In the wake of Dumbledore’s murder, the Hogwarts Three begin their next assignment in the dreary townhouse at Grimmauld Place. Like 99% of the fan base, they too had deduced that a fake locket, initials ending with the letter –Bâ€, and a discarded Black family heirloom might just be the trifecta they sought. In a sequence shot especially for this film, Remus Lupin shows up on their doorstep and bemoans the Ministry’s latest discriminatory edicts as well as the unplanned pregnancy of his newly minted wife. Wracked with guilt at having denounced the closest thing to a father he’s ever had, Harry walks the halls at night while Ron and Hermione tuck themselves into sleeping bags in the parlor below.
A smoky, black apparition leads Harry into a shadowy room that remained untouched during all those months that the townhouse was Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix. Much to his surprise, it is not one of Sirius’ eccentric relatives, but the ghost of Merope Gaunt, a.k.a. Voldemort’s mother, who convinces him that it’s not a golden locket that he needs, but a time-turner. The only time-turner to survive the Longbottom assault, to be exact. In the wreckage of Regulus Black’s room, Harry finds the gilded chain peeking out from behind a discarded photo of Lily and the Marauders. (No, they do not form a rock band --that’s in the sequel.)
–But terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time,†Harry gasps.
In an unearthly rattle, the woman in black rasps, –Think of the terrible thing you can keep from being conceived….One task instead of seven…More than one innocent life will be saved.â€
With a dizzying twirl of the golden hourglass, Harry is transported to the outskirts of Little Hangleton, arriving in style at the Riddle mansion in an ebony carriage pulled by a brace of skeletal black horses. As in all his previous adventures, he finds that a goodly amount of the important details were glossed over.
A cursed island? Done it -- and underground to boot.
Haunted house? –Let me introduce you to the Bloody Baron.â€
Bone-chilling phantoms? Expecto patronum!
Frozen lake? Try one filled with grasping corpses. A lasso of flame will do wonders for that stiff upper lip as well.
Angry apparitions? Perhaps he should introduce the lady in black to the Black lady’s portrait in that dusty stairwell. Let them start a dialogue of sorts; both show marked signs of loneliness.
Despite all the challenges, Harry convinces poor, lovesick Merope to reconsider her choice of Tom Riddle, pointing out that a grown man with an unhealthy obsession with antique dolls is not strictly husband material. Just as she turns her wall-eyed stare on the Chosen One himself, Harry manages to transport himself back to the present. Shaken and more than a little rumpled, he stares at the sleeping forms of his two best mates as the early morning sun indicates they fell asleep holding hands.
Just then, the double doors to the dining room are flung open. Harry barely has time to note that the room is no longer tarnished and grey from disuse as Sirius heartily scolds the trio for indulging in a bit of a lie in. –I’d suggest a different set of party clothes,†he adds lowly in Harry’s ear. –You don’t want Severus to think you’re mocking him --or worse yet, starting a fan club.â€
Much to Harry’s delight, a thirty-ish Lily and James troop down the stairs to join them in a merry breakfast in the basement kitchen. With a belch of green smoke, Remus barely catches Tonks as she stumbles from the hearth with her arms laden with gaily-wrapped birthday gifts.
–Don’t tell me you forgot --again,†Hermione reminds Harry with a sharp poke to his ribs.
–No, of course, not,†he stammers as he barely manages to keep from gaping.
–Great Godric’s knickers!†Ron shouts as he turns himself sideways to peek through the narrow transom into the back yard. –It’s a ruddy lilac marquee.â€
–Tell me you didn’t invite that pillock Lockhart!†James snorts.
–No, no,†Remus laughs. –It’s just the guests of honor.â€
Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry throws open the back door to witness house-elves dashing madly to and fro.
Fred waves from where he’s assisting his twin to fill the helium balloons at wandpoint. Alastor Moody’s magical eye swivels past them with a loud harrumph. The second the irascible Auror’s back is turned, George adds a handful of dung bombs from a secret pouch in his sleeve.
With long spindly fingers, Dobby directs a gigantic banner to hang itself across the front of the marquee. Happy Birthday, Albus and Nick, it reads, 172 and 672 years young.
–What a coincidence they were born 500 years and one day apart,†Ginny breathes playfully in Harry’s ear. –I can’t imagine a better way to commemorate the first of Septem --â€
–I can!†Harry cuts across as he crushes her madly to his lips.