The Tempus Mirror
Summary: Midway through Harry's 6th year a mirror was delivered to Hogwarts which gave viewers a glimpse into the past. Of course in Harry's case it threw him back in time… to 1943 when Tom Riddle walked the halls. Figures, right?
Chapter 1: The Mirror Revealed
(A/N: This first bit is inspired by Mirror of Maybe by Midnight Blue.)
It was a relatively quiet year for Harry. It was the year between O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S and while Hermione was rigorously keeping up a study schedule and trying to get Harry and Ron to join her, the two were managing to avoid all her attempts.
For the first time ever Harry felt relatively normal. The D.A.D.A professor wasn't trying to kill him even if it was Snape. There wasn't some big mystery to solve. Sure Harry had to meet Dumbledore on occasion to learn about Voldemort's younger years, but for once his biggest concern was leading his Quidditch team to victory.
It was the breather Harry needed but he should have known it was too good to last. Peace and quiet were not common in Harry's life.
When Dumbledore brought out the mirror to the Great Hall one evening a week before Christmas Holidays, Harry had a sinking feeling. Dumbledore had introduced the mirror as the Tempus Mirror to the school before the house elves put food on the table. He had explained that it was trinket of a mirror and quite fun. He would be establishing it in Professor Binns classroom after the night was through. It showed viewers a segment of the past from their personal or family history. He invited students to take turns looking into it after supper and ended his speech with a few bizarre words that were more his usual fare. As soon as he sat the students began buzzing.
Several kids piled their plates high and started to shove it down in a hurry to get to the mirror first. Others barely ate anything or grabbed something and ran over to the mirror immediately. A line began to form. All through dinner Harry studiously avoided looking at the students laughing and gasping and giggling by the mirror. Eventually Hermione and Ron wanted a turn so the three got in the line that wound around the Great Hall.
Harry glanced up at the head table and noticed that Dumbledore was looking calm and relaxed. A twinkle glimmered in his eye as he watched his flock enjoy themselves. Snape glowered at everyone and McGonagall looked mildly disapproving of all the fun being had. Slughorn was jovial and kept trying to pass alcohol to his fellow professors. Hagrid gladly took some and Dumbledore too. They appeared to be toasting themselves to a great success. Harry sighed.
Hermione bubbled. "I wonder what the mirror will show me. Perhaps I'll find out there was a witch or wizard in my pass. I have a feeling Muggleborns all have magic in their history. Perhaps far removed, but there nonetheless. It would be fascinating to poll the other Muggleborns. What do you think you'll see Ron?"
"Probably how my uncles on my mum's side went down fighting. At least that's what I hope to see. Mum never talks about it but others say it was a spectacular display of magic and that if it hadn't been for Voldemort's appearance they might have beaten the Death Eaters sent to kill them."
"You'll probably see how your mum and dad met," Harry joked. "Maybe even the night they conceived you."
"Ugh!" Ron made a face. "Don't even tempt fate that way Harry. That's just too gross."
"It's not like you and your siblings were immaculate conceptions, Ronald," Hermione said patronizingly. "You can always choose not to look."
Ron stuck his tongue out. "You just want me to get out of line so you're that much closer to your turn. Well forget it. I'm going to look into the Tempus Mirror."
"I wonder why the Flamels donated it to Hogwarts. It's a priceless object," Harry mused quietly inching forward with his friends.
"Well Nicholas was a very close friend of Dumbledore's."
"But Flamel died in first year, why did take so long for Dumbledore to share it with us?" Ron asked.
"Flamel didn't die our first year, he just lost his Philosopher's Stone," Harry corrected.
Hermione nodded. "Right and Dumbledore said Flamel had enough time left to settle his affairs. I think he must have passed away recently, though I didn't see anything in the Daily Prophet."
"Oh look – I'm next!" Ron exclaimed happily as a second year from Hufflepuff moved away from the mirror and beckoned his friend to step up.
Then it was Ron's turn and he hurried into place, taking a moment to brush off crumbs from dinner before standing tall and looking steadily. A few minutes went by and then he blinked, shook his head, grinned at Hermione and Harry and moved out of the way.
"What did you see?" Hermione asked breathlessly as she shoved Harry aside to go next. Harry didn't mind.
"I saw my dad sit down under the Sorting Hat. He fell off the stool and then tripped on his robes in his haste to get to the Gryffindor table. He was so red in the face. I can't wait to write him and make fun of him."
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to face the mirror. Harry watched her face as she looked. A tear dripped down her cheek, giving Harry a start. He reached out hesitantly to touch her shoulder when she blinked and scrubbed at her eyes.
"You okay Hermione?" he asked gently.
"Oh yes. I just saw my grandmother again. She was teaching me how to bake cookies Christmas Eve before my parents got home. You know how they are about sugar, but she thought it was a special time of year and deserving of a special treat. I miss her that's all. She passed away the very next year."
"I'm so sorry," Harry murmured.
"Oh I'm not," Hermione sniffed and smiled broadly. "I got to see her again. Now it's your turn. Maybe you'll see your parents!"
"Maybe," Harry said with a frown but then did as Hermione bid and turned to face the mirror.
The tightening of his gut was all the warning Harry got before the mirror warped backwards then shot forward like lightning sucking him inside its gleaming silver surface. The last thing he heard was Hermione as she shouted his name and several girls screaming.
The disorientation of mirror travel was nothing compared to the nausea that plagued him upon getting spit out. Harry stumbled and fell to the ground barely catching himself on his hands before smashing his nose into the stone floor. He dry heaved a few times, sucking back the vomit trying to rise up his throat. He wasn't going to hurl in front of Malfoy and the rest of the school. There was no way he'd live it down.
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's voice sounded mildly disapproving. "It's after hours. I'm afraid I'm going to have to deduct house points. You're supposed to be upstairs in your common room."
It wasn't that late surely. And it wasn't his fault the mirror decided to play games, Harry thought, there was no need to take that tone of voice with him. He shook his head and clambered to his feet. Turning around to face Dumbledore gave Harry quite a shock.
Dumbledore was clearly Dumbledore, but a much younger version of himself. His hair was bright red and his beard was much shorter than how Harry remembered him.
"You're not Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, eyeing him sternly.
"I'm not?" Harry stammered. His mind whirled at a hundred miles an hour. He swallowed nervously.
"Is Marten Potter a relation of yours? You look remarkably similar. Perhaps cousins?"
"Er…" Harry didn't know what to do. Was this real? Was he in an interactive memory similar to a Pensieve? No memories didn't have that power… well except for Voldemort, but that was in the present not the past… so this had to be real.
"You're not sure if Marten is a cousin, Mr…?"
"Topper," Harry supplied hesitantly. "Harry Topper," he stated with more conviction. "I'm a foreign exchange student. Durmstrang. I believe Headmaster Dippet would know what to do with me."
Thank Merlin for Tom Riddle's diary and for Dumbledore's lessons. He knew enough to bluff his way through this. He just had to be confident—a hard thing to be with Dumbledore eyeing him suspiciously—Harry fought not to squirm.
"Yes, I'm sure Armando will be interested in you. He didn't tell me he was expecting a transfer student and so late in the year. Why are you coming now, Mr. Topper? The winter holidays are almost upon us."
"My parents are going to be traveling over Christmas. They thought it would be best if I got comfortable in my new school before classes started in spring."
"Not a bad idea. You will have to be sorted into your house."
"I will?" Harry asked, looking down at his clothing.
All the insignias had been removed from his robes. More odd still, he noted was that his robes were old fashioned. Harry blinked and looked behind him. The mirror stood placidly in the Great Hall, its surface blank and dark.
He wondered why Dumbledore hadn't commented on it. Harry wondered too how he was going to get back to the present if the mirror wasn't working.
"Dumbledore. I'm Headmaster Dippet's Deputy, your Transfiguration instructor, and Head of Gryffindor House."
"Right," Harry said, uncertain again. He licked his lips. "Professor Dumbledore. I know this might sound odd to you, but what year is it?"
Dumbledore eyes twinkled. "Does Durmstrang keep its students in the dark about such things? How odd. I like odd things. It's 1943. Follow me and I'll lead you to Headmaster Dippet's office."
Outwardly Harry appeared calm as he muttered his thanks but inside he was a seething mass of nerves. 1943 was the year Tom Riddle opened the Chamber of Secrets and released the Monster of Slytherin, a giant basilisk upon the populace. He was knee deep in dragon shit and didn't know the first thing he should do.
"So Mr. Topper," Dumbledore started conversationally, jerking Harry out of his thoughts, "what do you know about Hogwarts' Founders and the Houses?"
Right. That's what Harry would do... follow Dumbledore to Dippet's office and get sorted. From there he'd figure things out... maybe. It figured only Harry Potter would trip a secret function of a magical mirror. It appeared that the Tempus Mirror was in fact a time travel device and Harry was the lucky wizard to trip it. His joy was boundless.
Hope you like this new fic that I started. :) Happy Readings.