Chapter One
Time Remade
Harry Potter was sitting on his workbench, tinkering with what looked to be a pocket watch that was made entirely out of gold, with pieces of obsidian making up the second, minute, and hour hands of the watch, the face of the clock was made of pearl, and the chain was one of platinum. Any jeweler would have been extremely jealous of his phenomenal creation, but Harry was not yet satisfied. This pocket watch was not meant merely to tell time, or to look pretty. It was meant to take him anywhere he desired, even allow him to pass through time and the Veil itself. However, he was having a bit of trouble with it at the moment.
"Crap," he said under his breath as he pricked his thumb, whilst he was trying to pry open the crystal-clear diamond cover from the opening above the face of the watch. He turned for a cloth to clean off the blood, but, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blood…sink. He immediately turned back around in time to see the blood disappear in a swirl throughout the phoenix tears solution he had placed to enhance the potency of the magic. The blood appeared to show the words "fate, death, life, time, destiny, courage, love" before it disappeared. He immediately picked it up in wonderment. "What?" he asked himself disbelievingly, "fate, death, life, time, destiny, courage, love? What does that mean?" he said.
The words "A second chance at fate, the return from death, the joy of life, the importance of time, the face of destiny, the courage to act, the love to make it all happen." swirled in the phoenix tears solution just under the top. Everything started to become blurry and to lose its focus, then, all was black.
Visions were flashing before his eyes, of a man in green and silver and a man in red and gold dueling, with both swords and wands, then the man in green stabbing the man in red just below the collarbone and twisting the sword painfully, the man in red pulling himself closer, the sword driving out through the back of his skin, the man in red thrusting his sword hard through the belly of the man in green, the man in green stumbling back, hand over his stomach, attempting to hold his entrails in, two women, one in blue, one in yellow, rushing over to the man in red, clutching his shoulder wound. The women fret about him, he yells at them, saying he's fine, to tend to the other man. Harry knows he lies. As the other women turn away, the man in red falls to his knees…and faints. Harry knows he won't survive, knows he's lost too much blood. Now, it's too late, there's no pulse, he can see. As the women attempt to support the man in green, he crumples in their arms, dead before he can even close his eyes.
The vision fades, replaced by an older man in bright purple robes with long auburn hair that comes down to his waist, and a sharp, dangerous look of determination in his eyes, circling with his opponent, a man about the same age, in black robes, with shoulder-length black robes and an equally dangerous look of determination in his eyes. Only, there is something different about the man in black; there is a hint of fear in his eyes, as though he doesn't believe he truly has a chance. And then, they engage. Curses exchanged and blocked, charms attempted and thwarted, transfigurations tried and countered, then with an intricate wave of his wand, the man in purple disarms his opponent, sending his wand spinning into the air, right into his hand. Now the man in black looks truly frightened, but still he won't give up. He rushes the man in purple. The man in purple hesitates for half a second before stunning him right in the eyes. The man in black crashes to the floor, skidding to a stop inches from the man in purple's feet.
The vision fades again, this time replaced by what appears to be a young man of no more than seventeen or eighteen with untidy black hair, round glasses, and a scar shaped like lightning partially concealed beneath his bangs. The young man is dueling a hideous creature with white skin, skeletal features, and a horrible scowl plastered on its face. The two slowly circle each other, speaking to each other at length. Then, at the same time, the two shout and a jet of green bursts from the tip of the monster's wand, colliding in between the two with a jet of red coming from the tip of the young man's wand. The monster's wand spins out of his hand and into the young man's hand, while the monster collapses to the floor in a heap.
At the same time, one-year-old Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, wakes up and cries for his mother. Hundreds of miles away, one-year-old Tom Riddle is waking up, but he does not cry, he does not try to get up; he only lies there, staring at the ceiling. In the same neighborhood as the Potters, one-year-old Albus Dumbledore laughs and stretches out his arms for his mother. Thousands of miles away, in Bulgaria, one-year-old Gellert Grindelwald drinks his milk and eats his dinner. It is all just part of a typical day for Harry, Tom, Albus, and Gellert, but little do they know that that day, everything would change.