Harry looked around.
Nothing.
Just the mangled and bloody bodies of everyone he knew and everyone he never had the chance to meet. Yes, Voldemort was dead. Harry himself had killed the bastard, but at what cost? The war had been disastrous. The ministry was non-existent. There was no one left to have a ministry. Every so often he would see a house elf. They would ask if he needed any help and he would tell them they could help clean up Hogwarts. With no one else to serve, they agreed.
Harry was now sitting in the room where he had found The Mirror of Erised during his first year. Hermione had made it her project room before Bellatrix found her. He was now looking through her research. He had been going through all of her ideas and projects for months on his own, distracting himself from the wreckage outside. The house elves had tried to lure him out of the room with promises of food, but he could still taste the blood in the air. They brought nutrient potions to him these days.
He had just reached the bottom of the trunk when he found something that felt… different. On first glance, it was a journal, plain and unassuming. He opened it gingerly and a time turner fell into his hands. In Hermione's hand writing on the first page were the words Last Resort. According to Hermione, the time turner had been altered to take her back by years instead of hours. The entire journal consisted of what she would have packed and what to do once she got there. Hermione was going to adopt baby riddle and raise him herself! He always knew that girl was crazy…
But then again, what could it hurt? An hour later, he set off from Hogwarts for the first time since The Final Battle with Hermione's list in hand.
Harry was on a mission. He had already commandeered Moody's seven-compartment trunk. Now he was going to try to remember his way to his vault at Gringotts. He could probably make it to the Lestrange vault at this point, but memories like breaking into a magical, goblin-run bank have a way of sticking with you that others don't.
He walked down the empty street and into the empty bank. To Harry's surprise, there was one very old goblin standing behind a desk. "Hello," Harry said with a determinedly cautious face. "I would like to withdraw everything that I can from the bank."
The goblin looked at Harry in shock, then said in a wise tone, "We goblins can feel the winds of change, Mr. Potter." At Harry's face he continued, "Normally we would put a stop to such things, but in this case, we are prepared to make an exception."
He then took an envelope from within his pocket and said, "Ask the first goblin you see when you arrive to give this to King Gripeamear. We usually don't tell wizards the names of our leaders but this, Mr. Potter, as I have already said, is an exception."
He then called out to another goblin and told him to empty all of the Potter, Black, and Malfoy accounts into Mad Eye's trunk. "The Malfoy accounts? Those aren't mine."
"Did you or did you not defeat the young Malfoy heir in a duel some 54 days and 17 hours ago?" Harry gaped at the goblin. Who knew that goblins actually kept track… to the hour?
"Why would that make a difference? It's not like any time I disarm someone I take their accounts… is it?"
"Only when they die within seconds of the act." Harry nodded dumbly and opened the first compartment so that the goblins could unload the gold. When the goblin asked if he could come along, Harry hesitated. "I have been alive longer than you can imagine. If I go back, I can vouch for you and monitor the winds of change from a different angle." Harry nodded. He couldn't really blame the goblin. It wasn't like there was much left for them either. Of course, if he went back in time, wouldn't everything be different here anyways? Would these goblins still exist as they are? Harry shook his head. Trying to think like Hermione was making his head hurt so he simply wouldn't. He was always better off diving headfirst into matters anyways. So the goblin (who just so happened to be the king of goblins himself, not that Harry was aware of this) helped him prepare for the ill-advised journey.
According to Gripeamear (ahem, the unnamed goblin), the things Harry needed the most were books on everything.The goblin transformed the second compartment into a library, expanding the compartment even further, then started to load books in the trunk. Baby books, History books, Potions, Transfiguration, Animagus Training, and Quidditch scores from throughout the years. ("You can't expect anyone with 300 years of memories to remember something so trivial and it would be such a waste to not bet on games when you already have the outcomes so neatly compiled.") There were hundreds and hundreds of books from everywhere.
At the end of a week he turned to Harry, "I think this is all we will need for books. I have taken the liberty of filling your third compartment with potions. If you don't mind, I'd like to make the last room my own. That still leaves you with three compartments." Harry shrugged. Having a goblin living in his trunk would not be the strangest thing that he'd ever experienced.
Harry put his Firebolt in one of the trunks along with his invisibility cloak, the Marauders Map, and the photo album that Hagrid had given him along with a few more pictures and keepsakes. He would keep the other rooms in the trunk empty in case he needed them in the future. He was all packed and ready. Harry set the time-turner for November 1, 1926. Two months before Tom's birthday. Harry turned to… the goblin. "Who are you?" Harry felt like he ought to perhaps know the name of a goblin before allowing him to climb in his trunk and spin away with him.
"I'm Gripeamear, of course," he stated as he closed the lid. Harry blinked in surprise and then the world spun away.