Disclaimer: I does not own. I does not want to. Would be shite if I owned. Harry Potter and all themes and settings related to it are intellectual property of JK Rowling.

Written for the Fireplace's Writing Challenge #3: The Butterfly Effect.

This is choppy, but intentionally so. Also, to my lovely readers that have me on Author Alert, this is rather based in canon and therefore there is no slash. Not even a hint. I'm sad too, loves, but I thought I'd warn you guys before you were disappointed.

Fickle Temporality

"Harry, this is a bad idea. A really, phenomenally bad idea. Please…"

He folded his jumper without turning, swallowing around the thick feeling in his throat. His bag was nearly full now. He took his time picking out a few pairs of socks, making sure they were newer and not one of the many pairs he had gotten from Dudley or Vernon.

"Won't you listen to me, Harry? The temporal fabric is so fragile; what if you cause the universe to suck in on itself? You aren't messing with a couple of hours ago and doing things meant to be done, Harry. You're talking about changing everything! Even if you change things… it could be worse. And time is an ancient thing, Harry. You won't get away with it."

Harry paused with a pair of y-fronts in his fist, teeth gritting. He refused to answer her, not now. He had already said all there was to be said. If he answered her now, there was a possibility he'd let her talk him out of it. And that was out of the question.

He fastened the straps of his bag and slung it over one shoulder, resting it comfortably and pushing his glasses up his nose. The Time-Turner glinted on the bed. His silence seemed to scream, but Harry made no move to break it.

"Please… don't do this. Ginny is pregnant. She is due any day and you… you want to possibly ruin that?"

Harry took up the Time-Turner and looped the chain around his neck, lifting it and placing his finger against the cool hourglass. "It is for that child that I've got to do this. I won't bring my son into a world like this."

"You're being a fool! Your son will have family and a wonderful home…"

But Harry knew his child deserved more. He deserved more than a photo album of dead relatives; he deserved more than a world ravaged by war. He deserved better than a father who spent hours a day staring at his reflection and wondering where he had gone wrong.

Hermione shrieked as he made the first turn, but he heard no more as he continued, the amplified effects of the Time-Turner still needing two spins per year.

Harry spun it forty-six times.

Breaking into the dilapidated Riddle Manor wasn't hard. The wards seemed to be in their infancy, and Harry relished in knowing that Voldemort had hardly even had time to establish true terror yet.

"You'll die now, Voldemort!" Harry shouted, charging past the shocked Death Eaters and drawing his wand.

"What is this?!"

The snake-like face of his adversary hardly had time to turn towards him before Harry had snarled out the incantation. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's grin was wide as green enveloped Voldemort, and he Apparated from the scene before the Death Eaters could move to stop him. He had done it.

Getting back had been much more complicated than going forward. Going back had required him to spin the small hourglass on the Time-Turner. Going forward had needed a ritual.

But he had done it. Harry grinned as the world swirled around him, promising to return him to the moment he had left. Hermione wouldn't even know he'd been gone. Elated could not describe how Harry felt; he was on top of the world. He had conquered Voldemort before he had even had the chance to wreak havoc. He had saved the lives of his parents… of Sirius… of everyone he loved. No longer would George sit listlessly in the corner during gatherings, no longer would he pet Teddy's hair and tell him the few stories he knew of the Marauder's school days. No longer would Harry have to simply dream of his parents holding his first child. He had succeeded where others had failed: he had changed the world for the better.

Finding the Hocruxes the second time hadn't been as easy as he'd thought. Tracking down Regulus Black had turned up the locket, and the diadem had still been in the Room of Requirement. The ring's protections had been far from child's play to break. Hufflepuff's cup had taken him a month to find by itself. Malfoy Manor had taken Polyjuice and a gala. Six months in all it had taken him to prepare, and killing Voldemort had taken all of a day. Gryffindor recklessness was not something to be ignored.

Landing was jarring, and suddenly Harry was very glad that he had chosen an out-of-the-way place to return. He crumpled as the world stopped moving around him, leaving his head still spinning with the passage of time. His stomach heaved rapidly, but Harry managed not to expel anything but excess saliva. All in all, though, being ill on the ground had never felt as wonderful as it did in that moment.

He had done it. He peered up through smudged glasses at the sky, glancing toward where Godric's Hollow rested beyond the trees. With any luck, he would meet his parents for the first time.

"Who are you?"

Harry's breath caught as he stared at the man before him, dark hair tousled and glasses askew. An image he saw most mornings in the mirror reflected in broader shoulders and lines around the eyes, pronounced by the glare Harry was being given. But the expression didn't matter – this was his father, James Potter, in the flesh. Harry's grin was wavering. "Dad…"

Color drained from James's olive complexion, and his wand shook in his grip. "Listen to me, scum! If you think for one moment that I am fooled by this guise of yours--"

"Dad, what are you talking about? It is me, Harry… I just… I've fixed everything…" Harry laughed in a hysterical tone, and he raked his hands through his hair. "I've done it, I saved you. Don't you see, Dad? It's me, Harry."

"I have no child!" James Potter bellowed, striding forward to stab his wand under Harry's chin. Harry only now noticed the insane cast to his eyes. "I don't know who you think you are, coming here and posing as a child who was killed so long ago, but I will kill you for it."

"You're Prongs, a stag animagus! Moony is a werewolf, Padfoot a black dog, and Wormtail a rat. Please, Dad, I don't understand."

Madness remained in James's eyes, but his chin quivered. "No one knows about the forms, no one. How did you find out? Will you tell your master now, scum? Will you? Did Snivellus's traitorous arse put you up to this? Fuck, how did he get past the Secrecy Spell?"

Every word seemed to ring with dire portent, and Harry was mortified to feel tears filling his eyes. "Dad, what do I have to say to prove it to you? What happened? I killed Voldemort to save you, to give us all a wonderful life…"

"Voldemort? Hah! He was child's play in comparison to the Regina."

Ice flooded his veins. "Regina?"

"Bellatrix Black. Wicked bitch, she is." James's voice broke as he went on, "She killed them both, when my dear Harry was only a year old. The Regina lost her mind with the downfall of Voldemort, and she quickly took his place. She was mad, so mad… she began exterminating wizards for the fun of it, no agenda in mind but to rule over those who would agree with her. She has subjugated Wizarding England. She killed my Lily and my Harry, right before my eyes. Left me alive to spread the story, to be sure others would know. But no, she did not realize the opposition she was creating…"

Harry's eyes were round in shock as James continued, spinning a tale of madness and slavery. Collars that made the strongest magical people little better than squibs, feeding their magic to their master. Forced obedience with Imperius Potions. Wizards and witches treated little better than House Elves, or maybe worse… there were many things a human was suited or desired for that a House Elf never would be.

Harry wanted to vomit. This was not what he had envisioned when he had killed Voldemort, this was not the way things should have gone. As he stared into the dead eyes of James Potter, Harry felt something within him break. This was not the man he had imagined meeting. This was a grieving man whose mind had gone the way of his heart.

"But we'll show her. We will. Padfoot and me… we've got a plan. We'll do it, because she killed Moony and Lily and Prongslet." James released him, stumbling away, grinning maniacally. "We'll get her good, even if it kills us. We've got nothing left, anyway. And Snivellus… he'll go, too. All his fault, traitorous, jealous bastard. Just because my Lily was too smart to not see through him…"

Harry couldn't listen anymore, couldn't hear his father's insane, vindictive mutterings. He couldn't deal with a world even worse than the one he'd left. James didn't even notice as he fumbled for the Time-Turner, holding it to the light and flicking it quickly.

Harry spun it forty times.

Harry had appeared on the doorstep of his parents' home in Godric's Hollow, two weeks before the night Voldemort had come for him… in his timeline. He'd thought Bellatrix would attack the same night, and if not, he had been prepared to wait her out. He would have stood guard rain or snow over his home for the entire winter if he had had to.

But he hadn't. Predictably, Bellatrix had appeared on Halloween night to ravish the Potters, and Harry had been slightly disgusted with how easy it had been to utter the Killing Curse and exterminate the crazy witch. And, just to be safe, he had taken out Lucius Malfoy as well as Barty Crouch Jr.

And now Harry was once again on his way to his present, hoping that this time the change had been what he had wished for.

"It's Potter! Run!"

Harry cursed as he landed in a ragtag group of camping wizards, who immediately panicked as he hit the ground.

"Potter?! You can't mean that he's found us? Run, everyone! Don't grab your things, just take the children and run for your lives!"

Harry was confused and still disoriented from the ritual, peering up over his glasses. "What are you talking about? Why are you running from me?"

A woman nearby shrieked almost continuously, eyes wide as she scrabbled in reverse on her backside. She was giving Harry a headache. He raised his wand to silence her, only to have his breath knocked out of him as a heavy figure landed on his back. "Get the hell away from my wife, you scum!"

The voice was all too familiar. "Ron?!" Harry was flipped onto his back, facing the fierce blue eyes of his best friend. "Ron, what is going on?"

"Who do you think you're fooling, Potter? Come to finish us off, you filthy Slytherin traitor?!"

Harry gaped. What in the world had gone wrong this time?

"I won't let you kill anyone else. No, I won't let you take Carina like you took Hermione from me. Dirty snake, sadistic freak! You turned your backs on us all, and for what? Power?! I knew you were Dark the moment I saw you, and your parents would forgive me for this if you hadn't killed them already. I'll kill you before you take anything else from me!"

Despite the pain and the desperation Harry felt, despite the confusion and heartache Ron's spiteful words induced, when he saw green spell-light begin gathering on Ron's wand, he did the only thing he could think of and grabbed the Time-Turner around his neck.

This time, Harry spun the Time-Turner one hundred and forty times.

Tom Riddle was a deceptively cherubic child. Harry watched with cold eyes as the boy ran around the grounds of the orphanage. This boy would be a monster, destroying lives everywhere. Destroying him. Hysteria bubbled just beneath the surface again, but Harry shoved it down. No. He would take care of this. The fog that had been warping his mind be damned.

This was euthanasia for the sake of the world. He could see nothing but a demon as he watched ruddy cheeks and an innocent grin. But he would not sacrifice the innocence of the other children for this death, he would not have them watch. So he waited, waited until the young Tom Riddle was playing alone on one side of the courtyard before he crept forward under a Disillusionment Charm.

But the boy saw him, a welcoming grin splitting his face. "Hi. Who are you? My name's Tom. I'm almost five! You're really tall, didja know that?"

The babble washed over Harry as he crouched before the boy, expressionless as he looked over the child who would become Voldemort. "No, I didn't."

"Are you here to find someone? Cuz most of the time people only come here if they wanna take someone away or if someone's in trouble. Is someone in trouble?"

"No, but I've come to take you away, Tom. Would you like that?"

The grin made dark blue eyes glitter with hope, and Harry shoved away the small part of him that wept at his choice, at the loss of his own morality. "Really, Mister? You'll take me away? No one's been coming for kids because Mrs. Cole says the De… De… Degrission is making people not want t' have kids. It gets cold here, and there's never enough food. Even when there is, the big kids take it… Isn't that mean, Mister?"

"Depression," Harry said absently as he withdrew his wand, staring down at the boy and shaking his head. "But I'll make sure you're never cold or hungry again, Tom."

"Hooray!" the boy cheered, leaping to his feet. "Should I go get Mrs. Cole?"

"There's no need for that, Tom." Harry stared into guileless blue eyes, raising his wand to point between them. "Sleep well. Avada Kedavra."

Harry felt addled as he landed once more in his present, and for the first time he wondered if Hermione hadn't been right after all. He hurt, and he didn't think his body would be able to stand another trip through time. His mind was fogged and his thoughts disjointed, and Harry felt little other than apathy as he thought of his death count from the past few weeks.

He pulled himself slowly to his feet and looked around, feeling everything quiet around him. He was in some farming land east of London, the nearest place he had felt comfortable about doing the ritual after killing the young Tom Riddle.

But surely this had to have fixed everything? No Voldemort, no problems. He wasn't there to corrupt the minds of the Dark wizards, or to wreak havoc, or to hatch plans for killing off the parents of prophesized saviors. He shivered and dusted off his trousers, putting a hand on his wand and Apparating himself to an alley near the Leaky Cauldron. He would find the fate of the world here, and then go to Godric's Hollow to see his parents.

The streets of Muggle London were empty. Eerily so. There was no sign of fire or destruction, simply quiet. No vehicles drove down London's usually busy streets, no shoppers went about their business. There was no hum of electricity, even, and shops had no lights in their windows. Harry warily crept toward the pub that disguised the entrance to Diagon Alley, heart pounding in his throat.

The Leaky Cauldron was far from quiet.

Cheering surrounded Harry, wizards and witches milling about the room with glasses held high, laughter and cheer nearly palpable in the room. Harry snagged the sleeve of a nearby wizard, one he'd never met, and cocked his head. "Hey, I've been in… err… Egypt for the last year… what's happened?"

The man looked at him like he was insane. "You haven't heard? Were you stuck under a pyramid or something?"

Harry growled. "Would you just tell me?"

A wide grin, "The muggles have gone!"

In the next minutes, the man told him a mind-boggling tale. Albus Dumbledore, after the defeat of Gellert Grindelwald, had become the undisputed leader of the Wizarding world after much cajoling. Once he had hit his stride, though… he had began a rather outrageous plan to integrate the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, feeling the human race had evolved enough to allow them to coexist once more.

It had been fought for years, but with a new generation had come new thoughts, and so the plan had slowly been implemented. But it seemed as if Dumbledore's hopes had been a bit too idealistic, as the muggles had balked at the idea of magic. Fights had broken out, soldiers shooting down known Wizards and the government trying to demand registration and regulations on the magical world.

Revolt had come, war like the wizards had never seen. Weapons the magical beings hadn't imagined existed, killing them all far too easily in the beginning. The hostilities had increased slowly but surely, until wizards had been actively killing muggles who looked like they might know what they were.

And then this. The man informed him that suddenly the muggles had begun leaving, jumping onto aeroplanes and leaving Great Britain. It was a time for rejoicing, having finally won.

Harry's stomach fell as he stumbled back out into the fresh air, vertigo stealing his balance. This could not be happening. Not after all he'd gone through. Not after all he'd done.

Pain and sanity be damned, Harry wouldn't let this be the end. He fumbled for the Time-Turner, eyes glassy and glazed as his breathing accelerated. This would not be the end.

When the whine began, quieter than anything he'd even heard from the Durselys' television but still telltale.

Harry Potter's last sight was of the Time-Turner, a choked sob escaping his throat through a self-depreciating grin before the bombs obliterated London.

Time always had its revenge.