A Life Twice Lived by TheColdTurkey

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 07/07/2007
Last Updated: 08/12/2007
Status: In Progress

Harry has finally fulfilled his destiny, but at a cost far too great to deal with. Using an
ancient goblin artifact and a friend's last sacrifice, he travels back in time to set things
right, not only for himself but for everyone else as well.




1. Prologue
-----------

A/N: This is a repost of another story under the same title at fanfiction.net. That story is
more than likely abandoned, as all the plot ideas will be transferred to the new version here. The
primary change is the H/Hr pairing, but there are the precursors to a few other changes that will
be included (relatively massive changes, I might say).



Inspiration for this fic comes from S'Tarkan's Harry Potter and the Nightmares of
Futures Past. The beginning of this fic may seem very similar, but will quickly diverge from the
beaten path.



Prologue: Second Chances



Sunlight was a thing that Harry Potter had not known for a long time. It actually seemed that
the world was constantly in a state of gray nowadays. Yet today was a day where the sun made a
welcome appearance, and it crept through the small window in the Hut on the Rock. It was his home,
his last home, his last sanctuary as it were. He internally chuckled at the irony. Here where his
life had truly began, was where his life had come full circle towards.



As had been the case for years since, he instinctively tried to drive out the nightmares that
had plagued him through the night. They had actually been quite minute the previous few nights,
only popping up when he let his guard down. The practice of keeping occulumency shields up for
prolonged periods of time made him used to not really sleeping for prolonged periods of time. It
was often he would go two or three weeks with only a few hours sleep caught here and there when he
knew he could let his guard down. But he'd allowed himself to splurge as it were these last few
days, nightmares be damned. He had earned his rest. After all these years it was over.



After 30 years, the prophecy had finally been fulfilled. Voldemort was gone.



The more Harry allowed himself to think of that, the more it numbed the pain of the thoughts
that came of it. He had won, he had fulfilled Dumbledore's prophecy, but the cost had been
high. Far too high.



The war began at the so-called Battle of Grimmauld. Upon the death of Dumbledore, the Fidelus
Charm that had been cast on the ancient house was rendered null and void. Needless to say, it
didn't take long for Bellatrix Lestrange to remember the location of the ancient Black Family
Home. As such, she and a cadre of Death Eaters attacked the home during Harry's 17th
birthday, catching the Order and Harry's friends off guard. The casualties had been light at
the time, though Neville was left in a catatonic state similar to his parents. Chief among the
casualties had been Ginny Weasley, whom Harry's still felt a strong fraternal love towards even
through the time of years and the survival of romance. Ginny had been killed by Bellatrix herself,
when only she, Harry & Ron had been the last ones standing, trying to allow everyone else to
escape.



Harry had only been partially conscious when he saw Ron arise from next to his fallen
sister's body. He awoke a day later, to find that Ron had dispatched Bellatrix in a fairly
brutal fashion, her body left a burning husk in the back lawn of Grimmauld Place. Their remaining
friends rallied around them and Hogwarts was closed for his seventh year. An underground war was
started with three different factions: The Death Eaters, the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix
acting outside of the Ministry's control.



The war had gone badly in the beginning, due in part to the inaction between the Ministry and
the Order in coordinating attacks. It was a moot point though, as most of the Ministry had been
destroyed by the end of the second year of the 14 year war. The Order had used the now abandoned
Hogwarts school for their HQ, but it was under constant assault. Slowly but surely his friends and
family were killed in the melee.



The Weasley parents had been wiped out by a fire at the Burrow, with Harry powerless to save
them. Bill had died at the Battle of Gringott's after the fall of Hogwarts, defending the
goblins with his last breath. Fred died in a raid on Diagon Alley, George following close behind
due to an overdose of sleeping draught out of depression for his lost twin. Charlie had stuck with
the Order but been killed at the fall of Hogwarts.



Harry's eyes stung as he came to the closest of his friends, the one that had almost caused
him to end it all in a flash. After the Battle of Grimmauld, Ron became increasingly distant,
though he still remained a close friend to everyone. Romantically he had an interest in Luna
Lovegood, though it was short-lived given his complete transformation into a colder person all
around. As a result of this transformation, Hermione Granger had moved closer to Harry in terms of
proximity. As they spent more and more time researching and hunting the Horcruxes together, they
generally realized the attraction that had always existed between the two of them. Three years to
the day after the Battle of Grimmauld, Harry finally confessed his love towards Hermione, feelings
that she reciprocated. They were married in a private ceremony six months later.



Life between the two of them was hardly a picnic. They were constantly on the run, trying to
save whatever they could of wizarding Britain from the clutches of Lord Voldemort and his Death
Eater armies. Dementors had begun to wander the countryside freely. Werewolves multiplied in
numbers, as did the vampires, who joined with Voldemort in his quest for complete destruction. He
no longer sought just dominance over the wizarding world, but complete domination over the
world.



Harry had to fight back tears as his memories came back to the Battle of Hogwarts, when the last
symbol of defiance against Voldemort's reign fell. It was there that they lost many Order
members, including Hermione, struck down by Voldemort himself. Harry had been devastated by the
loss, nearly succumbing to his own desire to see her again in the 4 months of malaise and
inactivity that followed. In a way, he had never even come to grips with her death, still hearing
her voice in his subconscious, filtered with images of her lifeless, ravaged body staring up
blankly into space, her sparkling brown eyes devoid of the light that had once shone behind
them.



Shaking off the memories of everything and fighting back his tears, Harry stalked out of bed,
inadvertently letting out a small yawn. He walked over and grabbed the best set of robes he could
find and headed for the small shower. It wasn't much of a bathroom that the Hunt on the Rock
had, just a small showering area with a small lavatory to match and an even smaller wash basin next
to that. But after days on the run at times, it was nice to have running water, even if it could be
bonechillingly cold at times.



Harry stood under the shower and took a look in the small hand mirror that hung from the head.
He was a right mess, he knew that much. Half his body was covered in scars that would never
disappear, the one on his forehead chief among them. His hair was a complete lost cause, hanging
down into the middle of his back and usually held together by a loose ponytail. It was his eyes
that had changed the most, he internally thought. Gone was the emerald gaze that glistened with
youthful vigor and life, only to be replaced with a duller shade of the color, any sign of a
twinkle absent. He rubbed his chin and made a mental note to shave at the most convenient time,
whenever he could find another blade anyway. He wouldn't risk being discovered by something so
simple as conjuring a razor blade.



He almost laughed at a time when the worst punishment for such a thing would simply be expulsion
from Hogwarts, now it more than likely meant a quick death at the hands of the religious
fundamentalists if you were lucky, or if you were unlucky being locked away in a “detention camp,”
where the Muggle scientists could see what made the wizards tick.



Yes, life had been much simpler back before the muggles knew about magic.



The statue of secrecy had been destroyed about five years earlier as more and more countries
devolved into the Death Eater war that had started in Britain. At first the governments had passed
it off as terrorists, but eventually they came clean.



In a way it had been a blessing in disguise, Harry reminded himself. The muggles hunting wizards
had forced Voldemort to go on the defensive, even if only for a short while, and had allowed the
remainder of the Order of the Phoenix to regroup. They had been close to being completely shattered
five years ago, as there numbers had dwindled to no more than a couple dozen. Since that time they
had been knocked off one by one in the years, months, and days leading up to the final battle.



The final battle hadn't actually been a battle, but more or less a duel between the three
remaining members of the Order and the 5 or 6 members of Tom's inner circle, including Tom
himself. A schism within the Death Eater camp had left Voldemort a shell of his former power, but
Harry knew it would only be a matter of time before Tom was ready to amass more followers and
strike again. It had to be ended when he was at his weakest.



The cost of the final duel had been heartbreaking for Harry. Ron Weasley, his best friend for
the whole of his life that actually amounted to anything, his brother in many respects, had
sacrificed himself, much as everyone else had over the years, by taking a killing curse when Harry
was nearly beaten. The sacrifice helped Harry rally his reserves, and pushed him through the final
volley that finally left the dark wizard scattered to the four winds.



The cost had been great, but it was finally over.



Harry could feel the tears well up in his eyes as it all came back to him in one sudden rush. As
long as he had Voldemort to focus on....vengeance to keep him going, he knew that he could stay
alive. Now...he had nothing.



He idly remembered a story that Remus had told him shortly before the last Marauder's murder
at the hands of one Peter Pettigrew. It was that of a young man who dearly loved his mother,
absolutely adored her. This young man also despised his father, hated him with a vitriolic passion.
When the mother passed away, the young man was unable to shed any tears for some strange reason.
And yet when the father passed away a few years later, he could not control his emotions and fell
down weeping. The moral had been to live a life other than for destruction of the object of
hatred.



It was times like this he really wished he had listened to Remus more closely.



Harry kept the tears from coming out as he focused his mental resolve once more. They might all
be dead. Ron. Ginny. Remus. Neville. Hermione. They might all be dead, but damn it to hell if he
was going to let them die in vain....



He shed more tears when he realized his usual self-talk was no longer applicable.



He resigned himself to sorrow, stepping out of the shower and idly redoing the ponytail in his
hair. He threw on a pair of robes that made the Weasley's old hand me downs top of the line and
climbed up the ladder to where a makeshift kitchen had been set up. Once up the ladder, he gazed
onto the small table and chairs and offered what best could be described as a ghost of a smile at
his only friend left in the world. His sandy brown hair had long since been shaved off for
convenience, and his eyes were almost darker than Harry's, covered by a pronounced shadow at
the edge of the man's face.



Seamus Finnegan had proven to be an adept duelist, far more capable than Harry ever would have
guessed back at Hogwarts. The man survived on pure guts and instinct in duels, and in the interim
he had become a fierce friend to all those who stood opposed to Voldemort. His penchant for healing
spells made him very useful on a battlefield, particularly after Madame Pomfrey had been killed
seven years prior at the final battle of Hogwarts, where Tom had finally destroyed the castle. Only
three things had escaped that battle except for the Order of the Phoenix: the portrait of Albus
Dumbledore, the Sorting Hat, and one of the new Horcrux Tom had created on that day. The hat and
Portrait had become lost over the years, something that added the Harry's heartache, but he
could not let that grip him too greatly at the moment, lest he worry his friend.



Seamus looked up from a book he had been reading and offered a small hello and good morning.
Harry returned it and sat about cooking a small meal of breakfast. They made due with what food
they could scrounge together from a life of crime. Stealing to stave off starvation made one less
impotent to the criminal element, Harry constantly reminded himself. After cooking the few strips
of bacon and grabbing a couple of pieces of bread and toasting them, Harry sat down to what would
likely be his biggest meal of the day. He savored the few bites he had, not noticing every so often
that Seamus would look up and stare at him. When Harry had finished he finally looked at Seamus and
caught one of the man's glances.



“What?” Harry finally asked, his voice slightly hoarse from the magical exhaustion he was still
going through.



“You honestly don't know what day it is,” Seamus asked, his eyebrow raising and an
infectious grin sliding across his face. Harry was puzzled. He had tried not to keep track of days,
especially in the time since everyone died. Struggling he went through his mind. Given the early
rise of the sun he could guess it was summer, and the small telly they watched had talked something
about rain totals for the month of July....



It dawned on him quickly, and he closed out his eyes and sighed. It was July 31st, 2011, his
31st birthday. Seamus smiled again, and Harry couldn't help but match it with one of his own,
though the emotion behind it was relatively empty. They had long ago stopped being genuinely happy,
such things were not in the schedule when constantly being chased down by Death Eaters and the
like.



“Happy birthday Harry,” Seamus said, pulling out his wand. He risked capture by waving it around
a few times and summoning a small cake for the two of them. Harry rolled his eyes at the man's
recklessness, and idly wondered how he had survived.



Why either of them had survived and the others hadn't.



Seamus pulled out a lighter and lit a small candle on the cake. “Go ahead Harry,” Seamus urged
with the grin never really leaving his face, “Make a wish.” Harry leaned forward and deeply
considered it. Though he was beyond superstition at this point, he silently wished for the same
thing he always did whenever he realized it was his birthday: a second chance.



After blowing out the candle he cut the cake in two for Seamus and he. Harry thought the man had
done a bangup job for an on-the-fly conjuring of a chocolate cake. It tasted about as good as
anything conjured from thin air could ever taste. It would be filling for only a while, but it
would last him the whole day more than likely.



The two sat in silence as they ate the conjured dessert. Harry considered Seamus for a moment
and knew the man had something else on his mind. After finally finishing the cake and placing the
dishes in a small sink, he opened a drawer and pulled out a small parcel. Sighing, he walked over
and handed the package to Harry. Harry regarded it for a moment before asking, “What's
this?”



“Consider it a birthday present,” Seamus answered, sitting back down, his eyes never leaving the
package. “From Ron and I.” Harry winced. It had been just the three of them for the better part of
six months, and the recent death of Ron still hurt. Fighting off the sudden stinging in his eyes
Harry opened the package quickly and watched as a small, non-descript, gray rock came tumbling out.
Harry bent over and picked up the stone, regarding it in his hand.



“Er, thanks,” Harry asked with a question in his voice. To be honest he hadn't gotten a
birthday present in three years, though he appreciated the thought.



“It's more than a rock,” Seamus said, as if reading Harry's thoughts, though Harry
quickly reminded himself that Seamus was far from skilled enough at legilimency to even come close
to touching his occulumency shields. “Take a closer look.” Harry did as he was told and he could
feel and see faint, but intricate carvings covering the rock. It was written in a language that had
long since died, but Harry recognized it in an instant.



“This is written in the Goblin tongue,” Harry exclaimed. Seeing the goblins fight first hand at
the Battle of Gringott's had brought a great deal of respect for goblin culture and customs to
Harry, and he made a point to carry on the traditions of their now nearly extinct race. Harry
considered the stone for a moment longer and felt a few more carvings, not of a goblin nature, on
the topside of the smooth rounded surface. “And there's some ancient runes on here too.” Seamus
nodded.



“That's the source of its power,” Seamus said, a smile creeping across his face. Harry
raised an eyebrow. Seamus definitely knew more than he was letting on.



“So, what does it do?” Harry asked, looking over the rock more carefully.



“You remember the stories you told me about third year,” Seamus asked, lulling Harry into his
reminiscing mode. Oftentimes when someone was bedstricken with some injury or another, the
remaining Order members, which for many years consisted of old Hogwarts classmates, simply
exchanged stories of the happier times at the school. However brief it had been in the scheme of
things, his time at Hogwarts were the only happy memories Harry had left in his otherwise battered
psyche. Harry thought back to the stories of the third year. It could have been anything, from
Buckbeak to finding Sirius for the first time. From learning of Pettigrew to Hermione and
her....Harry suddenly stopped and looked at Seamus closely. The man's smile was growing wider
by the second.



“What is this,” Harry flatly asked, his tone not carrying any indication of the knot that had
just appeared at the bottom of his stomach.



“That my dear Harry,” Seamus replied. “Is a second chance.” Harry looked at the stone, his eyes
widening, as Seamus continued to explain.



“Remember a few months back when the Americans barreled through the ruins of Diagon Alley and
Ron got word there might be some survivors in the vaults of Gringotts?” Harry nodded. They
hadn't found anyone sadly, anyone who was alive that is. “Well Ron and I found that in one of
the opened vaults. He spent the last few months trying to figure out how it worked and everything,
and just before....well you know....he told me all about it.” Harry could see Seamus' eyes
lighting up with genuine excitement, the first time he had seen that emotion in quite some time.
“That Harry, is a Goblin Time Stone.”



Harry held the rock up to the light and tried to decipher the runes on top. Truth be told he
hadn't a clue how to read them. Hermione had always been the smart one, but Ron in his
isolation after Ginny's death had done everything in his power to study all of her copious
notes, books and journal articles. He hadn't become as smart as Hermione, but he was nearly
there before they were forced to abandon their tomes and notes while living on the run. He
considered what Seamus had said, thinking about everything in a few short seconds. Sighing, he set
the stone on the table and muttered. “No.”



“What?” Seamus asked, feeling a bit antsy, “You haven't even heard my idea yet!”



“I don't have too,” Harry replied, his tone somber and matter of fact, “I know what
you're thinking Seamus Finnegan and I'm telling you right now we're not going to do
it.”



“Why not? It's what you've wanted for several years now.”



“We're not going to meddle in the time stream. You can't change the past Seamus,
it's impossible.” Seamus nodded, but the anticipated look in his eyes never really left. Harry
raised an eyebrow.



“I know Harry, but that's the beauty of it.” Seamus picked up the stone and held it in front
of Harry. “You won't be changing the past, at least not *this* past.” Harry shrugged and
shook his head, obviously confused.



“It was a theory Ron was working on before he died. He thought that if we used this time stone,
we would go back in time like we planned, but instead of affecting this world, we'd effectively
create an alternate reality where we could change things. This world would still be here, but
we'd escape it....we'd have a second chance.” Harry's eyes grew wider, but he allowed
himself to remain stubbornly cautious.



“But....what about the people here....what are they....”



“What people Harry,” Seamus asked, adding some ferocity to his voice as he stood up and began to
pace around the room. “There's no one left but you and I. The Order is gone. Hogwarts is gone.
Everything we ever cared for and everyone we ever loved are gone. We can bring them back, for you
anyway.” Harry dropped his head and Seamus sat back down, speaking again in a whisper.



“I know it's a longshot Harry, but what else do we have to lose?” Harry considered the man
again, his face softening at seeing the pleading and excitement....the raw emotion that had
ingrained itself into Seamus' features. *What did he have left to lose*, Harry asked
himself repeatedly. It was true, everything they ever cared about and everyone they ever loved were
long gone. Ron. Ginny. Hagrid. Dumbledore. ....Hermione.



Sighing, Harry asked, “How does it work?”



“Well,” Seamus began, considering the stone in his hand again. “Ron said it worked differently
than a time turner. Instead of just sending you back a few days or a month, this could send you
back years, based on two things. First, the person or persons using it couldn't go back any
further than they'd been alive. So like you couldn't go back and kill Voldemort when he was
a baby.” He paused a moment and thought of the other caveat. “The other thing is that the runes on
this stone are degrading, and as they do power seeps from it. Right now it has about enough juice
to send the both of us back about ten years.”



“Well that won't do,” Harry replied, slightly frustrated. Ten years wouldn't be near
enough time. Hermione would still be dead. They could probably save a few people, including
Hermione, but nowhere near enough to justify the risk, no matter how much Harry wanted to.



“But,” Seamus replied with a frown, “it could send one person back about twenty years.” Harry
listened to him, and his mind went wide at what Seamus was suggesting.



“No bloody way,” Harry said firmly, “I'm not going alone.”



“You have to Harry,” Seamus answered back, the anger creeping into his voice again. “There's
no sense in denying yourself a second chance on my part. Besides, there's another reason I
can't go.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “That stone requires a blood sacrifice to
work.” Seamus held up his hands before Harry could answer. “It has to be someone with magical
blood. And last I checked you and I are probably the only wizards within a hundred miles of here
now.” Harry started to say something but quickly closed his mouth. He hung his head at what was
being suggested at that very moment.



“Seamus-I...”



“Can it Potter,” Seamus replied with a sad smirk on his face. “I for one don't want to go on
living in this world, and you deserve the second chance. Besides, you're the only one who knows
how to beat Voldemort....or at least can do it. You have to go back, not me.” Harry simply nodded
in a grim fashion. Seamus continued though.



“And we both know that we have to do it now. If the muggles don't find us than the remaining
Death Eaters under Lord Malfoy will.” Harry nodded again. Draco had been the cause of the schism in
the Death Eater camp that had probably allowed them their win in the final duel, but the newly
christened Dark Lord would turn out to be as big a threat as his former master, especially if he
had been able to deduce the finer points of Voldemort's immortality. It was something that
Harry blamed himself for, thinking that there might have been something he could've done to
save Draco from that fate when he was younger. “And if they don't, then we will,” Seamus
continued, a sad smile on his face. “I see how you look at your wand, same way I look at mine. We
both know two easy words that would make all the pain go away. One of these days we won't be
able to resist that temptation.” They both went silent at that.



“How do we make it work,” he asked, trying to get on with it.



“First we have to key the runes into your blood. Hold out your arm.” Harry did as he was told
and Seamus sat down the rock. He pulled a small knife from his pocket and sliced Harry's arm
just below the elbow. Blood trickled downward, falling on the stone. It began to have a faint red
glow as the runes one by one keyed into Harry's blood. Seamus put away the knife and held his
hand close to Harry's arm. A moment later the cut was healed. “That'll take a few minutes
to work,” Seamus added. The silence was palpable.



“What will happen when I....” Harry interjected, trying to garner as much as he could. He still
wasn't entirely ingrained to the idea and in some ways it felt like he was being led by the
hand. He felt like it was Dumbledore all over again telling him to do something against his will.
Harry had forgiven the man, for the most part. His meddling was well-intentioned, even if it had
hindered him greatly in the early going.



“I don't know exactly,” Seamus admitted, “but Ron said you won't physically go back.
Rather your magical core....your essence your....soul, will go back in place. That's why it has
to be in line with your own lifetime, because your spirit needs a physical anchor in the timestream
to keep from floating off. Your spirit from this time will more than likely merge with your spirit
from the past, creating a whole new you. You'll know how everything happens, remember
everything, and you'll be able to stop it Harry. You'll be able to make things
better....for everyone.”



'*For everyone,'* Harry repeated to himself, his mind already at work with
everything he needed to do. They sat in silence for a few moments before the stone finished
flickering and glowed a deep crimson.



“It's ready,” Seamus announced, handing the stone to Harry. “After you kill me,” he said
with such resignation that it startled even Harry, “take a cloth and drip some of my blood onto the
stone. You'll know it's ready after the stone glows blue. Then, picture the time you want
to go back to as close as you can and repeat the incantion “In tempus recedo.” Then if all goes
according to plan you'll wake up as whatever self you decide to enter.” Harry nodded and
considered everything for a moment longer. He glanced around their surroundings and thought back to
20 years prior.



“That's why we're here,” he finally realized, confirming his suspicions once Seamus
nodded.



“It's the easiest way we could know exactly where you were that far back.” Seamus paused
again before continuing. “It was Ron's idea as much as it was mine. He wanted you to have this
chance more than anything.” Harry sighed. Just like him he thought. If Harry was going to do this,
he was going to make things better not just for himself, but for everyone else, and not just by
saving their lives either.



Seamus took the silence to reach into his boot and pull out a small pistol. He slid it across
the table at Harry, who just stared at it. “I know you don't like those things,” Seamus said
with a small smile, “but it's the quickest way. I'd rather prefer it to be quick you
know....and I don't know if you have enough magical energy left to perform a killing curse.
There's three bullets left in the chamber.” Harry nodded and picked up the gun. He stood up and
aimed it straight at Seamus' head, his eyes shimmering in the sunlight.



“Thank you,” he whispered silently, barely able to contain the emotion.



“Don't mention it,” Seamus replied, standing up to adjust to Harry's aim. “See you in
the past.”



“Yeah...”



There was a loud crack as the bullet went straight through Seamus' Finnegan's head,
splattering brains and other such contents onto the wall behind him. His face had an odd
expression, a mixture of fear and happiness that Harry recognized from the few people he knew who
were ready to go at the end, Percy Weasley chief among them. The body slumped forward slightly and
then collapsed to the ground at Harry's feet. Harry tossed the pistol aside and felt the
man's neck, checking for a pulse. After several seconds he knew the end had come. Seamus
Finnegan was dead.



He was alone.



But not for long Harry reminded himself quickly. He tore off a small piece of his robes and
rubbed it in the ever-expanding pool of blood that lay at his feet. Soaking it throughly he took it
and rubbed it over the stone repeatedly. The blood was absorbed into the artifact, and it started
to flicker in color again. Quickly the crimson color vanished, only to be replaced with a pale
light blue. Harry knew he was ready.



He mentally resolved himself again. It was too late to turn back now. He focused all of his mind
on the time he wanted to return to....to this very location a little more than twenty years ago,
just before midnight on July 30, 1991. Just before Hagrid arrived. As soon as he was certain he had
the time right he closed his eyes and muttered clearly, “In tempus recedo.” In a flash of brilliant
white light the stone let out a massive explosion of magical energy. It dissipated almost as
quickly as it had gathered, and Harry's body collapsed forward, lifeless, the time stone
falling out of his hand and rolling to the other side of the room.



There was a loud ringing in his ears, as if a loud bell was being tolled, and he could feel a
pulling sensation not unlike that of a portkey. He felt himself being pulled away from his body,
his senses of this world and everything in it being dulled and washed away. Before long the faint
vestiges of light that crept through his tightly shut eyelids faded away, leaving him in total
darkness.







2. Chapter 1
------------



Chapter 1: Many Happy Returns



Dreams were not uncommon to the young Harry James Potter. They happened actually with great
frequency, when of course he was able to sleep in his cupboard that is. It was simply the nature of
his dreams that made him wince at times. Flying motorbikes and flashes of green light were not
exactly the types of things that normal boys dreamtabout.



Of course, as his relatives made a habit of constantly reminding him, Harry Potter was far from
a normal 10-year-old boy. They often punished him for his inferred “freakishness.” Much of it Harry
never really understood. He didn't know exactly what he must have done to deserve that kind of
treatment, but it was the only kind of treatment he had ever known.



If nothing else the order of the world for Harry Potter was very much set in stone. Dudley was
his superior. All the Dursley's were his superior, despite the fact that a small meek voice of
self-confidence would tell him otherwise at times. It was Harry's job to cook, clean and
essentially stay out of there way, eking out a meager existence in the process. It was a hard life,
but it was the one that fate had dealt to him.



His parents had been killed in a car wreck when he was one, and he himself had received a rather
odd looking scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead as a result of said wreck. Ever
since that day he had been left to live with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, and they made no
question that his parents were worthless freeloaders who conspired with all sorts of unnatural
things.



Whatever that meant.



Yes, the order of the world had very much set for him, laid out for him since that day he was
left on the Dursley's doorstep. That is, until a week ago. That's when the letters...when
the owls had started arriving. It had only been a few at first, and Harry had been so thrilled to
actually receive a letter from....somewhere, that it had been a shot to his very soul seeing his
Uncle Vernon dispose of them so heartlessly.



Of course the owls and the letters had not stopped, which is why Harry currently found himself
asleep on some nameless Hut on a Rock in the middle of bloody nowhere. He didn't understand why
he couldn't get the letter, why it couldn't hurt to actually read the letter. Everytime he
had mentioned it he had been slapped across the face and told to go to his room.



Or whipped with the cane....that had come more often recently as well. In his sleep Harry could
almost feel the welts on his back.



And so it was that Harry drifted off to a dreamless sleep, never minding the roaring winds and
the deluge of rain falling from the sky outside. The last thoughts that coursed through his head
were of a new life somewhere away from here.



/ - / - / - /



*Harry awoke again, still stuck in this hut on the rock. He rubbed his eyes slightly, before
placing his glasses back on his face. He blinked hard and tried to find his cousin Dudley's
watch so he could see the time.*



*Only his cousin wasn't there.*



*In fact no one was in the hut save for Harry himself. Frantically the young boy glanced
around, wondering what in the world had happened. He certainly wouldn't have put it past his
relatives to abandon him somewhere, but the possible joy and elation of being rid of the
Dursley's paled in comparison to the fear and uncertainty of being left alone. His eyes darted
every which way with speed he didn't know they possessed. Finally they stopped dead center on a
lone figure in the room, most of his face hidden by shadow. He wore a long black robe trimmed in
crimson, with pale, gangly fingers sticking out from the sleeves. His boots were covered in mud and
dirt, and his jeans were torn along the knees and fringes of the legs. From the glow of the fire
Harry could tell he had long black hair that hung down quite a ways. Their was something oddly calm
about him, and yet something that scared Harry to know end.*



“*It worked....it bloody worked.” The voice was oddly familiar to Harry, but he couldn't
quite place it. The man just sat there for a long time, never once looking back at Harry. As far as
dreams went, Harry figured, this ranked amongst the strangest he had ever had.*



*As if he had suddenly become aware of his presence, the other figure turned his head slightly
and gazed at the young Harry Potter. Harry couldn't tell but he thought the figure
was...crying. His chin was now illuminated by the light, and Harry could have sworn he saw the
signs of tears trickling down the lit part of his face.*



“*I don't suppose you've met Hagrid yet?” the figure asked, his voice equally stern
and cooling. Harry simply shook his head, unable to say anything. “I figured as much.” The figure
leaned back on the small chair in which he was sitting, hiding his face from view again.*



“*Those letters you've gotten the last week? Those are from a place called Hogwarts.
It's a school....for witches and wizards. You're magical Harry, you're a very special
person.” Harry's jaw dropped. Special and magical were never words used to describe him. Freak
of Nature. Unnatural. Ungrateful little whelp. That was Harry Potter. Besides, as his Uncle Vernon
would so quickly point out, magic wasn't real.*



“*It very much is real,” the figure said, never wavering in his voice. Harry again held his
jaw firmly at length from the ground. “How else could your hair grow back overnight? Or how else
could you make that glass disappear at the zoo?” Harry's eyes went wide. How did this guy know
all of that?*



“*Anyway, at Hogwarts you're going to meet a lot of great people. People you'll be
friends with for years. Hagrid is just the first. When you wake up he'll be here to greet you
I'd imagine.” The figure paused before continuing. “But things won't always be great...the
man who killed your parents will come back. You'll have to beat him, and everyone you care
about is going to die.” Harry's features quickly dimmed. He didn't have a clue what was
going on, and this apocalyptic soothsayer was freaking him out majorly.*



“*Wh---Who are you?” Harry managed to squeak out, ignoring the man's other comments. The
man seemed to chuckle and leaned forward to the light. Harry's young emerald eyes stared
directly into the piercing emerald gaze of the man, who currently had his hand holding his bangs
up, showing a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.*



*Exactly where Harry's was.*



*Harry's mouth widened a little as his mind slowly came to its conclusion. He pointed at
the figure and tried to say something, but his voice betrayed him. “But....why don't you have
glasses?”*



“*A potion I took,” the figure replied matter of factly. “They haven't discovered it yet
but in my time....look that's not important right now. What's important is that you listen
very carefully to what I have to say.” Harry nodded, and the man let out an audible sigh, muttering
to himself about having to do things the hard way.*



“*Your parents....our parents....weren't killed in a car wreck like those asshole
Dursley's told you. They died, protecting us, from a wizard named Voldemort. Hagrid will tell
you all of this and...” he paused a moment before he seemed to remember something. Standing up he
walked over to Harry and leaned forward, his hardened face pressing closer to its younger
version.*



“*I know this all seems to much to believe. But it's all true. You don't know how much
this is going to change your life for the better. But like I said it won't be easy. Which is in
part why I'm here. After a long and bloody war I finally beat Voldemort. But at too high a
cost. So I used an artifact to travel back in time and try again. Try and do better this time.” He
paused, the crackling fire casting sparkling images in his otherwise lifeless eyes.*



*Harry contemplated everything for a long time. He wasn't so certain that this just
wasn't one of his insane dreams that he'd gotten used to, but part of him, maybe just a
small desperate part of him wanted to believe him. Perhaps it was just the notion of a ten year old
soul that was amazed that anyone in the world would actually care about him that spurred his
courage outward. Harry turned to face the man eye to eye.*



“*You say that you want to protect these people---the ones that care about me.” The figure
nodded slightly, obviously emotional.*



“*No one has ever loved me,” Harry confessed, his own tears rapidly approaching his
face.*



“*I know that,” the figure replied, placing a phantasmal hand on Harry's face. “But there
are going to be so many people who care about you there that you aren't going to know what to
do with yourself.” Harry decided then and there.*



“*I want to help you. Protect them that is.” The figure looked up, a wry smile on his
face.*



“*Our minds are going to merge,” he finally confessed, causing Harry to go a bit limp. “Our
magical cores our...spirits I guess you'd call it. When it's done you'll have all my
memories...the pleasant and the not so pleasant.” Harry thought it over a bit more and, somewhat
recklessly, nodded his head. A cold wind blew through the dream world, signaling to Harry that soon
he would be awake. “Thank you.” The figure replied, before promptly vanishing into thin
air.*



*/ - / - / - /*



Harry awoke with a start, his entire body feeling over-energized and ready to leap out at the
nearest thing around him. His eyes darted across the sandy floor, trying to adjust to the light as
everything was still fuzzy.When his vision didn't clear up after a few seconds, he paused and
saw a pair of glasses sitting on the floor. Idly he picked them up and placed them on his face. The
world quickly came into clear focus. Harry blinked a few times, trying to gain some semblance of
his surroundings. His whole being felt alive, charged with some unseen force of power that
threatened to explode at the slightest jostling. As he finally became aware of everything, his eyes
flew wide and he quickly sat up, only to be greeted by a searing pain in his back.



“Oh...yeah...forgot about that....” he winced as he held his back in pain. Apparently Vernon had
given the cane some usage earlier that night. Sitting in a more comfortable position again, Harry
frowned slightly at his changed perception on everything. After having been an adult just, what
seemed to Harry anyway, a few hours ago, everything seemed much more larger and intimidating. He
tried to keep quiet as best he could, lest he wake up Vernon. Given his own current physical
condition, and his own lack of any kind of magical device, it wouldn't do to anger the man at
this very moment. As he realized that he didn't have his wand with him, Harry felt a cold
shiver run down his spine. Not having your wand meant vulnerability. It meant being open to attack.
Harry had to calm himself down, he kept reminding himself that this was a different time. Death
Eaters weren't roaming around freely. There would be no muggle squadrons searching out every
nook and cranny for any witch or wizard. Still, he felt uneasy and he kept his eyes and ears open
for any sudden noise. He glanced over at his sleeping cousin and noticed the time on his watch.
11:45 PM. He had actually gone back a bit further than he would have liked, but all things
considered he was just glad it had worked.



'*Now,'* Harry asked himself. *'What next?'* He knew Hagrid would be
showing up in about fifteen minutes time and that didn't leave him much time to work things
out. The biggest question and indeed the most pressing question in his mind was...causality.



Harry didn't greatly understand the concept, but he knew enough to understand that any
changes he would make would affect how things turned out in this timeline. According to Seamus he
hadn't actually traveled back into history, but rather traveled to this particular point in
time in a parallel universe. As he thought back he still had all of the memories of his previous
life. He knew what was to come if he didn't change things. However if he did....how much would
those future memories really be altered? How long would it be before he was guessing along with
everyone else?



Furthermore he couldn't showcase a huge amount of foreknowledge to the wrong people.
Remembering that Fudge was still in charge at this point in time, Harry quickly surmised that if
the Ministry got word that he had knowledge of the future, he'd be locked up in the Department
of Mysteries and would never see the light of day again.



Something that Seamus had said also resounded in his head. His magical core had traveled back
with him, apparently. Remembering as best he could, that probably meant that his magic was liable
to be twice as powerful in this time as it was in the last time. Of course he couldn't test out
that theory at the present moment, at least not until he got to Hogwarts. One thing he could
guarantee that, as long as his memories of his previous time weren't affected, then he'd
have knowledge and experience with magic that would give him a leg up on anything that might come
towards him, foreseen or otherwise.



Entering into the equation as well was the question of fate. Were some things simply destined to
happen? Being that he was the subject of a prophecy and had born witness to a few others in his
time, Harry did not take the concept of fate lightly. In the end, Harry decided that relying too
much on his foreknowledge would be potentially suicidal. If he acted in anticipation of every event
as it had happened before, he could miss a potentially fatal change in the course of events. That
temptation could easily be eliminated with the effect of throwing himself into the deep end of the
pool by making a total change right from the get go.



His aching back gave him a good idea as to what that change might be.



He glanced up at the watch on his cousin's wrist quickly. It was 11:58 PM. Just a couple
more minutes until Hagrid arrived. He had a few ideas still gnawing at the back of his head that
effectively cutting off one of his biggest advantages was insane beyond belief. He kept quashing
that part of him down however, that is until his revery was disturbed by a large knock on the door.
He immediately heard his relatives wake up, and could hear his uncle Vernon grab the shotgun from
his side of the bed upstairs. For his part Harry simply stood up, and did not hide away from the
figure about to come through the door. There were several more loud bangs, before the old wooden
door gave way and collapsed onto the floor.



A/N: Things start to unravel quickly from the standard timeline in the next chapter.



3. Chapter 2
------------

A/N: Special shout out to Alorkin at ff.net for giving me the idea of how to get Harry to do
what he's going to do in this chapter.

This chapter varies POV from Harry to Hagrid multiple times with no scene breaks. This might be
more common throughout this fic.

And to anyone who’s afraid this is TOO similar to NoFP, just wait a few chapters, and I think
I’ll blow that one out of the water. Furthermore….well, the method of travel described in the
prologue will come into play. You’ll see what I mean.

Chapter 2: Parting of the Ways

Harry Potter had to fight with himself not to cry when he saw Hagrid's silhouette firmly
fixed where the door to the Hut on the Rock had been. It had been several years ago, near the
beginning of the war, when Hagrid had died. There was an attempt to reopen Hogwarts the year
following the Battle of Grimmauld. Hagrid had held off the Death Eaters long enough for the first
years to escape the assaulted express, but his massive body was later discovered amongst the rubble
of the once magical train.

Harry tried to shake himself free of such thoughts, now was certainly not the time to reminisce.
If his plan was going to work, he needed to be somewhere away from the controlling Dursley clan. He
hoped he could appeal to the giant’s gentle nature, though getting him to go along with it might be
a bit of a tricky task. Still, if Harry thought he knew Hagrid as well as he did, it would be
possible to get him to break with Dumbledore just this once. Harry allowed his younger self to
become more to the forefront of his countenance with a bit of exaggeration…rather Slytherin of him
all things considered.

Hagrid stepped through the entryway, a rather sheepish look on his face, “Sorry ‘bout that,” he
said apologetically, placing the door back on its hinges. He dusted off his hands and looked
around, seeing three people cowering away from him, and one little boy with an inquisitive look on
his face, as if he recognized him from somewhere. “I’m looking for Harry Potter,” Hagrid announced,
and the young boy stepped forward.

To Hagrid’s mind, the boy was obviously Harry. His face was almost an exact replica of his
father’s; save for the eyes….he definitely had his mother’s eyes.

“I—I’m Harry,” he said with trepidation in his voice. Hagrid cocked an eyebrow at the way he
kept himself. He was standing, slightly hunched over, one arm holding his other one, with his eyes
pointed straight towards the ground, not at all like James would have done. Hagrid thought he
might’ve seen this kind of posture before, but for the life of him couldn’t place it. Furthermore,
the boy was dreadfully thin. He looked comprised of little more than a mop of black hair, a pair of
spectacles, skin and bones. His clothes hung off him like an oversized pair of robes, and seemed to
have been taped together in some places.

“Well of course you are!” Hagrid bellowed, putting on a more cheerful face. He patted Harry on
the shoulder, but the boy flinched back considerably, and Hagrid paused. He was acting like a
wounded animal. Hagrid withdrew his arm, and thought of something to lighten the mood. “Here, I
made you something….’fraid I might’ve crushed it at some point but…” he reached into his coat,
fishing around for a large pink box. He handed it to Harry. “Happy birthday.”

Harry took the box and opened it, staring at the cake, acting almost as mechanically as he could
as he did so. He allowed his eyes to lighten up, caused not entirely by simply acting, as he stared
at the simple cake, the simple gesture of caring. “Thank you,” he whispered, with a little bit more
trepidation in his voice than he would have liked.

Hagrid smiled and took a seat in front of the empty fireplace, ignoring the fact that Vernon
Dursley was turning an impressive shade of violet behind him. Hagrid took his umbrella and muttered
under his breath “**Incendio”**, igniting the dormant logs that sat in the stone hearth. Harry
cocked an eyebrow, remembering the display a bit differently, but said nothing. He moved forward,
allowing his 11 year old self to assert more control.

“Excuse me but….who….who are you?” he asked, causing the gentle giant to turn and smile at him.
Harry was instantly reminded of Hagrid’s beaten and bloodied form, barely recognizable with all the
cuts and gashes that had covered his severed head. It was an image he tried to shove out of his
mind almost instantly.

“Rubeus Hagrid,” he said with a smile, “Game and Groundskeeper at Hogwarts. Of course you’ve
read all about Hogwarts I’d imagine.” Harry shook his head, and Hagrid turned his head. “No? Blimey
haven’t you read any o’ those letters.”

“No,” Harry replied sheepishly, trying desperately to not sound angry, “They…..I haven’t read
them because….” He stopped, deciding it would be best if assertiveness of any kind could take a
back seat at the moment, as overplayed as it might be.

Hagrid seemingly caught on as to the reason, as he glanced back at Vernon, who had gone from a
deep shade of purple to a pale shade of white. “I see then. Well…Hogwarts is the school where yer
mum and da learned it all…”

“Learned what?”

Hagrid looked even more taken aback by this than Harry remembered. He finally leaned forward and
said proudly, “You’re a wizard Harry.”

Harry blinked several times, feigning surprise at the revelation. “I’m a…a what?”

“A wizard,” Hagrid said smiling, leaning back on the chair in front of the fireplace, “And a
dern good on at ‘hat I’d wager…once ya get trained up a bit.” Hagrid smiled and gently patted Harry
on the back. Harry winced at the contact, only partially out of playing up his injuries. “You
alright there?” Hagrid asked, turning his head as he saw Harry flinch back. Harry glanced up at
Vernon, who was a rather interesting shade of colors at this point, but who had a death glare
focused straight at Harry that he remembered all to well, from any time period.

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, looking down at the floor, hoping that this seemingly more
perceptive Hagrid would catch on. He didn’t know what had caused this slight change in Hagrid’s
skills of observation. Maybe they had always been there. Maybe it was something to do with this
timeline. Regardless, Harry internally cheered when he saw Hagrid seem to steel his resolve after
looking back at Vernon.

“Somethin ain’t right here,” Hagrid said quietly. “Could ya take yer shirt off fer me Harry?”
Harry gulped a bit, noticing quickly that Dudley had snaked his way over towards the birthday cake.
He ignored the movement for the moment, intently focused on the task at hand. It occurred to him,
at least in passing, that if this failed then he’d really be in for it from Vernon. And knowing the
state he was currently in, physically at least, he was pretty certain that Vernon could kill him if
he wanted to. Gulping, Harry continued to play the act.

“I don’t think I should…” Harry meekly replied, slightly cowering away from Hagrid at the
insinuation he was making. “Besides…I don’t hurt that….” he stopped himself there, and put on as
much of a fearful face as he could. He internally mused that the Weasley twins would applaud him
for such an awards worthy performance. Harry’s eyes darted towards Vernon for a moment, who seemed
to have turned a deep crimson color at his “unintended” slip up.

Hagrid had caught on as well, and his face had turned straight towards Vernon and Petunia. “What
have ya done ta him!” he yelled straight at them, causing them to cower back like the spineless
worms they were. Vernon managed to put on a brave face.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve!” he shouted back, glaring at Harry who was currently making a good
display of cowering away from the scene. “He’s an ungrateful little freeloader! All he ever does is
eat of our hard earned pence and never pays anything back in time! And I’ll have you know…” Vernon
foolishly moved forward, waving his shotgun around in Hagrid’s face, who stood there glaring a hole
straight through Vernon, “that I will discipline that boy as I see fit. And if you think that for
one second I’m going to pay for some….freak...to teach him parlor tricks, then you are sadly
mistaken!”

“As if you’d have anything ta say about it you old codfish!” Hagrid replied, grabbing Vernon’s
shotgun and bending it upwards. He turned towards Harry, looking as gentle as he could, after of
course forcefully pushing Vernon against the wall. “It’s alright Harry…I’m not going to hurt you.”
Harry visibly gulped, more out of show than anything, but with a bit of real trepidation in his
voice. Silently, he turned around, seeing Dudley continue to munch down on the cake like the pig he
was out of the corner of his eye. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his shirt above his head,
removing it. He felt the cold salty air sting against the fresh welts on his back. He also heard an
audible gasp.

“Sweet Circe,” Hagrid muttered under his breath, seeing the scars and bruises that lined Harry’s
back. Many of them looked fresh, no more than a few hours old if he could guess. Behind them
however were several other scars that looked much older. Several points clicked into Hagrid’s head
at that moment that gave him a startling conclusion. It was one he had already suspected from
seeing Harry’s demeanor and action, but this was the proof he needed.

Harry had been abused….painfully abused.

How could Professor Dumbledore let this go on, Hagrid asked himself repeatedly. He had always
said that this was the safest place for him. Maybe…no, Hagrid told himself. That certainly wouldn’t
have been good. An unexplained desire arose in him, a defiance he had not known in a good long
while. He resolved then and there to rescue Harry…and never send him back to these people
again.

Those people….Hagrid turned towards the Dursleys, who were now cowering in the corner themselves
at seeing a raging Hagrid staring them down. “You monsters,” he spat out, “How could ya do this….to
a child no less!” Vernon looked like he would say something, but another look from Hagrid silenced
him quickly.

“Gather your things Harry,” Hagrid said as softly as he could, his emotions in turmoil at the
moment, “We’re leaving this place.”

Harry gave himself a triumphant mental pat on the back. Replacing his shirt, he stared straight
at Hagrid. “Leaving?”

“Yes,” Hagrid said firmly, “I’m going to take you away from this place Harry. These people will
never hurt you again, I promise you of that.” Harry’s older conscience breathed a sigh of relief,
while his younger self merely stared in disbelief.

“B…but…where am I to go?” Harry asked, trying to withhold the interesting mixture of excitement
and relief that was swelling up within him.

“You let me worry about that,” Hagrid replied, glancing around the hut on the rock. Harry
gathered up what few clothes he had with him, and walked closer to Hagrid. Hagrid seemed to look
for Harry’s birthday cake, and only then noticed Dudley still chomping away at the delicacy. He
glanced over at Vernon momentarily, before grabbing his umbrella and pointing it straight at
Dudley. Harry watched in amazement as, this time around, the transfiguration spell was completed
properly, and where once his bulbous cousin stood was now a porcine substitute. The pig squealed
and began scurrying around on the floor, while Petunia and Vernon let out an ear-shattering scream.
Hagrid nodded his head and smiled to himself, ushering Harry out of the Hut on the Rock.

/ - / - / - /

Harry allowed himself to be taken on the ride by Hagrid, not really asking any questions or
saying much of anything. His mind was too cluttered with a new problem. To an observant eye and
mind, it was clear that there were small, subtle differences already between this time and the one
he remembered. He didn’t believe he could have been in the timeline long enough to have caused
these changes, most notably the more observant, insightful and magically proficient Hagrid. He
wandered back to what Seamus had said about simply jumping into a parallel dimension and idly
remembered hearing Hermione talk about such a thing once before.

He stopped the moment Hermione entered his mind.

Hagrid and he had stopped at the Leaky Cauldron that evening, simply looking for a place to sty
for the night. He was thankful that the pub was virtually deserted that early in the morning. He
trudged upstairs after Hagrid, mechanically following the steps that the gentle giant made before
they stopped and went into a private room for the night.

“’Ere we are then.” Hagrid announced, motioning for Harry to follow him in. Harry looked around
seeming to examine the room as if he were looking for something instinctively. Hagrid shrugged it
off and pulled over a chair for Harry to sit down at. “We can stay ‘ere for the night and
tomorrow,” he said quietly, pulling up a chair of his own. “You can ‘ave the bed Harry. I’ll just
make myself cozy by the fire.”

Harry bit his bottom lip and looked straight at Hagrid. He knew he would need an ally on his
side, at least until he could get things in motion to stopping Voldemort once and for all. Truth be
told he still didn’t have all the particulars of his plan worked out yet, but it would require that
he be in a place where he could at least be able to plan things out. Maybe having Hagrid on his
side was a start. “Why are you doing this,” Harry finally asked, playing on the older man’s
sympathies for a moment. “Why go through all this trouble for me? I’m not anybody special.” He felt
a part of him nod in agreement, something which irked him slightly.

“Of course ya are ‘arry.” Hagrid replied, leaning forward and touching the boy’s knee softly.
“If ya need a reason, it’s because I knew yer mum and dad.”

“You knew my parents?” Harry asked, trying to draw out the conversation. “Did you know what they
were like…before the car crash I mean.”

“A car crash?” Hagrid asked, somewhat stunned, “Is that what those ‘orrible muggles told
you?”

“Muggles?” the word came out a bit more paranoid than Harry would have liked.

“It’s our word for non-magic folk,” Hagrid explained, “It’s what yer aunt and uncle are.” Hagrid
looked into the fire, hesitant to continue.

“You know how they really died, don’t you?”

“Understand, ‘arry,” Hagrid continued, hesitant at first, “That what I did tonight is gonna ‘ave
consequences. But I promise you with every fiber of my bein, that you won’t be goin back to them
muggles ever again.”

“What’s that got to do with how my parents died?”

“Your parents were murdered ‘arry, by a dark wizard. Man by the name of….” He stopped, obviously
hesitant to say the man’s name.

“You don’t know his name?”

“No….I know it. We just don’t say it.” Hagrid leaned forward and cringed as he whispered to
Harry, “’is name was Voldemort.”

“Voldemort?” Harry repeated…causing Hagrid to hush him.

“Yes…by him. Yer mum and dad stood up against ‘Ou-Know Who, and were marked for death. They went
into ‘idin, but they were found by ‘Ou-Know-Who. He killed yer da first, then yer mum….and then…’e
tried to kill you.”

“Me?”

“Yes…that scar on yer forehead ain’t no ordinary cut. You only get somethin like that from an
evil curse. Professor Dumbledore then sent me to fetch ya when he found out you were alive…and
well…put you with yer aunt and uncle.”

“Why did he…” Harry began to ask, allowing a little pent up frustration with the old man and his
meandering ways come to the forefront for the moment.

“That’s probably somethin you should ask ‘im,” Hagrid explained. Under his breath, he muttered
to himself, “I know I intend to.”

A/N: You might already start to notice that things will transpire differently. This fic operates
on the philosophical principle that for every singular event, there an infinite number of outcomes
with each occurring on a different dimensional plane…in layman’s terms anyway. This is the reason
for Hagrid’s slight change in personality that allowed Harry’s plan to be successful (thus
far.)

From here, we’ll go to Diagon Alley, where another of Harry’s little ideas comes to the
forefront. This little idea will cause the single biggest individual change in a character in terms
of their personality and how they act throughout. This will take root here. From there it’s off to
Hogwarts early, and Dumbledore won’t be happy with has transpired, but we’ll see how that plays
out. Also, Harry may have a confrontation with a certain Potions master while at Hogwarts.

Don’t expect consistent updates for this story, as I’m constantly focusing on other works. I
apologize for this and will try and update whenever I can.