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Chapter Text

After returning to the castle for his fifth year, Harry Potter had a terrible first day of classes at Hogwarts. One would think that the universe would let him catch a break now and then, but no, it truly felt like one thing after another as of late.

Firstly, Harry had to deal with constant glares and whispers from his fellow students, who seemed to fall for the Ministry of Magic's smear campaigns against him. Next, he felt the lightning bolt-shaped scar across his forehead sear in pain periodically, letting him know that Voldemort, the dark wizard who killed his parents when he was a baby, was alive, well, and incredibly pissed about something. Third, Harry now had a week's worth of detention for getting into a shouting match with the newly-instated Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Dolores Umbridge, a nasty, toad-like lady who came directly from the Ministry who firmly believed Voldemort did not exist anymore, and that Harry Potter was out of his mind for thinking otherwise, which he did not take too well, as one can imagine.

As if that wasn't enough, his friend and dormmate, Seamus Finnigan, was now insisting that Harry was a raving lunatic for all his talk about Voldemort being resurrected from the dead, an event Harry witnessed with his own eyes. Why Seamus chose just before bed, a few days into the term at that, to bring this all up was beyond Harry. He suspected that Seamus was waiting for the opportunity to parrot his gullible mother, who seemed to believe everything she read in the Daily Prophet, and the scene in Defense Against the Dark Arts is what finally gave Seamus enough conviction.

"Leave my mother out of this, Potter!" Seamus yelled after Harry decided to voice that thought.

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar!" replied Harry, angrily.

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"I'll talk to you how I want!" said Harry. He felt his temper bursting at the seams as he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and a silvery cloak from his trunk, "You know what? I'm done with this conversation." He made to leave the dorm room, only to be stopped by his tall and gangly, red-haired best friend, Ron Weasley, who appeared in the doorway with a concerned look across his face.

"What's going on?" He asked, looking back and forth between Harry and Seamus. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Seamus beat him to it.

"He's having a go at my mother!"

"What?" said Ron. "Harry wouldn't do that—we met your mother before, we liked her..."

"That's before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!" exclaimed Harry at the top of his voice, "Now if you'll excuse me, Ron, I'm leaving."

"W-What? Where are you going?" Ron asked, his eyes widening in shock.

"Away!" Harry said, barely scooting past the red-haired boy who hadn't moved from his spot in the doorway, "I cannot spend another second in this room."

"Wait— Harry!" Ron hurriedly responded, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder to stop him in his tracks. "Would you at least like some company?"

"Don't bother!" Harry tried shrugging off his friend's hand. He glanced at Ron's face, which looked a little bit hurt. Harry took a deep breath and sighed. "I just... I need a minute alone, okay?"

Seemingly understanding him, Ron released Harry's shoulder from his grip, allowing Harry to storm down the stairs and out of Gryffindor's tower. Upon exiting, he threw his invisibility cloak over himself, proceeding down the adjacent hallway, hoping to find some secluded place where he could simmer down in peace, while avoiding the watchful eye of the cruel caretaker, Filch, and his rather rude cat, Mrs. Norris, who would most certainly be lurking around the castle, waiting to catch and punish the occasional stray student wandering around past curfew. Determined to avoid them, Harry repeatedly climbed up and down random moving staircases until they eventually deposited him into a secluded corridor on the seventh floor.

Making his way down the hall, Harry allowed his anger to boil once again as he thought about the absolute ridiculousness of his life currently. After everything he had to go through in the last few years, Harry thought, at the very least, he would have been privy to the current happenings of the Wizarding World. However, it seemed as though Dumbledore tried his absolute best to keep Harry as isolated as possible for nearly an entire month, until a couple of dementors forced the headmaster to allow Harry to, at the very least, be around the Order of the Phoenix, who only then gave him the barest amounts of information about what was even going on in their initial resistance against Voldemort.

Along with the injustices he faced at the hands of the Ministry over the summer and his growing frustrations with the school, Harry felt that he was nearing his limit. Pacing back and forth down the corridor, his mind was practically begging, begging, and begging for more information about Voldemort, the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge, the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's plan, or anything at all...

Without disturbing the brooding boy, a pair of wooden doors quietly drew themselves onto the brick wall next to Harry, who didn't even notice their presence until he caught it out of the corner of his eye and nearly flinched in surprise. Although Harry knew he was unaware of many secrets around Hogwarts, he suspected it was not common for doors to randomly appear seemingly out of nowhere.

Cautiously, Harry reached out and turned one of the gold doorknobs and slowly opened the door, only to be slightly disappointed that the room did not look as impressive as he thought it would. It was about the size of the downstairs cupboard in Number Four Privet Drive, and a single candle attached to the back wall illuminated the area. Now that he looked at it properly, even the doors were strikingly like the cupboard doors in the Dursleys' home, painted white to complement its small, golden doorknobs. The doors even sported the signature triangular cut at the top of the frame to parallel a staircase that wasn't even present. Looking back inside, Harry noticed that the cupboard was completely barren except for a few books lying in a neat stack in the middle of the floor.

After looking up and down the corridor to confirm that Filch or his cat were not around, Harry bent down to examine the books. To his surprise, the book at the top of the pile read "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix." Picking it up, he noticed that the cover was blank beyond the title written in shimmering gold and was dyed a soft blue color. He then glanced down and caught the title for the next book (which was the same, but green instead), "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince." In his disbelief, he pushed the second book to the side, only to find that the red cover of the third and final book read, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows."

Putting the first book back onto the ground, Harry did the only thing he thought was sensible: He walked out of the cupboard and slammed the door on his way out.

Was Hogwarts laughing at him as well? Did the castle think adding more entries to the Harry Potter Adventures series based on his silent pleas would be a good joke? Well, too bad, because Harry was not putting up with it, especially not after the day he was having!

Grumbling to himself, Harry made his way to the landing of the moving staircase, deciding it was best to find a different corridor to stomp up and down through. While he waited, Harry repeatedly tapped his foot on the ground rather impatiently as he thought about the implications of Hogwarts knowing the name "Order of the Phoenix" well enough to use it in the title of a magical book. In the end, though, it truly did not matter, as there was hardly a better living castle in the world that could be trusted with the name of a secret organization than Hogwarts, Harry reasoned to himself. With that solved in his mind, he silently waited on the moving path.

What were the other titles talking about anyway? The Half-Blood Prince? Do princes even exist in the wizarding world? Even if they did, how in the world would Harry come across one? He's just a student, for crying out loud! And what even are the Deathly Hallows? They sounded like the last thing Harry wanted to be associated with, let alone be in a fictional book about. Scoffing at the sheer audacity of the castle, Harry continued to wait for the staircase underneath his invisibility cloak.

And he continued to wait some more.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity (realistically, it was more like 15 minutes), Harry realized that the staircase had no plans to return to his landing, which only upset him even more.

"Alright, fine!" Harry half-shouted to the castle itself, "Be like that! I'll find a different way!"

Turning around, Harry walked back down the seventh-floor corridor, passing the strange wooden door and making his way to the only other staircase on the other side of the corridor, one he knew wouldn't be able to move. This time, however, two suits of armor stood in his way, with their spears crossed and their shields out, effectively blocking anyone who wished to proceed.

Bewildered as ever, Harry felt his left eye twitch. Approaching the suits of armor, he tried to see if he could squeeze himself around them, but to no avail. He sighed deeply and asked the metal pair before him in the politest voice he could muster, "Can you please let me through?"

The suits of armor did not respond.

With a loud tsk, Harry turned around on the spot and walked back to the wooden doors.

"So, what?" Harry asked the doors, not caring that he would've looked half-mad doing so, "You want me to read these bloody books, is that it?"

He didn't bother waiting for a response; he knew it wouldn't come. Harry yanked the doors open and gazed down at the same pile of books as before, neatly reorganized as if he hadn't left them lying about only moments prior.

Entering the small room, Harry closed the wooden doors behind him and carelessly dropped his invisibility cloak onto the ground. He grabbed the topmost book, Order of the Phoenix, and sat on the hard brick floor while leaning against the wall, finding the fit way more snug than he remembered in his childhood cupboard. Flipping the book open to its first page, Harry squinted his eyes after he noticed the first chapter was titled:

"Dudley Demented."

Harry immediately grew suspicious of the book. It wasn't as if the dementor attack was a secret; an entire trial in front of the Ministry's Wizengamot ensured that. However, based on some intrusive whispers that have plagued the castle halls for the past week, Harry suspected that most people at Hogwarts did not remember the other potential victim that night: Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin.

That wasn't the oddest thing, though, right? Just because Harry thought they didn't know, doesn't necessarily mean they actually didn't know, right? Maybe more people hung onto that detail of the trial than he suspected. Yeah, that's probably it.

Well, it was, until Harry began to read and discovered that the book started with an incredibly descriptive section about Privet Drive and how he lay in the hydrangea bush just outside the window of his aunt's and uncle's house to listen to the TV in the living room without being scolded.

Nearly dropping the book in surprise, Harry could not believe what he was reading. How did this book know about that? The only people he talked to about his month-long stay at his muggle relatives' house were Ron and Hermione, and never to this level of detail. Not to mention, with the obsessive cleaning of Grimmauld Place during the last couple of months of summer and the amount of schoolwork they were already drowning in this year, Harry knew neither had the time to write anything long and descriptive about his personal life of all subjects.

Although he was more alarmed than anything else, Harry felt morbidly curious as he continued to read, and reached the first line of dialogue given by no one other than Uncle Vernon:

"Glad to see the boy's stopped trying to butt in. Where is he, anyway?"

As he read Aunt Petunia's unconcerned reply ("I don't know, not in the house"), Harry felt suddenly thrust back a few months ago, as he vividly remembered overhearing this conversation as if it were yesterday.

The book continued to recite the events of that day perfectly, from Mrs. Figg muttering to herself as she walked down the street with her cat to the various programs that were airing on the TV at the time, like the ad for "Fruit N' Bran" breakfast cereal (which was stuck in Harry's head for at least a week during his stay at the Dursleys') or a news report about a man named Bungy the Barnsley who learned how to jet ski to beat the summer heat.

As Harry read on and on, he could not believe that the book somehow knew every mundane detail he caught while lying in those flowers that day, causing him to assume it must be based on his memory, like a Pensieve in written form. With that thought in mind, Harry wasn't surprised that the book included the loud, cracking noise he heard from down the street that sounded like a gunshot, which caused past Harry to jump to his feet, pull out his wand, and hit his head on the house's open window, which was by far the most significant part of that afternoon covered in the chapter currently.

With Aunt Petunia's shrieks filling the house, one at the loud noise and the other at Harry's sudden collision with her window, it was no wonder Harry soon found Uncle Vernon's hands choking him through the window, seemingly because Harry had taken his wand out of his pocket. Only a slight overreaction, Harry bitterly thought.

While Harry knew his windpipe wouldn't stay compromised for very long, he had no idea it was accidental magic that broke Uncle Vernon's grip from around his neck, as an electrical pulse from Harry's body shocked his uncle's hands away. And to think Harry previously believed that Uncle Vernon had the decency to be a little self-conscious about choking his nephew in front of all their neighbors, who, as the book described, were peering through their windows to see what caused the cracking sound from earlier.

As Harry continued to read the resulting argument between himself and his aunt and uncle, he was slightly alarmed at the idea that the book just told him something he did not know. There was no possible way that the book could know something he didn't if it was based on his memory. Was the book telling the truth? What other secrets could be waiting for him amongst these pages? Before Harry had the chance to grow excited or even intrigued at the thought, he read a line that made him remember why he was sitting in this magical cupboard in the first place:

"The owls... aren't bringing me news." His book self said tonelessly.

He felt his frustrations from earlier slowly seeping back into his mind, but tried his best to shake them away. As long as he had this book, he could get all the news he wanted, depending on whether the book decided it was best to talk about it.

As the argument between himself and his relatives settled and the book described his frankly depressing thoughts as he wandered about the bleak neighborhoods of Privet Drive and Magnolia Crescent, the book mentioned Ron and Hermione for the first time, causing another thought to spark inside his mind: How should he tell Ron and Hermione about these books?

It wasn't an "if" he should tell them because he knew he needed to do so. Despite his frustrations towards the pair during his stay in Little Whinging, which the book conveniently reminded him about in the last paragraph (including making him remember the unfortunate casualty that was the pack of Chocolate Cauldrons Ron had sent him for his birthday that ended up in his trash, completely uneaten), Harry knew it was the right thing to confide in his two best friends about these books, as this information may as well be just as important to them as it was to him. It would be best to tell them about the books as soon as possible, but, for now, he needed to find a suitable place to stop.

In any case, Harry now found his book counterpart sitting on a swing, watching his cousin, Dudley, hang around with his gang, seemingly on their way back home. Harry couldn't help but wince slightly at his counterpart's thoughts, wondering why he wanted to goad Dudley and his gang into a fight so badly, despite the consequences of underage magic. He must've been in a horrifying mood after his confrontation with his relatives (not that it was much better at any point in time during the summer).

Harry continued to read about how he rose from the swing, met up with Dudley, and made fun of him nearly the entire way back home, including digs at his cousin's (silly) nicknames given to him by his gang and mother.

The conversation then turned to Harry's wand, which Dudley called a "thing," and Dudley found the footing to snap back at Harry's past self, including making fun of him for "Talking in your sleep."

Harry let out a deep breath as he remembered that part, too, and he didn't need the book to remind him of what Dudley said next:

"Don't kill Cedric! Don't kill Cedric! Who's Cedric— your boyfriend?"

Harry continued to read each of Dudley's taunts toward him that night, soaking in the lines he might have missed from his previously deafening anger. Harry wondered if he muttered in his sleep like this at Grimmauld Place, Sirius' family home and headquarters for the Order, or in his bed at Hogwarts, with his dormmates close by. He found this thought to be mortifying as his book counter-self took out his wand and pointed it at Dudley, causing the fatter boy to screech, "Don't you point that thing at me!" as the book recalled Harry's thoughts about jinxing his cousin into a sputtering mess.

Harry felt that night's dread coming back to him as the book suddenly cut off one of Dudley's lines and described the dreary changes in the atmosphere around them. By this time, both his current self and his book self knew that dementors were on their way.

After being struck across the face by Dudley, Harry's book counterpart dropped his wand and started desperately searching for it as his cousin (unknowingly) ran directly into a dementor. Harry recovered his wand (with the use of a wandless "Lumos," he noted) just in time for a second dementor to close in on him, too, and start sucking his soul out of his body.

After a few failed attempts at the Patronus Charm, Harry had managed to send the dementor back, with thoughts about his best friends motivating him to complete the charm, before turning his Patronus (that was in the shape of a stag) towards his cousin, who had fallen to the ground with no possible way to fend off the dementor by himself, and warded the other evil creature away.

As expected, that night was now fresh in Harry's mind, and he still found it incredibly hard to believe that dementors randomly found themselves in the middle of Little Whinging for seemingly no reason. Although Harry suspected it was the work of Voldemort, it would be nice if the book decided to drop a clue or two for him.

Before Harry knew it, he had reached the end of the chapter, with Mrs. Figg concluding it with the final line:

"Don't put it away, idiot boy!" She shrieked at his book counterpart, who had tried to stow his wand out of sight, "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I am so going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"

As it turns out, this magical room inside Hogwarts knew how to write a cliffhanger. However, Harry had no desire to continue the book on his own. Placing the book down and climbing to his feet, he reached for the gold doorknob but hesitated before opening the door. He needed to show Ron and Hermione this room and these books, but would they still be here when he returned? If the room can suddenly appear in this corridor, can it not disappear just as suddenly, too? And bringing the books with him was just out of the question; he couldn't risk any of them being discovered.

Come to think of it, what did Harry even do to make this room appear? He only remembered pacing through this hallway underneath his cloak, frustrated about his life. What could have possibly triggered the door?

Harry was broken out of his thoughts by a small piece of paper falling on his head. Plucking it out of his messy hair, Harry brought it down to his eyes to read the neat, albeit posh, handwriting.

"I need to know my fate."

His eyes widened at the words. He hastily shoved the paper into his pocket, scooped up his invisibility clock, and slipped it back on. He grabbed the golden doorknob before staring up at the ceiling.

"I'll be back," he announced to no one before exiting the cupboard. Harry suspected something must've been listening to him because the moving staircase at the end of the corridor had finally returned to its landing moments before he reached it. With one glance back down the corridor, Harry could see that the cupboard on the seventh floor was no longer there.

Chapter Text

"Where on Earth have you been?"

Harry winced as he stepped into the Gryffindor common room, with his invisibility cloak in his pocket. Looking around, he noticed that the room was almost empty. Except, of course, for Hermione and Ron, with the former seething from the red couch in front of the fireplace, with such a glare on her face that direct eye contact felt physically wilting, as the latter (thankfully) looked more relieved to see Harry than anything else.

Harry supposed that, after he stormed out just a little while ago, the pair had decided to wait in the common room for his eventual return. However, judging by Hermione's look, he had stayed out far longer than any of them expected.

"Er..." Harry began, slightly hesitant to respond, "I was taking a stroll. Anyway, that's not important, there's something-"

"A stroll?" Hermione interrupted, her bushy hair flaring with anger, "You do realize that it is-" she raised her wrist to check her watch (he had no idea Hermione had a watch), "Almost midnight, and you were out on a stroll? The curfew was hours ago!"

"Listen-"

"You cannot go wandering around the castle at night alone, Harry! Especially not now, considering you already have a week's worth of detention with that toad!"

"Hermione, let me-"

"We understand that you're frustrated, we do," Hermione continued to rant, seemingly not hearing Harry as she channeled her inner Mrs. Weasley. "But you cannot just storm out of the common room after curfew! What if you got caught? What if-"

"Hold on, Hermione," Ron interrupted. He wasn't angry like the girl beside him, but a glint in Ron's eyes let Harry know he still held a hefty amount of concern. "Let him explain first before you continue to tear his head off."

Harry immediately jumped at the opportunity to speak. "I didn't mean to stay out for so long, honestly!" He explained, "I just got... busy."

"You got busy?"

"Actually, there's somewhere we need to go. Now. It’s important."

He saw two pairs of eyebrows raise to their respective hairlines. "Now?" Hermione asked, "It's the middle of the night!"

"Trust me, this is probably the best time to go. We may need to keep it a secret. Look-" Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his invisibility cloak, handing it to Hermione. "-We can hide underneath this, and-" he added upon seeing Hermione's mouth open again, "-I can go upstairs and grab the Marauder's map so we can make extra sure to avoid Filch. But we need to go as soon as possible."

Ron relented first with a deep sigh. "Alright," he clapped his hands to his thighs and stood to his feet, "Where are we going, anyway?"

"You'll see," Harry responded before racing past them and up the stairs to his dorm room. He slowly creaked the door open to see the curtains to the beds of his other roommates shut, all three trying to sleep. Creeping into the room as quietly as he could, he opened his trunk and pulled out the map, before leaving the room without difficulty.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Harry saw Hermione standing with Ron as she threw a look of concern at the cloak in her hands.

"Oh, I don't know, Harry." Hermione said nervously, "Are you sure we can't do this any other day? Our feet will be seen!"

Harry waved his hand, unconcerned, "It doesn't matter. We can crouch if we need to. Now hurry and put it on."

After only hesitating a little more, Hermione tossed the cloak over herself, and Harry and Ron followed her underneath. Without wasting any time, Harry quickly led them out of the portrait hole and into the corridor. A noise of alarm from behind them indicated that the Fat Lady was confused about being opened by visibly no one, but they knew not to bother turning back.

***

The trio reached the seventh floor without that much difficulty, with only a horrifying run-in with Mrs. Norris to note. The cat must've sensed their presence somehow, as her feline eyes peered into Harry's invisible ones as if she knew he was there. However, it turned out to be nothing more than a false alarm, as the cat turned away from them entirely unconcerned. There were multiple sighs of relief after that.

Nevertheless, they were finally here. Although Harry could sense Ron and Hermione's bewilderment as he led them to an empty corridor, he did not let that deter him, taking the invisibility cloak off their heads and putting it in his pocket.

"Step back a bit," he told them, and got to work. He began pacing up and down the corridor, like before, but this time, "I need to know my fate, I need to know my fate, I need to know my fate" bounced around his skull.

It didn't take too long for the familiar white doors with gold doorknobs to appear in the wall, and he could hear Ron softly mutter "What the hell..." behind him.

Harry reached for one of the doorknobs and swung the door open, revealing the small room with three books stacked on one another. He turned to his friends and gestured to the inside, "Alright, get in."

Ron and Hermione's eyes widened so much he thought they could fall out of their sockets. "What?" both said at the same time.

"Get in, we don't have much time." Harry replied hurriedly, "Who knows where Mrs. Norris could be right now?"

"Hold on," Hermione began blinking rapidly, as if to help process what she witnessed in the last few minutes. "You snuck us out of the common room in the middle of the night and led us to the seventh floor of the castle for a... magical broom cupboard that can disappear from view?"

"Harry, I'm flattered, really," Ron piped in, eyes still bugging, "But surely there's a better spot you could have taken us for this sort of thing."

Harry blinked, "What?"

"You cannot seriously believe all three of us can fit in that small room together?" Ron continued, unperturbed, "Even if we could, I don't think any of us fancy doing anything like... well, like that."

Harry felt his cheeks burn, slightly flustered. "No, that's not..." He noticed that neither friend was willing to look him in the eye, "Can you two please look inside the room before you start jumping to conclusions?"

He watched as his two friends peered inside, slowly inching their way into the room. "Oh," Ron eventually said, "It's much larger than I thought it would be."

Confused, as it most certainly should not be any larger than Ron was imagining, Harry followed them in, and his jaw dropped. The room was more than double the size it was a moment ago.

"Huh," Harry took it in stride, "Yeah, anyway, that's not why I'm showing you this room." He continued, closing the door behind him, "I brought you here for..." He pointed toward the books Hermione grabbed off the floor to look at closer, "Those."

"'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix?'" Hermione started, "'Half-Blood Prince?' 'The Deathly Hallows?' Harry, what are these?"

He shrugged, "I have no clue." He walked over to the girl and grabbed Order of the Phoenix from her. "All I know is that this book perfectly recounts the day I was attacked by a dementor this summer. Every tiny detail was accurate. Meanwhile," He grabbed the paper in his pocket and handed it to Ron, "Look at that. That's how I was able to make this room reappear."

Ron looked down at the paper in his hand and read out loud, "'I need to know my fate?'" He looked startled. "You don't think..."

"Yeah," Harry responded, "I think these books might be able to tell us about our future."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, "That's ridiculous, how could these books possibly-"

"Hermione, you don't understand. It recounted that day better than I could right now. It was telling me things I didn't even know."

"That doesn't mean they will predict the future, Harry." Hermione countered, eyes wide, "What even gave you that idea?"

"Fate, Hermione, fate," Harry responded, "It's not exactly fate if it already happened. Besides, do you think enough was going on between summer and now to fill up three books about our lives? They're probably hundreds of pages long, each! They must know something, don't you think?"

He saw one of Hermione's eyebrows raise before she spoke again, "Are you sure they would even be able to tell us anything substantial? If they are going to predict our future and we end up reading these books, wouldn't they lead back here, to this room, then loop? They might end up redundant, don't you think?"

Harry didn't even think of that. "Maybe... maybe it will be about a future where we didn't discover these books. Aren't you at least interested in learning about what it does?" Harry wasn't positive he sounded convincing, but he could see curiosity overtake the disbelief in Hermione's eyes. "Trust me, there must be something in these we can use. You'll see what I mean when we start reading-"

"Hang on," Ron interrupted, "Harry, let's say they do talk about our fate, our future, or some future, whatever, do you think you would want to know about that?" Ron was now looking Harry directly in the eyes, concern evident, "I'd hate to be the one to ask this, mate, but do you seriously think the future we could read about will be all sunshine and daisies? What if we find out something terrible happens from these books, then what?"

His answer was simple enough, he supposed, but some part of Harry hesitated, for some reason. "Well... then we can just prevent it, can we? We would already know how it happened, wouldn't we?"

"Yes, but..." There was a moment of silence between the three that Harry didn't expect. Eventually, Ron broke it, looking wary, "This... this isn't another mirror situation, right? You don't think it'll show some ideal world where all our problems are unrealistically solved, too?"

"No," Harry immediately responded. "No, it's not that. At least... I don't think it is." That opening chapter set these books apart from the Mirror of Erised in his mind; It felt too genuine and raw, whereas the Mirror had no problem presenting a fundamentally superficial and ideal reality. "The bit I read earlier was freaky, like I was reading a detailed transcript of my afternoon, but... it made the book feel reliable. As if letting me know it won't be cutting corners or mincing words. If something bad does happen, I think these books might help us do some good, too."

He watched as Ron and Hermione shared a look, silently communicating. Eventually, Hermione spoke up, and the curious glint in her eyes had inklings of understanding, too, "Alright Harry, we'll... give one of these books a few chapters, how about that?"

Harry couldn't help but cheer in his head, not realizing Hermione hadn’t finished talking, "But!" She exclaimed, snapping his attention back to her, "We need to take the information in these books with a grain of salt." Patting the books in her arms with the hand that wasn't holding them, she continued, "If they do tell us a future beyond reading these books, and it's not a guarantee that it does, we must verify everything we learn in them with a suitable source. Otherwise, we shouldn't treat them better than your everyday hearsay."

Harry nodded. It sounded simple enough. Get information, make sure it's true.

"Which book are we reading first, then?" Ron asked. Harry referred to Order of the Phoenix by shaking it in his hand, prompting Ron to continue, "Where did you leave off on? You said the dementor attack, right?"

"Right. I didn't even get beyond Mrs. Figg yelling at me to keep my wand out."

"Okay, well," Ron began, "We'll be reading about the past for a little while longer, then. If they get it all right, we can read the chapters about our... futures, I suppose."

Harry could tell Ron was still hesitant about this opportunity, but there was nothing more Harry could do about that right now that the books couldn't. "So, would you like me to read a chapter out loud now, or...?"

Oddly enough, Ron looked sick at the question, "Don't tell me I'm going to have to read parts of it, too."

Hermione shot him a nasty glare, reminiscent of the one from earlier in the common room, "Ron, you read every day in class. A little more isn't going to kill you."

"Yes, it will, actually," Ron responded defiantly, "Like you said, I do enough of that in class already. I don't want to do any more assigned reading outside of it, too."

Hermione huffed, "What do you want us to do about it? Would you rather us, or better yet, the room, to read to you?"

"That would be nice, yes. And if this room can provide these books, it can provide some seating, too."

"I actually can't believe-"

Whatever Hermione couldn't believe, Harry would never find out, as a wooden table suddenly popped out of the ground behind them with a loud clattering noise, causing the three to jump out of their skin.

Turning around in shock, Harry noticed a golden device on the table with a large, rectangular hole in the top. Next to the device was a yellowing notecard with words written in fancy, red handwriting. With a raised eyebrow, he read out loud:

"Do you feel like reading is a waste of energy? Have you ever felt like you could be doing bigger and better things with your time? Never fear, Dr. Nosoleer's state-of-the-art magical book reader is here! Place whatever book you want in the top opening and spend your day relaxing as it reads your book to you! Patent pending."

Harry flipped it to the other side to see more of the same handwriting, this time writing out instructions:

"Wave your wand and say these incantations to work the book reader. Coepio - Start. Concesso - Pause. Transcurrere - Skip Chapter. Revocare - Rewind Chapter."

When he finished reading the card, Hermione snatched it out of his hand, silently rereading it out of disbelief and annoyance. Ron, however, looked quite pleased with himself.

"Look at that," The redhead grinned, "The room likes me."

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard Harry was surprised she didn't make herself dizzy. Sensing an argument, he quickly tried to diffuse the tension, "Okay, well, let's just-"

"Shush, Harry." Ron said suddenly, closing his eyes and holding his arms wide, "I'm trying to focus on getting us some comfy chairs."

Like clockwork, three beanbag chairs fell out of the ceiling, smacking Ron in his head and knocking him down onto the ground. Harry and Hermione couldn't help but snort as the redhead grumbled his way back to his feet.

"So, the room likes you, yeah?" Hermione giggled as she grabbed the blue beanbag from the crime scene and dragged it to the table. She placed the other two books by the device and sat on the beanbag behind her.

"Shut up." Ron picked up the red beanbag, placed it to the left of Hermione, and sat on it, arms crossed and ears reddening.

Harry grabbed the remaining soft, green beanbag and moved it to the right side of Hermione, before approaching the device and placing the book inside the hole in the top. He took out his wand, pointed it at the book reader, and muttered, "Coepio."

What happened next was nothing short of fascinating. A long, thin silver stick with a hand at its tip protruded from the backside of the device at his incantation, bent itself, and swiftly opened the book's cover all on its own. Then, after flipping through a few blank pages, the hand pointed at the first set of words, causing the device to state out loud in a soothing voice: "Chapter 1: Dudley Demented." It reminded Harry of a Muggle record player that used books and little hands instead of large discs and metal points.

Before the device could start reading the first chapter, Harry waved his wand and said, "Transcurrere," which caused the silver hand to rapidly flip through the pages, presumably trying to find the start of the next chapter.

"Wicked." Ron said, grinning, as Harry sat in his beanbag, "D'you reckon we can put our textbooks in there, too?"

Harry shrugged and grinned back, "I don't see why not. It's certainly large enough to fit our Transfiguration one."

Hermione interrupted by clearing her throat, likely still peeved by the existence of something that would make her friends even lazier, before asking, "What happened in the first chapter, Harry? Besides the dementor attack, I mean."

"Oh, nothing much. Just Mundungus disapparating in the middle of Little Whinging and Mrs. Figg finding Dudley and I sprawled out on the ground after the attack."

"Hm... okay. I might reread it on my own time eventually," Hermione responded conversationally. Finally, the silver hand stopped flipping through the pages and pointed at the book again, this time stating:

"Chapter 2: A Peck of Owls."

"A peck of owls? Is that a typo?" Hermione inquired. Harry only vaguely remembered hearing something like that before, but couldn't exactly remember when.

However, they didn't spend too long worrying about the title, as the device displayed another impressive feature that went unmentioned in the accompanying card: voice mimicry.

"He left!" The device yelled in a familiarly shrill voice as it read the first line of the chapter. Without missing a beat, the device switched back to the narrator voice, who stated in a much more calm manner, "'-said Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands," before going immediately back to the shrill voice, who continued its rant about Mundungus Fletcher leaving Little Whinging for a batch of fallen cauldrons to steal and the danger he left Harry in, finishing up with "Hurry, now, we've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I'll kill him!"

"Is that Mrs. Figg?" Ron asked, confused. "Is... Is that her actual voice? Or is it just making it up?"

"No, it's got it right," Harry answered in disbelief. The device miraculously captured how her voice generally sounded, while properly emulating the exact cadence and tone she had used during that walk back. It alarmed Harry more than the books themselves.

"Oh, Merlin, does that mean we'll have to hear our voices, too?"

As if to answer Ron's question, the book reader switched to a voice that sounded awfully familiar as his book-self stuttered out, "But- You're - you're a witch?"

As Mrs. Figg explained to Book Harry that she was actually a squib and how she had stationed her cat to keep watch just in case Mundungus ran off and something like this happened, present-day Harry turned to his friends with a question burning in his mind.

"Is that seriously what I sound like?"

Upon seeing two nods of confirmation, Harry couldn't help but scrunch his nose, cringing. Hermione must've seen it because she rolled her eyes, "Oh, get over yourself, Harry. Your voice is fine."

"If you say so."

The chapter then recounted Mrs. Figg walking Harry home, with Dudley slung over his back, notably Harry's realization that Mrs. Figg knew Dumbledore, and the woman explaining that the professor ordered her to live in Little Whinging to watch over him. Unfortunately, that also meant she had to treat Harry poorly growing up, because-

"The Dursleys would have never let you come if they thought you enjoyed it." The device said in Mrs. Figg's voice.

As Mrs. Figg started to worry about finding a way to contact Dumbledore, Ron spoke over her rant, "They're a bunch of wankers, aren't they, these Dursleys? Taking anything that gives you joy as a personal affront."

"You have no idea."

"I'm surprised he chose Mrs. Figg of all people, personally," Hermione said, "No offense to her, but wouldn't it have been better to station someone who could do magic nearby instead? In case something went awry while you were growing up. It was a miracle that nothing happened."

"Hmm..." Harry hummed, "I don't know, honestly. I'm sure he had his reasons."

"I hope they're good ones, considering he left you miserable and defenseless for all those years."

Harry couldn't think of a response, but thankfully didn't need to, as "MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" loudly rang throughout the cupboard, causing the three to stop talking and cover their ears. Harry assumed this was when Mundungus apparated back to Little Whinging, only to meet the fury of Mrs. Figg.

"Blimey, that thing can get loud." Ron remarked as he rubbed his right ear, wincing in pain, "I hope the entire castle didn't end up hearing that."

As if it did not just screech like a banshee, the device promptly returned to its regular volume to read about how Mrs. Figg berated Mundungus, verbally and physically, for leaving Harry all alone to be attacked by Dementors, and how Mundungus needs to be the one to tell Dumbledore about the attack, or else.

As Mundungus apparated away to share the news, Mrs. Figg promptly led Harry back to his relatives' door, only confirming that people are following Harry and not much else, leaving him to fend off his alarmed Aunt Petunia by himself. Harry felt his frustration from that day slowly seep in, but he forced himself to calm down, as it was too early to let the chapter already get to him.

Ron snickered when Dudley vomited all over the floor upon entering the house, to the panic of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. However, the next scene (when Dudley blamed Harry for his sudden "illness") must've immediately sobered the redhead, as he scoffed loudly only a moment after that laugh.

"I suppose we can't blame Dudley for saying that. He couldn't see the dementors. From his point of view, it must've looked like Harry did it." Hermione sighed as the Dursleys further accused Harry of harming Dudley, "Although they should have given you a chance to explain, H—he tried to punch you?" Hermione asked with an alarmed expression when the book described past Harry desperately trying to explain the situation to Uncle Vernon, who was getting ready to knock the living daylight out of him.

Harry shrugged. "It's not like he hit me, you know. He was panicking. Plus," He then gestured to the book, which explained that a screech owl with a letter from the Ministry had arrived through an open kitchen window, much to Uncle Vernon's fury, before continuing, "We got distracted."

The narrator then recited the Ministry's letter that expelled Harry from Hogwarts and will have his wand snapped by Ministry representatives, who will arrive shortly at Harry's residence.

Ron groaned as Book Harry tried to flee Number Four Privet Drive, only for Uncle Vernon to stop him and demand answers. "If this is accurate, nice to know Dad was right."

Harry looked at him quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"You weren't there in Grimmauld Place while all this was going down, not that that was your fault-" Ron added quickly as Harry's face screwed up, "But it was absolute pandemonium the second Mundungus came rushing into the house, screaming about dementors attacking you. Damn near the entire Order flooded in after they got word out about it. I've never seen so many adults arguing about what to do in one kitchen in my entire life, and I've been to at least three Weasley family reunions."

"They didn't even remember to put the Imperturbable Charm on the door, either, so we could hear it all from the stairs without the Extendable Ears," Hermione added.

"Yeah," Ron nodded in her direction and continued, "The only thing that managed to get everyone's head back on straight for a moment was Dad and Sirius realizing that you would most definitely try to make a run for it the second you got a letter from the Ministry, so he quickly scribbled that note down and sent it off," the note in question being the one Errol carried into the Dursley home from Mr. Weasley, telling Harry not to run away or surrender his wand, "Which you needed, apparently." Ron said, chuckling, "Only Mum had faith in you, saying you would never do something 'so reckless and unwise.'"

Harry felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment at his apparent predictability just as his book counterpart stopped fighting his uncle to leave, sitting down at the kitchen table, now content to stay put, which surprised both his relatives. Book Harry then explained to his uncle what the letters were for, one to expel him and the other to tell him to stay at Privet Drive, leading to more accusations from the large man about Harry attacking his son.

"Good lord. Do they ever let you get a word in?" Hermione asked, clearly exasperated. At a small laugh from Harry, she rolled her eyes, which slightly softened as Dudley described the effects of a dementor and how he felt cold and lifeless while being attacked. However, Harry could no longer see any visible empathy in her eyes as Harry's uncle accused his nephew of using "a crackpot spell on my son to hear voices and believe he was - was doomed to misery, or something, did you?" The girl now looked incredibly agitated but remained silent.

As the chapter continued, Harry watched as Ron and Hermione's facial expressions shifted from peeved to shocked as Harry insisted it was the work of Dementors to his uncle, who didn't believe Harry until Aunt Petunia herself confirmed their existence, much to his aunt's shock and dismay.

"How did she know that?" They asked simultaneously, parroting Book Harry's "How d'you know that?"

Harry waved to the device as it recited Aunt Petunia's line, "I heard — that awful boy — telling her about them years ago."

"Must've been through my mum and dad." Harry reiterated.

His two friends could only nod, as stunned as his past self and uncle were at this new revelation. It was then that a third owl came flying into through the kitchen window of Privet Drive carrying another letter, frustrating Uncle Vernon even more, growling out a line Harry found much funnier now than he did then, "Enough - effing - owls."

It was a second letter from the Ministry, informing Harry that he would not have his wand snapped that night, but that there would be a hearing at the Ministry to decide his fate. Uncle Vernon remarked that he hoped Harry would get the death penalty after being informed of the letter's contents. If that came from anyone else's mouth (except for maybe Voldemort's), Harry might have considered something like that a joke, but he knew that his uncle didn't mean it that way.

Eventually, after Harry tried to leave the room to write a letter to Ron, Hermione, or Sirius, Uncle Vernon stopped him, demanding Harry to explain what happened to Dudley. Present-day Harry could hear Hermione softly mutter, "Finally..."

Harry didn't tell her they hadn't quite reached the excruciating part of the conversation. However, he likely didn't need to, as the device transcribed the many times that Uncle Vernon decided to interrupt Harry's explanation to near perfection. Hermione looked like she wanted to jump into the book and toss Uncle Vernon into a wall. Then a fourth owl swooped into the house, to his uncle's screeches of disbelief.

"I hate to agree with your uncle, Harry, but Merlin, all those owls would drive me crazy, too," Ron said, rubbing his temple. "This was Sirius' letter, right?"

Harry nodded as Book Harry pulled the letter off the owl's leg and read Sirius' note about Mr. Weasley keeping them updated on the ongoing developments and reiterating that Harry must stay home. Harry looked to his left, eyebrow raised, "I thought you said your dad was with the Order at Grimmauld Place, Ron. How did he know what to tell Sirius?"

"Well, Dad was there, but then he followed Dumbledore to the Ministry shortly after. He came back a little while later to talk about how Dumbledore managed to get you a hearing," Ron replied. Harry nodded in understanding as the narrator described how Book Harry grew frustrated at the simplicity of Sirius' letter, as he was hoping for a long, detailed explanation about everything going on from Dumbledore, or at least a congratulations for fending off the dementors.

It was after these familiar thoughts passed by that the title of the chapter finally made sense, as the device in Uncle Vernon's voice stuttered out, "A peck, I mean, pack of owls shooting in and out of my house. I won't have it, boy, I won't-" causing a silly moment when the noise of three students going "Ohhhh...." filled the cupboard, as if something just clicked for them.

Eventually, his book counterpart explained the events of that night to his uncle (who interrupted and debated at every turn), until Harry explained that it must've been Lord Voldemort who sent them after him when asked.

Harry couldn't help but laugh as his relatives had zero reaction to Voldemort's name as Harry explained his sudden return at the end of last term, unlike Ron, who flinched so hard that his beanbag scooted underneath him.

However, he stopped chuckling as the book reminded him of his sudden appreciation that his Aunt Petunia was related to his mother, as the woman fearfully expressed her concern about Voldemort returning. Harry was still confused about why this revelation had hit him so severely that night. It was news about the man who killed her sister, after all. But, as the book mentioned, he occasionally forgets his aunt is related to his mother in the first place, seeing how much the former despised even thinking about the latter. Reminders of their relation were limited and strange, this part of the conversation being no exception.

However, the conversation quickly devolved as Uncle Vernon screamed at Harry to "get out of my house!" to the shock of Harry, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and Hermione- apparently.

"What?!" Hermione exclaimed in disbelief as Vernon continued to rant about Harry needing to leave, "That's what he got from all that? Did he not hear a word you were saying? You could get attacked again, for all he knew!"

Harry stared at her, "Do you seriously think he cared about that?" He let the device do the talking for him, who was still speaking in Uncle Vernon's accurately portrayed voice, "You're not staying here if some loony's after you, you're not endangering my wife and son, you're not bringing trouble down on us."

The appearance of the fifth and final owl finally stopped Vernon's efforts to kick Harry out of his house, this time carrying a Howler to Aunt Petunia.

"Do either of you know who sent that?" Harry asked as the narrator noted the Howler bursting into flame, screaming "Remember my last, Petunia," after the woman opened it.

"It wasn't anyone at headquarters," Ron said, shrugging, "We would've heard them making it."

"It could have been Dumbledore. He was gone all night after he stormed off to the ministry," Hermione added thoughtfully, "Although I can't imagine why your aunt and Dumbledore would be in direct contact with each other."

Harry couldn't either, but crazier things have happened, he supposed. In any case, the anonymous Howler completely changed Aunt Petunia's tune, who insisted to Uncle Vernon that Harry must stay because "the neighbor will ask awkward questions." Maybe not the best reason, but it did its job, as his uncle stopped trying to throw Harry out of the house.

The chapter continued with Aunt Petunia trying to send Harry to his room, ignoring Harry's questions about who sent the letter and what it meant. It then finished with one last yell from his uncle, "YOU HEARD YOUR AUNT, NOW GET TO BED."

The device finally went silent, raising its silver hand from the book and politely waiting for them to start the next chapter.

Ron broke the silence with a slight yawn, "What's the verdict?"

"Hm..." Harry rubbed his jaw and neck, "That was pretty damn accurate, I would say. It got every beat of that conversation correct."

"Your uncle is the most frustrating person I've ever had to listen to. And that's after having a class with Umbridge," Hermione commented, leaning her head back on her beanbag as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, "I was hoping that the book was exaggerating at least a little, for your sake."

"Now imagine having to deal with that daily. For fifteen years," Harry replied gruffly.

"Urgh," Ron grumbled, flaring his nostrils, "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy— well, maybe Malfoy."

"Anyway, now what?" Harry asked as his friends stared off in random directions, clearly deep in thought, "Are we continuing with these books, or am I just being a bit of a lunatic?"

"No, no. I think there's something here," Hermione responded, turning her head to look at him, "You were able to use the book to fit in gaps of that conversation as we were listening and talking about it, even though you should've had no idea what was coming next, considering you've never read it before. That's incredible accuracy. Does the book say who wrote it?"

"Nope," Harry responded, popping the 'p' a bit, "It doesn't list an author or anything. All I know is that they came with this room."

Hermione hummed, clearly deep in thought. After a moment, she responded, "Well, I think we can give it a few more chapters. Although that first one impressed me, I still want to see if there's a chapter that I'm in so I can confirm its legitimacy myself. Also, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to listen to a chapter or two about our future if it discusses it, to see what it would even be about."

"Sounds like a plan," Ron said. He stretched back in his beanbag, yawning deeper than earlier, "How many more chapters are we reading tonight?"

"Well, it's-" Hermione started, looking at the watch on her wrist, "A quarter 'til one, so I'd say we can probably read a few more chapters before it gets unreasonably late. What do you think?"

"You have a watch?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"I—what?" Harry couldn't see the look on Hermione's face, as her head immediately snapped in Ron's direction after his question, but he imagined she was sporting a supreme look of bewilderment. She leaned on her forearm and pushed her body from the beanbag to stare the redhead down with extra height, "You've never noticed? I've had this watch for years now."

"You have?" Ron continued, sounding genuinely shocked.

"Are—are you serious? I look at it dozens of times daily with you in the room. How could you have possibly not noticed?" Harry was silently thankful that he wasn't the one to point out the watch earlier. Still, knowing this conversation wasn't going anywhere substantial (Hermione might interrogate him next), he cleared his throat loudly to redirect his friends' attention to him.

"So, are we reading the next chapter tonight or–?"

"Yes, yes, start it." Ron responded while pointing at the book reader, clearly trying to distract Hermione, "No time like the present, right?"

Understanding his friend's pleas, Harry waved his wand, saying, "Coepio." It took Hermione's attention away from the cowering boy, but she still sent one last judgmental stare Ron's way before settling down in her seat, rolling her eyes, as the silver stick bent and pointed at the page.

"Chapter 3: The Advance Guard."

Chapter Text

"Chapter 3: The Advance Guard."

Harry watched as the silver hand glided across the page, reading a transcript of the letter he wrote to Ron, Hermione, and Sirius, which detailed the events of the night and demanded answers on when he was going to leave Privet Drive, noticing that the device ever so slightly paused at the end of each line as it waited for its hand to reach the start of the next line. These pauses were hardly noticeable, and Harry couldn't help but be impressed at the speed at which it read through the paragraph without any significant delay.

Looking to his left, Harry noticed Hermione's face flash with recognition at the letter as Ron stared at the ceiling in concentration.

"Is that how it went?" Ron asked as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help rekindle his memory of the letter's content.

"I... think so?" Hermione replied unsurely. She looked over to Harry, and he nodded immediately, not letting any doubt enter their minds. Harry wasn't entirely sure himself, as it's been over two months since he's written it, but he knew the book got the gist of it right, and reckoned that was good enough for now.

With that, Harry tuned back in as the device read about how he paced around his small room waiting for Hedwig to return from her hunt, deep in thought about everything that managed to tick him off that night, from the Dementors to Mrs. Figg and Mundungus following him around Privet Drive and the letters that he read moments earlier. Growing more frustrated, his counterpart kicked at his trunk, only to hurt his toes and give himself a slight limp as he paced.

Harry expected to hear a few chuckles from his side at his stupidity, but they never came. Instead, his friends looked troubled, steadfastly refusing to meet his gaze. The silence allowed the device to go entirely uninterrupted as the book recounted Hedwig returning home with a frog in her beak, only for Harry to impatiently snap at her for her lateness and give her instructions to take his newly-written letters straight to their recipients, adding:

"Don't come back here without good, long replies. Keep pecking them till they've written decent-length answers if you've got to. Understand?"

Wincing slightly at his own words, Harry still felt immensely guilty over treating Hedwig the way he did as Hedwig gave a small hoot and flew out the window, following his orders as quickly as she could. His book counterpart felt the regret that Present Harry did, and vowed to make it up to his owl upon her return. Like before, Harry decided to visit the Owlery soon so Hedwig could get more treats for the trouble.

Again, his friends stayed silent during that part, despite Harry yelling at his bird and telling her to peck them to death. Their silence was starting to unnerve him.

The device didn't seem to share his quarrels about them, though, as it continued to read about the four days that Harry spent in his bedroom, waiting on a response from Hedwig and avoiding the Dursleys like the plague as they gave him food through the catflap on his door, describing the occasional worried thoughts Harry had about his upcoming hearing with the Ministry, which caused him to occasionally hop out of his bed and pace around the room, hoping to drive his bad thoughts away.

On the fourth night of waiting, something had changed in the book and the cupboard.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said suddenly as Uncle Vernon opened his bedroom door and said, "We're going out."

"Sorry?" Harry heard his book counterpart say to his uncle as he looked at the girl beside him. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "What for?"

"We shouldn't have left you alone like that. We should have said something. It wasn't fair to keep you out of the loop for so long," Hermione replied, looking at Harry with a sad expression as Uncle Vernon reiterated that only Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and he were going out.

Harry waved his hand, trying to dismiss her concerns. "It's-" "Fine," his past self cut Harry off with his response to Uncle Vernon. "-uh... yeah. Seriously, Hermione, you don't need to worry about that. Plus, I'm sure Hedwig gave you hell in my place."

"You have no idea," Ron said, groaning as Uncle Vernon told his book counterpart what he could and could not do while they were out. "I was terrified to go near a piece of parchment with her in the same room. I didn't wanna get my damn fingers bitten off."

Despite having to rekindle the trauma that Harry's small, snowy white owl inflicted on him over four days, Harry was glad to note that Ron looked less troubled than he did earlier, taking Harry's dismissal to heart. However, Hermione looked even angrier after the reader said his uncle locked the door to Harry's bedroom before leaving the house.

Looking back and forth between the girl and the device, Harry's eyes widened in realization. "Hermione, you don't need to worry about them, either."

A short "Concesso" alongside the wave of Hermione's wand paused the reader halfway through a sentence about how his book counterpart heard the Dursleys slam their car doors and leave the driveway as Hermione turned to Harry with an upset expression. "They locked you in your room for nearly a week, Harry."

"It was voluntary this time," Harry countered dismissively, "I could have left whenever I wanted to."

"They fed you through a catflap!"

"Between that or eating at the kitchen table with them, I chose the catflap-"

"They fed you through a catflap and we didn't even have the decency to send you a letter!" Hermione continued passionately, not letting Harry's attempt to justify the situation deter her, "We just let you sulk around that place for a week— a month— and we didn't even bother to say anything to you— No wonder you were so furious the night you arrived—"

Wincing slightly at the memory of screaming at them in Grimmauld Place, Harry interrupted the girl's rant, "You weren't allowed to send me a letter even if you wanted to. You said it yourself, Dumbledore wouldn't let you."

"We've broken worse rules for less!"

"But this wasn't a school rule, Hermione, it was an order directly from Dumbledore."

"Still!"

"No— Hermione, just drop it," Harry said tiredly, "There's no use being upset over it, now. They hardly bother me anymore."

After a beat of silence, Hermione replied in a small voice that still shook in anger, "It's still not fair."

"It's fine."

"It's not."

Sighing deeply, Harry looked over to Ron, who caught his eye as he rubbed Hermione's shoulder, attempting to calm her down. The redhead has stayed silent during that entire exchange, likely not knowing what to say, but if his current expression was anything to go by, it was clear he had shared some of Hermione's fury.

Harry turned the reader on again, starting with a paragraph about the empty house after the Dursleys' exit. It also described his book counterpart's misery as he waited for any sign of Hedwig.

Then, as the book described, a loud crash reverberated throughout the house, causing Harry to jump out of his bed with his wand in his hand and press his ears against the door to see if he could hear any potential burglars. Suddenly, his bedroom door unlocked and flew open, allowing Harry to leave his room and check for the source of the crash. To his surprise, eight or nine shadowy figures stood in the hall at the bottom of the stairs.

"They couldn't have looked more suspicious even if they tried," Ron pointed out, laughing and taking his hand off Hermione's shoulder. She looked a little deflated after he did that. "It's like they were trying to freak you out."

Smiling to himself, Harry listened as Mad-Eye Moody revealed his presence by asking Harry to come down the stairs so they could see him better. His past self was understandably hesitant, considering last year's events with the impostor, until Professor Lupin's voice came through the device, assuring his counterpart that everything was all right. Tonks eventually grew tired of standing in the dark and used a quick "Lumos" to reveal herself and the other wizards in the room.

Harry shared a look of fondness with his friends when the book gave them a physical description of Lupin, who looked a little worse for wear, but sported a bright smile on his face, and another one when Tonks introduced herself to Harry and greeted him with her signature "Wotcher!"

Her greeting sparked minor chit-chat among the members of the group, including from Moody, who scolded Harry for stowing his wand away in his back pocket to avoid losing one of his buttocks, prompting Tonks to ask: "Who do y'know who's lost a buttock?" resulting in a few short giggles from the three listeners before the other wizards introduced themselves as part of the "guard" who volunteered to take Harry away from Privet Drive on broom.

After the group shut down Harry's questions about Voldemort, Moody told Harry to fetch a glass of water so Moody could clean his magical eye, which kept getting stuck in its socket. After, Lupin sent his past self upstairs with Tonks to pack his stuff. While in his room, the woman revealed she was a Metamorphmagus by changing her hair color before helping Harry pack his trunk with magic.

"I still think it would be bloody amazing to be a Metamorphmagus," Ron commented with a sparkle in his eyes, "Imagine all the stuff you can do with an ability like that."

Harry and Hermione hummed noises of agreement as Harry's counterpart made his way back downstairs with Tonks, holding his trunk, owl cage, and broomstick, only to be met with a particularly odd scene of wizards playing with various muggle household items around the Dursley household, like Kingsley with the microwave or Hestia Jones with the potato peeler, as Lupin sealed a letter nearby.

"I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry-" Lupin's hoarse voice came through the device as if he were in the cupboard with them to explain the letter again. Just like before, though, his past self interrupted him.

"They won't."

Book Lupin tried to continue, "-that you're safe-"

"That'll just depress them."

"-and that you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?" Harry asked, only to be answered with a smile from the older man.

Harry heard Ron snort just before Moody put a Disillusionment Charm over Book Harry and led everyone into the backyard. "Poor bloke might have no idea your relatives would sooner throw a party over you leaving than worry about you."

"Oh yeah. Aunt Petunia would be more upset over Hestia misplacing her potato peeler than me leaving in the dead of night," Harry replied as Moody explained the formation he wanted the guard to fly in, ordering the group to stay focus "if one of us is killed," which prompted Book Harry to ask if that was likely to happen.

"I wish you wouldn't act so flippant about all this sometimes," Hermione commented, giving Harry a slightly exasperated look. He shrugged.

"You should try it sometime, Hermione. It's a little therapeutic," Harry replied half-jokingly, earning himself a guffaw from Ron and a flick to the head from the girl beside him.

Eventually, the book described red sparks flying into the sky, causing the group to depart from the ground and start their gloriously cold flight across the country to London.

Harry couldn't help but reminisce over that flight as the book described it. Although he definitely almost froze to death because of Moody's paranoid antics, Harry cherished the memory of finally leaving Privet Drive that night, disappearing into the starry sky on his Firebolt. He wouldn't mind doing something like that again in the future, albeit in a less tense (and warmer) circumstance.

Tonks' voice roared out of the device, breaking Harry out of his thoughts by shouting, "ARE YOU MAD, MADEYE?" after the retired auror suggested they should double back to lose the trail of anyone (potentially) following them. Harry found it interesting that Tonks' shout sounded louder than he remembered, presumably because there wasn't any wind to muffle it.

Soon after, the guard started their descent and touched down a moment later on a grimy street with dull streetlamps and houses with broken windows. Using a device he borrowed from Dumbledore, Moody put out the streetlamps and handed Harry a card, telling the boy to "read quickly and memorize."

As Harry's book counterpart read the note in his mind, the device began speaking in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar with a noticeable distortion that almost made the speaker sound too garbled to understand:

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place." As if the voice had not just bugged out, the silver hand raised itself away from the page after it finished with the note, promptly ending the chapter.

"The hell was that?" Ron asked, looking confused and concerned, "Was that meant to be Dumbledore? Why is his voice messing up?"

"I mean, no one else can write the address down, so it has to be Dumbledore," Hermione replied, pausing a moment before continuing, "Maybe it was the Fidelius Charm? It must've distorted Dumbledore's voice to prevent anyone from learning the secret through its voice-changing charm."

"So what would people who don't know the secret hear? Nothing, or would the voice be even more distorted?" Harry asked. Hermione had no idea as she scratched her head, trying to come up with an answer, causing a rare silence to enter the room.

"Eh, who cares?" Ron interrupted with a shrug, breaking the girl out of her thoughts. "More importantly, are we reading more tonight? The next chapter might be exactly what we've been waiting for."

Hermione looked at her watch. "That chapter took about 20 minutes to read, so we have enough time for another one before it gets too late into the night."

"Perfect."

Harry wondered about Hermione's definition of "late," as it would already be well past 1 AM, but he still nodded along with the pair beside him and started the reading.

***

"Chapter 4: Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Harry felt tense as the chapter started with Moody burning the card in his hands while the house of Number Twelve ballooned, pushing its neighbors out of the way so it could sit in between them properly. If Ron was right about this chapter being "the one they've been waiting for," which it likely was, Ron and Hermione would soon appear in this book, finally confirming to the pair Harry's suspicions about this book being accurate when recounting the past. Harry wasn't necessarily concerned with that, as he already had three chapters (going into a fourth) confirming that fact.

However, he did find himself worried about the contents of this chapter. Specifically, he worried about how he had yelled at them the second he had stepped into their bedroom. While Harry had stood by nearly everything he said, he couldn't stop the guilt that formed in the back of his mind between then and now, telling him that his loud display of anger towards them was entirely unjustified, and how it was ridiculous to yell at Ron and Hermione for their circumstances.

As the book narrated Moody shoved his past self through the newly-appeared front door of Grimmauld Place, taking the Disillusionment Charm off the boy as Lupin warned him not to touch anything inside, a part of Harry hoped that the book would gloss over his outburst as if it never happened, but he already knew that it wouldn't; it was too important. The book might allow him to reflect on his rant.

After entering the dark and dreary house, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, who greeted him with a rib-cracking hug. She swiftly ushered him upstairs without answering his questions, leading him to the bedroom he stayed in during the rest of the summer.

When Harry opened the door, he was immediately met with a loud shriek and a tight hug given to him by Hermione, announcing to Ron in the room and the cupboard alike that, "He's here! Harry's here!"

Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hermione buried her reddening face into her hands as her book counterpart launched into a long-winded explanation about Dumbledore, their "useless" letters to Harry, the Dementors, the trial, and anything else she could think of as the speed in which the girl was talking caused the cupboard to slightly echo and make her sound even more incomprehensible than she did back then.

"Is that really what I sound like?" Hermione asked, her voice a bit muffled from her hands.

"Yes," Harry chuckled out and Ron silently nodded in confirmation, wearing the same expression of disbelief Harry had earlier as his first line in the book ("Let him breathe, Hermione") was read out loud to the room, but quickly screwed up in offense when the book proceeded to decribe him as "tall, long-nosed, and gangly."

"Oi! Watch who you're calling gangly!"

Harry gave the redhead an incredulous stare. "Who're you talking to like that, me?"

"No, I meant Hedwig," Ron replied with a sigh as the snowy white owl swooped down onto Harry's shoulder after Hermione released Harry from the hug, "Yes, you."

"I- Why? It's not like I was the one who wrote it." Harry said, raising his hands in surrender.

"It's basically from your point of view, isn't it?" Ron said accusingly while narrowing his eyes, "Which means you think I'm gangly, which I am not, so do not call me gangly."

"Yeah, well, I also think you're a git, so let's hope it describes you as that next."

Ron's retort was lost in his mouth as the book proceeded, reciting how Ron and Hermione's past selves tried to excuse Dumbledore's order to refrain from telling Harry anything as the boy in question quietly petted his owl. Meanwhile, as the latter's inner dialogue indicated that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone by the pair before him, Harry heard his friends suck in a breath next to him, looking as nervous as they did back then, likely bracing for the inevitable explosion he had been so anxious to reach today.

The ensuing conversation was a huge mess, as Ron and Hermione stumbled through excuses that only caused his counterpart's temper to rise to dangerous levels, barely keeping it restrained for the sake of peace. When the conversation circled back to Dumbledore forbidding them from communicating with him, Harry felt his past frustration returning as his book self echoed his current thoughts by stating: "Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted."

"Don't be thick," Book Ron replied as Harry watched the redhead's present self close his eyes and put a hand to his head.

"Or that I can't take care of myself."

"Of course he doesn't think that!" This time, Hermione's counterpart responded to him, as she'd done back then, with an anxiety in her voice that reflected onto her current self's face.

"So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys' while you two get to join in everything that's going on here?" his counterpart continued, and Harry closed his eyes bracingly, knowing the dam was about to break. "How come you two are allowed to know everything that's going on?"

"We're not!" Book Ron interrupted, "Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young-"

Harry's voice roared from the device at a volume he didn't know it could reach, sending him and the others flying back in their seats.

"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN-"

"CONCESSO!" Hermione screeched out suddenly with a flick of her wand, stopping the device mid-sentence. An odd silence overcame the room as Harry's mind filled with relief and slight disappointment. Although the quiet was nice for the moment, he knew it wouldn't do them any good right now.

"Hermione..." Harry said, "I don't wanna listen to this any more than you do, but—"

"That's not—" Hermione started before her voice slightly cracked. Clearing her throat, she continued, "That's not why I paused it. What if Ron was right and people can hear this through the walls? The other outbursts were fine, they were short, but this..." She looked at the device with a wary expression. "This one might go on for a little longer."

"We can always skip over it," Harry suggested with a bit of hope that went away when Hermione shook her head.

"No, we can't. It’s a good opportunity to check to see if it gets all of our conversation right. It's doing well so far, but I want to make sure," Hermione reasoned, to Harry's chagrin. "We can have someone stand outside to test to see if anyone can hear us, though. Not all of us need to be in here."

"I'll do it." Ron said immediately, hopping out of his beanbag, "No offense, Harry, but I don't exactly want to get yelled at by you again."

"That's fine," Hermione continued as Harry glared at him half-heartedly, "All you have to do is stand outside and let us know if you can hear anything. Just knock on the door or something."

With a nod, Ron strode across the cupboard and grabbed the golden doorknob as Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out his invisibility cloak.

"Hang on," Harry said, stopping the redhead in his tracks. He tossed the cloak Ron's way, who caught it with one hand. "Put that on."

"Thanks." Ron threw it over his body, and the cupboard door opened and closed on its own a moment later, indicating that he had left the room. Harry turned to look at Hermione.

"You ready to get this over with?" He asked her, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," Hermione replied with a sigh before unpausing the device, which continued as if it had never been interrupted.

"-TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEY'S FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT - WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH OF YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?"

As every bitter and resentful thought continued to pour out of his counterpart's mouth, shocking both his friends into stunned silence and causing the two owls in the room (Hedwig and Pigwidgeon) to lose their minds, Harry's eye drifted back to the cupboard door, wondering whether they would even be able to hear a knock from Ron past the deafening yells from the device.

Eventually, Ron and Hermione tried to reason with Harry, only to be met with louder, more passionate screams until the girl, with tears in her eyes, desperately said, "Harry, we're really sorry! You're absolutely right, Harry- I'd be furious if it were me!"

As her pleas managed to calm his book counterpart down momentarily, shame coursed through Harry's body from yelling at his two best friends again. He felt that he had held his friends to an impossibly unfair standard that would've led to his outburst no matter what they said, and even brought one of them to tears. However, as he opened his mouth to apologize, Hermione cut him off.

"No, don't you dare," she stated defiantly before he could even utter a word, and her brown eyes met his own, "I don't need your apologies, Harry. Nor does Ron, for that matter."

"But—"

"No buts." Hermione interrupted again, "We both understand, Harry. Better than ever, in fact." She gestured toward the book, "Like I said, I'd be just as furious as you were if I had to go through what you did. You were within your rights to yell at us, Ron and I both know that. You do not need to apologize now."

"Alright, alright," Harry responded, letting out a breath of relief he didn't know he was holding, "Should we tell Ron to come back in now?"

"Of course," Hermione paused the reader on a sentence about Hedwig hooting sadly from the top of the wardrobe after Harry finished his rant and rose from her feet to fetch the redhead from outside, but before she could reach the door, it wretched open violently by itself before loudly slamming shut. Ron revealed himself and threw the invisibility cloak onto the ground, sporting a spooked look on his face that caused Hermione to gasp and approach him out of alarm. "A-Are you okay?"

"Bloody hell..." Ron sighed loudly before waddling over to his beanbag and flopping onto it belly first.

Harry was on his feet now, racing to Ron's side as Hermione had done, "What in Merlin's name happened to you?"

"The door disappeared!" Ron cried, flipping himself over, "The second I walked out the door, the bloody thing was gone!"

"What?"

"I tried everything! I was pounding on the wall and pacing back and forth like you did while thinking, 'I need to know my fate,' or 'I need to know Harry's fate.' I nearly asked a suit of armor nearby to help me bust the damn wall down because nothing was working!" The words poured out of Ron's mouth rapidly, stopping only when he had to take breaths, "I thought you both were gone until the door just popped out of the wall, and I rushed back inside before it could go away again!"

"That must've been when I paused the reader," Hermione said softly, clearly thinking out loud, before asking Ron, "Did you hear anything while you were out there?"

"Of course I couldn't, it was like the room was never there! It was just solid brick!"

Green eyes met brown as Harry and Hermione made eye contact, similar expressions of realization dawning on their faces. "That has to be this room's fail-safe," Harry said in amazement. "It stops anyone else from listening in by vanishing the door while we're reading." He couldn't help but be impressed by the magic that went into creating this room.

"One hell of a fail-safe..." Ron muttered as he turned around on his beanbag to face the table. "Nearly gave me a damn heart attack. What even is this room, anyway?"

Harry could only shrug, and judging by the bitter look on Hermione's face, he assumed that Hogwarts: A History had nothing about a vanishing room that could (potentially) tell the future, either. Ron must've also noticed her expression, as he tilted his head backwards and let out a resigned sigh to fill the silence.

"Right. I guess there's no point in worrying about it now. It's not like the room has done anything to hurt us. Aside from falling beanbags," Ron raised his head and nodded toward the golden device. "Let's just get back to the reading."

Harry and Hermione promptly returned to the seats, with the former waving his wand and unpausing the reader, which continued the rest of the trio's conversation. They explained to Harry what the Order of the Phoenix was and what they knew the secret organization was up to, which was frustratingly limited. As the pair also explained what they've been doing all summer, they were interrupted by two loud apparition cracks made by Ron's twin brothers, much to Hermione's annoyance.

"Hello, Harry," said one of the twins (who was George, according to the book), "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry," came the same voice, but this time it supposedly belonged to Fred, "Let it all out."

The twins continued to rib Harry for his outburst and, unlike his past counterpart, Harry found the humor in their words and chuckled lightly as they informed Harry that his yells were interfering with their Extendable Ears, one of their new inventions.

The door to the bedroom opened behind the crowd to reveal Ron's younger sister, Ginny, who brightly greeted Harry with "Oh, hello!" before turning to the twins to inform them that their Ears wouldn't work because the door had been Imperturbed. When George asked how she knew, she stated she'd been flicking Dungbombs at it, but they all bounced away before reaching the door.

"I've been meaning to ask, but what is a Dungbomb?" Harry asked, looking at the two beside him.

"It's exactly how it sounds, mate," Ron replied without missing a beat as the twins talked about Snape arriving at Grimmauld Place to give a top-secret report to the Order. "They mould explosive sh-" "Ron!" "-into a ball and charm it to stop it from exploding until it hits something." The redhead finished, completely unperturbed by Hermione's interruption.

The conversation then moved on to talk about Ron's other brothers, Bill and Charlie, who both joined the Order, the former moving to a desk job in England to be closer to home (and help Fleur Delacour "eempwve 'er Eenglish"), while the latter stayed in Romania to recruit foreign wizards. However, this prompted Harry's counterpart to ask about Percy.

Like their past selves, Ron and Hermione's expressions darkened at the reminder of the third Weasley child. Harry was sure he looked about the same as them as the Weasleys explained the terrible row between Percy and their father, which ended in Percy insulting Mr. Weasley and storming out of the Burrow.

Harry's mood only worsened at the reminder of the Daily Prophet making its way into the past conversation after Percy, and how its writers have been not-so subtly slipping in comments in their articles about how Harry is deluded and attention-seeking. As if the conversation couldn't have gotten worse, it eventually devolved into his upcoming (but now in the past) hearing with the Ministry, which, despite Hermione's insistence that there's no case against him, Harry still felt like he got away by the skin of his teeth. He was not very excited about the book reaching that particular morning.

Thankfully for his past self, the conversation halted when they heard Mrs. Weasley coming upstairs, prompting the twins to apparate away before she could see them. When Mrs. Weasley entered the room, she called them to dinner before dragging Ginny out to wash her dung-covered hands, leaving Harry alone with Ron and Hermione. His book counterpart felt ashamed of his actions that night, when looking at the two of them, similar to how Harry had felt earlier.

The two tried to bring up Dumbledore again, but his book counterpart stopped them, as he felt that "the very thought of Dumbledore made Harry's insides burn with anger again," as the book so eloquently put it. Before both Harrys could truly ruminate on their anger toward the old headmaster, Book Ron led him and Hermione out of the room, only to be stopped by the twins trying to use their Extendable Ears to hear what was being said by Snape in the hall below, to no success. The group eventually continued their trek down the stairs, with Hermione and Mrs. Weasley warning Harry to keep quiet as they met up with Lupin near the bottom. Unfortunately for them-

A loud CRASH reverberated from the device after Tonks clumsily knocked over a troll-legged umbrella, causing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to flinch in surprise. The book then described one of the most horrific portraits Harry had ever seen, the portrait of Mrs. Black. Despite the narrator talking about its "horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling" screeches, it did not voice any of them out loud (thank Merlin), until the woman of the portrait laid its eyes on the group as Lupin and Mrs. Weasley attempted to pull its curtain shut, causing the device to repeat:

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers-"

Although the book did not subject them to all her shouts that night, her voice was so horrible that Harry already felt a headache rising in his skull. He began to rub his head wearily as the shouting was replaced with Tonks profusely apologizing for her mistake, Mrs. Weasley rushing around the house to silence the other portraits around her, and a man with long, black hair rushing out of a nearby room to help Lupin close the portrait's curtains while shouting "Shut up, you horrible hag, shut UP!"

Harry couldn't help but smile at Sirius Black's dramatic appearance in the book. When the two men finally shut the curtains of the disgusting portrait only a moment later, Sirius turned to look at Harry's past self, slightly panting, and greeted him with a "Hello. I see you've met my mother." As Harry watched the hand lift away from the book, he felt oddly proud that his godfather got to be the one to give the cliffhanger.

"Well, I believe you."

Snapping his head to Ron, Harry stared at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

"I can't think of a single thing that it got wrong that entire chapter, so yeah. It was getting a little scary, honestly."

Harry heard Hermione hum, "It was really fascinating, too. Even though it's told from your point of view, Harry, it's also ever so slightly omniscient, and I'm learning a lot more than I thought I would from it."

"Especially in that ending section with that portrait of Mrs. Black," Harry said, "I swear the book was pointing out details about that damn painting that I didn't even notice the first time I saw it."

"I'd rather not think about it. That description alone is enough to give me nightmares," Ron shuddered before rising to his feet and stretching, "Time to call it a night, then?"

Nodding in agreement, Harry made to leave, standing up and scooping his invisibility cloak off the ground. However, both he and Ron shared a glance when they noticed Hermione remained seated, and Ron opened his mouth.

"Alright, Hermione?"

"It's... not that late," she replied after glancing at her watch.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And I think we have time for a couple more chapters."

"We do plan on sleeping in our beds tonight, right? Or should Ron summon us some pillows and blankets, too?" Harry asked.

"We will go to bed after we read a few more chapters, how about that?"

"Oh, it's a few more now, is it?" Ron pointed out.

"You know," Harry started, slightly amused, "For someone so reluctant to read this book earlier, you sure are eager to try and finish it all in one night."

"Oh, shut up, both of you. Who knows when we'll get another chance to read it? We should read as much as we can tonight.”

Ron groaned, but still walked over to his smushed beanbag and sat back down, "Fine. I suppose there are worse books we could spend all night reading."

"It won't be all night!" Hermione exclaimed as Harry settled into his beanbag, "It'll only be another hour at most!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll hold you to that," Ron responded, pulling his wand from his pocket. "Let's just get this started. Coepio."

While Harry chuckled at their bickering, the silver hand brought itself back to the page, reading out:

"Chapter 5: The Order of the Phoenix."