Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

Author's Note

Alright fans, you're all probably wondering where the hell all the chapters went. K-A-L-M down. (That's right. I spelled it with a K.) You're computers are not broken, I've just decided to improve on them. You see, I've been in college since September and I really had no chance whatsoever to write a decent chapter. When I finally felt up to writing again, I realized I had COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN WHAT I WROTE. So the only cure was to reread my story. After reading only the first chapter I realized something…it sucked. Seriously, I have no idea how I even let that online. It was atrocious.

So I basically took the past two weeks rewriting the whole story. Well, not the whole story – not yet anyways. I'm only on chapter five, but I am working on it! Please, oh please forgive me! As a few of you have probably seen, I titled this story differently so my previous writers would be able to review even though I know a lot of it will probably be hate mail. This story is just an improved version of Changing History, so get freaked out by the name.

So here's the new and improved story. I've put up the first two chapters so you all won't be terribly angry at me. Honestly you guys, I am completely and utterly sorry for the inconvenience, but hopefully you guys will forget your anger when you see how much better the story is.

Either way, enjoy :)

xoglowergrinox123

Chapter 1- Departure

1999

A man stood in the center of a battlefield – a battlefield that had once been the grounds to the enchanted school of Hogwarts. Instead of a school, only revealed to the eyes of wizards, it now took on the resemblance of the ruined castle that the muggles perceived it to be.

The man turned haunted green eyes towards the wreckage. Those ruins had formed a place he had once called home. A wave of grief swept over him as he took in the sight of his former school. No more would it have laughing students bounding through the halls. No more teachers deducting house points, no school rivalry, no more Quidditch… The Gryffindor tower looked as if it had never been and where the northern end had stood now lay a large pile of rubble. A vision of those strong walls crashing to the ground made him look away, wincing at the memory. Unfortunately, his attention was brought back to the bodies that were scattered at his feet and finally the painful reality began to set in.

There had been a war and not just any war…the war. The Final Battle between the light and dark had taken place here and there were so many. There was nowhere for his eyes to fall without meeting a vacant face.

Avada Kedarva. His expression remained indifferent as the familiar green light brushed his mind. That was the least painful way to go, he thought as his eyes quickly glanced at a young man lying near a fallen tree. His chest had been ripped open; either a spell had done the damage or one of the merciless creatures within the Dark Lord's ranks. Traces of horror were still apparent on his face.

With a slight flinch, young Harry Potter looked away, turning his attention back to the battlefield. Not too long ago the very ground he was standing on was a war zone. Spells were being cast from every direction. Magical creatures, both light and dark, fought against each other, all hoping to give their side one more moment of triumph before falling to their deaths.

This war, which he fought so long to win, was futile. He had failed. He was supposed to be the wizarding world's savior, the Chosen One, The Boy-Who-Lived, but looking at the wreckage around him it was hard to believe he had saved anything at all.

The dark haired man limped through the maze of corpses. A few men staggered across the field just like he, looking for any hint of survivors. Many house elves cried over their lifeless masters, hysterical sobs echoed across the countryside. He didn't have the energy to nod as he passed the half dozen centaurs lined up at the lake's edge, their arrows flaming as they shot them across the sky and into the murky water – a salute to those who lost their lives. Harry could have sworn he heard Fawks singing his hauntingly beautiful song in the distance as the sky brightened in red – its color matching the grass below.

Staring at the sky, he looked at his watch which somehow was the only thing to have lasted all these years and was shocked to see the battle had lasted a little over twelve hours. How could there be so much death in so little time? He thought and wondered how he had managed to last this long without collapsing.

With every step a wave of pain rushed up his spine. If he had paused to examine his injuries he would have noticed that his broken hip was protruding from his skin and that most of the blood on his robes was indeed his. Without immediate medical help he would surely die of blood loss. Each breath he took was a battle all its own. His mouth was dry and pasty, as if he hadn't drank for days. Sweat stung at his eyes and open wounds, but he didn't care. As soon as it happened he knew. There was horrible and desperate pain clawing in his chest. The book had said he would undergo terrible pain, and it wasn't joking. He would have screamed if his throat weren't burnt so.

Most of Voldemort's ranks deserted the war zone once their leader had perished, however a few had stayed, consumed with rage. Bellatrix Lestrange was one of those few. She had been set on taking revenge for the loss of her beloved master. The loyal Death Eater was vicious and unmerciful; her laugh followed every curse that met its target. Harry had dodged and shielded as fast as his body was able. It was difficult to throw a curse in between his defenses, especially after he was hit with a spell that burned his throat and tongue, making it impossible for him to pronounce any verbal incantations. Eventually he saw an opening in her defenses and returned a nonverbal slicing spell that silenced the mad woman mid-laugh.

He kept walking, his legs working of their own accord. The adrenaline he felt whilst fighting was beginning to wear off, his vision blurring. Darkness threatened to claim his world of red and black. Harry didn't know for how long he searched; his eyes looking for that long red hair in the sea of bodies.

When he found her his feet finally brought him to a halt. His already weak knees gave out as a hoarse cry emitted from his throat. New tears sprung to his eyes when he gazed at her. He had to fight to keep from blacking out, so without much effort Harry just knelt there holding her close. She smelled of death. He stared into those beautiful, dark brown eyes that always held a certain fire, even in death.

His throat burned, but he ignored the pain as a choked sob escaped his lips. "Ginny…no…please, no."

He grabbed hold of her rigid hand – a gold band lay upon her third finger.

Satin ribbons wrapped around every tree, white flowers hanging from their branches. An enchantment was placed upon the area – a gentle snow fall, disappearing before it touched any of the guests. It was the beginning of spring and a soft light from the afternoon sun made it through the trees.

They were in their own bubble of sanctuary within a world of hate. No war. No conflicts. There was only happiness and love within their small clearing.

Harry, who was shifting back and forth on his feet, began to sweat with nervousness. He ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time within five minutes. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Mate, you look sick. I don't think Gin would be too fond of her groom letting up his breakfast all over her dress," Ron, his best man whispered from behind.

"I'm just nervous," he replied as his hand tried desperately to flatten his untamed locks.

"Well, you better suck it up because here she comes."

He turned his head towards the aisle and his world stopped. There were no words that could express what he felt besides happy – insanely and stupidly happy. He wouldn't be surprised if his feet left the ground like that old muggle movie. What was it called? Something about a pan…His mind was unable to keep the train of thought as his bride ascended down the aisle.

There was only one word that described her – beautiful. Interlaced with white flowers, her flaming hair cascaded down her back in ringlets. A silken white gown flattered her perfect figure. She walked with such grace that Harry believed couldn't possibly be human. Her face had broken into a blinding smile as she came into view, her eyes never leaving his.

For Harry, most of the ceremony was a blur as he watched her with a grin. Professor Dumbledore's words had blended together as he stared at his wife-to-be.

"I, Ginerva Molly Weasley, take you, Harry James Potter, to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward in this life and in the next."

Although he wasn't fully paying attention, his eyes trailed from her brown eyes to the freckle on her upper lip and thinking just how perfectly her lips formed an 'o' as she spoke. He was so entranced that he completely forgot…what was it exactly was he supposed to be doing? He was supposed to do…something. What was it?

Dumbledore cleared his throat, turning to dark haired man expectantly. Eyebrows knitted in a furrow Harry looked at his previous professor, mind completely blank.

"Err…"

He heard a few chuckles from their audience and a snippet of a conversation.

"You think it's genetic?"

"What?"

"The inability of functioning at your own wedding."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because James did the same bloody thing!" Someone whispered fiercely.

Ginny smiled lovingly at him and whispered in a mocking tone, "I, Harry James Potter…"

Harry could not help the goofy grin on his face nor the flush that crept across his face in embarrassment as he recited his vows in return.

"I, Harry James Potter, take you, Ginerva Molly Weasley, to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children and my wife. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of sickness and in times of health, in times of joy and in times of sorrow, in times of failure and in times of triumph. I promise to cherish and respect you, to care and protect you, to comfort and encourage you, and stay with you, for all eternity."

"By the powers vested in me…I now pronounce Mr. and Mrs. Harry James Potter," Dumbledore said with a joyful smile. He turned to Harry. "You may now kiss your bride."

They didn't need to be told twice as Harry pulled his wife into his arms and gave her the gentlest of kisses. All he knew was that he was never going to let her go as long as he had anything to do with it.

"Ginny…please…you can't leave me…" he trembled. Fear was evident in his voice. How could he fail her like this? How would he ever smile again without the sound of her voice? Without her touch? Without her laugh?

In time, he slowly began to realize she wasn't going to answer him. She would never hear his pleas nor see his tears. As this realization dawned on him, a numbness swept through him before a wave of anger engulfed him.

He felt his magic building up, a white fire burning through his veins. A part of him knew he had to control it to prevent hurting himself.

What do I have to lose? He thought. His soul had died with Ginny. The sooner he could see her, the sooner the pain would recede. No one deserved this. If only he could fix it…if only he could start over.

The light surrounding him had built up to the point of suffocating. He unleashed his magic with a cry of pain. There was a burst of blinding white light and then…he was gone.

Well, there you go. Good, bad? Was it worse than the original? Better? Be honest. Don't spare any feelings! Just review!