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Category: Time-Turner Challenge (2014-2), Time Turner Challenge (2014-2) Characters:None Genres: General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 33 Summary: **Winner of Best Overall and Most Creative for the Time-turner Challenge (2014-2)** In January of 1998, Harry goes back in time ninety-seven years to learn about his ancestors. Hitcount: Story Total: 18641; Chapter Total: 3024 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Harry's well on his way in this chapter. Whether he'll try to change the past is anyone's guess. Right now, he just wants to learn about his family. I hope you enjoy the chapter. |
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2230 hours, 4 January 1998 “Good night, Harry,” Hermione called from her room. “Good night, Hermione,” Harry called back. He extinguished his bedside candle and lay back on his pillow, listening to the howling wind as it splattered rain on the window of his room. He wasn’t relishing the long walk down the track to the road in the storm, but since he would have his wand, he would be able to dry his clothes when he arrived in 1901. His plan called for him to arrive at the farm two weeks before shearing, in the middle of May, when the sheep were washed. The ledgers and journal had shown him the pattern of daily life on the farm; he knew he wouldn’t be able to hire on as a sheep shearer–that was too specialized a job for staying only a day or three–although he supposed he could learn. However, there would most likely be other jobs he could do around the farm for his great-grandfather or maybe even in the kitchen with his great-grandmother. As soon as he was certain Hermione was asleep, Harry slid out of bed and went into the bathroom where he parted his hair down the middle and combed it so that his fringe still covered his scar. He quickly transfigured an old sock into a cap and settled it on his head. Back in his bedroom, he transfigured his jean jacket into a woollen overcoat and cast Impervious Charms on all of the clothes he was wearing and his glasses. Then, after leaving a note for Hermione, he took the Time-Turner from its hiding place and spent a few minutes setting it. He did not turn it over. Instead, he slipped the chain around his neck, picked up a small canvass sack he’d found in the barn and stuffed with a fresh change of clothes and his toothbrush, and walked out into the storm. When he was a sufficient distance from the house, Harry stepped to the side of the track, fished the Time-Turner from inside his jacket and turned it over only once. Immediately, he had the feeling of rushing backwards at a tremendous pace and when the feeling lessened and finally stopped, he found himself standing in nearly the same place early on a bright, sunny morning in the middle of May 1901. Harry had calculated that this would be sheep-washing day or very close to it, about ten days to two weeks before shearing. He hoped his great-grandfather needed someone to help him wash his sheep. Slinging the canvass bag over his shoulder, he started up the track to the farm. He had gone about half the distance when a young man about his age hailed him from one of the pastures dotted with black-headed sheep. Eagerly, Harry walked over to the fence. “I’m looking for Herry Potter,” he told the man. “And who might you be and why are you asking,” the man asked. “I’m Harry James and I’m looking for work. I was told Mr Potter might need an extra man,” Harry told him. “Mr Potter’s in the sheep shed at the top of the hill. If he needs you, you’ll be working with me today, herding the sheep. By the way, the name’s Cameron,” the man said extending his hand. Harry just managed to keep his jaw from dropping open because he realized that the person he was talking to was his grandfather. He felt a grin split his face instead. “It’s good to meet you, Cameron,” he said. * Hermione yawned and stretched, savouring the quiet of the early morning. She wondered if Harry was up yet; if he wasn’t, she’d throw on some clothes and go out to check her privacy enchantments. Otherwise, she’d stay in her pyjamas and dressing gown and have a cup of tea before dressing. Harry’s door was open when she walked out into the passage. Curious about his whereabouts, she padded down to the kitchen to see if he had made tea yet. The kitchen was dark and cold when she reached it, and upon lighting an oil lamp, she spied a piece of parchment sticking out of one of the books Harry had been reading last night and left on the table. Pocketing her wand, she pulled the parchment out of the book a little way: dread filled her as she saw her name written in Harry’s handwriting. The only reason he would leave her a note would be because he’d already gone somewhere without her. Quickly, she opened the note… Hermione, Hermione folded the parchment up and pulled the books towards her, intending to stick the note back in it. The top book was a journal dated 1901-1905. She opened the cover and the pages automatically fanned until they stopped on Monday, 13 May 1901. Peering at the tightly-written script, she read, “Employed day labourers H. James, S. Ellis, P. Sherman, and R. McKnight. Good workers.” There was an annotation in another hand, one that was much neater than Harry’s chicken scratch, under the first entry. “H. James will stay only three days. I hope he comes back next year. AP” “Oh Harry,” she sighed. “If you’ve found a Time-Turner and you’ve done what I think you might be doing, I just hope nothing goes wrong. Three days is a long time not to slip up.” Then, she opened the ledger and began to read. * Harry trudged up the hill with an air of expectancy. He was thrilled that he had already met one of his ancestors and the anticipation of meeting another spurred him upward. He crested the hill and found himself facing a large, rectangular building with a flat roof. There was a door at the short end closest to Harry. On an adjacent long wall the main shed doors that opened onto an empty, outdoor holding pen. Harry walked through the door on the end, stepping cautiously into the building. The air was heavy with the scent of old hay and the distinct odour of wet wool. “May I help you?” a voice asked from the opposite end of the shed. “Yes, I’m looking for Mr Herry Potter,” Harry told him. “I was told he was here.” “I’m Herry Potter,” the man said, coming closer. He wore knee-high boots with his trousers tucked into them and a white shirt under a tweed suit coat that had seen better days. His black hair was somewhat messy and streaked with grey. “What can I do for you?” It took about ten seconds for Harry to find his voice. “I, er, I–I’m looking for a job. I was told at the pub in Peebles that you might be hiring,” he finally managed to stutter. Mr Potter smiled. “I put the word out a few days ago that I was looking for help. I’m glad you stopped in. Have you worked on a sheep farm before?” he asked, looking Harry up and down. “A strapping lad like yourself should have some experience, I’d wager.” Harry shook his head. “This is my first summer in the country. I was raised near London,” he answered, “so I don’t have any farming experience at all.” Mr Potter shrugged. “What I need you for is simple enough. What I need is muscle and it looks like you have a few of those on you. Go up to the house and leave your bundle with my wife and tell her I’m paying you fifteen shillings a day. We have nearly a thousand sheep to wash in the next two days and your help is appreciated. When you’re done at the house, come back here and I’ll introduce you to the other men.” Harry smiled. “Thank you for hiring me, sir. I’ll be back shortly. Which way is the house?” he asked. Mr Potter told him and Harry nearly ran down the hill, anticipation at meeting Amelia Potter so soon hastening his footsteps. He arrived at the farmhouse door puffing like a steam engine and it took several minutes of standing in the shade of the barn to catch his breath. Once he could speak, he knocked on the back door and waited for it to be opened. Amelia Potter was a short, round woman with chestnut brown hair tied back in a severe bun that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall. Her eyes were a cornflower blue colour and she smiled at him inquiringly. “May I help you?” she asked, her accent thick and pleasing. “I’m Harry James,” he said immediately. “Mr Potter has hired me to help him wash the sheep. He told me to tell you he’s paying me fifteen shillings a day and that I’m to leave my bundle with you. I’ll be staying the night.” “Very well, Mr James. The hired hands sleep in the barn at this time of year. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping and then we both need to get to work,” she said. “You can come through the kitchen.” She led the way through the kitchen that smelled deliciously of baking bread and into the barn. At the far end, she paused and pointed to a straw mattress laying on the ground. “You’ll sleep here for the next two nights. We’re paying you only half what the other three hands are getting because you’re going to eat the other half of your wages.” Harry smiled at her. “That’s perfectly all right, ma’am. I appreciate a dry place to sleep,” he told her sincerely as he dropped his canvass sack on the bed. She nodded and turned back towards the kitchen. Harry followed her and was about to leave the kitchen when she called him back. “Mr James, would you please take these canteens of water with you? I need to keep an eye on the baking.” Harry took the six canteens she held and hastened back to the sheep shed. “Excellent, Mr James,” called Mr Potter. “We’re just about ready.” Several men walked into the shed through the open doors. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Harry James. Mr James, this is Seth Ellis, Robert McKnight, Peter Sherman and my nephew, Cameron Potter. Cameron, you and Mr James will be working together herding the sheep out of the stream once they’re clean. Observe Seth and Robert today because you’ll be taking your turn washing the sheep tomorrow. Peter and I will be working with the dogs to herd the sheep into the water.” Harry nodded, glancing uncertainly at Cameron. “What are we supposed to do?” he asked in an undertone as the group headed toward the pasture and the flock of dirty sheep. “It’s pretty easy,” Cameron said. “Seth and Robert have the hard job today. There’s a specific technique to getting the dirt out of the fleece. Once a ewe is clean, they’ll send her up the bank to us. We just have to make sure she gets into the pen. If she bolts, one of us will have to chase after her.” “Does that happen often?” Harry asked. “No, because the sheep want to get to dry land quickly and back to the flock. Some of them are as bad as old ladies with all the complaining they seem to do.” Harry chuckled at the image. By now, the men had reached a pen erected at the top of the pasture. It was filled with ewes with black faces and legs, curving horns and an abundance of grey wool. Harry supposed the fleece would be white if the sheep weren’t so dirty. His eyes followed the fence line down to the water. It stopped on the near bank and then resumed on the opposite, somewhat stony, side of the burn and continued up the next hill to a large, empty pen at the top. At the moment, the water downstream of the pens was clear and he could see down to the bottom of the stream; later, he supposed, the downstream water would be rather cloudy. “Come on, Harry, time to get to work. Uncle Herry is ready to send in the first sheep,” Cameron called from the opposite side of the burn. Harry joined him just as Mr Potter sent the first of many sheep into the water. The process was fascinating to watch. Some of the sheep were reluctant to get wet, so Mr Potter called “walk on” and his sheepdog would bark and snap at the ewe’s heels until she entered the water. Then, Seth or Robert would grab the ewe by the horns and proceed to swing her back and forth, sometimes rubbing the animal vigorously to dislodge any debris stuck in the wool. Once she was clean, the men carried the ewe to shallower water and pressed the water out of the wool with their forearms. The sheep was then released and Harry and Cameron took turns herding the wet sheep up the bank and into the next pen to dry in the sun. The last sheep of the morning ran, bleating, after her flock mates just before noon. Harry took a swig from his canteen and asked Cameron, “How many are in there?” “I’d wager about two-fifty,” Cameron said, eyeing the milling sheep. “We’ll do that many this afternoon and another five hundred tomorrow, if the weather holds.” He beckoned with his hand. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s go see what Aunt Amelia has made for us.” Lunch was served at a long table in the barnyard. Seth and Robert disappeared into the barn before they ate and came back wearing dry clothes. The group dined on a hearty pork stew, homemade bread, beer or water and apple pie. The older men seemed to gravitate to each other, so Harry gladly conversed with Cameron. He learned that the other boy was seventeen and would enter his last year at school in the fall. “When does school start for you?” Harry asked. “September first, no matter what day of the week it is because I go to a specialized boarding school. Lessons start the next day,” Cameron explained and Harry suddenly realized that his grandfather was a Hogwarts seventh year! “Isn’t it a little early for school to be getting out?” Harry asked. “I didn’t leave school last year until nearly July.” Cameron looked a bit sheepish as he said, “Normally, that’s when my school gets out for the summer, too. This year it was different: The last two months of school were cancelled because the… erm, the animal… animal husbandry teacher was killed when one of the herds stampeded. Several students were injured while trying to rescue him. There was talk of not offering husbandry classes next year before the train took us back to London. I hope another teacher can be found. It would be a shame not to have the classes because so many of my classmates come from rural areas.” He let this news sink in for a bit and then asked, “What about you?” “I finished school last year,” Harry lied hastily. “I’ve taken a year off to see England and Scotland before I settle down in a job.” “Aren’t you afraid you’ll forget what you’ve learned?” Harry shook his head. “I go back home once a month to review and plan my next adventure. I don’t leave until my parents are satisfied I’m still retaining my knowledge of the subject I’ve revised. Sometimes I’m home for only a few days, other times, I’m home for a week, depending on how much I’ve forgotten,” he said, smiling at his own inventiveness. The truth was, he hadn’t opened a textbook since Dumbledore’s funeral. Changing the subject, he asked, “So what will you do once you’ve left school?” “I’ll probably apply for a job with the Ministry,” Cameron said vaguely. “I’m thinking of going into politics. My goal is to run for Minister some day after spending time in various departments so that I can learn what the biggest issues are.” “You’re ambitious,” commented Harry with a grin. “Which departments are you thinking of working in?” Cameron suddenly clammed up, sputtering that he hadn’t thought about that yet, and Harry realized that his grandfather thought Harry was a Muggle. Instead of pursuing the previous subject, he asked instead, “Why are you working for your uncle this summer?” The other boy relaxed a bit. “My parents have gone to the Continent and gave me the option of coming here or going with them. I hadn’t seen Uncle Herry and Aunt Amelia in several years and spending the summer outdoors was much more appealing than dressing up in a high, starched collar every day.” By the time he finished, Cameron was smiling. “I’m going to inherit the farm someday because my aunt and uncle don’t have any children.” Harry frowned. “How come they don’t have children?” he asked. At Cameron’s own scowl, he hastily added, “You don’t have to answer that if you think I’m prying.” Cameron shook his head. “It’s a sore subject, Harry. Two children were born in the farmhouse several years before I was born. The first was a girl who didn’t live past infancy. The second was a boy. I’m told I met him when he was seven and I was two, but I don’t remember. His name was James Robert Potter; his parents named him to honour my father who carries the same name. The story goes that Little Jimmy, as he was called, loved to play in the hay loft and one wet afternoon, about a year after I met him, he was playing up there and fell to the barn floor. He was gravely injured and died within hours of his fall. Uncle Herry and Aunt Amelia didn’t have the heart to try for more children after that, so they fixed it that upon their deaths, I’ll get the farm. Because of that, I wanted to learn their craft this summer so that I’ll have a vocation to fall back on if I don’t succeed in politics.” Harry was thoughtful for a few minutes following this recitation. Finally, he said, “I’m glad you’re getting to know your aunt and uncle and how they make their living. It’s good to know where you belong in the world.” It was Cameron’s turn to frown. “Why do you say that like you don’t know where you belong?” he asked. “To tell the truth, I really don’t know where I belong sometimes,” Harry admitted. “My mother’s sister hates my mother so much that she won’t speak to her, mostly because of who she married. My father is a good man, but my Aunt Petunia puts him down whenever she can, or at least she did when I was younger. My father’s parents died shortly before I was born, so I never knew them. Sure, my dad has told me about them, but it’s not the same as interacting with them. Do you see what I’m getting at?” Cameron nodded. “I do,” he said softly. He glanced up at the men and suddenly scrambled to his feet. “Time to go back to work. I think Uncle Herry and Peter will be washing the sheep this time.” Harry grinned. “And tomorrow we get to try our hands at it,” he said. Cameron chuckled. “It’s harder than it looks.” |
| Reviews 33 |
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