A/N: Prologue has mention of blood + a corpse. This is darker than my usual stuff.

Second of May, Year of 1946

Loop Iteration ?

There was blood on his hands. It wasn't just a few droplets; his hands were actually stained with the sheer amount of it.

And when he looked down, the blood continued. It pooled at his knees. As his gaze traveled, his stomach curled in revulsion just as his eyes caught sight of the source. Dumbledore's body laid headless at the foot of Dumbledore's own desk.

He gagged, the smell of it finally reaching his nose, and he barely kept himself from raising his hands to his face, remembering at the last second the blood on his hands. His body felt like retching, but when he tried, he realized there was nothing in his stomach.

His eyes traveled upward.

Tom stared at him, his face beatific in its happiness. He was sitting cross-legged on Dumbledore's desk, a skull balanced precariously in his hand. It seemed to be just carved, by hand judging by the knife he could see next to Tom. As Harry watched in horror, Tom brought the skull to his mouth, drinking blood-red liquid.

His mind made the jump before he could stop it; the skull had to be Dumbledore's.

He rose slowly to his feet, his hands searching for his wand. He couldn't find it.

"Looking for this?" asked Tom. He had set the skull down as Harry was searching frantically and instead of the skull, Harry's holly wand rested. "Come here, Harry."

Harry had no choice to obey.

When he got closer, Tom was humming a tune he didn't know. There was a glowing tempus behind Harry; he could see the reflection in Tom's red eyes.

"Do you still love me now?" asked Tom, when Harry was standing right in front of him. Harry didn't think Tom expected a response, but Harry grit his teeth anyway.

"No," he said, revulsion curling even as he said it, and Tom's eyes were delighted.

"We'll be spending eternity in Hell together, so don't be a bore, Harry," said Tom, his tone light, and Harry didn't expect Tom to move as quickly as he did.

Tom crushed their lips together, their teeth clacking and Harry tasted blood. For a split second, horror filled him as he remembered what Tom had been drinking, but then he registered the sharp pain in his lips and the sweet taste from Tom's. It was his own blood he was tasting.

"The clock's ticking," said Tom, when they were apart. Harry watched as if time was in slow motion; Tom's hand raising and pressing the tip of Harry's own wand to Harry's chest.

It seemed as if time stood still as Tom spoke the spell's incantation, and even though there was a roaring in his ears, Harry already knew what was coming.

He closed his eyes in defeat, just as the Tempus charm stroke the next hour.

Thirtieth of July, Year of 1998

There was arguing in the room next door. Harry should be in there, but he was more worried about comforting his younger sister. Besides, he was in there just a few minutes before, and it seemed like the adults were about to get nothing done.

Peony's hold tightened on him, her eleven-year-old body flinching as the sound of a vase shattering echoed into the room. He immediately curled her body closer to his, trying his best to project the feeling of safety to his younger sister.

"It's going to be alright," he promised, his voice soft.

"They've never fought like this before," she said, her voice trembling, and he sighed softly.

He hated that he couldn't tell her what their parents were fighting about. But at the same time, he was grateful his parents forbade it. It would hurt Peony to know that Harry was leaving. Especially so soon after Fred Weasley had been killed.

It was the main reason Harry had decided to go through with it. He was the strongest wizard left under the age limit the spell had specified, and everyone knew only Harry would be able to survive the jump to the past. It drained the caster's magic until it was satisfied, and even if the caster had no more magic, it would continue draining even when the caster was a mere husk of what they had once been.

That was the only thing they knew about the spell. It had been found in the Black's library, hidden behind a multitude of wards. The book itself nearly tore off the hand of the witch that had found it. Hermione had a fear of books for weeks afterward.

There had been a note attached, and that was the only reason they knew it sent wizards back in time. The spell itself was in an unknown language, one that no one left around could even try to understand. And they didn't dare go to any Muggles for help.

Not when they had lost the War.

Harry didn't know when it had all gone downhill; not even his parents were willing to speak of it. Too many people had died because of it.

And although Harry knew it was dangerous to be sent back without knowing, he didn't want to press. His parents' eyes were already tortured enough.

And it was easy enough to guess. The turning point was Albus Dumbledore's death. As long as Harry could prevent that, the fate of the world would be changed forever.

They had already done extensive research on the day Dumbledore died. He had lived a long life and his parents knew he was the one to go to.

Harry had never met him. He didn't know a thing about Dumbledore. But he knew he was someone he could trust. And as long as they worked together, they could save the Wizarding Society.

"I have your birthday present," said Peony, suddenly breaking the silence. There was still arguing, but it seemed muted now compared to his sister's bright green eyes. She pulled a box out of the pocket in her robes, placing it in his hand.

He kept his other arm curled around his sister, opening it wandlessly.

There was a locket in there. There was no crest; it was nameless, a simple nondescript heart. He raised it into the air with magic, and he felt his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Peony knew. She wasn't supposed to.

"How'd you find out?" he asked.

"There's a picture of us in there," said Peony, ignoring his question. She was crying now, but her voice was normal. "It's charmed to only show it when you say my name."

It was hard for him to stay composed. He wanted to cry, but he knew it wasn't right if he did. This spell was a chance, not a death sentence. It was hard to remember when he knew he was leaving the next day; they had waited until a day before his birthday, the very last day before he couldn't leave anymore. But his sister was eleven.

Eleven.

In a normal world, she would have gotten her Hogwarts letter. She would be at his school, and probably sorted into Gryffindor. She would have learned Quidditch, gotten friends like Hermione and Ron, and maybe even pulled some pranks on the Slytherins.

Instead, she was still at home. A home that wasn't a home. It was a safehouse, the last safehouse for all of Wizarding Society.

And he was their only hope out of this.

He was going to make sure his little sister got a better life.

So instead of crying, he said his sister's name softly. When he opened the heart, it was of them. His parents, his sister, and him.

He pulled his little sister into a tight hug, his eyes still burning. "Thank you," he whispered, and he wished he would never have to let go.

Second of May, Year of 1946

He thought that he would be knocked out during the spell. But he was awake for every part of it. The blood giving. The magic draining. His parents' crying faces as they continued chanting as he writhed in excruciating pain in the middle of the carefully-drawn star on the floor.

He had bitten through his lip in his determination to keep from screaming. Now, as the spell spat him out, he stumbled straight into a door, falling through it and onto his knees.

There was commotion in front of him, but Harry was too drained to look up. His magic was still gone.

A hand lifted his head.

He blinked groggily up, his vision swimming at the sudden movement. When it cleared, he was looking into a pair of intense brown eyes.

He didn't know who this was. His heartbeat panicked as he realized this, knowing immediately they weren't on the day they had planned for. This wasn't the day of Dumbledore's death. If they were, they would be in one of the strongholds. And his parents and he had went over painstakingly care to name every single person that resided in them.

But they had done every part of the spell correctly.

How could this be the day where everything had gone wrong?

"He's panicking," said the wizard, boredom clear to hear in his voice, and even though Harry was panicking, it irked him. He couldn't concentrate on it though, not when it felt like he was going to faint out of pure anxiety.

He curled up, his hands on each side of his head as he tried his best to breathe normally.

In, out, he repeated frantically to himself, and he clenched his eyes shut, trying his best to calm down.

Then there was a tart, artificial sourness in his mouth, and when he swallowed, he was able to breathe again.

Healing magic was on his bottom lip later, and when he opened his eyes, Dumbledore was staring back at him, a kind smile on his face.

"Your hair's red," he blurted out.

"Thank you, my boy," said Dumbledore, as jolly as his parents had ever described him. "Not a spell, just my good luck." The older man kindly led him to the seat in front of his desk, and Harry realized with a jolt that they were in Hogwarts. He would remember the Headmaster's office for all his life. Fawkes was even sitting on the perch. Harry had the phoenix's card back in the future and it was one of his most treasured possessions. But this Fawkes didn't even look at him.

"Who is he?" asked the other wizard, ire clear to hear in his voice. "Are you really letting an unknown man into your office, Albus?"

"He's already in here, Tom," said Dumbledore, and he sounded amused. Harry wasn't sure why, not when Tom's face got even darker at Dumbledore's words. "We might as well hear him out."

"This will be good," said Tom, darkly, and he turned to Harry. "I guess it's not as if he's a threat." He scoffed. "Not a lick of magic. Are you a squib?"

Squibs weren't looked down upon in the past.

But in the future, they had been one of the main reasons the Muggles were able to find out about magic. They didn't have any magic, so they were eager to claim monetary rewards by giving up their relative's names to the Muggles. He hated them. He wasn't able to stop the revulsion from crossing his face and the visceral reaction the name elicited from him.

"No," he snarled, "I'm not one of them."

Dumbledore's eyebrows were high on his face. Interest colored Tom's.

"Oh?" asked Tom, and there was amusement in his tone now. "Don't like squibs, do you?"

He had given himself away.

Shame curled in his belly.

Only a minute into the past and he had already screwed up. They should have sent someone else.

They should have sent Hermione.

But he was the only one they could've sent. Hermione might have a way with her words, but Harry was here because he was the only one the spell could've chosen. He had to put his insecurities behind him. There was a reason it was him here, and not his best friend.

"No, I don't," he said.

There was a brief look of disappointment on Dumbledore's face. Harry flinched at it, and looked away, and flushed heavily when he saw the intense stare of Tom's. He wondered desperately who this 'Tom' was, and just why he would be meeting with Dumbledore, of all people. He wasn't a student; that much was obvious by the lack of a House crest on his robes. Though Harry already suspected that Tom would've been a Slytherin if he was still a student.

"Then where's your magic?" continued Tom, thoughtfully. "If you aren't a Squib…"

Harry yelped out of surprise as Tom's arm shot out, the grip painful on his forearm. "You're drained of magic. Are you an imbecile?" His tone was biting, and Harry couldn't look away from Tom's glare, despite hearing Dumbledore try to make a sound of protest, "You'll die if you don't get some potions in you."

He paled, and he knew Tom was right. The consequences of magical exhaustion were dire. But he hadn't been thinking about what would happen after the ritual. He had assumed he would have fallen into a deep sleep and awake only after his reserves had been replenished. But he hadn't been able to sleep or eat and was thrust straight into an anxiety attack and then a hostile situation with his heartbeat elevated.

He blinked rapidly, his vision swimming as dizziness threatened to overtake him as he slowly realized the state his body was in.

Surprisingly, Tom steadied him as he stumbled. His touch was gentle, despite the hard grip he had on Harry's arm. "Don't sleep," the man commanded, his grip tightening. "Albus, I trust our meeting was sufficient?"

"Fawkes," said Dumbledore, instead. Tom let go suddenly and stepped back as Fawkes spread his wings. Although he hadn't been very interested when Harry had first appeared, now the phoenix was regarding Harry with interest. He cawed loudly but didn't move.

Dumbledore nodded once, reaching out a hand to stroke the phoenix's feathers in thanks. "I will take him myself, my boy." He didn't wait for a response, instead reaching out and grabbing Harry away from Tom's side. Harry stumbled into him, his limbs feeling as if they were moving throughout water, and barely stifled the gasp as Dumbledore side-apparated him. Tom's outraged face was the last thing he saw of Dumbledore's office.

They weren't in the Infirmary. Harry had thought Dumbledore would have taken him there, but instead, they were in a small room. Potions littered the shelves.

Dumbledore was humming a jolly tone, even as he undertook the difficult task of transfiguring the rickety chair into a grand bed. He gestured to it, and then turned, scanning the shelves for the potions Harry needed.

Harry sank gratefully onto the bed, his breath evening out as he realized Dumbledore had taken him here to get away from Tom. He wondered if Tom knew that he, himself, had provided Dumbledore the means to do so.

Tom couldn't be older than him, but Dumbledore had seemed wary of him, anyway. He wondered if this was important – if the spell had deposited him here not for Dumbledore, but for this unknown wizard.

He only regarded it seriously for a second before shaking his head. He was being silly. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of their time. If he wasn't here to save Dumbledore from his death, perhaps Dumbledore needed someone to tell him of the future. To guide him into creating a world that could withstand the scrutiny of the Muggles.

Perhaps he was to stay here for the long run. Harry hadn't had much hope of returning back home, but he had at least hoped that the spell would make the solution fast and short to fix. But it was such a big affair, it would make sense that he would have to stay here longer.

He smiled. The spell hadn't failed. He just had to tell Dumbledore everything and hope that would be enough. When Dumbledore handed him the potions, he didn't hesitate on downing them.

"What is your name, my boy?"

"Harry James Potter," he said, and then clapped his hands to his mouth.

Dumbledore had dosed him with Veritaserum. He felt tears prickling at the edge of his eyes. How could he have been so stupid? Veritaserum was clear and odorless, but Harry shouldn't have trusted something he hadn't tested himself.

His Occlumency barriers weren't even up because of his drained magic. He reached desperately for it and stilled when a hand touched his.

"It's a necessary precaution, Harry," said Dumbledore, his voice kind. "Don't reach for your magic; you'll die if you use any more."

"I would have told you everything if you just asked," he said, his words biting, and watched as Dumbledore blinked in surprise. Since he was under Veritaserum, what he said was the truth.

Dumbledore's shoulders relaxed. "You are a Potter." He didn't elaborate on what that meant for him. "How did you get into my office this morning?"

"I'm from the year of 1998. I'm eighteen now." And he was, because the potion let him say it. It might not be his birthday today, whatever day it was, but when he was sent here a day had passed. And that meant today was the day that was supposed to be his birthday. "I was sent here from the future."

"A spell? A ritual…" pondered Dumbledore. "That's why your magic was drained."

Harry bowed his head in an answer.

"Why to this day? Grindelwald has been defeated. The future should be …"

He fell silent, realization easy to see in his eyes. "Of course, there is one more Dark Lord to come."

"Who?" he asked, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"Just mere suspicion, my dear boy." He paused, looking like he was going to ask more, and then he frowned.

"You should sleep."

"I'm fine," he protested. He needed to tell Dumbledore everything even if he had dosed him with Veritaserum. He was the only way out of here.

Dumbledore's smile was kind. "You'll be here for a while, Harry. When you wake, we can talk."

When Dumbledore apparated out, he still looked worried.

Harry wondered why. Then to his horror, he realized that Dumbledore never asked him the correct questions. He thought that the future was bleak because of a future Dark Lord. But it was because of the Muggles.

But he was too tired to do anything now. The effect of Veritaserum was wearing off, and the other potion was setting in. It would help replenish his reserves as he slept.

He wished he had his reserves back. Even if it was to cast a simple Tempus charm to tell the time. He had no clue what year he was in, or if it was morning or night.

But Dumbledore was right. He would be here for a while.

He let his eyes slip close, and fell fast asleep.

He startled awake. The room was dark. There was no source of light in the small room. He blinked rapidly, his heart beating fast as he wondered what had woken him up.

Then he felt it.

The tip of a wand against his throat.

"Hullo again, Harry."

The tone was light, even cherry. But it still sent shivers down his spine.

"Tom," he whispered.

"I don't believe I gave you permission to use my first name," said Tom.

"You're using mine," he pointed out. "And besides, I don't know your last name."

"Oh?" there was delight in the man's tone again. Harry wondered spitefully if the wizard was dropped on his head as a baby. He was creepy and weird. No wonder Dumbledore was wary of him.

"You're right, of course. But don't you wonder how I know your name at all? You've never told me."

He only told Dumbledore. "What'd you do to him?" he asked, wary, and Tom laughed, the sound echoing in the small room.

"I'm not stupid enough to challenge the strongest wizard of our time, Harry." Tom's tone was chiding. "Not like you, the imbecile as you are."

"What'd you say?" he said, rearing up in anger.

"I wasn't the one to make my dislike of Muggles clear in front of his face," said Tom. "I don't know what future you're from, but Dumbledore isn't to be trusted in any timeline. He dosed you with Veritaserum, didn't he?"

He wanted to protest, wanted to claim that Dumbledore was a good guy, but the fact remained that Harry didn't know much beyond his parents' blind faith in the man. He had always been a figurehead, and Harry didn't know if he was any different in this timeline. He had dosed Harry against his will.

"Well, since you're probably too stupid to figure out," said Tom, conversationally, "I put a tracking and listening spell on you when you were taken away. I knew Dumbledore wouldn't leave me with you. Still shocking the old coot didn't notice the spells, but he must've been too excited about you being from the future."

"What do you want from me?" he asked, instead of reacting to Tom's words. Because if he did, he was sure Tom would just find another way to insult him.

"Obviously I'm here to pick your mind clean," said Tom. "Knowing the future won't hurt. Especially since you seem to know information about the next Dark Lord."

"There is no next Dark Lord," he spat out, and was rewarded with a long silence.

"I don't understand," said Tom eventually, his voice small, and then suddenly the wizard hissed in pain. Harry's eyes had eventually adjusted in the dark, and he saw the way the wizard suddenly keeled over.

Dumbledore must have figured out that Tom was here. His heart brightened, even as he worried that he couldn't trust Dumbledore. He would have to worry about that after Dumbledore saved him.

Tom suddenly straightened, his arm around his middle. He was hissing madly, and he stumbled into the door of the room, light suddenly shining in as it swung open.

It was a complete one-eighty. Harry had no clue what was happening.

"Someone's here," said Tom, his voice soft and deadly, and he didn't even spare another glance for Harry. He straightened, as much as he could when he was clearly in pain, and held his wand out in front of him as he stepped forward.

Without Tom holding it open, the door swung shut, enveloping Harry into darkness again.

Harry stumbled to his feet, the sheets hindering him from reaching the door in his usual speed. The tiredness of his limbs was another factor; he was still weak from the ritual, even with a potion and sleep.

Even with the door closed, Harry heard Dumbledore's voice. It was outraged, and loud, and Harry could feel Dumbledore's magical power emanating. "Tom," it was deadly in its shortness, "Why are you at Hogwarts?"

"Get out of the way, Dumbledore," was Tom's response, and Harry was just about to push the door open when there was a loud bang.

It knocked Harry back onto his bum, and he wheezed, the breath knocked out of him.

There was silence, besides Dumbledore's single gasp of pain, and Harry struggled to get to his feet.

Had Tom killed Dumbledore? Who was this wizard? Had Dumbledore died earlier in the past and they just didn't know it? Was that why he was sent back to this particular day? And if it was, did that mean he failed?

And then suddenly, runes surrounded him. They were golden and lit up the room, casting shadows everywhere. They circled madly around him, lines and lines of runes and he recognized them immediately. They were the runes from the spell that had taken him here.

They sank into his skin, and he was forced to close his eyes as they rose to a blinding light.

When he opened his eyes, he recognized the door in front of him.

It was the door to Dumbledore's office.

A/N: Ahh, I had this in the works since Halloween, but wasn't able to get it done in time for the actual date, and was waaaaay too impatient to wait until next Halloween to upload, so it turned into a long multichapter instead.

As always, please review and fave and let me know what you think! This is darker than my usual stuff, and will have a mystery involved, but hope you enjoy anyway 3

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