Disclaimer: I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes.

—PROLOGUE—

Albus

Albus Dumbledore was struggling to stand on his own two feet despite the fact that he was leaning heavily on the stone wall. The potion that Voldemort had used to protect the Horcrux in the cave had weakened Albus' entire body to the point that he was on the verge of passing out at any moment. It was a wonder to him that he was even still remaining conscious.

Draco Malfoy, Albus knew, would not commit the murder tasked him. He had known that from the very beginning. Despite this, Albus kept the boy, and the Death Eaters that were in the Astronomy Tower with them, talking so as to give Severus more time. Severus needed to be there, and time was swiftly running out.

It was not meant to be that night.

Albus needed more time, yet he knew that he had none. Harry had nearly all of the information that he needed to carry out his task, and Severus would be able to covertly provide him with the rest, even if he didn't know that he was doing so. If Harry had any other problems in his task, Albus felt certain that Hermione Granger would be able to work most other things out.

He had wanted to destroy the Horcrux with Harry when they got back to Hogwarts. He wanted Harry to know how to destroy them. That was what was to come next, but Draco and his surprisingly brilliant plan put an end to that. Albus knew that he and Harry would have no more time together, and that was almost as painful as the potion flowing through his veins.

Regardless of the issues that arose from Draco's plan, the only regret that Albus had in that very moment was that one of his "people", as Draco had so eloquently put it, was dead. Albus could not stop himself from wondering who it was. He felt reassured that, in life, he would never know. He was sure that it would cause him a lot of grief, as every death had before it.

"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us –" Alecto Carrow screeched, causing Albus's throbbing head even more pain, though he betrayed nothing. Cutting Alecto off, the door to the ramparts burst open. Greyback, the Carrow siblings and Yaxley all looked to the door in alarm. To their relief, it was none other than Severus Snape. Where the Death Eaters had outwardly shown it, Albus let out an imperceptible sigh of relief.

"We've got a problem, Snape," Amycus Carrow said quickly as his eyes swivelled around and he continued to train his wand on Albus, "the boy doesn't seem able –"

Albus knew that Severus would need encouragement. A sign that this was the time. And Albus could see no other way.

"Severus," he said softly, partially due to the potion and partially because he wanted to make it sound as though he was pleading. Severus said nothing, though Albus could see something flicker in the other man's dark eyes as he pushed Draco aside. The other Death Eaters lowered their wands slightly and even Greyback looked somewhat tame.

Severus gazed for a moment at Albus, revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. Albus could hardly blame him.

"Severus ... please ..."

Severus raised his wand.

Albus had always wondered what it would be like when he died. In his youth, and even in recent years, he had believed that his death would be for some great cause or other. With what he had faced in his life, he had never doubted for a minute that this was his fate and he accepted it openly. What he had thought most about over the years, however, was what would happen to him after death, for even he had no firm idea of what happens then.

He was reasonably sure that there was some form of afterlife. Ghosts proved that somewhat. As did, slightly disturbingly, Voldemort's Horcruxes. However, it was the Resurrection Stone that proved it for him. He had never once used it, but he knew almost instinctively that it would do what legend said. He had been on the verge of using it several times since he had first held it in his hands, but he could never bring himself to do so. He was afraid of what his family would say.

"Avada Kedavra!"

As the jet of green light sped towards him, Albus' mind seemedcleared of all things except for one face. One face that had haunted him for most of his life. The young, blonde, merry-faced teenager that he had once loved. It felt as if, for one last time, he was looking into the sparkling blue eyes that he had once secretly adored.

The Unforgivable Curse hit him. It was not painful. His soul seemed to simply lift out of his body. For a few moments, Albus was still standing where his body had been. He was not visible to those on the Tower, but he was there. And he was more at peace than he had ever felt in life.

"Out of here, quickly," he heard Severus say as he watched the man grab Draco by the scruff of his neck.

The world around him seemed to brighten quickly and Albus took one quick look at where he knew Harry was standing. Even though he knew that the boy that he considered a grandson had just lost a large piece of his innocence, Albus still felt at peace. Harry had not moved and Severus was out of sight.

The light became blinding.

It felt like both an eternity and a second as the light stayed, betraying nothing through the light. It did not hurt. In fact, it was rather pleasant.

Then, all around him, Albus saw objects rise up out of nothingness. They remained white, but the figures were discernible and Albus knew exactly where he was.

"The Astronomy Tower," Albus breathed, amazed at what was happening.

"Yes," said a soft, almost musical female voice from behind him. Albus whipped around feeling no fear, just alarm. She stood looking out over the grounds of the great school. "Hogwarts is so hauntingly beautiful. I only wish I could have experienced it."

The woman turned around. She seemed only slightly shorter than Albus, but her presence was one that he felt nearly overwhelming.

She was wondrous to behold. Everything about her was perfect. Her green eyes, standing out on her almost shining, white face. Her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. The few black strands in the front of her hair that only went down her right side. The dazzling blue dress. Albus had never seen any being as perfect as her.

"I think," she said, her red lips lifting slightly, "I will stop your first question. I cannot tell you who I am. Or more to the point, who I was. It would not be advisable for me to answer or, in fact, for you to ask."

"Well then," Albus said calmly. "In that case I shall ask my second question. Where am I?"

"I assume you mean other than this wonderful Astronomy Tower," the woman replied with a small laugh in her melodious voice. "As I am sure you know, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you are dead. This is the afterlife, though not as you might expect."

"How do you mean?" Albus asked, his eyebrows raising. For the first time he realised that he felt no effects of the potion he had drank an eternity ago, dead bodies surrounding him.

"Most people are not stopped here," the woman replied. "Most move completely on. Some, however, do not."

"Forgive me, for I do not know the customs," Albus said slowly, "but may I ask why I was stopped here if most people go on?" For the first time since the Killing Curse hit him, he felt something other than simple peace and serenity. He felt concerned that some aspects of his life may prevent him from moving on. He thought of Ariana and Gellert.

"You …" the woman paused, whether for effect or if she needed to make sure her phrasing was correct, Albus did not, and could not, know. "Are a unique case. I will explain further.

"This … let's call it an 'area' for the sake of this discussion, is generally here for two reasons. The first is for people who have not truly died, and yet have moved on. Sirius Black, for example." Albus' eyes evidently widened.

"Sirius?" he asked, thinking of the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. "So the Veil that Sirius fell through is a gateway to this area?"

"Precisely," the woman replied quickly and rather pointedly. "It is one of two such Veils on the Earth. The other is in Egypt, deep in one of the pyramids. Both lead to this area, which is an exact replica of the world that you just left, except with less beings inhabiting it."

"And where is Sirius?" Albus asked, hoping that she would provide Sirius as proof. "He was not hit with the Killing Curse, yet he fell through the Veil. If what you say is true, he should be in this area. I wish to speak with him."

"Oh, no," she said lightly and with a small smile. "People that go through any of the two Veils are not here for very long. I am not the only person in charge, and each time someone goes through either of the Veils, we talk to them before sending them on."

"Then why have this area at all?" Albus asked, for the first time in many years feeling like the less intelligent person in a conversation. "Surely it would be more efficient to have the Veils as a pathway to the proper afterlife."

"You would think so," the woman replied in a tone that, for some reason, caused Albus to become slightly annoyed. It had been a long time since he had been spoken to in a tone such as the one that this woman used. He was used to being the Headmaster, not the student. "However, there was a time that those Veils, particularly the one in Egypt, were used as devices for sentencing among magical communities. We could not have so many people show up without prior warning. This world exists as a way to keep things orderly.

"As I was saying, that is just one of the two reasons we have this area," she continued and Albus listened, extremely interested. "The second is that there are some people that are not entirely fit for the afterlife for various reasons. Quirinus Quirrell is a good example, using someone that you would know. I should say that the afterlife is split into two regions which some people view as 'heaven' and 'hell', although they are not exactly what those places are believed to be. We just separate the so-called 'bad' people from the so-called 'good' people.

"Quirinus Quirrell, had he not run into what remained of Tom Riddle, would have moved on to the afterlife with no problem whatsoever. He was slightly too interested in the Dark Arts, but every great wizard has been," she bowed to Albus whose face remained unchanged. "It was Tom Riddle using Quirinus as a host for his soul that kept Quirinus here. In attaching himself to Quirinus, Riddle defiled the man's soul which, in turn, kept him in this area."

"So that is what keeps people in this area?" Albus asked inquisitively. "A defiled soul?"

"In a way," she replied. "I know your thoughts, Albus. And, no, we do not keep people here merely for killing. While killing does do harm to the soul, it is not irreparable. There are some acts that cause the soul so much harm that it can never be repaired. Fenrir Greyback, for example, will never leave this area. Not because of his being a werewolf, but because his soul has become so damaged from killing and infecting children."

"I believe I understand," Albus replied. "But, unless I am dreadfully incorrect, I have done neither of these things." The woman sighed, though it was not sad or exasperated. It was a sigh of relief, almost.

"You have not," she agreed. "You are, as I mentioned, a unique case. We deemed it necessary to stop you here."

"Who is 'we'?" Albus interjected before she could continue.

"'We' are a group of beings from the afterlife who are tasked with ensuring that this area is well-maintained," she replied. "You see, once in the afterlife, people can visit this area, however most choose not to. As we can do that, there are people needed to ensure that those that get stuck here are properly looked over, especially those unfortunate souls that go through one of the Veils.

"But we are not only in charge of this area," she continued. "We are in charge of all new arrivals. We know when people will come."

"If you would," Albus said quickly, "could you explain that to me? How can you know that people will come when they do? Are our lives truly governed by a higher power?"

"To a degree," the woman replied quickly, without missing a beat. "We cannot choose every aspect of every person's life. That would be a monumental undertaking that even we could not hope to do. No, what we do is provide constants in peoples' lives."

"Constants?" Albus asked.

"Moments that, under most normal circumstances, will always come true. Like," she thought for a moment, "a man winning the lottery. Or a woman getting married. But these constants are not always different for everyone. Your sister's tragic death," Albus felt a sudden pang of guilt, "for example, is a constant, not only for you, but for your brother and Gellert Grindelwald as well. You meeting Gellert and becoming best friends with him was the doing of you and Gellert alone, but no matter what happened, Gellert would always have been there when Ariana died. He could have been an enemy of yours. Or Aberforths. Or perhaps just visiting that day. The possibilities are not quite endless, but I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, I believe I do," Albus replied. "However, I admit I do not understand what this has to do with me. If my death was a constant –" He was cut off.

"A person's death, while a constant for those who witness it, is not a constant for the person who dies," she said urgently. "It cannot be so as the person who dies does not truly experience their death, only what causes it."

"In that case," Albus said, feeling slightly irritated at the woman, but did not express it, "I fail to see at all where I come into this."

"We can control the constants because we have somewhat limited control over the souls of human beings," she said melodiously, the urgency gone from her voice. "However, we have had an issue for quite some time involving one particular soul." Albus knew immediately who she was talking about.

"Tom Riddle," he said simply. She smiled.

"Indeed," she replied. "Tom Riddle has mangled his soul. He has mangled it to the point where we no longer have control over it. We believe that it was his sixth Horcrux that made his soul so utterly destroyed that we could no longer keep control. I'm sure you know which Horcrux that is, Albus."

"Harry," Albus breathed. "But what does this all mean? What does it mean that you no longer control him?"

"It means that he no longer has any constants," she replied solemnly. "His future is free and unencumbered. And, as a result, he can change other peoples' constants.

"Luckily for us, however, our constants that we have set for all people involved still happened. You see, we base the constants both on what we think should happen and what we believe would happen. We have been lucky that Riddle had not changed any, as that changes a lot down the path. Imagine if he had not killed Amelia Bones," she said. Albus thought.

"Any number of things could have happened," Albus replied, with a tone of understanding.

"Exactly. If he had spared Amelia Bones, she could have gone on to be a more major player and, through a ripple effect, change a great many more constants," her voice was almost flat as she spoke. "It is, therefore, our constants that keep the world running as smoothly as it does. We are able to see the constants after someone has altered them, but that is no help as we cannot change the constants of any person who is actually living, or else we would change it all back. We can only add constants to new people as they pop up and hope that things go back to being smooth.

"The problem with this, however," she stressed and Albus became even more alert than before, "is that Tom Riddle has essentially made himself invincible, at least while his Horcruxes are still intact. If he never dies, he will continue to alter peoples' constants and we will inevitably lose control over every being. Everything will come crashing down around us."

"The Prophecy –" Albus began before being cut off.

"Is the only thing that Riddle cannot alter," the beautiful woman replied in an even more flat voice. "Prophecies are not constants. They are more like … forks in the road. Some of them are at least. And the Prophecy you speak of is one of these. Either Harry Potter or Tom Riddle dies. The result of the Prophecy, however, can be determined by our constants, another reason why they are immeasurably important."

"But you said that Tom Riddle has not changed anything yet," Albus pointed out.

"Actually, you'll find that I said that he had not done anything," Albus' mind went over the conversation and found that she was right. He was very worried about the implications. "Everything that we predicted up until that point had come to fruition. Until the night of your death."

"What happened?" Albus asked worriedly. "I did not expect him to be at the school."

"He was not at the school," the woman said calmly, though she spoke with some anxiety. "He went against our predictions, however. He was left alone with only two of his close Death Eaters. Most of the others remained in prison or were at Hogwarts. The two that remained with him were Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange. He had planned an attack that he, Pettigrew and Lestrange would undertake while the others were at Hogwarts."

"What attack?" Albus asked sharply. Severus had mentioned no such thing.

"Severus was never told," she replied, almost as if she had read his mind. "The only ones that knew were Lestrange and Pettigrew. His plan was to attack the Muggle Government. Lestrange was there to cause chaos and Pettigrew to scout ahead. He wanted the Muggle Government thrown into chaos as he felt that it would be easier to later capture and also rule. Our prediction was that he would not follow through with this plan. But he did."

Albus inhaled deeply.

"When all the other Death Eaters left for Hogwarts, he, Bellatrix and Pettigrew left to the Ministry of Magic, where they forced Scrimgeour, under the Imperius Curse of course, to get an audience with the Muggle Prime Minister. Once they got that, they murdered both Scrimgeour and the Prime Minister. Not to mention half of the Muggle Government."

Albus' mind was racing, though his heart remained curiously slow. If this had happened, then Voldemort would have the Ministry earlier than he had expected and Harry, Hermione and Ronald would never receive the bequests that he left to them as guides. If they did not have those bequests, they would never learn of the Hallows. And Ronald would not be able to get back when he inevitably left them. The consequences were immense.

"I see you understand the enormity of the situation," she said with a smile that did not seem even the least bit forced. "Our predictions and constants led to the highly probable outcome that Harry Potter would survive the Prophecy after coming to this area with his Horcrux removed. It meant that we would have no further trouble with the man styling himself as Lord Voldemort. But now … well, let's just say that the predictions and constants aren't nearly as positive."

"This is all well and good," Albus said in a slightly strained voice. "But I still fail to see why you have stopped me here. What is your purpose?"

"Immediately following Riddle's murder of both Ministers, We convened and came to a decision," she said, back to her melodic tones once more. "Half of us believed that there was something that we could do, I was in that particular camp, while the other half believed that We had no choice but to let it run its course and suffer the consequences.

"We knew that we could not interfere ourselves. Not in the affairs of those whose constants have already been chosen and have, now, been changed. But I thought of something," she said, looking rather haughty and proud all of a sudden. Even that looked good on her. "So I told the others my theory. Some disagreed with me. Since We could come to no good consensus We took it to a higher power than ourselves. And this higher power agreed with my idea." There was a pause.

"And what is this idea?" Albus asked impatiently.

"We cannot do anything," she said, now with a broad smile. "But you can."

"I'm dead," Albus pointed out. "I can do nothing from beyond the grave."

"No, not from beyond the grave," she agreed.

"How then?" Albus asked, his curiosity getting the better of his exasperation.

"Because I have stopped you in this area," the woman gestured around to the Astronomy Tower, "you are not truly in the afterlife. If you were, my plan would be completely impossible. You see, We can do one other thing. We just never do it because there has never been a need for it in the past as everything was going as it was supposed to. We can send you back in time." Albus' eyes widened.

"Back in time?" he asked, thinking immediately of Ariana. "You can send me back in time?"

"To a point, yes," the woman said, her tone showing that she knew where Albus' thoughts were. "To the last constant in your life."

"When was this constant? When the ring cursed my hand?" he held up his hand and suddenly noticed that it was not burned any more.

"No, that was not actually a constant," the woman replied. "Your retrieval of the Horcruxes did not need to occur. It is slightly further back than that."

"My duel with Voldemort?" Albus asked. She shook her head. "Sirius Black's death?"

"Close enough," she said and Albus felt slightly humiliated at her use of that phrase. "Actually, the constant was the moment that he was hit with Bellatrix Lestrange's curse." Albus had a sudden thought.

"What good is to happen if I go back in time?" he asked. "If there are constants everywhere, doesn't that mean that they still apply? You said earlier that my death was not a constant for me, but it was for everyone else. Does that not mean that my death will still occur at the hands of Severus Snape? And Sirius' death remains a constant. Something that is supposed to happen. What good does going back do?"

"There is one last thing that this will do for you, Albus," the woman said kindly, her smile getting larger and her teeth gleaming almost as white as her face. "It will give you the same constant-altering powers as Tom Riddle currently has." Albus was intrigued and terrified at the same time.

"Is it wise to give someone that kind of power?" he asked her, frowning slightly and his eyes wide. "Is it wise to give me that power?"

"We know you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," she said with a smaller smile than before, but it was somehow more comforting. "You are not a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination. You have plotted, been involved with the Dark Arts and plotted some more. But every questionable thing you did was with one thing in mind. The Greater Good. The proper Greater Good. You did it for a peaceful world. You are not only the perfect man for the job, but you are also the only one."

Albus remained silent, though he could not fault her logic. He had done questionable things, but he had also done them because he knew that, in the long run, they could lead to better things for the whole world, not just the magical world. He watched as she turned away from him and looked out to the whitened grounds of Hogwarts.

"There is a widely used phrase," she said quietly. "'The more things change, the more they stay the same'. This is not so in your case, Albus. If you change something, and we want you to, it will change a lot of things. If you save someone's life, it could lead to the death of someone else. But that," she turned back around with a sigh, "is a risk we have to take.

"You are a Master of Death, Albus Dumbledore," she said, and Albus was taken aback. "You accepted your death with no qualms and no regrets. We can rely on you to die when necessary. We cannot rely on Tom Riddle to die when we need him to. And if Tom Riddle does not die, we will no longer have control."

Albus considered things for a moment. He knew he had no choice. If what this woman was saying was true, and he felt compelled to believe her, Voldemort could never be destroyed and everything he had ever worked towards would be destroyed. Every person he ever knew would be killed. Everything he had ever seen would be changed forever.

"I consent," he finally said, causing the woman to beam once again. "How does this work?"

"You will go back to the very moment that Sirius was hit with Lestrange's spell," she replied happily. "You will remember everything up until your death as well as this conversation. I cannot tell you the things that you need to know and do not know, such as what the other Horcruxes are or where they are hidden.

"But I will say this," she said bleakly. "There is something to be said for letting some things happen as they did. For example, Harry retrieving the memory from Horace Slughorn. That was an integral part of Harry's life, though he does not know it. As such, I would advise you not to tell anyone of your 'ability'. It could cause an issue that you can't predict or control."

"I see," Albus pondered. "Do you have any other tips?"

"This isn't so much a tip as it is a plea." Albus' eyebrows rose. "We will not be able to do this again with anyone else. At least not at the moment. So you need to make sure that, whatever you do, Lord Voldemort dies. If he dies at the hand of Harry Potter, all will be well."

"Consider it done," Albus said, although he felt a strange weight that he had not felt since his death. A lot was riding on his success. She nodded her radiant head, the black part of her hair falling into her eyes.

"Thank you and good luck," she said melodiously, "Albus Dumbledore." She waved a hand in the air and she and the shapes disappeared. Dumbledore felt something materialise in his hands. His wand.

He saw Sirius falling towards the Veil in the middle of the room and reacted immediately. Accio Sirius, he thought, not having to say it aloud. Centimetres away from the Veil, Sirius' body suddenly jerked and flew towards Albus who then used another spell to levitate Sirius behind him.

There was a blood-curdling scream that Albus knew could only have come from the lungs of Bellatrix Lestrange. He looked at her and she looked even more deranged than usual.

"Avada Kedavra!" she shrieked. Albus instinctively pulled a huge chunk of rubble in front of him. But from the soft thump in the suddenly silent room moments later he gathered that he was not the target of the curse.