Sweet Revenge

The Time Turner

          "Pssst! Kid! His Lordship told me to give you this. I tried to open it, but the message is all squiggly."

Barty was trying to hide behind a pillar and be inconspicuous. He was failing horrifically; he must have forgotten he was till in his stumpy Moody body. Still, it served as a source of amusement for Harry (not as if he didn't have enough given the school's response to Potter's failure). 

          "It's probably Parseltongue. Give it here."

Barty nodded and glanced around before handing a package to Harry. 

          "There's no need to be so suspicious. Honestly! You're acting as paranoid as Moody himself! Are you sure it's not rubbing off on you?"

It was a rhetorical question and Barty had more sense than to answer it. He muttered something about classes and grading and stumped away. 

Harry, dear.

Now, I know I said I'd let you have your fun with the Potter brat this year and I mean to keep that promise. Unfortunately, there are several circumstances that require your presence at my manor during the year. All will be explained shortly. This letter is also a Portkey; just utter the words 'Morsmordre' and it will be activated. Inside the package that I'm sure Barty had faithfully delivered is a Time Turner. I've also enclosed a pendant whose function will be explained at the Manor. I expect you tomorrow night at eight o'clock sharp.

Pompous git. And a cliché one too (Honestly, Morsmordre? How obvious can you get? I mean, the very incantation of the Dark Mark?!). 

Nevertheless, Harry was still excited and ripped open the package. 

Glinting in the sunlight streaming in from the archway was a perfect Time Turner. As Harry turned it about in his fingers, he noticed that it was inlaid with diamonds and the gold was not just gold flakes but real, pure gold. The band was white gold and the whole thing screamed opulence. Harry wondered where Tom might have acquired such an expensive object. Perhaps he'd gone to the blackmarket in Persia; it was known for being ridiculously exorbitant. 

No matter. 

He pocketed it and started down the corridor only to collide with Granger. 

          "What on earth do you think you're doing, Potter?!" she yelled as if it wasn't her that walked straight into Harry. 

          "Why don't you say 'Merlin' like a normal witch?" Harry snarked back. 

Granger turned as red as her precious Weasley's hair as she sputtered, trying to find something witty to say back. Eventually, she settled on,

          "I bet you were up to something!"

Harry rolled his eyes and said in the most condescending voice he could muster,

          "Why yes, Miss Granger. I suppose that meeting with Professor Moody is considered being 'up to something' yeah?"

She blushed and stomped off in a huff, probably to complain to Potter. Just as Harry was about to walk off in the opposite direction, her footsteps halted. 

A few moments of silence. 

And then her feet came pitter-pattering back along the cobblestone as a faster rate than before and she called out,

          "Potter! Your last name is the same as Alex's. What's up with that?"

Harry turned, a wry smirk adorning his features and he came face to face with the bushy-haired girl. He had hoped someone would think something like that; he had given the Hogwarts population four years already.