"What year is it?" he croaked after a moment.
"It is June 28th, 1935," Dumbledore informed him. "I suspect this was designed to send you back six decades, but as I said, and though I am no expert in the field, it is very imperfect. It has sent you back an extra year. Quite the feat, I must say."
Harry could only rub his eyes.
This must be a bad dream. There was no other explanation for this.
"But… this can't be right," he denied. "Can't you send me back?"
Dumbledore offered him a sympathetic smile.
"Have you heard of a time-turner that can send your forward in time?" he asked.
Harry hadn't, and he remembered questioning Hermione about that. He couldn't remember her exact explanation, but she had been very clear that such a thing had not been achieved.
If it hadn't been done where he came from, then it certainly hadn't here.
He felt his world crumbling around him, and his thoughts turned to Sirius, to Ron, Hermione, and everyone else.
What had he done?
"I think perhaps a calming draught is in need," Dumbledore declared as he took Harry by the shoulders and began leading him from the room.
Harry did not even attempt to resist.
His mind was awash with the horror of what had happened, his thoughts frantic and unclear.
It wasn't until he was seated on a bed and a goblet was being placed in his hands that he was aware they had arrived in the Hospital Wing.
"Drink," Dumbledore urged. "It will help with the shock."
Mechanically, Harry did so, and though he became somewhat calmer, the worry was still there.
What was he going to do?
He could not even begin to consider that. He was so far out of his depth here that he did not know where to begin.
"Try not to worry, Harry," Dumbledore said comfortingly. "If something can be done, rest assured, it will be."
Although it was said with the best intentions, Harry felt little of the comfort Dumbledore attempted to instil within him. How could he when he found himself in such a situation?
"What am I going to do?" he asked.
Dumbledore shared a questioning look with his colleague.
"We will figure it out," Armando replied.
Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"This is not something we have had to deal with before, but we will do what is best for you," he assured the teen, "but first, you seem to recognise me when I introduced myself. Have we met?"
Harry snorted and offered the man a nod.
"You were my headmaster here."
Dumbledore appeared to be taken aback by the revelation but did not press the issue.
"For now, I do not think it wise for you to divulge too much to us. What you are experiencing is unprecedented and we do not know what effect it could have. Without going into specific details, why did you use the time-turner?"
"Should we not be asking how he ended up with it in the first place?" Armando broke in.
Dumbledore shook his head.
"No, that could involve details we should not be privy to. Harry here was evidently trying to achieve something from using it, however. Is the use of time-turners less regulated where you're from?"
Harry shrugged.
"They are," he sighed. "I was trying to save my godfather. He was killed at the min…"
Armando cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"No specifics, please," he reminded Harry. "Your godfather was killed recently?"
Harry swallowed and nodded.
"And you do not have any other family?"
"No, my parents were murdered when I was a baby. I live with my muggle relatives during the summer."
"Good grief," Armando gasped, "what on earth is going on in your life? No, don't answer that."
"Too many things," Harry mumbled cryptically.
"Well, for as long as you are here, I would suggest you take up residence in Gryffindor Tower. You are familiar with it, and we will figure out what can be done regarding your situation," Dumbledore assured him. "Any objections, Armando?"
The older man shook his head.
"Oh, this is the current headmaster of the school, Armando Dippet," Dumbledore explained.
"I've seen your portrait in the headmaster's office," Harry said to the man almost apologetically.
Armando chuckled.
"I am already an old man. I do not expect to live for the next sixty years, Mr Potter," he finished with a frown. "Hmm, Potter? You're certain your father isn't either William or Charlus? You do look very much like them."
Harry shook his head.
"My father's name was James, and my mother was a muggleborn."
"Say no more," Dippet urged. "I think we can safely say that you are related to them somehow. Another thing for us to look in to, but I think getting you fed and then some rest will do you the world of good. Morgana?" he called.
An old lady with greying hair pulled back into a tight bun emerged from the office.
"Could you give this young man the once over? He has had a rather trying series of events this evening to say the least."
"Of course, Headmaster," the woman answered formally, drawing her wand as she approached.
"This is just a precautionary measure," Dippet explained. "We will give you your privacy. I think it best if you remain under Morgana's care for the night. Tomorrow, we will try to understand the situation a little more and see what can be done."
He too was trying to keep Harry calm, but the teen was feeling anything but.
In the space of only a few hours, he had lost Sirius, he had been possessed by Voldemort, and he had somehow travelled more than sixty years into the past. How could this get any worse.
Harry shook his head.
With his luck, things could always be worse.
Nonetheless, he nodded and Dippet gave him a smile of encouragement.
"Should you need anything, Morgana is well-equipped to help you. She is an excellent healer, and we are fortunate to have her."
With that, the two men left the Hospital Wing, Dumbledore offering him a final questioning look before he did so.
"Okay, young man, my name is Madame Morgana. Before we begin, do you have any allergies or any medical conditions I should be aware of?"
The woman was candid and to the point, very much like Madame Pomfrey. Perhaps it was the way of all healers?
"No," Harry answered uncertainly.
He didn't think he had any allergies or medical conditions, but he couldn't be sure. Pomfrey had never asked those questions.
"So, we will need to give you a more extensive check," the woman muttered as she scratched away with a quill. "Have you never been tested for allergies?"