Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Harry.
Harry held up the Time Turner, and it hung heavy on its golden chain. So small, and yet so powerful. As he observed it, he became aware that he wasn't the only one watching. He looked up, and stared into bright green eyes, mere inches from his own.
A reflection? But no. As he lowered his arm, the other Harry smiled. The Time Turner glinted in the candle light. What had Hermione said, again? Terrible things?
He leaned to the left to look behind his second-self, and saw a great array of Harrys stretched out as far as the eye could see. Taking a step to the right, he found they multiplied. A great kaleidoscope of Harrys fanned out in all directions. There were hundreds of them- no, thousands. As he spun around he found they duplicated with every shift, until everywhere he looked he saw himself.
Except they weren't him, not really. He subconsciously reached for his scar as he locked eyes with a Harry that had none. A dozen versions followed suit. To his left, a Harry with dark blond hair laughed. A chorus went up as others laughed too. The same laugh. But different.
A thousand movements, all the same but different. A thousand voices, all his, but not.
Terrible things, Harry.
A thousand Harrys all lifted the Time Turner, and it winked at them in the light of a thousand different worlds.
"Terrible things?" said one, and it caught like wild fire. "Terrible things?" they echoed. "Terrible things?" cried a cacophony of voices that rippled through the waves of time, building to a deafening crescendo.
"TERRIBLE THINGS?"
Harry covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. But even so, the voices fell on a thousand pairs of uncovered ears, and he still peered out through a thousand sets of unshut eyes. He saw an infinite number of worlds all overlapped. An infinite number of parallel lives all aligned.
"TERRIBLE THINGS!" they screamed, as fractured universes collided, each as real as the next. Every choice was a reality split, every possibility a new beginning. In that moment, Harry was everything all at once. He was dead, alive, unborn and reborn. His many selves were good and bad, hero and villain, invincible, indestructible, inevitable and more.
In that moment, he was the Time Forger. The Time Breaker. The Re-writer.
He was all. He was the beginning and the end of everything.
Harry raised his fist, and in place of the Time Turner found a glinting golden blade. The ruby-encrusted handle glittered like it was stuck with stars. A gift. A gift for me? Turning to the Harry next to him, he smiled. A gift!
In a heartbeat, he raised the knife above his head, and plunged it deep into Harry's chest. It stuck, buried to the hilt, and blood welled crimson and thick. It spilt out, liquid life staining every floor.
In the room of requirement, Harry slumped to his knees, and fell face-first to the cold stone tiles. He still clutched the Time Turner in his hand, but the glass was cracked and the tiny grains of sand now just so much useless dust.
Terrible things, Harry. And it was too late to turn back, now.
Written for: the 'New Triwizard Tournament' Competition. Prompt: Favourite character in mortal peril/serious danger
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
CC cover image (entitled 'mb_BrokenMirror-04') courtesy of merrik brown on Flickr.
A/N: It makes no sense, right!? I'm not sure why this happened, really. I think I find the existence of the Time Turner interesting, as it's such a dangerous tool. This was just sort of an idea based on that. So kids, the moral of the story is: don't meddle with time. I'd love to know what anyone thinks of this as I have no idea how it comes across. Thanks for reading! GG x