Time rewound from noon back to seven in the morning.
"At this hour, I'm supposed to be in the Slytherin common room."
Rowan Mercer adjusted his route and headed toward the castle. To use the Time-Turner safely, he followed strict routines. At fixed hours, he stayed in fixed places, ensuring his past and present selves never crossed paths.
Seven o'clock meant the Slytherin common room. Seven-thirty meant breakfast in the Great Hall. Eight meant class.
Any time he reversed the clock, he deliberately avoided those routes.
He had barely stepped into the entrance hall when someone rushed past him, nearly colliding head-on.
Hermione Granger.
And not the "morning" Hermione.
He recognized it instantly. Her posture was tired, her expression strained. More importantly, he had already seen her earlier in the Great Hall that morning. At that time, she had just arrived for breakfast while he was already leaving.
Which meant this Hermione had come back from later in the day.
"Hey, Rowan," she greeted weakly. "Want to grab lunch together?"
They both used Time-Turners. There was no need for secrets. Hermione had long since figured out that if Rowan was walking into the castle at this hour, he had rewound time too.
They ran into each other like this often now. Sometimes as first encounters, sometimes after both had reversed time, sometimes one normal and one displaced.
It had become routine.
"I'm not hungry," Rowan said, shaking his head. "And if I eat now, I'll run into myself in the Great Hall."
That, and he didn't actually need meals the way most people did.
Hermione sighed and studied him. "How do you always look so energetic? I feel like I'm barely holding myself together."
Dark circles framed her eyes.
Rowan smiled. "Because I'm only in second year. I don't have your schedule. The extra time I gain goes into rest and reading, not more classes."
He hesitated, then added gently, "Honestly, you don't need to take everything. Dropping a few subjects wouldn't be the end of the world."
Hermione was juggling more than a dozen classes, each with its own workload. Rowan could reset time and steal sleep whenever he needed. She couldn't.
Frankly, he admired her endurance. Most adults wouldn't survive that pace.
"I know," she muttered. "I've thought about it. I'll… hold out a bit longer."
She paused, then groaned. "I'm starving. I hope lunch is good. Wait—right. It's breakfast. Pumpkin porridge. I hate pumpkin porridge."
Still complaining, she trudged toward the Great Hall.
Rowan watched her go, then turned and climbed the stairs toward the headmaster's office.
Dumbledore was already awake. Elderly wizards rarely slept late.
"Good morning, Headmaster," Rowan said as he stepped inside. "Knitting again?"
Dumbledore sat comfortably on the sofa, needles clicking softly.
"Good morning, Rowan. Magic is convenient," he replied with a warm smile, "but if you use it for everything, life loses its texture."
Rowan nodded. "I agree. Some things are better done by hand. What are you making?"
"A pair of gloves," Dumbledore said, setting the needles aside. "For an old friend."
Rowan didn't ask further.
"And what would you like to learn today?" Dumbledore asked. "More alchemy?"
"Yes," Rowan said. "Portkey creation."
Dumbledore accepted the request without question. At this point, he no longer felt the need to ask why Rowan wanted to learn something. If Rowan asked, there was a reason.
Frankly, Dumbledore no longer concerned himself much with Voldemort. Compared to what Rowan was becoming, that threat felt… manageable.
His days were simple now. Knitting. Teaching. Occasional visits to Hogsmeade. Perhaps a trip to Nurmengard when term ended.
"Portkeys can be made from almost any object," Dumbledore began. "We usually choose inconspicuous items, to avoid attracting Muggle attention. There are three primary types."
Under the guidance of a true master, Rowan's understanding quickly deepened.
"First," Dumbledore said, "the fixed-destination Portkey. No matter where it's activated, it always transports the user to the same location."
The Ministry used these during major events, distributing them worldwide. Less reputable wizards used them for illegal transport. They were the simplest to make.
"Second," Dumbledore continued, "the paired Portkey. Two objects, linked together. Activate either, and you arrive at the other."
This was the Ministry's preferred model for official travel. More complex, but far more flexible.
"And third," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, "the variable-destination Portkey."
The most advanced type.
"A single Portkey that allows its destination to be rewritten at will. Paris today. London tomorrow. One object, many endpoints."
Rowan listened intently.
This was exactly what he needed.
...
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