Chapter One
May 2, 1998
"They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself." ― Andy Warhol.
From Chapter Thirty-Four, of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. By J.K. Rowling:
A swarm of dementors was gliding amongst the trees; Harry could feel their chill, and he was not sure he would be able to pass safely through it. He had no strength left for a Patronus. He could no longer control his own trembling. It was not, after all, so easy to die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. At the same time he thought that he would not be able to go on, and knew that he must. The long game was ended, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air. . . . The Snitch. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck and he pulled it out. I open at the close. Breathing fast and hard, he stared down at it. Now that he wanted time to move as slowly as possible, it seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it seemed to have bypassed thought. This was the close. This was the moment. He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, "I am about to die." The metal shell broke open. He lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco's wand beneath the Cloak, and murmured, "Lumos." The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible. And again Harry understood without having to think. It did not matter about bringing them back, for he was about to join them. He was not really fetching them: They were fetching him. He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times.
Harry's trembling stopped, The chill of the dementors ceased and the smell of the grass disappeared. All about him was an eerie stillness.
He opened his eyes and looked around. It was, in fact, a perfect stillness, as though time itself had stopped. A few paces before him a single leaf, which should have been fluttering to the ground, was suspended, still, in mid air. Harry moved the few paces and reached out toward the suspended leaf.
"Curious isn't it?" came a smooth deep disembodied voice.
Startled, Harry pulled back his out stretched hand and spinning around, wand raised, shouted "Who's there?"
"Oh, you won't be needing that my boy." the voiced said with a chuckle. "Who would you wish me to be?"
Harry lowered Draco's wand. "I don't understand."
"I suppose you don't. No matter." the voice responded. "Suffice to say, you were on your way to meet me, but, I wanted to meet you first."
Realization dawned on Harry with sudden clarity. "Death?" he said.
"At your service," the voice stated. In front of Harry a darkness seemed to gather, in wisps spiraling toward a center and in a moment a hooded figure was stood in the spot. Before Harry could react the figure reached up and pushed back its hood revealing, to Harry's surprise, the handsome face of a dark haired young man.
"I dare say, you are not exactly as I'd have expected," Harry said. "Come to collect me then?"
"Well, no actually," Death said, his voice now softened to fit his visage. "I have come to strike a bargain." There was a pause. "You see, Harry, you have some objects that belong to me, and I would rather like them back."
Harry thought for a moment. "The Hallows?" he asked. Death nodded. "But, I only have two of them," he said, as he opened his palm and looked at the cracked stone in his hand.
"Ah... yes, well, you have two of them with you," Death replied. "But, you are the first mortal, since the day I foolishly bestowed these artifacts upon the Peverell brothers, to be the rightful master of all three."
"How can that be," Harry protested. "I have never touched the Elder wand."
"Touched it, no," Death pressed forward, "But you are never-the-less it's true master." There was a pause as Death seemed to be waiting for Harry to understand. Harry just shook his head. "Think Harry," Death continued. "The wand's allegiance always goes to he who defeats its present master."
"But..." Harry groped for an explanation. "Dumbledore was the Elder wand's master, and he was killed by Snape."
"Ah, yes, now you begin to understand," Death said. "Killed by Snape, but never defeated... You were there, Harry, you know the answer."
Harry's eyes widened as realization struck him. "It was Draco, Draco defeated Dumbledore on the Astronomy tower," he blurted out.
"Therefore?" Death encouraged.
It suddenly all made sense. "Therefore," Harry reasoned aloud, "the wand's allegiance passed to Draco, and when I defeated Draco and took his wand," Harry held up his hand showing Draco's wand. "The Elder wand's allegiance came to me."
"Bravo, Harry," Death clapped his hands congenially. "And so, you are the master of all three of the Deathly Hallows. Artifacts of mine which I would very much like returned."
Harry's mind was racing. Just a minute ago he was ready to face Voldemort, to sacrifice himself so that the Dark Lord could be defeated. Now he was at the edge of the forbidden forest, casually conversing with Death who... "You said, you were here to strike a bargain?" Harry asked.
"So I did," Death replied.
"Can you kill Voldemort for me?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Alas, that I cannot do. That is a job which the fates have assigned to you, Harry. It is not in my nature to determine the hour of a mortal's demise. I merely collect them upon that hour. To do else, is a lesson I have learned with grave difficulty, carries profound consequences".
"Then what can you possibly offer that would entice me to strike a deal?" Harry asked.
"If defeating Voldemort is your ultimate goal. You have in your possession all the knowledge you could possibly require to do so. What you lack, at this late hour, is time to do so on your own terms." Death paused, casually pulling his hood forward to obscure his features. "What I offer you, in return for the Hallows, is a one time use of this." Death raised his hand. As he did so all of the flesh disintegrated away. From his decrepit boney fingers, suspended on a shimmering golden chain, hung a beautiful pocket watch.
"A watch?" Harry questioned.
"More than a watch," Death said ominously, his voice returned to the low, slithering smooth tones which Harry had first heard. "To me this device measures the beats of every mortal heart, from first to last. To you, it can act as the most powerful of time-turners, delivering you to the very moment of any of your individual beats."
"So, I could go back in time," Harry began, "with all the knowledge and memories of this very moment, to some earlier time?"
"That is my offer," Death confirmed.
"But, Hermione says, there can be terrible consequences for any wizard that meddles with time."
"And so there can," Death acknowledged.
"I am guessing you will not tell me what those consequences may be," Harry asked.
"I cannot say, what has not yet happened," Death said with a chuckle. "For better, or for worse is yet to be determined. The question is, do you think you could make things better?"
Harry tried to imagine a plan of action, but the possibilities overwhelmed him. On impulse, following his gut alone, he reached out and grasped Death's watch. "You have a deal," he said.
At once harry found himself spinning. He closed his eyes against the violent blur that engulfed him, and he found his stomach rising up toward his throat. Before he passed out, he thought he could hear Death's self satisfied chuckle.
And then, nothing.
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Chapter Two
May 2, 1998, Again