Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, obviously so please don't sue.
Harry stared apathetically into the crystal ball, wracking his brain for some bogus prediction he could claim to see. As it was mere days before the third task, the fact that it would be a death omen was easy; the difficult part was in figuring out a manner of death he had not yet used in the last two years.
Before he could say anything, however, his attention was caught by a flicker of images in the foggy orb before him. As he concentrated harder, he seemed to comprehend exactly what was happening as he saw first his co-champion of Hogwarts fall to a killing curse with the cup close by and then a ritual that was taking place. He quickly memorized it since in his research for the tasks he had come across a heavy tome about rituals, though he had only skimmed the first chapter.
Wording is very important in the enactment of a ritual. As in other forms of magic, the word is the focus of the will. However, when done in ritual setting, this is even more vital because the word becomes the deed even if the materials are wrong, in which case the entire end result may be consequently altered.
Harry smirked at this thought before rattling off a fake seeing at the hovering professor. Soon he was able to dash out of the room and head straight to the library. First he had to reread that chapter and then he had some planning to do which was worthy of a Marauder!
Later that night when everyone had gone to bed, he crept down stairs to the fireplace and brought out the pouch of floo powder Sirius had given him in case of emergencies. "Sirius Black!" He hissed, after throwing in the powder.
There was a long wait and then he saw his Godfather's head appear in the fireplace. "Harry? What's wrong?"
Harry bit his lip. "I need you to trust me. I have to do something and I need you help. It's sort of a prank and sort of not."
Sirius immediately nodded. "Of course I'll help. What do you need?"
"Well, the easy part is fish bones transfigured to look like human bones."
Sirius looked skeptical but the look on his godson's face convinced him that this was important. "And the hard part?"
"I need to go to a cemetery and switch out the bones from a certain grave with the transfigured ones."
Sirius looked ready to explode but seeing his honorary nephew cringe back way from him, he gathered his control and considered this. Bones were a powerful magical component and as a result, the desecration of any grave was a serious offense. On the other hand, Harry probably had a very good reason for it considering how grim his expression was. "How about this instead, you tell me the grave and I'll switch the bones, no questions asked on the condition that you tell me the truth after everything has gone down? There are strong wards on the school to alert the headmaster of people leaving the grounds at night."
The boy wanted to argue but he bit his tongue, realizing that this was the best it would get, and would probably work out better in the long run. "The cemetery is in Little Hangleton and the grave is that of Tom Riddle Senior, although I don't know if senior is actually on the stone. Anyway, this has to be done post haste, like tonight or tomorrow at latest. Please?" He begged with his eyes, startling a chuckle out of his godfather.
"Not the puppy dog eyes! I surrender! I'll go as soon as we end the call, okay, Harry?"
Harry heaved a huge sigh of relief and then yawned. "Perfectly! Good night, Padfoot."
He did not expect to sleep that night but he did in fact fall into a deep and dreamless slumber the moment his head hit the pillow in relief at the removal of one more burden. He felt light hearted when he awoke and continued so for the next couple of days despite the growing tension about the third task. Thanks to the owl which arrived at breakfast the morning after the call, he knew that he could alter that dark future and he had to constantly prevent near hysterical giggles from erupting.
When the day came for him to take on his final task, Harry felt ready to end the whole stupid war before it could restart. He made his way through the obstacles far too easily but despite the help of Cedric, he did not allow the older boy to touch the cup and secure the win. He soon found himself tied to a familiar looking headstone and watched eagerly to see what his little prank had wrought. The bones, hand and blood entered the large cauldron and then the Voldemort homunculus was placed inside. And there he could see the true results of his attempt to change the future.
Rising from the cauldron was a gasping creature which swiftly succumbed to the problems that result from mixing the bones of a cold blooded non air breathing creature with warm blood. It was not a pretty sight but is was even more amusing than he had hoped and since Voldemort had bound his spirit to it to give it life, he could not escape as he had done in his possession of Quirrell but was really and truly dead.
Harry grimaced at the feeling of blood trickling down his arm but forced himself to concentrate on his own magic so that he could access the same power that had allowed him to blow up his aunt. He used this to free himself and then reached out with it to retrieve his wand from Pettigrew. In short order he had used a spell he had found in his research to prevent the rat animagus from transforming before stunning, incarcerating, and cauterizing the shocked wizard. Then he accioed the cup while holding on to the cauldron and the traitor. It quickly activated to return him to the school grounds with a certain amount of smug triumph.
When he arrived at the same place from which he had departed, he found Dumbledore and several professors and ministry officials there, testing the magical residue and questioning the Hufflepuff. "Ahem," Harry coughed politely, causing everyone to jump. "Nice to see you. This is Peter Pettigrew, the living traitor who held my family's secret and killed several muggles to conceal this. Oh, and this is what is left of good old Voldie the Moldy, otherwise known as fish face." He snickered at the expressions they wore of horrified fascination and a conviction that he had finally lost his mind.
"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked hesitantly.
Harry rolled his eyes. "What the heck do you think? Look, do something about the rat and let my godfather adopt me. Oh, and you could conjure me a bandage." He sneered in exasperation and exhaustion before doing so himself, casting another spell which would render his blood safe from usage by anyone other than himself.
"Just what is going on here?" Minister Fudge exclaimed rudely, approaching the group. "Who won the bloody contest and what is this bloody mess?"
Harry pointed again. "Ex-dark lord, traitor. I won. Now I am going to go see my friends and possibly talk to the press about the people who screwed up the tournament by portkeying me to a cemetery and forcing me to take part in a faulty dark ritual that destroyed the magical terrorist whose name everyone always hypothesizes."
Madeye Moody grabbed him by the arm as he started to walk away. "You can't be serious! The Dark Lord can't be dead!"
Harry wrenched his arm free, "Whatever." He snatched the flagon off the ex-auror's belt. "I'm bleeding thirsty." As he raised it to his lips, however, he recognized the unmistakable scent of polyjuice and hurriedly stupefied and bound the fraudulent teacher.
Moving on, he hurried out of the maze to find himself surrounded by friends and media, all of whom were begging to know what had happened and why he had disappeared. Harry answered the questions as best he could before scurrying away to the library to find another book on a subject he was curious about—family ties.
Seating himself in a corner, he began reading the book, which included spells to reveal familial relations and to revoke them. He was shocked but pleased to discover that he had been blood adopted by Sirius when the man had become his godfather. He then cast the permanent severing spell that disowned Petunia Dursley nee Evans and Dudley Dursley from his family. This came with a coda he was able to invoke, however, which gave him the right to reinstate later generations if he so chose, which he would only do if there were any magical children born into that family. Pleased with his day's work, he slipped up to his tower and spelled his curtains shut for a well deserved sleep.
A.N. Do you think I should continue this? Read and Review!