To Change What Will Be

by PrimeBlue

Voldemort was defeated, but time simply heralded in a new terror. Harry fought back, but it wasn't enough. When Harry stumbles upon a way to finally have a chance, he took it. Now, the fate of the world is in his hands. Maybe having his parents back in his life will help? Time Travel, Marauders.

1. The Chamber

To Change What Will Be

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, he is his own person. I don't believe in slavery. Take that J.K Rowling!

XxXxX

The hill was littered with boulders varying from the size of a dog to the size of a small house. The dried, brown grass of the area was clumped in certain areas and almost nonexistent in others. It looked as if some of the dead vegetation had been burned away, leaving only random smatterings of death. Apart from the grass, the only signs of life ever having inhabited the premise were the few roots from long dead trees and bushes. The vast countryside expanded in all directions, creating hundreds of replicas of this one hill. There was no life as far as the eye could see and the bleak wasteland reeked of death and decay.

Harry had been staring at this scene for close to three hours at this point. There was nothing at all to see and that frightened him. All his childhood memories, good and bad, were situated around this spot. And nothing was here. No signs were left to mark this clump of grass as being Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging. No meticulously kept front lawn with an array of flowers and bushes. He wasn't sure whether to be sad or overjoyed.

On the one hand, he was free of his past. The Dursleys could no long haunt him. And yet, this spot was a reminder of the pain that Harry and everyone he knew had felt during the war. He didn't know what he was expecting when he came back to where he had called home for so long, but it wasn't this.

Voldemort was gone and the prophecy was fulfilled. So why wasn't it over? Harry just wanted all the pain to stop. All their faces flashed through his mind just as they did every night when he fell asleep. Fred's face, locked in laughter, which stared forward, unmoving. Remus and Tonks, the two that never got to meet their son. Snape, a righteous bastard that did everything he could for Harry. The faces never ended and they only tortured him more as he remembered them.

Everyone assumed that Voldemort was the key to victory. Cut off the head of the snake. But Harry knew better now and had experienced the consequences. England's leniency after the death of Voldemort led to its demise.

The Death Eaters had no plans to sit quietly and accept the punishment that the Ministry had planned for them. During the massive celebrations the Death Eaters made a massive strike on the Ministry and sent the whole of Magical Britain into turmoil. Perhaps it was worse that the Death Eaters lost all semblance of organization once Voldemort was dead because they attacked everywhere and everything without warning and without a plan. It was absolute destruction and death everywhere, and there was no appropriate response.

Harry hadn't been back to Privet Drive for years and he truly never wanted to have come back in the first place. Any memory of the place that could even be considered pleasant was tempered by memories of being chased into a tree by Marge's dog, Ripper, or of Harry Hunting with Dudley and his friends. The only reason he was here now was because there no longer was a Privet Drive. The only reason he knew where he was even standing was because of the last remnants of the blood wards that had protected him for 16 long years from any threat outside of own family.

That was something that Dumbledore never seemed to understand; while Harry had never been targeted by wizards with malevolent intentions, the protection could never stop the physical and emotional abuse that the Dursley's were so prone to heaping onto him. He never blamed the old man for that and he never would but there was still a pain and a seed of doubt focused on his old mentor whenever he thought of his past.

But the past should stay in the past. That was Harry's thought as he turned from his spot and walked away from what used to be his safe haven from pain and evil. He stepped off where his cupboard under the stairs once was and took a step. With a crack like a Muggle firecracker, he was gone.

Miles away and in another country, Harry snapped into place with a slightly less prevalent crack and finished stepping with his right foot onto a stone step leading up into the mountains. He stood about 150 meters above the valley that he could see far below him and to his sides he only saw the cold gray stone of the ragged peaks of the Swiss Alps.

The sky, as always, was painted a dark gray with harsh thunderclouds and a lack of sun lighting the landscape. The sight was a welcome one for Harry as it symbolized his new home. His new cupboard under the stairs. After a few more steps upward, the mountainside took over and Harry had no way of continuing upwards without climbing through the rough landscape of the mountains. There were many hand and footholds if he looked hard enough, but it was all sharp stone and it would be an unpleasant climb.

Staring forward as if there was no dilemma currently facing him, Harry calmly said, "The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare." As soon as the last syllable left his mouth and he grimaced at the memory of S.P.E.W., a whole new staircase opened up in front of him and invited him to continue to the peak. He stared for a few seconds at the long climb and the almost assuredly beautiful view that he would be granted at the top before sitting down on the step that he was standing on.

She always did like to make it a puzzle to make his way inside. After a decade of friendship, he would have thought she would be a little easier on him. He tilted his head back and forth, looking around at his surroundings, hoping that he wouldn't really have to climb up 500 meters to find his way in. The last time he did that he couldn't move his legs for a full day. After a minute, his sharp eyes caught a large gouge in a step a little ways above him. There was no way that could be there by accident when the whole construct was placed magically, so he made his way upward.

Once there, he traced his finger lightly through the scratch and felt a slight tingle like someone was tickling his finger with a feather. A moment later, the stairs beneath him disappeared and he fell through the gaping hole into a dark pit.

"Oomph," he gasped as he landed hard on something soft. Feeling around he felt what could only be thick vines moving around underneath him. Some of them grabbed hold of his legs and he almost had to laugh. 'Remain calm or cast a spell?' he thought to himself.

"Lumos Solem," he chanted as he held out a finger in front of him due to his wand currently being unavailable without upsetting the vines. He could have reached around into his pocket but for a spell as simple as the one he was currently casting, there was no need for such measures. A bright light burst from his fingertips and illuminated the cavern fully, leaving the vines to flee from the source as quickly as possible. With that, he dropped through the hole left by the plant and landed on his feet in the room underneath.

"If only Ron could have been as calm," a voice called out to him from his left, "or you, for that matter."

Harry chuckled and his slight smile grew as he remembered all those years ago. It was a quite apt description of Ron to think of his panicking face in the midst of the Devilsnare. No matter what logic or reasoning they heaped upon him, he always though with this heart first and foremost. Unless you counted his stomach.

"Merlin, I miss him so much. And he would be fuming that you would bring back something like this that would just remind him of how young and foolish he was." Harry's smile began to fade as he spoke, his eyes grew slightly grim but no tears threatened his eyes. He was long past tears. He had cried his share for all those who had passed on, including Ron. The ache in his chest may never stop but he wouldn't lower himself to tears for their sacrifices. They were worth so much more than drops of water rolling down his face.

Harry managed to crack a grin as his thoughts turned to the present. His gaze rested on the figure to his left. The tension left his body as he took in her bushy brown hair and intelligent eyes. She had grown so much since he first met her on the train. Back then she was so bookish and awkward but she grew into a beautiful, confident woman.

Hermione walked straight over to him and enveloped him in a hug. The embrace held so many feelings and transferred so many words that the two didn't even need to say. Hermione drew back slightly and both of them took the moment to stare into the others eyes, to appreciate that they were still alive and together. After a few moments, Hermione's eyes closed and she leaned in, touching her lips to Harry's.

It was just a few seconds, but Harry felt welcome and relief to be back. All the stress of the last few months faded with the ending of the kiss and Harry couldn't help but smile.

"It's been a long two months, Harry. Everything's almost ready on my end so I hope you found what you needed." Hermione grasped his hand lightly and began leading him through stone passageways and large caverns. Harry paid no mind to the passing settings, he was too enveloped in relief and happiness. He had been gone for two months, no one to talk to or to take comfort in. After Ron, Harry and Hermione only had each other to turn to. Soon that bond that had before been like brother and sister became something slightly more. It started slow, a kiss here and there, but both of them knew they needed exactly that and so it continued.

Just before he left two months ago their relationship had furthered to a more intimate point and it had been riding on the back of his mind for the entire trip. He hadn't wanted to leave. He knew he had to and had known for weeks, but the new development almost stopped him. Everything had begun more out of necessity for human comfort and they had no plans to go past that but love is a fickle beast.

At first, the guilt had been overwhelming. Harry felt as if he was betraying Ron by being with Hermione and he knew she felt the same. And so they never sought out more for the fear of the guilt becoming too overwhelming. This continued for so long, until the two of them were so pent up and so overcome by grief for the world around them that both knew they needed some sort of release. Having comforting arms to come back to every night granted both of them the peace of mind they needed to keep on living.

The room they walked into was a perfect mixture of chaos and order. To the casual observer, the clutter around the edges of the room and the apparently random scrawling that covered the floor and walls of the room would look to be in rampant disarray. To the more informed mind however, the so called "scrawling" told a story. A very long, very elaborate story. If one took the time to interpret the array of symbols that spanned the length of the room, well, they would most likely be quite lost. The mixture of symbols that found their roots in Nordic and Egyptian languages snaked along the floor, ending at Harry's feet, right in the center of the room.

The pale light of the room shined softly off his long hair. He brushed the bangs from the front of his face and his piercingly green eyes seemed to stare right through the walls. He looked down on the seal array and Hermione as she stepped forward to polish off the work they had started more than nine months ago. He towered over Hermione, something that he was quite proud of seeing as he was one of the shortest of his age just 4 years ago.

Harry knelt down beside a particularly complex formation of symbols and grumbled. He appeared to find something unsatisfactory with the carving in the stone floor. He delicately reached into his pocket and retrieved a chisel and small hammer before sighing. The chisel was set in place and the hammer was raised slightly above the tip before letting the hammer drop. The stone beneath the chisel broke apart and Harry stood again, satisfied with the correction.

He stood up once more before scanning the room, or more specifically, the runes decorating the stone. "Tedious," he sighed, before moving over a few steps and kneeling once more.

Before he could even set the chisel in place once more, Hermione walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should take a break, you'll need all your energy for what's to come," she stated softy. "I can take over the rest of the work."

He glanced up at her with a soft smile gracing his lips. The smile was strained, he hadn't had enough cause to smile lately. Her bushy hair hung over her shoulders and brushed up against him, filling him once more with a feeling of content. Harry gave her a short embrace before swiftly leaving the room and making for fresh air. His long strides carried him rapidly through the stone halls and past the many doorways that led to empty rooms. He did not spare any glances to these rooms or his surroundings, his eyes glazed over in a daze. Everything was coming to a close. All his work would come to fruition.

As he stepped out of the stone fortress that held the work of the last few years, he gazed out on the desolate land that surrounded. When he walked out the entrance and through the heavy wards he could feel the lack of magic resonating through the air. The caves had been dug out during the outbreak of the war for a stronghold against the onslaught of enemy forces. The caves were fortunate enough, however, to never be targeted or even found. For that small mercy, he was grateful.

There wasn't much more to take solace in, however. He and Hermione were the last ones he knew that were still alive. He didn't doubt there were others but no one remained in the open after the Catastrophe. Two years. That is how long it has been since they had gone into hiding. And two years ago they still had Ron. They still had George, Neville and Luna.

They had lived through Voldemort and the war that continued even after his death. They had been so foolish. The Ministry declared the war over the moment that Voldemort's cold, dead body hit the ground. They always said cut off the head of the snake and the body would follow. Stupid wizards and their metaphors. Just because they were Slytherin didn't mean they fit the analogy.

The nation had been celebrating and that was when it was hit the hardest. Defenses were lowered and spirits were raised. God dammit, this isn't some kids novel where everything works out perfectly, this is life and shit happens.

With Lucius Malfoy at the head of the Death Eaters, striving for vengeance, the dark wizards struck fast and hard until the Ministry laid in ruins just a week later. Harry watched as it all happened from within the walls of Hogwarts. He had to watch helplessly as the nation crumpled and people he knew died.

The Death Eaters couldn't hold the advantage for long after the surprise attacks and so the nation's stability slowly began to rebuild. Hogwarts became the center of the government with Amelia Bones at the head of the effort. But this was not a time of great reform or a reign that stood for equality. It was a wartime government. Minister Bones focused all the nation's power into military, whether offensive or defensive, and began pushing back at the militants on all sides.

Harry's support gave the new Ministry legitimacy and the backing from the people that allowed it to continue to operate without succumbing to a lack of workers. His support even garnered the aid of multiple magical creatures. After Voldemort's demise, the giants, centaurs, merfolk and even a majority of the werewolves turned away from the Death Eaters. Some simply became neutral factions, such as the werewolves, while others completely changed sides.

Harry exhaled slowly as he leaned against the rough walls of the cave. They had turned the tides and come so close. He longed for those days back. The war was finally coming to a close and he could finally live his life again. He wouldn't have to face war and death. Somehow, so many of them had lived through all this war. Somehow, things would just go back to normal. But it had just gotten worse.

But those were unpleasant thoughts. He had enough of those whenever he closed his eyes to sleep at night. Here, with Hermione, this was his happy place. He pushed aside the thoughts running through his head and all the pain he had faced. Even these last few months while he was gone were brutal.

He brushed his unkempt hair out of his eyes and turned away from the landscape. He hoped to Merlin that he would never have to see it again. This ritual, nine months in the making, was finally coming to a close. Both he and Hermione would be able to see the world back as it should be or they would die. The process required everything to be exact. The costs, the preparation and the timing had to align just right so that all the magic set in motion could fulfill the ritual. 9 months, 16 days and 13 hours is how long it had been since they began carving runes and it would all finish in one more hour. The last rune would be sketched and the magic would take hold. He had truly arrived in the nick of time.

The door opened back up behind him. Hermione walked out and placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's time to start," she said as she lightly tugged to start leading him back through the caves. He knew the ways back perfectly but he let her guide him as his mind wondered and his hand gripped hers.

He took in even the walls of the caves as they walked through them. It was highly likely that he would never see them again either. In some ways he resented this stronghold for all it represented and in others he loved it for all the memories that it kept. Either way, he was eager to be gone, he couldn't stand remembering all the people he loved, and he abhorred everything that brought about the pain he went through.

The door to the ritual room was closed behind them and locked tight. There would be a heavy amount of magic in here and none could escape if they wanted everything to work correctly. Each and every rune had to be powered just so and a slight variance could over or under load a rune which could lead to death, or worse.

By this point, the runic array was complete and the magic in the room was beginning to funnel into the stone. All the magic in the area and the magic that the two of them had been feeding the runes were finally collecting in a cohesive fashion and emitting energy that made the area almost suffocating.

"I almost thought you wouldn't show," Hermione remarked as she stood in one of three spots in the room that wasn't covered in chicken scratch runes. "You never used to be so dramatic. The old Harry would have been here days, if not weeks, ago."

"What can I say? He was a hard man to find."

The grins fell from their faces seconds later as the light in the room began to grow dimmer. Hermione's brow furrowed in concern, "I thought we would have more time."

The light that emanated from the candles scattered around the room completely cut off and both of their eyes had to adjust to the faint light that came from the glow of magically charged runes. The light flowed from the start of the runes to the end like a wave with light growing and dimming from head to tail as if the magic was moving in a loop. Harry took in a breath and admired the beauty of it for a moment before narrowing his eyes in concentration.

"Well, at least we know it works," Harry commented as he began to channel his own magic, creating another source of light from the magic starting to swirl around him. They had both been constantly feeding the array with their own magic starting more than 9 months ago but it still wasn't satiated. He watched as Hermione's magic became visible as well before it got sucked down into the ground and walls.

The ritual would consume nearly the sum of both of their magic cores in order to take hold but once that was completed there wasn't much left to do but wait. If it weren't for the worry on both of their minds, the sight before them would have drawn their eyes like nothing else. Colors flashed and spirals of corporal energy whirled all around. The two stood in separate epicenters of the whirlwind of power and gained an almost divine look.

But the concern etched into their faces shattered that illusion. Harry and Hermione's thoughts were concentrated on both the success of the ritual and whether or not it could be completed before the danger that was currently outside their walls could reach them.

This last stronghold had survived for so long because it was unnoticeable. From the location to the protections, this fortress was hidden from prying eyes to the greatest extent possible. However, their greatest protection was the scarce use of magic.

Their enemies kept watch around the globe for them. They utilized both sensor equipment and patrolling troops almost constantly to catch them, to wait for their slip up. Well, this ritual was as good as sending a beacon straight into the air that attracted them like moths to a flame. Harry and Hermione knew this of course and that was why this cave system had been completely locked off from the world.

The oppressive magic that emanated from everyone associated with their foes threatened to flood through the tunnels and caves and everything grew darker as it began to take hold. It wouldn't be long now before the walls broke under oppressive force and they began to swarm in to find them.

Harry watched as Hermione's face took on a look of grim determination. Harry knew the feeling well and he began to grow comforted by the knowledge that he wasn't alone. He had worn that same expression many times throughout his life. Even during his Hogwarts years when he rushed headlong into danger to save his friends.

Harry stiffened in realization. His gaze focused sharply on Hermione and he shook his head, "No."

Was this how she always felt when she had to watch him plunge into battle without a care for his own safety? Each time he watched as a loved one was put in danger he couldn't stop himself from taking their place. 'I've been forcing everyone else to endure this?' he thought to himself as a crushing feeling of powerlessness burned in his chest.

"Harry, they found us too soon. We won't make it in time."

Harry opened his mouth to respond but only a strangled, choked noise came from his throat. He, of course, knew she was right. She was always right. He clenched his jaw tight to try to hold in his feelings and any other unwelcome sounds of sadness.

"Can't we just- I don't know… I never know what to do anymore."

"Stop it," Hermione commanded him. "We never would have made it this far without you, and we can't get any farther as well if you run off to sacrifice yourself. You can't keep doubting yourself."

"I can't do this without you!" He shouted. "You're the smart one. You always have a plan. Don't make me do this alone."

"Books. Books and cleverness. There are so many more important things, Harry. Friendship. Bravery. Everything that makes you who you are."

A small smile graced his features at that point. What she said brought back memories as far as their first year in school. Times when their biggest problems were a greasy haired Potions teacher and baby dragons.

"You never planned on coming with me, did you?"

Hermione's gaze dropped. Her hand reached up to timidly twirl her hair. One of her tells. When she looked back up, her eyes with glassy with unshed tears. A sad smile edged its way onto her face.

"No."

A resounding crash met their ears and the two of the looked off towards the origin. The outer walls would be broken any minute now. Then it was only a matter of time before their reached this inner room and began to break down their years of hard work.

Harry took one last look at Hermione before turning his head away. He didn't want to feel these emotions anymore. The only thing he had felt in so long was pain and loss and he didn't want any more of it. She was never supposed to leave him.

"Go," he managed to get out of his mouth. Teardrops fell slowly from his faced and splashed onto the ground beneath him. "Please, go."

He almost felt betrayed. The one person left, the one person he trusted beyond all else had tricked him so thoroughly. He wanted to feel betrayed. But no matter how hard he focused on those feeling to try to make himself not miss her, he couldn't. He never could.

And try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from understanding her. 'How could I,' he thought, 'it's exactly what I would have done.'

Hermione's eyes shed her tears that she had so desperately been trying to force back. The guilt was overwhelming, but what was worse was watching his heart break and knowing this would be the last time they would ever see each other. She desperately wanted more time. She could have happily spent hours talking about nothing at all if it just meant that their time wasn't up.

This moment had always seemed so far away, so impossible. She never truly thought their time together would come to an end so abruptly. They were all the other had left, they had been for the last year, and she would miss him. He was her best friend, her brother and so much more.

The two looked at each other and saw the regret flashing through both their eyes. Hermione stepped forward and enveloped him in one last hug. As much as he wanted to shove her aside and take solace in himself, he hugged her back. Those few seconds of calm had them both breathing more evenly before they broke apart.

She looked him in the eye and said the last words she would ever say to him, "I believe in you Harry, I always have. Don't die on me."

He couldn't speak as he watched her slowly walk toward the door. He couldn't understand how she could just walk away like that without saying anything. In his head he knew she had to go but watching her stride slowly out the door without giving any closure was the hardest thing he ever had to endure.

"Hermione," he uttered, making her turn around just at the door. A weak smile flitted onto his face and tears began building at the edge of his eyes. "Goodbye," he choked out, his breath coming in small gasps as he held back everything pent up inside.

Hermione's own lips curled up slightly and her eyes closed. There was some relief that he didn't hate her but most of her emotions were grief and pain.

Turning around to look at him made her decision for her and she suddenly leapt across the room back toward Harry and enveloped him in an enormous hug. After a few moments of reveling in the embrace, she drew her head back and stared Harry in the face.

Harry saw the raging emotions running through her eyes and knew his eyes displayed the same. He leaned forward with passion and pressed his own lips against hers. The two stayed locked together for a few moments, sharing feelings of joy, before once more separating from both the lip lock and the embrace.

"Goodbye, Harry," she said as she turned. He never saw the tears that began to fall from her face as she steadied herself and walked out the door. After approximately a decade together, their exchange conveyed so much more than words could have. As much as both of them never wanted the other to go, their goodbye was powerful and somehow calming. They were the introverts; Ron had always been the real talker in the Trio.

The door shut behind her with a sound of finality as the lock latched closed. It took a few moments for Harry to tear his gaze away from the door, and when he did, his look of resolve from earlier had faltered slightly. How could it not? He had never planned on the two of them being separated and she walked out at the last possible second.

Realistically, he knew it was the right choice. Not just because of the threat knocking at their door, but also because the ritual was that much more dangerous with two people to manage. The differing energies could be catastrophic but he had always thought they could work around that, put in the effort to eliminate that danger. But Harry didn't want to think logically at the moment, instead he wanted time to grieve. He hadn't had time to grieve in such a long time and now that he lost the last person he had a connection to, he wanted to take that time.

He had watched as people sacrificed themselves to save his life too many times. He didn't want that. He didn't want people to feel that strongly. Instead, he wanted to be that person, just once. To show his devotion and work to save someone else instead of being the one being saved. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Luna, Hermione. That's how they all went out and it left pangs of raw emotion running through him every time he thought about it.

What he was trying to accomplish now was his sacrifice. He would put himself at risk and in harm's way to save everyone else he cared about and stop the madness that had been plaguing him and everyone he loved for the last decade. He would have to do horrible things. But in the end, the one who suffered would be him, and no one else. He would make sure.

So with pain still on his face but his eyes relit with a small fire of determination, Harry straightened his back and breathed. As he breathed out, his eyes closed and focus enveloped every fiber of his being. His breathing remained steady and the world around him steadied with him. The light that glowed from out of the runes came back once more with a passion. The whirlwind that had surrounded both him and Hermione earlier now only had one epicenter and it was all that much more ferocious for it.

Yet even with the tumultuous atmosphere and wild magic surrounding him and buffeting at his clothes and body, Harry refused to waver or move in the slightest. The tempest picked up pace until it seemed to be a solid wall of light with projections of runes dancing across the surface. Harry's whole figure was blocked from sight except for in the eye of the storm, a small circle around Harry where one could close their eyes and never know what was happening just a foot in front of their face.

Runes with Nordic origins flowed across the room, intertwined perfectly with ancient Egyptian and Greek. Words of power that conveyed significance and meaning with just a glance steadily wrapped through the room and moved closer and closer to the center. The walls and floor of the room were obstructed from view by the swirling magic but Harry knew that the projections of runes came straight from those surfaces and if he could see the walls, they would be completely clear of any and all marks. It would be like time had been reversed back to when the room was still unblemished by his and Hermione's carvings.

It only took moments for the ancient writings to converge on the center of the room, each and every mark in view of Harry's eye and each and every one of the marks completely understood by Harry's eye. The drifting lines of script forming a sequence that would lead to the completion of the ritual. And all it needed was one final push.

He gave one last thought to what was happening beyond the walls of this room and thought his last goodbye not only to Hermione but to this world. He reached deep within himself, to the center of himself, where his core of magic rested. He grabbed hold and tore it out of himself.

There was pain, his whole world seemed to be comprised of pain, but it only lasted moment. As the magic from him fed into the runes in the air, the room brightened to a blinding glow and Harry slowly felt less and less pain. It was becoming harder to think, to feel and to be aware of anything.

Suddenly, everything went black. The lights were out. He felt like he was floating in an abyss. He couldn't feel his body nor could he think straight. He had no words to describe this out of body experience, for there was nothing to describe. There was nothing. Nothing except him.

Had he failed? This wasn't where he was supposed to be. 'Maybe this is death,' he thought to himself.

For some reason, he was fine with that thought. When he thought about failure, he always thought about what he would be leaving behind and what he couldn't fix. But this? This was calm. If this was the result of failure, he could handle this. Just let himself float away and forget about why he even tried to save the world in the first place.

And that was the thought he had just before he let himself go. His mind emptied and his thoughts stilled. He was being accepted into the nothingness that surrounded him. And everything stopped.

XxXxX

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene. Here and there he could pick out the faces of men and women that he once knew. Men and women that he fought alongside and considered friends. Teary eyes roved the mass of bodies, searching for something, anything, that could prove him wrong. It wasn't to be.

From behind he heard footsteps. Slowly, he turned his body to face the new arrival. "Come on," she urged, "There isn't much time."

He sent one last, longing glance at the people he would never see again and walked away. Hand in hand with the woman, he tried to forget the carnage he left behind. The pair disappeared and all that was left was a field of broken, dead bodies.

XxXxX

He screamed but no sound was heard. The darkness around him faded slightly until he could think again. The deep well of pain and regret began to fade away as well as he realized it was just a memory. But as soon as he regained all control of his thoughts, he was flashed into darkness again.

XxXxX

Muggles always predicted that humans would bring about the end of the world. They just didn't realize how soon it would come to pass. Or how. It wasn't global warming or nuclear war that wreaked havoc across the globe, it was magic. Not long ago, any sane Muggle would dismiss that statement with a wave of a hand, but the last few years drastically changed that fact. The magic-less humans, the few that were still alive, were and have been in hiding from the devastation brought to the world by magic. Maybe they could rebuild this life-less world.

For the witches and wizards however, life no longer held any meaning. The planet was dying and in order to sustain itself, it began to draw away the magic that resided in its inhabitants. In other words, they were losing their magic.

XxXxX

For Harry, these unsolicited flashes of memories and fears from the past terrified him. It had been a long time since he had locked away these feelings, and he didn't understand why he couldn't control them anymore.

XxXxX

"C'mon 'Mione, it'll all be alright. With the brightest witch of the generation, how couldn't it?"

"Likely the only witch left in the generation at this point. Harry, why do we keep fighting? Every time we fight, more of our friends die. And for what? This silly experiment that we can't even get right? This hobby of ours that we don't even know is possible?"

She braced herself against the cluttered table in front of her and her knees buckled. Tear drops slowly fell from her face and splattered against the cold, hard stone floor. She finally broke down sobbing as she cried, "Everyone's dead Harry! Everyone, except us."

XxXxX

Harry clenched his teeth. If he could feel anything right now, if this oppressive darkness wasn't overwhelming him, he knew he would be crying. He hadn't cried in years. He had become so accustomed to the pain of loss that even the death of those closest to him wouldn't draw a tear from his eye. That isn't to say that he no longer felt pain over the loss, but he had simply become so well acquainted with suppressing his emotions that it was almost second nature.

Given all those reasons, Harry knew he shouldn't be crying, but he seemed to have no control over himself. It reminded him of his early years when he was dominated by his emotions. A true Gryffindor.

XxXxX

The room was cluttered with shelves and tables that were all stacked with piles of watches, clocks, timers and time turners. It was almost funny how little the world knew of time when almost every person carried a portable time machine on their wrist. Not the ones that control time, of course, but the ones that keep track of it. So reliant on time and yet so oblivious.

Finally, the work was over and the mystery was unraveled. He didn't quite understand the complexities but Hermione seemed overwhelmed with what she discovered. She could not control time, oh no, time isn't something controllable. It is a maelstrom of events and people that have no distinct place in the chaos except what people grant it. With this knowledge and more she was able to construct a runic array that snatched the event and person from that whirlwind of time and solidified it in magic.

They couldn't control time, but that didn't mean they couldn't use it.

XxXxX

'Is this death?' he wondered. 'Perhaps I am watching my life flashing before my eyes.' For Harry, it seemed the most rational conclusion. Once all his most tragic memories passed him by, he would pass on from the world.

'And perhaps it won't be so horrible,' he mused, 'to see them all again.'

XxXxX

He was curled up in the corner of the room, shaving violently and breathing harshly. He could hardly move a muscle and he was almost glad. His fear immobilized him, something that should terrify him but in an odd way, gave him comfort.

'Maybe I won't be able to get up. I won't have to go through with it. Everything is finally catching up with me, but just maybe I this won't ever come to pass.'

His wet eyes stared into the distance trying to see something or someone not there. How desperately he wanted to see him but he knew that his peace wouldn't last. He had a job to do and he couldn't leave it be.

XxXxX

Harry was shaken from his previous line of thought as the trauma of his past came to haunt him. He was doing this for a reason. No matter the results of this ritual, he wouldn't give up. He had suffered far too much, as had all those around him, for him to simply accept that they had lost everything. He hardened himself and prepared for everything left he would have to relive before this experience came to a close.

XxXxX

There have always been theories about time. Some say it is like a river. Others say that there is not constant flow of time; it speeds up and slows down as it wishes and even changes speed just for certain people. And of course, there are those that speak about turning back time by flying around the world at faster than light speed.

It's scary how misunderstood time really is. Wizards think that they understand the concept, what with their time turners, but they have always looked through a microscope at the whole idea. They have never seen it in its entirety.

There is no simple explanation of time. No simple analogy to a river or to a loop or to whatever muggles and magicals alike have theorized. No, there is nothing that can be compared to it.

The easiest explanation is a hurricane or a maelstrom. If it was tangible, one could walk right out of Ancient Rome and step into World War II. Except, that's simply untrue. You can't see time and you can't just walk from era to era. The two time periods aren't side by side or concurrent, simply there. As if time has no order.

And that is why time is so complicated to explain. Because there is no comprehensible explanation. There is no pattern or way to follow it. Some events simply fade out of time and cannot be found. Imagine a porous box, filled with sand, being shaken around. Each grain is a time and is constantly moving in relation to other times but is never really related to any of them. And some events simply leave. They are no longer in the box.

That's scary. That a time can simply cease to exist. But what is scarier is that, without warning that grain of sand could reappear in the box.

Merlin, this is a horrible explanation. I'm getting a mental image of the concept from what I'm saying but it's nothing like the real thing. I'm simply going to stop here and say that nothing theorized before now encompasses time and nothing to come can even truly explain that mess. Excuse me while I hold my head to ease the headache I just induced. I have no clue how Hermione and I actually managed to get this to work.

XxXxX

Harry awoke to darkness. The feeling of floating through nothing was gone, now he was surrounded by what felt like wood and a horrible stench. He was laid out on his back with his arms at his sides. He tried to stretch his arms to feel out his surroundings, but a combination of the tight space and an intense fatigue in his limbs was hindering him. He struggled for a minute, his arms twitching and body trembling as he attempted to move himself.

He collapsed in exhaustion a moment later, but he had managed to feel the walls of where he was, and he wasn't happy. It hardly mattered that he could barely move, for there was no room to move anyway. Just centimeters to any side of him, and even right above him, was a hard surface. From what he could feel underneath him, it seemed like he was lying on a stretch of damp wood, and from the scent, it seemed as if it was rotting away.

He felt constrained where he was from the addition of the walls around him, the exhaustion in his body and what felt like a suffocating amount of weight being pushed down upon him. His breathing, already raspy and harsh, became deeper and more rapid. He was trying to suck air into his lungs but every breath felt so small. Memories came flashing from his past of the last time he had ever felt so cramped and powerless. Recollections of his uncle shoving him violently into his cupboard surfaced to the forefront of his mind and all coherent thoughts seemed to drift away.

No longer could Harry try to rationalize where he was or plan what he could do, rather, all he could think was that he must be back in his old bed, under the stairs. Nothing else made sense to him as his breathing grew heavier and heavier and his head grew lighter and lighter.

The inability to move and the claustrophobia combined to give him a feeling of helplessness that he had not felt in years. He had overcome such things, and yet, the emotions were always just buried away, never truly gone.

He felt desperate to curl up into a ball, to hide away from the memories that haunted him. His body twitched and struggled, but he couldn't control himself. His raspy breaths alternated with chocking sobs that overcame him.

And then, all of a sudden, he felt an intense pain shoot from his hand. The thoughts dulled in his mind as he realized he had stabbed his hand with a piece of broken wood he was lying upon. His senses came back to him, and while his breathing was still harsh and his thoughts were still heavy, he at least knew where he was.

Once he was capable of rational thought, he sought out his senses and felt around him. He knew he was surrounded by wood. He knew he could feel the dampness seeping into him. He knew he could smell a horrible stench emanating from all around. He knew he was hurt and could feel the sharp, stabbing pain in the palm of his hand

It took time, but his sense of awareness was righted once more, he realized he was where he needed to be. And while his body was weak, his mind was working and so was his magic.

He closed his eyes to the darkness around him, focused his mind and willed his magic to work. His journey here had exhausted him, but he hoped he had enough in him for this one act. He cleared his mind of all other thoughts and centered his thoughts on one thing, and one thing only.

Seconds may have gone by, or minutes, the length of time was unknown to him, but he was aware as soon as he succeeded. He felt the flow of his magic take hold and felt a sudden sickening sensation.

His frail body felt smashed into a tube and dragged from one end to another. But the horrific feeling was worth the result. Light clashed against his eyes painfully, but the feeling was almost heavenly. No longer was he enclosed in a tight, dark and damp space. Now, he could feel the sun beating upon his face and the grass underneath his back. A light, cool breeze tickled his skin as it flew by.

He opened his eyes and saw the sky above him. Bright blue with dainty clouds floating by. And a stone plaque at his head.

The plaque read,

Alan Vivas

1960-1974

Un hijo cariñoso y amigo enérgico

Harry knew he was lying above the coffin of Alan Vivas. The now empty coffin. And he knew that it had worked.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading the first chapter of the story, the second should be following very soon. I hope to be able to get chapters out fairly quickly, but everyone knows that life is never that easy. I'm in college, so things always come up, whether distractions of actual work, and it's hard to stick to a schedule for something that isn't graded. Nonetheless, I'll try my hardest.

I have written a few other stories, mostly on other accounts that I no longer feel proud of and have dropped, but this is my first Harry Potter one and I've put a lot of time planning and researching where this will go. That means I'm much more dedicated to finishing this story, and so I hope you all with stick with me as we go.

Feel free to message me if you have questions, or even see some mistakes. Critique is never unwanted. That's all folks, PrimeBlue is rolling out.