea now. Even robes might have been better than what he has on now: a collared shirt with thin blue and white stripes on it and a pair of dark pants. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows and on his feet are a pair of trainers. And he has no hat.
What are these people doing? Are they in costume? From the looks a carriage driver is giving him, James doesn’t think their attire is costume at all “ not to mention the fact that there is a horse-drawn carriage standing on the road. James stares around. He used the Time-Turner to go back a week, not a century! He knows it. The Time-Turner doesn’t just decide to take you somewhere you don’t ask it to. What is going on?
Feeling more gobsmacked than ever and slightly hot around the neck, a sign of impending anger, James ducks behind a nearby tree and pulls his wand out of his satchel. Fine, he’ll just have to change. He won’t be able to conjure the clothes out of this air, but he can easily make his present clothes look a little different. He taps himself with the wand a few times, peering around the tree every now and then to examine a particular detail of the men’s clothes. When he’s done, he feels like someone has grabbed him and poured plaster downs his shirt. The cloth is stiff, rough and unpleasant. The pants ride too high to be comfortable and began just above the navel. The vest is a bit tight and the hat is making his head hurt again.
Trying to take smaller breaths, James jumps out from behind the tree “ and jumps right back behind it again/
He leans against the tree trunk, his chest heaving, his heart on a sprint. Damn it to hell! James thinks. He tries to calm down, and in an attempt to speed up the process, thinks of a few more colorful words.
He’s just seen Scorpius Malfoy, standing on the same road he has just travelled down, wearing clothes that, for the most part, match James’s. The only difference is the green vest with silver piping. And a matching hat, too! How original. James feels a sneer cross his lips.
Thinking fast, James creeps out from behind the tree and onto the porch of the nearest shop, which has a sign with the word INN hanging on a thin rod jutting out from the wooden wall. He pushes through the door - and is momentarily deafened. The noise is exceptionally loud and when James regained use of his ears he wonders why he didn’t hear it from outside “ and then he catches sight of the barman. He is pointing a stick of wood at the wash basin, in which tins plates and cups are clinking together merrily. At a table two men are arguing in loud voices and James is sure he hears the words “the Chudley Canons” a few times. James’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.
Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron.
It is as James remembers it “ almost exactly like the one in his own time. It almost feels like he never even used the Time-Turner. The thought makes James’s heart clench. He doesn’t want to go anywhere near home and his own time until he puts things right. He has to put things right. He will have his answers. His fist clenches the small slip of parchment with Laura’s name on it even tighter. He’s been holding it ever since he found it on that bush. As he squeezes the paper, almost wishing it would crumble into dust, a light flashes before his eyes”
The glass panes lit up with a sudden unearthly light - a figure was swinging to-and-fro just below the hay loft “ a door banged somewhere in the distance “ a scream, the keening of heartbreak”
‘Mate, you all right?’
Someone sets a hand on his shoulder and James jumps a foot, gasping.
‘You okay?’ repeats the man. He has a brown beard and shining eyes and is smiling softly at James. James manages a nod. The man pats him strongly on the back and nods. ‘Stay all right,’ he says and then walks off to the bar. Bar. James shakes his head again. He is in the Leaky Cauldron, in the past. Of course. The past would have a Leaky Cauldron. He used the Time-Turner to go back one week “ and one week back he has gone. Perhaps the Leaky Cauldron has a second entrance, that’s all. An entrance from a deserted road. And today must be some sort of special day, because everyone is dressed very funny “ yes, that’s all. A special day.
Feeling very wrong-footed, heart still beating in the region of his throat, James looked around the inn again and registers that even the wizards and witches weren’t wearing robes. Or at least not proper robes “ some had long coats on over their shirts and vests… but so what? He has gone back one week. He has. That is all. Nothing strange.
‘Well, look what the Kneazle dragged in!’