Chapter One
Hogwarts: 1999
People say that the unexpected happens at the most irrelevant times.
To say the least this was one of them.
KA-BOOM
A fragment of the Hogwarts left tower broke off, crumbling like dough and plummeted to the ground, digging a huge crevice a few feet from Harry and Draco, whom were running for their lives.
Screams used to bother Harry, people crying for mercy as Death Eaters ended their lives with one clean sweep. Now it was apart of life. Violence replaced logic, revenge replaced love. Everyone became emotionless to survive. Harry didn't recognise himself anymore.
Draco's left arm grabbed the hem of Harry's moth eaten robs and hurled him to the right, their backs slammed against the stone pillars, shielding them from a curse cast by one of the Death Eaters at the other end of the hall.
War gave everyone scars. It caused Draco to lose his right eye, instead of his cold grey eyes his right was a wash white with no iris or pupil. Draco preferred to cover his right eye with an eye patch. Harry used to joke and tease him, threatening to sow the Gryffindor emblem on his patch one day.
Harry sighed, looking at the patch in question, and then veered over to Darco's haggard completion, messy snow blonde hair and simple attire. Such objects caused Harry to remember the most peculiar moments in his life. He often did this ever since they came up with a solution to win the war.
They had lost so much. Harry scoffed at that thought, dodging curses and green beams of death in the process as they continued to sprint down the hallway. Such a callous word- loss- to describe the magnitude of how much the world had lost.
Since Draco couldn't see to his right Harry often pulled him back, grabbing onto Draco's shoulder he pulled him back just in time to avoid a body bind curse. Harry wished he could hurl out a curse or two, anything to protect the only person left that he knew but he couldn't. He couldn't do a lot of things anymore.
A nameless female auror sprinted past the duo throwing a curse at a death eater off in the distance who was torturing children, only to be killed as well. Her scream was not heard but Harry could see the life drift from her frozen face, her body falling…falling like countless others. He hated that word, falling; it reminded him of many things he would rather forget.
Many lives were used in the name of this war, both muggle and magic alike.
Looking back Harry couldn't believe that he had hoped to win against Lord Voldemort.
"Get your head into gear," Draco harshly whispered in his ear while he looked left and right. With his wand in front of him Draco moved forward, pulling Harry along.
That was another thing. He had lost his ability to use magic two years ago.
It was after Hermione died. Harry just turned seventeen. Ron never forgave himself for what had happened, neither did he. Something inside Harry snapped when she died. He couldn't concentrate; he couldn't find the location of the enemy base, not with her help.
He vaguely remembered Remus saying to him that they all lose their will to use magic when someone close to them had died. It was after six months that they started to panic and then London was attacked. The Muggle world was exposed to Voldemort's wrath and their chosen one was powerless to stop it.
If it wasn't for Draco he'd be dead.
If he was told three years ago that he'd end up on the battle field, fighting along side his best friend Draco he would probably laugh in that person's face.
He wanted to kill him after six year, right after Dumbledore's funeral. He was responsible, alongside Snape for his death.
Draco pulled Harry into an abandoned classroom, placing a locking charm on the door, they ducked under overturned charred tables and chairs as two Death Eaters passed, their long robes billowing and skull masks glistening red. Harry wished he had his revolver on him but he lost it in the river days ago.
He would've loved to vent his anger and pump a few rounds in some Death Eater scum.
He placed his hand in his left jean pocket, underneath his robe and touched a worn blue head scarf Hermione always wore and felt the anger subside.
It was after Hermione's death that Harry began to realise that he was wrong about Draco. He was just like him in more ways than one, both raised in loveless households. One wanting to please his father in order to protect his mother; the other wishing he knew them. It was because of Hermione that he forgave Draco, it wasn't easy, and he didn't trust Draco for a long while when he joined the Order of the Phoenix.
It was after Ron's death that Draco became his friend.
Two years worth of running, fighting and working with Snape and Draco resulted in the current battle over Hogwarts and two nineteen year olds cooped up in an old dilapidated classroom with one solution. Le voyage de temps- a complex potion that was founded in 1876 by Monsieur Chirac De Noir.
It meant travel of time, sending one self back to the past. It was a very complex potion and many have tried and failed. Harry didn't want to think about his odds at succeeding…however Snape said only he was capable….whatever that meant….
Draco pulled out a long test tube with an ivory cork, filled with violet liquid and black swirls. He handed it to Harry. "Here, you know what to do. You know the risks just as Snape told me. Travelling back through time is dangerous. Some events are meant to occur, remember that Harry. Some things can not change,"
Harry nodded, although his heart never believed in Snape's words. He had to risk it, even without his powers he would have his friends back and a warning for what might occur in the future.
"You know the drill, say the words, think of the time in which you want to go back to. Focus and…"
KA-BOOM
The explosion sounded close and he could hear familiar voices of his comrades in battle.
He began to move from his crouched position but Draco protested.
"You sit here, you can't do shit. Let me be the savoir for once Potty," He drawled in his familiar remarks. This was probably the last time he would see Draco. His heart sank; another person close to him was going to…
"Hey, don't get sappy on me-"The screams gurgled closer to the classroom, taunts from the death Eaters became louder and drawn out, coaxing them to come out. They were either found or some Death Eater was on a killing high.
"But-"
Draco enveloped him in a bear hug, patting him on the back as he did this. "You've been the best friend and brother that a Malfoy could ever have," He whispered. He drew back, his wand high in the air he opened the door to the hell and possible his death.
"See you," Harry said, he didn't know what else to say. His brother, his friend and comrade in arms was leaving. He wasn't good at expressing stuff like this but somehow Draco understood and simply nodded before closing the door.
Looking down at the potion grasped in his hands he wondered why Snape, out of all people suggested that he should be the one to go back. The potion required blood and magic. He didn't have any magic.
"You're just as thick as your father Potter. Magic is not just in your blood it's in your soul and as long as you breathe you are a wizard despite what others say! You just lack faith."
That was the last thing Snape said to him before he too had died.
Uncorking the vial Harry whispered.
"I call on Fates. Ever knowing and wise." He swirled the contents inside three times.
The door to the classroom began to splinter, a loud drumming sound vibrated through the door. Someone was trying to get through.
No point in worrying, he was going to die either way. He continued.
"Send my soul back to a place my memories crave. Send me back…" part of him felt ridiculous, kneeling on the dusted floor and whispering nonsense that sounded like his divination textbook but he had to have faith. He needed to go back to his sixth year at Hogwarts. He needed Hermione
Thinking about Hermione made him think about the time they flew across Hogwarts on the back of a hippogriff. He could remember the feeling of riffling through the soft and yet corse feathers of the beast, Hermione's soft hand closed around his as he lead them to the Tower to save his godfather. Her sweet feminie smell of her hair, her body warmth pressed against his, her presence always calmed him.
He drew back his head and sculled the potion. He gagged as the potion burned his insides. He could picture tiny acid ants eating away his body. The potion was poisonous. He would be dead in less than thirty seconds but it was needed if his soul was to revert back.
His eyes were wide open, hands across his throat in vain attempt of cooling it. The door burst open and the hazy figure of an unknown Death Eater stalked towards him haunted his thoughts as his body became limp, he was falling in nothingness. He hated falling.
* * * * * *
Leaky Caldron: London 1993
The first thing he felt was soft blankets enveloping him in a hug. It was eerie silent and a low hoot irritated his ears.
Cracking open his eyes he found himself somewhere unexpected. At the leaky cauldron hotel room just like the one he stayed in before his 3rd year at Hogwarts. Looking down at his scrawny body and thin nimble fingers panic erupted. He was thirteen. Not sixteen.
The low hoot came from his familiar; Hedwig. Hedwig! His mind screamed, scrabbling over the blankets to get over to his friend he fell to the floor, his feet still imprisoned in blankets and head now throbbing.
Winching, he pulled his feet out and groped for his glasses on the bed side table. Once on, he opened his eyes to see his long-lost friend Hedwig squinting at him in confusion, hooting a greeting she flapped her wings before nodding off to sleep.
He bit his lower lip as he touched the crown of Hedwig, feathers swept over his shaking fingers as he gazed upon his faithful owl that died, protecting him.
"First thing I'm going to do is buy you a bigger cage and some treats…"he added. "The good kind." Drawing back his hand he scratched his throat, irked by the sound of it; boyish almost.
That's because you're thirteen, idiot -he could hear Draco laughing at him. Out of all the things he could do to stuff up this was one of them. He was supposed to be at the beginning of sixth year, just in time to prevent Snape from taking the unbreakable vow and saving the world from its doomed fate.
He showered for a long time and for the first time in ages. The warm fountain swirled around his body and he laughed at the joy of such a simple thing could bring in his life. After getting dressed in a pair of Dudley's pants that sagged around his slim waist (he used an old piece of rope to secure the pants from falling down) a red shirt that managed to fit his frame and a long grey jacket he ambled down the crooked staircase, lost in his thoughts on how to solve this when two people brought his world to a complete stop.
His breath caught in this throat at the sight of his two best friends arguing. Hermione was holding a fuzzy animal (must be crookshanks) while Ron was yelling at her to keep that blasted cat from Scabbers.
Scabbers, Harry thought, Peter Pettigrew. It had been a very long time since he thought about his Hogwarts years. Most of it he blacked out, he couldn't handle remembering the innocent times. The times in which he would hang out with Hermione and Ron, fight over the simple things.
She looked very young, younger than he remembered and yet she wasn't plain. Far from it. But the sight of her made him lose his balance and fall down the last leg of the staircase, causing Ron and Hermione to stop their bickering mid-way and watch as Harry fall to the pebble paved floor.
"HARRY!" Hermione shouted, dropping her new pet in the progress and scrambled to his side. The touch of her skin burned him, he wasn't ready for this…he wasn't and yet he couldn't help by envelope Hermione into a hug, her bushy hair covering his face and he almost cried at the feelings that erupted inside him from hugging his best friend. She was alive, he could breathe easy. Yes, he had a minor sat back (to put it mildly) but he could handle it because Hermione was here.
"Alright mate?" Ron asked. Harry whipped his tear-streaked face to his best-friend. Harry smiled. "Just a bad dream and it's not everyday that you fall on your butt,"
Ron laughed, shaking his head. "Bloody hell! Seriously though I'm glad you're here. Hermione's cat -"
Harry got up, with Hermione's assistance and brushed himself off. Hermione picked up Crookshanks and began stroking it.
"Cats are graceful creatures Ron------" Hermione whispered under her breath, she always did this when she was angry. Harry bit his lower lip, his mind still in overdrive.
Ron and Hermione were arguing again. He shook his head. Sooner or later they were going to realise that they are made for each other---a lot----- the thought made him smile, it almost made his heart flutter uneasily…and during the day he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
__
It felt weird to be in black robes that weren't moth eaten or smothered in dirt, grime, and blood. Scratching his messy black hair his emerald eyes gazed out at the scenery. Even though it was howling with rain and it seemed depressing to everyone else it was tranquil in Harry's eyes. He felt like a child again. Seeing the water stream across the countryside was heaven. He was so used to seeing black ash, decomposed remains of wildlife and arid barrens----- this was a welcome change.
Sitting opposite was the aloof professor Lupin. Harry inwardly smiled at seeing his wolfish friend and father figure.
Sirius, His heart twinged. 3rd year was the year he met Sirius! He wasn't dead!
He gasped, covering his gleaming face with a cough. How could he forget that his godfather was alive? It was all coming back. He was thirteen years old when Sirius escaped Azkaban and he and Hermione saved him, riding back on a hippogriff.
Which explains why I'm here, he suddenly realised. He was thinking about riding on the hippogriff and the potion took him to this place.
Hermione was busily reading her textbooks. She would receive the time turner when they arrive at Hogwarts. Third year was especially hard on her, going back and forth in time in order to learn. I was such a git back then, must remember to be nice to her this time around.
The train carriage suddenly jolted to an abrupt stop. The sound of the rain hurdling down like pin's dropping filled the room. Ron was blabbering as it went dark,
"Ouch, Ron!" Hermione scolded him in the darkness. `"That was my foot,"
This is when the dementors came, Harry thought, memories of their scrawny skeleton forms sweeping through flashed before him….he could almost see their shadowy figures, their bony fingers over their faces, sucking out energy from helpless beings…
He couldn't perform a patronus, even if he wanted to. He had to tell them how to perform it or else. He jilted himself. This wasn't going to work if he didn't have any powers.
The door was ajar and the familiar skeleton hand clutching the door, slid it open, Harry was face to face with the faceless dementor, moth-eaten robs flowing around, white vapour left his mouth as he felt the life from within faze out . He heard a woman screaming. Only this time, it wasn't just his mother; it was Hermione, Professor Dumbledore, and countless others. He saw all their deaths in a funnel of blurred images before blacking out.
_ _
He found himself in the far back of the Burrow, watching from a nearby tree as Hermione fed Buckbeak a bundle of dead ferrets they had caught earlier. It was a couple of days before the wedding and Hagrid left to spend time with Gawp. Harry just stood there, watching as Hermione hugged the creature like a child.
He walked a bit closer, bowing, and then waiting for Buckbeak to nod in approval. Once he did Harry stood along Hermione and joined in ruffling his feathers.
He screwed up big time with her this year. He felt lower than scum and once again Hermione was right about many things.
"I'm sorry Hermione," He whispered, gliding his hand over to hers in the process. He turned and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry about so many things…and I…"
"Shhh," Hermione gave his hand a quick squeeze before letting go only to warp her arms around him.
"Harry??" A voice coxed him out from his dream "Harry??"
He opened his eyes to find himself sprawled on the floor with Hermione and Ron cowering over him. Harry moved back up a bit, his head full of lead and was handed a piece of chocolate by Professor Lupin.
"Eat this," Lupin instructed. "It's chocolate,"
He did what he was told and sat there, eating a mouthful of chocolate. He hated the after-affects of dementors. How was he going to cope at school without his powers? He couldn't do this alone. Yet, he didn't want to tell anyone just yet. So he would deal with everything when the time came.
Professor Lupin left, closing the door behind him and Harry mulled over his upcoming year at Hogwarts with fear. He would face people who were once friends, now foes and vice versa. Yet, that didn't bother him more than the prospect of meeting another father-figure in his life whose death shook him off the rails. Professor Dumbledore.
_ _ _
-->