Standard Disclaimer: I dun own nothin'! Everything is copyrighted to JKR and WB and a bunch of overpaid publishers. No money's being made. (Though on a side note I wish it were, cuz the bill collectors are rather persistent with there claims that I owe them money, and they wont take 'My Gran told me not to talk to strangers!' as an answer! T_T)

Warnings: Same as most everything I write! Slash, smut, and serious insanity! XD

Author's Note: Sorry for the really long delay, I had a tone of stuff going on. I really don't want to get into what all happened, so we'll just leave it as, 'Life got in the way of things,' yeah? But on another note I'm going to try to update on a regular basis from now on. Not sure if I have a Beta anymore though, I sent this to her ages ago, but she hasn't been online, or posted on her own account. I really hope everything's alright. But as it stands, this chapter is un-Betaed, so please don't be too critical of me and my horrible lack of attention to detail. -_-"

Who was he?

Harry blanched at the old headmaster's question.

"Don't you recognize me sir?" He asked, wide eyed and confused.

Dumbledore stared quizzically at the boy for a moment, looking him up and down.

"No. No, I can honestly say that I do not. Should I?"

"Of course!" Harry nearly shouted, jumping up from the bed. "I've been one of your students for over five years now! You've been helping me train to defeat Voldemort! You even had Snape teach me Occlumency!" By the end of his tirade his chest was heaving and his legs where shaking dangerously.

The older wizards eyebrows shot up toward his hairline and he leaned back in his chair, away from the distraught teen. Harry waited, hoping to see some flicker of recognition in the headmaster's eyes. His hopes were short lived however, as the older man just continued to stare at him in shock and confusion.

Harry's shoulders sagged in dismay. "You really don't remember do you?" He sighed, more to himself than the headmaster.

He slumped back down onto the infirmary bed, placing his head in his hands.

Dumbledore just sat there staring at the distressed young man for a few moments. Going over all that he had said in his mind.

"But he's just a student." Dumbledore muttered absently, deep in thought.

Harry's head snapped up at once upon hearing this.

"What?" He asks sharply, his brow furrowed.

"Hmm… What?" Dumbledore asked absently, still somewhat lost in thought.

"What did you just say?" Harry all but demands. "About someone being 'just a student!" He added a bit impatiently at the headmaster's questioning look.

He needed to know.

Though he had a sinking feeling that he already knew, or at least had a pretty fair idea of what Dumbledore meant.

"You said that Mr. Snape taught you Occlumency?" The older man asked cautiously. Harry nodded slowly, never taking his eyes of the other man. "Severus Snape?" Again Harry nodded. "But my boy, he will only just be starting his sixth year here at Hogwarts this fall."
Harry's insides seemed to turn to ice, fall out of him from somewhere near his feet, and dissolve into thin air all at once.

"No!" He breathed, panic gripping his chest like a vice.

He shot up from the hospital bed and ran for the door. He wrenched it open and rushed into the empty corridor. He skidded to a halt and looked around himself, trying to think of which way to go. He spun around in place several times, his heart thumping almost painfully against his ribs.

"Where was it?" Harry shrieked, gripping his fingers in hair. "The Great Hall!" He shouted, darting off down the hall.

If he could just get there, then surly his subconscious would know where to go. Then his feet would just carry him back to that room!

That was a logical assumption, right?

And it may well have been, if not for the fact that his legs were currently refusing to carry him anywhere at all. The corridor swayed drastically to the left and shot down, seeming to circle him. The floor rushed up to snatch him from his standing position and viciously slam him down. The impact jarred his head and everything went hazy. The hall way kept running around him, like it was mocking him! Taunting him, as if to say, "Ha ha Harry! You'll never find your way! I wont let you!"

But of course that was completely ridiculous! Castles couldn't talk they weren't alive.

Though sometimes he had to wonder about this one. He wondered if maybe the founders had put a little something extra in when they built this great school.

Harry lay there for sometime, he wasn't sure how long. Just staring at the high ceiling and pondering the possible sentience of Hogwarts, when a blur of silvery white and bright purple came into view above him.

Harry shook his head lightly, to try and clear his vision. The horrible throbbing in the side of his head the movement caused quickly made him regret the action, and he decided against trying it again in the immediate future.

So instead he just lay there for a moment with his eyes shut, breathing deeply. When the terrible throbbing finally dulled to a slight ache Harry opened his eyes to she Dumbledore starring worriedly down at his fallen form. He stayed like that for a moment longer staring pensively at the headmaster's aged face. Thinking about how best to broach the subject that was gnawing at his mind.

He decided that bluntly was most likely for the best.

"Professor? What year is it?"

The old wizard didn't seem as surprised as he probably should be by such a question. Maybe he had already guessed that something like this was the case. He always had seemed to just know things. Or it could be that with age came the innate ability to hide the fact that someone had you unaware. With a small sigh and an inward shrug Harry dismissed the idea. He really was too tired to care about mush of anything anymore. So he just lay there and waited for the older man's answer.

"What year?" Dumbledore asked quietly. The only response he got in return was a single arched brow from the young man. "It is currently the fifteenth of August, nineteen hundred and seventy six." He paused gauging the boy's reaction. He didn't seem to find whatever it was he was looking for though, and he continued with his own question.

"What is the last thing you remember? What was the date?"

Harry was silent for a moment, then with a bit of a grin he replied, "Well sir, as much as I'd love to fascinate you with the amazing story of my life," He paused to laugh quietly at his on little personal joke. "I think I'd prefer to have this conversation, that will no doubt be very long. Somewhere a little more," Harry turned his head this way and that, pretending to observe his surroundings. "Not the ground, yeah?"
"Oh! Yes! Yes, of course dear boy, of course!" Dumbledore rushed to help Harry to his feet. "Just come along with me back to the infirmary and we shall sort all of this out straight away."

Harry reached up and took the outstretched hand, hefting himself up onto his feet. He waited for a moment to make sure that the corridor wasn't going to try anything funny again. When there was no swaying or otherwise out of place movement from the castle Harry deemed it safe to walk back down the way he'd come.

They walked in silence, Dumbledore staying close by Harry's side, should the youth collapse again. Harry just stared thoughtfully ahead, trying to think of what his next course of action should be. How was he going to get back to his own time? Briefly he thought of asking the headmaster if he had a spare time-turner he could use, but dismissed it just as quickly. He wasn't too sure that a normal time-turner could handle such a big job. And Harry was quite sure that if he ever set foot in the department of mysteries again, it would be too soon.

As he was pondering something brown kept bobbing in and out of the left side of his peripheral vision. He swatted it away, and kept walking.
Perhaps there was some sort of spell of potion that could help. He would have to ask Dumbledore, or look it up in the library. He thought of various words and phrases he could look up, to find what he was looking for.

And damn it all if that annoying little brown something or other didn't keep fluttering around just at the left side of his head.

Aggravated, Harry reached up, intent on yanking the bloody thing away to see just what it was.

With a small yelp he quickly released it.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his face paling with realization.
Dumbledore stopped a few paces ahead and turned to give Harry a quizzical look. He opened his mouth to ask him what was the matter, but Harry hurried past him toward the infirmary, only a few more feet ahead of them.

Harry strode quickly down the length of the long, bed lined room. To the small door at the back, near Madame Pomfrey's office. Harry wrenched the door to the small washroom open. But once the door was open and he was staring inside he froze.

There, straight in front of him stood a boy with dark chocolate brown hair, deep forest green eyes, and a slightly larger frame than his own. Harry stared in shock; the boy stared back. He took a cautious step toward the other boy, and he in turn advanced hesitantly as well. Simultaneously they reached for one another, both of their hand shaking terribly.

Harry's fingertips met the cold, hard surface of the mirror, and his legs gave out beneath him once more.