Title: Before and Afterwards: During Time
Author: Devilaire Mshadi
Summary: Sometimes, being who you were meant to be means destroying the person you are. It's not always easy, it's not always appreciated, and it's often not realized—but it still is and has to be. Slash, AU, Timetravel, Pastfic
Rating: T, though there always is the possibility of me writing things accidentally that would be considered otherwise. I read odd stuff at 12, so I'm really unsure of what's "appropriate" and "inappropriate". If you're mature enough, though, it really shouldn't matter. I wouldn't mean to write things that I'm not supposed to read.
Pairing: Long away and into the future, it will be slash. But like I said, that's far away and into the future. There will probably also be obscure references to things I won't write about, unless told to—I usually make up odd background stories in my head and forget that the reader doesn't know what I'm talking about, so just pop a review or email me if you get lost.
Category: Time-travel, Alternate Universe, Drama, Third-Person, possible Angst, Future/Past Fic, Slash, possible Fem-slash (haven't decided)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything J.K.Rowling wrote about, only my own ideas of what could have happened when if so and such had not occurred. Ie: I own my own opinions. I should try and not use two of the same words in the same sentence, especially not if they have different meanings. Oh well, on with the story.
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Chapter One: Prologue/Epilogue of an Unwritten Story
"Some people spend their lives hoping for something to happen that will change everything. They look for power, or love, or the answer to their biggest question, thinking that if that one thing happens, then they'll have another chance. They want some way to lead another life, where all the mistakes they've made have been erased, and they can start over; where nothing bad has happened yet, and all their possibilities are still in front of them. For if they had another chance to do it all over again, then surely they wouldn't make the same mistakes, and everything would be better. The real question is: would it?"
-- Asarielle
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There's a ring around the moon.
He wonders at the significance of it.
Sure, in Divination, Sybil had tried to explain the importance of such signs, but upon the dull minds of innocence, none of it really meant much. He supposed that none of it mattered now either: Lord Voldemort was gone for a few years, his parents were alive and well, and his younger self was sitting in the crib, staring at him with round, tearful, worried eyes. If he could cry at the futility of it all, he would. If he could summon the petulance to complain about it, he would. But there was something different about him; he wasn't a child anymore. He couldn't…
He was sitting there, knees curled up into his chest, forehead resting on the windowsill, just sitting there. It was like he couldn't feel. After all his life of caring too much or too little, he couldn't feel a thing. He supposed that's was happened when you were channeling your knowledge and soul through a spell bond into your very alive (though dead in your previous dimension/past/whatever-it-was-he-was-supposed-to-consider-it) mother, swearing that all the knowledge you garnered being who you were would not go to waste, that all you did wasn't for naught, that all you'd been made to go through had some reason behind it all, besides to get where you were and to have it all happen again.
They will all pay, I promise you.
Oh, how he wished he could cry.
Sometimes, when life seems futile for all the killing that has to be done in its name, he had to force himself to remember that there was a reason for it all. You're parents are in the next room, they're okay, they're going to live. Find comfort in that. He had to remember the little kids playing with toy broomsticks and plastic trucks, he had to remember that some parents truly did love their children, he had to remember—I can't remember anymore. The memories are all going away like dust in the wind. Why can't they stay? I need them, now. They're all I have.—what was left of the past, he had to remember smiles and laughter and study sessions at three in the morning, he had to remember that there were such things as love and happiness and joy, as well as the hate and sorrow and pain that were juxtaposed next to them. Memories, after all, were the only form of hope he had; and even in numbness, he needed hope.
"Albus! Albus, thank Merlin, we can't get into the room! I-I've tried all the unlocking charms I could think of, but no magic seems to penetrate the door. I don't know what's going on in there! Can you tell if—is Harry alright? I-I couldn't—"
"Calm down, my dear. Young Harry is safe and sound inside the room. Now, let's see what we can do about this door, hmm?"
His strength was waning as the spell stole more and more of his soul. I wonder if this is what it feels like to make a Horcrux. It's a wonder Tom made so many. Looking over at the younger version of himself, he smiled thinly. Don't worry, Harry, you've paid your debt. It's your sibling whose life will now be forfeit. The toddler gurgled with a happy smile as Lily's voice resonated through the doorway.
"Harry, baby, hold on. Albus is here, and he'll make it all better, okay? We're coming as fast as we can."
The toddler's hands were reached out through the bars in his crib towards the doorway, towards the woman who lulled him to sleep every night, towards the happy future that awaited him; and that was the last thing the older version of him saw before he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the spell. "We're not innocent, anymore. We save innocents; we aren't them ourselves."
They will all pay, I promise you.
"Ha-arry? Tell—tell my parents that I went down with a fight, okay? Don't tell them it was like this. Don't tell them—" "Ginny? Oh, Merlin, please, Ginny-love, please…"
"Still clinging to the past?" "It's all you left me, Tom. It's all you left me with."
"Harry? I'm so sorry, I never meant to, never meant… so sorry… never ever would've if… Merlin, Harry… oh Merlin, forgive me…"
"Did you know he swears by Merlin?" "Voldemort swears by Merlin… we've been through weirder things than that." "Says something about our lives, no?"
"I feel like a part of me died." "Harry, that's the whole point of being soul mates—a part of you did."
"Why can't I just be selfish? Why can't I just take him away with me and live happily ever after?" "You've been reading too many muggle fairy tales, Harry. Don't you know how little wishing rules life?"
"I love you, Tom, but I will never forgive you. Just go." "Harry—" "We're enemies now, Tom. Next time I see you, I'll kill you."
"No one ever said life would be easy on the heart." "Harry—" "No use complaining, though. You're still here." "Not for long." "What—what do you mean, 'Mione?" "It was a stray spell, Harry. They, the Healers don't know how to fix it, or even how to stop it, and neither do I. Every day, every minute that goes by, I'm dying." "That's what life is, dying." "I know, but mine's accelerated at an abnormal speed." "No slowing it down?" "None." "Best tell you now, then, how I won't be able to live without you?" "If this spell Melinda and I are researching works, you won't have to."
"Harry?" "Yeah?" "Blast the bugger to hell for me, ay?" "You've got an accent, now." "Damn Seamus." "'She died damning her friends to—'" "Oh, desist. My internal organs are melting; don't you think I could have a bit of fun for once in my life?" "I love you with all my heart, Hermione Granger. You know that, right?" "No you don't, but the sentiment's appreciated." "'Mione—" "No, Harry, just… my favorite flowers are daffodils, okay? Just give her some... Harry, I'm—"
"Mr. Potter?" "She's gone, they're all gone, even he's…"
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Attack at Godric's Hollow—Voldemort Defeated!
After so many years of casualty lists and siblings wounded, the war has finally come to a close. Last night, You-Know-Who was defeated by none other than a baby boy. Here are the facts that will be put down into textbook after textbook for generations to come:
On October 31st, 1981, You-Know-Who attacked the Potter's home at Godric Hollow, with information garnered from one Peter Pettigrew. At 20:03, the Dark Lord infiltrated the home, cast binding spells on James Harold and Lily Evans Potter, and crept up the stairs towards the bedroom of their child, Harry James Potter. For a whole hour, the two distraught parents sought to unweave the charms around them until they were finally free. They sped up the stairs and cast every spell they could think of to open the door to the nursery, but all the spells were negated. Albus Dumbledore arrived at 21:27—almost an hour and a half after the attack—and aided the two in opening the doorway. When they finally gained entry,a withered skeleton was all that was left of the You-Know-Who, bones splayed out on the windowsill.
Though evidence has been gathered and hypotheses made, none of the officials truly know what happened that night in the nursery. All that is known is this: the Dark Lord was defeated on October 31st, 1981, at the hands of one Harry James Potter. The boy in question was unharmed and is currently being raised by his two loving parents, safe in an unknown location, expecting a sibling sometime in February.
The Wizengamot issued an Order of Merlin, Second Class, to the young child, regretting the ban on First Class honors being given to minors. The ceremony will be held on November 18th at the Caycer's Auditorium in Magus Alley. The invitations will be sent out by November 15th.
And on behalf of my colleagues here at the Daily Prophet, I'd like to say this: Mr. Potter, we owe you a debt too great to be repaid, and yetall I can come up with that seems to have any meaning is this—thank you.
-- Written by: Edgar Pudgemoore
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Sometimes, what has come to pass is not meant to be, and what is meant to be has not yet come to pass. Sometimes, circumstance has to happen to set fate in motion. Sometimes, when there's a ring around the moon and the sorrowful cry of the phoenix joins that of the learned wolf, what was once thought of as destiny is changed.
There was a ring around the moon, that night, and no one took note of it. But then again, Divination was often regarded as fake and inaccurate. If only people saw the strands of time, they would understand that things are never as simple as they seem to be.
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There'll be falling into view
Much to rearrange;
And there'll be a time for you
To marvel at the change.
They that have the least to fear
Question hardest what is here;
When long-hidden skies are clear,
The stars look strange.
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Author's Note: I really need to update my other story, but I've been writing these two at the same time as they both follow the same idea, ie: screwing with time, completing destiny, trying to figure out reasons for it all, trying to make it all better for the suffering world, noticing that some parts are well off, et cetera. The other one's Charmed, though, and this one's Harry Potter, which gives much more leeway in the screwing up of time, because they already set a standard of 'every single event changes the future' and J. K. Rowling has made no such claims, though I think she tries to allude to it. I don't know if we're merely trying to give ourselves hope or if we truly believe it. Suppose I'll find out in writing this, though. The segment of a poem at the end is from 'Bokardo', one of my favorite poems of all time, the other of which is 'Fugue'.
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