This does not belong to me, yadda yadda yadda, you already know. Tank you Jo, queen of the zombie supremacy...er...sort of...for lending me your characters and stuff.

Copyright: This Fanfiction is an authorized translation. It belongs to acm2099 and you can find it and many more in her profile.

Hello everybody! This is my first English project so please be nice and benevolent. Actually, if there's a kind Beta who wants to help me out here I will be more than grateful. Anyway, try to see though the grammar and connect with the story. You have to understand, I AM NOT AN ENGLISH SPEAKER. I'M LATIN and I'm doing my best. As I said (or wrote) before, I will be happy to receive help from a Beta and to learn a little more about vocabulary. This was possible because of my love for the language and also to show you there are good stories in Spanish to read. So, prelude finished, here you go.

Chapter I

Lost all hope.

Harry's hand was still raised in farewell.

"He'll be all right" murmured Ginny.

As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead.

"I know he will."

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.

Suddenly, a loud thunder broke the quiet of the day and a lightning streaked the sky making it seem like it was splitting. Harry looked back at Ginny, who was watching the sky. They heard the train stop up short, the wheels creaking to a sudden halt on the tracks. Harry aimed to take his wand but as soon as he did, it burned just between his fingers. A new lightning caused the sky to dress in red. Ginny ran to the train. Harry tried to stop her, but couldn't. As the redhead got on the train exploded, burning everything around. Incredibly, Harry was unharmed.

He could smell the burnt skin. The blood spurted all around what had been the platform. Burned bodies around him. A new thunder and then rain. It was hot. With horror, he realized it was not water, it was blood. That liquid bathing him, thick and warm, was blood.

He was running out of breath. The beating of his heart raced more and more and it became impossible to breathe… Until he fainted and fell to the ground.

"NOOOOO!"

Harry woke up shivering. He panted fiercely until he realized his body was actually in no need of more air. Bit by bit he looked around and noticed that he was in his room…

Again those bloody nightmares. Harry knew them too well. He had them for many years, seventeen to be exact. The worst ones were those that gave him hope for a happy ending and then became terrifying. Sometimes it was just him, Ron and Hermione, childless. Others were with Ginny or any other woman. Occasionally, even a man who's face he could not see, but he held his hand. There were children, usually there were always kids. Sometimes they were his, other times only were the children of Hermione and Ron. Harry could not remember all the combinations but did remember the end of them all: Death and destruction. Just as the war ended in reality.

He got out of bed and went straight to the shower. His body felt sticky but, more than that, it felt as if the blood had actually soaked him. He rubbed his skin hard until he felt cleaner. He dressed in his usual black robe and went into the ministry. It was still early but he knew he had nothing more important to do. Perhaps working could be distracting.

He walked down the large corridor leading to the elevators. His office was on the top floor, right next to the minister's office. Harry opened it, pulled the curtains and began to review the outstanding issues without stopping. He could still remember the happy lookon Ron's face in his nightmare, how proud and satisfied he looked. Harry closed his eyes, turned the image off his head and forced himself to concentrate on his work. It was easy to get lost in it,he had too much to do, especially since the minister was ill.

"Chief Potter?" Harry lifted his face from his papers when he heard the voice of his secretary. "Sir, what time have you arrived?" The voice of the woman was a little strangled. It was evident that she was afraid to a scolding for being late.

"Obviously earlier than you, Mrs. Dench." The woman swallowed. "But do not worry. You should be used to it. I always arrive before everyone else and leave much later."

"Of course, sir" said the woman, her voice even more strangled. "Do you need something?"

"A coffee. Black, no sugar." The old woman headed back. "Ms. Dench, I want all of the alley's tax reports ready for today." Mrs. Dench turned back at Harry in disbelief.

"Chief… I was expecting to leave a little earlier today to say goodbye to my grandson. It's my daughter's birthday and…"

"Good. Then I hope you finish as soon as possible with that report." Harry returned his attention to the papers on his desk. "I recommend that you do not waste time in useless talks with peers."

Five minutes later, Harry had a cup of steaming coffee on his desk. His secretary had dedicated a disdainful glance to him but Harry did not care. He needed the report to attach with those he had to show Dumbledore. Harry took the first sip of his coffee and sighed heavily. Prime Minister Albus Dumbledore. Harry rubbed his face and turned his chair to face the cloudy chrome he now had in his window.

He had destroyed the Horcruxes and Voldemort and thus brought a new dark wizard to rule the world: Albus Dumbledore. How had this happened? Harry did not know.

After finishing with Voldemort, Dumbledore came back from the dead and left the white tomb. At first everyone was surprised but happy; after all it was Dumbledore, the greatest wizard ever. Harry was one of them, who never feared or mistrusted. He had lost almost everything, he had fought for the ideals of this man and see him alive again only made him feel happy.

Dumbledore immediately suggested himself as Minister of Magic. The ministry was practically destroyed and magical society was a total wreck after the war so few said no, few or almost no one thought that this could be a bad idea. Harry did not even hesitate. He supported Dumbledore in his decision. And that was the beginning of the end.

Dumbledore, as minister, began to promote new orders and went from being a temporary magic minister to be a minister of magic for life. Dumbledore had told Harry that magical society could not survive without him and Harry believed him because he had no more to believe in, because he thought Dumbledore would never fail him. Many protested for this and Albus summoned Dumbledore's Army to stop the uprisings. Slowly, Harry and the other stopped all outbreaks of violence and attempts to overthrow. At that time some of the DA's members expressed their disagreement, including Ron and Hermione. Harry did not want to hear them because he thought that Albus had his reasons and people must not question them.

Everything changed when Dumbledore sent wizards to tear children apart from their homes since birth. Never mind that they were children of muggles or wizards, Dumbledore wanted them instructed in magic since childhood. The Army was completely against this and they all rebelled against the ministry, against Dumbledore. Harry found himself on the horns of a dilemma. He had to choose and he did. He stayed with his mentor, the person who had told him he was the only family he had left. He stayed with Dumbledore.

They fought to quell rebellions while, step by step, totalitarianism started enacting on the magical society having Dumbledore as head. After forming the magical society as he wanted, Dumbledore decided to overthrow muggle society. They fell immediately, opposed little resistance when they saw what witches and wizards were able to do. Some wizards were rebelling but Dumbledore knew how to keep them at bay. Harry served for that.

Ten years later, the world was exactly what Dumbledore had wanted and ceased to be the minister of magic to be prime minister worldwide. Muggles had been reduced to the working class, where less potential wizards were followed in the chain (they had served well as cannon fodder in all struggles against the rebels), then came the most prominent wizards and, above all, Dumbledore handling everything as he seemed better.

The rebels, led by Neville, were the ancient heroes of war, many of them old friends of Harry. Most were already dead, killed in battle. Harry did not know how many remained. However, he could remember the faces of those who had fallen by his hand. Among them, all the Weasleys, including Ron.

Harry was not proud, he knew that he was wrong on his choice but there was no going back. Not after everything that had happened and how it happened.

He let out a big sigh and finished his coffee. It was now his reality: He was a traitor, a murderer, the executor of a cruel judge. He was more than covered in blood, he was damned in life. His eyes filled with tears, the same tears that always threatened to leave when he remembered. He avoided letting them fall, as always. With trembling hands Harry returned to work. He did not think, did not want to remember. He could not mourn.

"Chief Potter, here's the report." Harry raised his eyes and saw the tiredness painted in the woman's face. He checked his watch. It was still early, two hours before his usual output.

"Good. You can go now."

"Thank you, boss." Harry nodded absently as he watched the report. However, the woman did not leave immediately.

"Is there something wrong?" The woman gasped.

"You will review and attach it now?" Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The woman cleared her throat and looked at him with a certain fondness. "It's too much work, sir. It's... That's all..."

"I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Dench, but usually I do what I please with my time. You can go."

The woman nodded and hurried out. Harry knew that Mrs. Dench was a bit fond of him. She had been his secretary for five years now and she had gradually become accustomed to his sour mood. But it bothered him at times when the woman looked at him with a hint of affection.

Four hours later, Harry finished the report for Dumbledore. The ministry was almost deserted, leaving only surveillance people, who greeted him when he left his office. He thought of taking the papers to the Prime Minister but it would be a waste of time, surely Dumbledore was already asleep. He decided to walk through the streets of London. Now the wizards were those who ruled everything and there was no need to hide or not to show up.

After advancing a few yards he stopped, feeling as if someone was following him. Dumbledore took ten years to get to consolidate his power and now, after nine years, Harry still had to watch his back. He walked. When he reached a corner he turned, a spell already in mind, and was willing to use it when he heard a voice he never thought he'd hear again saying his name without hatred.

"Harry, I will not attack you." His blood froze when he heard the voice of Hermione. "There is a bar on the next corner. Enter and go straight to the rear. You'll find an alley where we can talk." Harry meditated for a moment. It could be a trap, a trap that would put him in the hands of the rebels. "You owe him, Harry." Those words... He knew who she meant.

Harry walked into the bar without stopping. The place was full. Despite being known for everybody, Harry was pretty sure that people did not pay much attention. He walked to the back door, went out and found a black and empty alley . Within seconds he saw Hermione get out of an invisibility cloak. Dumbledore had forbidden them and commanded the destruction of all those that still existed, although clearly he hadn't done a good job.

"We keep a few. We hardly ever use them because they are too valuable weapons to waste" Hermione said as if she had guessed Harry's thoughts.

Eighteen years have passed without seeing each other at least this close. The times they did were in battle. Hermione had aged, she looked older than she actually was, she had deep expression marks on her face but above all, her eyes were less bright. They had challenge inside, and an intern struggle, but also a decision. Harry wondered what that could be.

"What you did was very risky." Hermione stood in front of Harry looking at him intently.

"Do you still think you chose well?" She asked. Harry swallowed and fixed his eyes on Hermione.

"No. I knew long ago but it was too late." Hermione nodded.

"Was that before or after you killed Ron?"

Five years after Dumbledore's return, the struggles against the rebels were constant. There were several attacks and the ministry was reeling. Harry looked for ways to give them a good hit and that's how he found a traitor amongst the rebels. He was a young wizard who wanted money and a good position. He was tired of fighting without rest and being sidelined by the ministry. He gave information: a meeting in a forest to the north of Scotland.

Harry found the place, accompanied by specially trained numerous wizards, and attacked. He gave the Weasley's the chance to go. He just wanted them to turn Neville over. They refused. Many more would have died if the Weasley's did not stay to fight. Harry tried not to raise his wand against any members of the family and made it. However, the wizards who accompanied him were very capable and they were able to hurt Billy and Mr. Weasley. Harry felt that life escaped him but had to continue; Dumbledore had asked him to.

Harry was going after Neville. He knew capturing him would help quell the rebellion and with a little luck, maybe finish it. Between cast spells and falling bodies, Harry managed to see Longbottom fighting another wizard. He aimed at him ready to capture him. Nevertheless, before he reached Neville, Ron came between them. Harry did not want a fight with Ron, so he disarmed him and faced Neville. But Ron did not give up and Harry found himself fighting both Ron and Neville. They were skilled, the years of struggle had increased their abilities. They wanted Harry's head and he was in real danger. It was then when he made the choice: He had to end Neville and so give a lesson to the rebels.

Even with the years, Harry could not forget how it all happened step by step. He had hidden behind a pillar while Ron and Neville looked for him. Just when he had Longbottom in a comfortable position, he came out of hiding and cast the curse. He would have never imagined that Ron would cross into the path of the curse. Suddenly his friend, his best friend, lay dead in front of him.

Harry also remembered what happened later: Hermione's glare, the curse off Neville's wand straight at him, ending up being saved by one of his men, the holding on his wrist and the Apparition's pull. Harry had never felt so disgusted with himself as that night, and every night after that. Dumbledore was especially tragic when informed. He comforted Harry saying that it had been necessary, that they only wanted good for all and that the rebels had to understand it somehow. However, Harry felt destroyed, dead and empty.

Hermione was right, that event was the perfect example of how wrong he was. But his regret did not bring Ron back to life, or anyone. It was too late to leave Dumbledore and too late to join the rebels, they would never accept. Harry lost any hope that night.

"Does it matter? Is there a difference? I'm sorry, Hermione. I was wrong Long ago and there is no turning back. Your claims, although justified, are useless." She nodded and licked her lips in a clear attempt to calm down.

"What if there was turning back?" Harry felt the challenge again in the eyes of Hermione.

"There is not. I will not join you. There is too much hatred involved. Even in you, right now, trying to be civil with me, I can tell how much you hate me. How much you want to say those hurtful words that almost escape from your mouth."

"I do not want you to join us. Neville will cut your head just before you could even say you're sorry." Harry shuddered. "I want you back, Harry. I want you to change all that went wrong." Harry did not understand.

"What do you mean?" Hermione looked at the beginning of the alley.

"Come to this place tomorrow." She handed him a note to a location. "I repeat, it isn't a trap and you owe him more than anyone. You have to do it for him."

Hermione Disapparated right after she finished talking. Harry had thought it was a play of his imagination but he clung to the note in his hand as proof that the meeting had really happened. A few seconds later he heard heavy footsteps coming from the mouth of the alley. It was one of the Aurors patrolling the area.

"Sir, are you okay? We were informed that you were seen coming out of this bar and we thought you could be in..."

"Get out." Harry said walking towards the street. "I want to be alone. And don't even think of following me."

Harry could not sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes his mind was filled with images of battles against his friends: Ron's inert body, Dean's mad screaming for the Cruciatus curse... The worst was the cry of the children when they were torn from the arms of their parents. Harry spent half the night thinking about what could be what Hermione wanted from him.

Going back… Is it possible? Rewriting history in a way in which all ends with a happy ending. Harry thought about it but it was a pipe dream. You cannot return.

When the sun rose, Harry decided to act normal. He had to meet with Dumbledore that morning to give him the ministry's monthly balance. He decided he had to do things the same as always because if Dumbledore came to suspect, he would do anything to avoid his meeting with Hermione. He dressed in his usual black color, grabbed the scrolls and Apparated in the mansion now occupied by Dumbledore: The old Riddle mansion.

He was the only person with access, the only one that could Apparate in because, according to Dumbledore, they were family and one must always rely on family. Harry could glimpse Dumbledore's figure in the darkness of the bedroom. Harry drew back the curtains and looked at the old wizard. Nineteen years not spent in vain.

"Harry, my boy. Come. You're early." Dumbledore made a clock appear and frowned. "My apologies, it's me who has not been on time. Lately I find it harder to get up." Harry sat in the chair next to the bed, gave the scrolls to the old man and waited. "Everything is going great and that is very good, especially now." Harry was surprised.

"Now? What do you mean, Professor?" It was an old habit. Harry could not help but call him like that and Dumbledore seemed to accept it. He never said anything about it.

"I'm dying, my boy.! Harry immediately denied. Over the years he had hated him as much as he used to admire him and it was almost impossible to think that he could die.

"Of course not, sir. You have to be our minister forever." Dumbledore shook his head and seemed not to notice the bitterness in what Harry had said.

"I do not. Not anymore. We have been at war this whole time, Harry. And that slowly exhausted me. I am calmed, I've got what I wanted and" his blue eyes seemed to glow "I have you. You will be a worthy successor to continue with my work. You have many years ahead, Harry." Potter refused again. He could not die, Dumbledore could not leave him in this world with the responsibility to continue that twisted and disgusting plan. Dumbledore could not pass on this sick and resentful world to him. "It will be my legacy to you, son. I know it has not been an easy road but it was the necessary path to get here. Harry, society needed us. Without us the world would've been lost. Magic is the highest value and we have managed to prevail."

Harry knew Dumbledore was saying something but he did not listen. The tears he had not wanted to shed for years began streaming without him noticing. He imagined that world, being the head of all. The master. He had to endure the sickness. No, he was not Dumbledore. He could not. He was sick of his life and hated the old man before him more than ever, but at the same time, he wished for him to never die. He should never obtain the rest that death provides. He wanted him as a permanent guard of his sick work.

"I can leave, Professor?" Dumbledore nodded. Harry knew he had tried to get into his mind but it had been useless. He had built an impenetrable barrier for years. And it was true. The old man was too weak to really try.

Harry Apparated in a random London street and vomited almost immediately. He wanted to scream, cry, break something. He calmed down as soon as he felt his magic began to run out of control. He took a deep breath, praying that Hermione had the answer he wanted. The rest of the day clung to the idea that hope that in the end, was now all that was left. He held to that idea for the rest of the day. To that hope that, in the end, was now all he had left.

Harry Apparated on time at the place Hermione had pointed out in the note. It was an abandoned warehouse. Harry had a strange feeling but forced himself to remain calm. He had never liked darkness. Maybe it was a remnant of his life with his uncles, sleeping inside a cupboard.

He felt someone's Apparition and immediately warned himself. The figure was too chunky to be Hermione. Harry immediately thought of an ambush, and perhaps it was best. He'd rather die at the hands of the rebels than to be the Dumbledore's successor. The figure was approaching. At first did not recognize the man but when their eyes met Harry shuddered. It was Neville, his enemy number one. The person that would end his life...

"So she sent you to kill me." Neville also looked much older than he was. His short hair showed signs of aging.

"As a matter of fact, I've been sent to give you another shot." He handed him a note. Harry studied him for a moment. Neville was much taller than him, his body was husky, his face had hardened over the years. There was nothing left of the fearful chubby boy Harry had known.

"Where is Hermione?" Neville took a step toward him.

"Dead." Harry allowed himself to drop a surprised gasp. "A dark curse had been slowly consuming her for months. She attempted to heal herself but it was useless, so she started working on a special project for you." Harry shook. He had not yet recovered from the news. "Hermione still believed that you were the chosen one, she said it all the time. Ironically, she believed in you." Harry licked his lips to avoid a moan. He lowered his face and opened the note.

By this time, Neville must have told you I'm dead. That's not important. What matters is that I managed to discover how to send you back. It won't be a time travel as we know but something more complicated, something that has taken me all this time.

You will return to sixth year at Hogwarts. Unfortunately I cannot say when, I just know that It'll be before Dumbledore tells you about the Horcruxes. You'll remember all, Harry. You'll have your memory. You will remember these nineteen years and I hope you never forget each mistake. It's time for you to fix everything that went wrong.

There is only one chance to recover everything we lost. There is only one opportunity to bring Ron back.

Harry folded the note. He felt again the world's responsibility on his shoulders. He wanted terror to go away but did not know how.

"Do you? Do you also believe that I am?" Harry had to ask. He desperately wanted to know if he still had a link to someone alive. Neville shrugged.

"Hermione was always the smartest of us all and if she believed in you despite everything you did, what could I say? Before dying, she forced me to forgive you. That was her last wish." Harry saw Neville tense, like it was a great effort. Longbottom extended his left hand and he gave Harry something like a time-turner but bigger and with rare inscriptions. "Do not ask me how she did it but that thing will take you to the past. It is not a time-turner. It's something else, something Hermione invented. It's astral travel or something according to what she told me. She explained it to me like that so I could understand."

"But ... what the hell did she want with this?" Harry exploded knowing that Neville would not answer anyway. "What am I supposed to do?" Harry raised his voice. He was frustrated, he felt lonely and useless.

"Just flip it. Hermione left him ready to return to sixth year, I don't know when exactly." Harry nodded. He could feel the hard work Neville was doing not to punch him on the face.

"And then?" Neville shook his head.

"I have no idea. Hermione said you were smart enough to figure it out yourself." Suddenly, Harry felt dizzy and willing for Neville to murder him.

"I can't, Neville. This is too much. I... Fuck... I'm so sorry..." Neville lunged over Harry, cornering him against the wall.

"You will. You'll Come back and end up with this madness before it starts." Neville let him go a little and then reaffirmed his grip hitting Harry against the wall. "There are plenty of children and adults that will follow you to death where you're going, you understand? In the past we were all stupid and we would have never questioned the intentions of Dumbledore. There's an idiot Neville that admires and respects you more than anyone in the world. A jerk who wants to be like you. This time Harry, we cannot ruin it. If you succeed, if you really do it, none of this exists. No suffering, no fear, nothing of this sick and dying world. Hermione forgave you Harry, and also gave you a chance to rewrite everything again." Neville swallowed the lump in his throat and looked into Harry's eyes while his grip loosened. "I also am dying, just the same curse. Within a few months I'll leave the rebels leaderless. Those that remain are almost children and this is what we will leave as a world. A battleground where they must fight to the death without knowing exactly why."

Neville left him thinking. Harry looked at the strange device in his hands and chose. What could be worse? Very few things, if he was honest with himself.

"You're right. It's time to pay them what I owe them." Neville drew the grimace of a smile. Harry was sure that was the closest he had been to smiling in a long time.

"That's reassuring." He said absently, as if he did not want to tell Harry, but himself. "I was afraid to leave Scorpius alone in this nightmare." Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Scorpius?" He asked. Neville nodded popping a bottle of fire whiskey. He opened it, took a big gulp and then handed it to Harry.

" Draco's son." Harry felt a weight settling in his stomach. The whole Malfoy family had joined the rebels. Harry had caught Lucius but the elder Malfoy had poisoned himself before reaching the interrogation room. Narcissa had died in battle and Draco... Harry had finished with him by his own hand. It had been a worthy adversary, fierce and determined, who had given his life to protect others. Who would have said that over the years he would admire the value of Draco Malfoy. "He is twelve years old and he's a great kid. I love him as my son. His parents loved him very much. I ended having his parents in high regard." Harry smiled bitterly.

"You ended up being friends with Draco Malfoy. In fact, Malfoy ended up being a better hero than me." Neville smiled too. He seemed to be looking back on something, but then he turned serious again.

"You must go back. Find a way to make this not end like it is now." Harry nodded. It had been almost a threat. He didn't know how but he had to. "You must destroy Voldemort while trying to discover how Dumbledore was able to return, and prevent it from happening."

He still thought it might be a trap. That strange object could blow him up but, again, it hardly mattered. He took a last sip of the bottle and sighed loudly before cranking the engine. Suddenly, he was wrapped in a new magic, the warehouse was distorting before his eyes. Neville stopped being solid to become a blur. Harry felt dizzy, closed his eyes trying to forget the feeling and then it was over. He fell to the ground unable to breathe and lost consciousness.

Many thanks to amc2099 for her permission to translate this. There happens to be very good stories in Spanish out there. See you in the next one!