Title: Retrograde

Author: Knife Hand

Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated

Spoilers: Nothing Specific, general for first few books.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione, or Luna, or Ginny, or Cho, or... I would buy them all but I am broke.

Summary: Harry's trial before fifth year goes differently because someone knows more than they should about Harry. Time Travel Fic.

A/N: I have had an anonymous review complaining how it makes no sense people insist that the timeline must be maintained in time travel fics. In most circumstances I agree when it is someone in the past insisting on it but in this fic it was Amelia from the 'current time' insisting it. She is trying to retain the integrity of the timeline that she remembers, and she remembers a past with Harry in it. Also for maintaining the timeline, which they think is impossible, look up 'Temporal Causality Paradox'.

Harry woke up in the Leaky Cauldron and looked out the window into Muggle London in the dawn light and it finally started to sink in that he really was back in 1965, although part of him was still half expecting the Weasley Twins to jump out and declare it a prank. The skyline was different, without a number of the iconic buildings that had been built in the last few years, from Harry's point of view, and all the cars were sixties or earlier models.

Harry spent the morning looking through the documents for William Harold Tenor. The documents were an interesting parallel to his own life, which made a kind of sense. Orphaned at a young age and taken in by his relatives but William had been emancipated when his relatives had died a few months prior. William had been trained in a small private magical boarding school that had recently closed due to lack of funds. The documents were detailed and had enough points of commonality with his own life that he did not have to remember lies about every aspect of his life.

After four hours of reviewing the documents, and several moments of loss when he looked up and noticed that Hedwig was not there, Harry's stomach rumbled loudly enough that he got up and went down for an early lunch. There was only a scattering of patrons in the common room so Harry had his choice of table, so he picked one in against a wall but not in a corner because he always checked corners of rooms first whenever he entered a room.

He perused the Daily Prophet as he waited for his order to be fulfilled. The paper confirmed that it was mid July 1965, but other than that there was nothing of interest in there. No mention of Voldemort, though from what little Harry knew the wanker had not really been visible in the sixties, rising to power and prominence in the seventies.

After finishing his meal, Harry spoke to the barkeep, the same woman from the previous day and arranged to keep the room until September first, paying for it with some of the coins from the purse that had been in the envelope. When he arrived in his room, Harry went to the desk, put the A4 envelope on the table face down and began to practice a signature for William Tenor. After two hours and the use of both sides of the envelope, he had a signature he was happy with and filled in the Hogwarts transfer forms to be sent to the Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts, whose name Harry did not recognise. It was not McGonagall yet but from what he remembered she would be Head of Transfiguration and possibly Gryffindor by now, with Dumbledore still as Headmaster in this time.

Once the forms were completed and bundled up with William Tenor's school records, Harry went down out of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley, getting the female Barkeep, called Arya, to open the portal for him. In the early afternoon the Alley was fairly packed, but here he was standing in the open and no one was looking at him. It was that moment, looking as himself and standing in the middle of the Alley completely unrecognised and unremarked upon that finally drove home that this was not some kind of elaborate prank, silencing that slight nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Even the Weasley Twins could not pull this off.

With a sigh, Harry made his first stop into the Owl Post Office to send his documents of transfer to Hogwarts. The cacophony of Owls made him miss Hedwig even more so he posted his package and got out of there as soon as possible. He surveyed the Alley and his eyes landed on Ollivander's which reminded him that he needed a Wand as Director Bones had not given his own Wand back after the trail. He almost started to walk to the Wand Shop when he stopped himself. He could not go to Ollivander's. Firstly, the slightly creepy old man would remember him and it could cause problems when he went there for his Wand in 1991. Also, there was the chance he would be matched with his Holly and Phoenix Wand, which needed to be there when he was 11, in twenty-six years.

After half an hour searching the Alley, and going further into the Alley than he ever had before, he found another store that simply had a sign with 'Wands' written on it. The shop was relatively small and well kept, with nothing of the claustrophobic and creepy vibe of Ollivander's. There were a number of well-kept shelves with pigeon holes for wands, but no more than fifty in total as opposed to the hundreds kept by Ollivander, with about one tenth being empty. Behind the counter was a middle aged man who simply looked up from his paper and smiled at Harry.

"I suppose you are looking for a Wand?" the clerk said. "Be kind of silly being in here otherwise."

"Yes." Harry replied. "My name is William Tenor. I accidently broke my old wand."

"Got to ask, always do." The Clerk began.

"Why did I not go to that wand shop down near the entrance to the Alley?" Harry finished, getting a nod. "Have you seen how creepy that guy is? Sneaking up on you."

"That's what half our customers say." The clerk said, getting up from his chair and going to the stacks. "The other half usually say they either broke or grew out of their wand and were to afraid he would yell at them if they went back. The old man loves his wands, but does not realise that sometimes people change and sometimes more than one wand is suited to a Wizard."

As he talked the clerk collected up all of the wands from the stacks and began to lay them out on the long counter with quick and efficient motions, taking the lids off each case and putting the case inside the lid before laying it on the counter.

"He does his little show and starts randomly picking wands until he finds one that gets any kind of reaction and sells that one." The clerk said. "Got to warn you before we start, Ollivander gets a bigger subsidy per wand than we do from the Ministry, so ours are a bit more expensive. Ours also have a greater range of cores and woods than he does. I mean imagine only using three types of core? Honestly."

"I don't care about the money. So how do you do this?" Harry asked.

"First you simply run your hand over the wands touching them with your fingertips." The clerk said. "That will give us all the ones you have any kind of affinity with and then we narrow it down from there."

Harry nodded and ran his fingertips over the forty-six wands on the counter. He got a warm feeling from five of them, which he pointed out to the clerk. The clerk packed up and returned the others to their shelves before he got Harry to pick up the remaining five wands and feel for something more than just warmth. Two of the wands seemed to vibrate softly in his hand where the other three did not. Those three were returned to the shelves.

"Now when you pick them up, just open yourself. Don't try and magic, just try to feel." The clerk said.

Harry picked up the first of the two wands and opened himself up to it. It tried to sing to him but it felt off key and not quite right, so he put it down and tried the other. This one sang a beautiful song to him, a song he felt only he could understand.

"That one." Harry said.

"That's a good wand, but it tells a story. Juniper wood and the horn of a Horned Serpent. Eleven and a half inches. Juniper wood is good for one on a long and uncertain journey, so long as you stay true to yourself. A Horned Serpent core can be powerful, if you have the talent to heed its warnings." The clerk explained. "That will be nine Galleons."

Harry nodded, paid the clerk and picked up his new wand and walked out. It felt as good in his hand as his Holy and Phoenix wand ever did. Also the feeling that it had been singing so only he could understand made more sense. It core was a serpent. It was singing in Parsletounge.

He strolled down the street for the first time really letting the experience of being free to browse envelop him. Sure, before third year he had spent a few weeks in the Leaky Cauldron but he had not been free to go anywhere, hell he did not even have to buy his school supplies because Minister Fudge had arranged for them on his behalf. Whenever he went shopping for supplies with the Weasleys it was… chaos. Pulled from store to store, splitting up and joining back up with no rhyme or reason. Even his First Year with Hagrid had been get his gear and go.

He found a number of fascinating shops that he had never known existed. One was the magical equivalent of an 'Op Shop' full of second hand bits and pieces that Harry spent almost an hour looking through. Another was a memorabilia shop, with replicas of the Wands, Quidditch Armour and even Battle Armour and Weapons of famous Witches and Wizards. After a fun afternoon, he made his way back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

His eyes landed on Eylops Owl Emporium and he pulled them painfully away. He missed Hedwig. She had been the first one he could remember who gave him love and affection without asking for anything in return. He vowed to himself that he would never get another Owl than Hedwig.

Moving through the Leaky Cauldron's common room, he returned to his room and dropped down on the bed, deciding he did not want to eat dinner that evening. Almost a month and a half till the Howards Express, if the school decided to accept his transfer which he had a feeling they would. He half wondered why he was even bothering going back to Hogwarts given his situation, but he still needed an education. Maybe this was his chance to really knuckle down and work on his education rather than having to worry about a madman trying to kill him. No one here knew who he was, so he wasn't a target. And besides, Hogwarts was the closest thing he had to a home… in either timeline.