The war was won. There were parades, parties, Ministry sponsored ceremonies, and Diagon Alley had never been filled with more cheer. Children played in the street as old friends caught up over a drink and discussed the bravery of Harry Potter. They spoke of his tenacity, fighting ability, and his mysterious disappearance. You see, Harry Potter has not been seen since receiving Order of Merlin, First Class from the Ministry three weeks ago. The papers were searching for him restlessly, trying to get his comment on everything from his opinion on Death Eater trials to the weather. It was rumored that Harry had left the country and was currently resting the Bahamas. Little did they know that 22 year old Harry Potter was crammed inside of a cupboard under the stairs in an abandoned house on Privet Drive.

Harry sat in silence, watching a small black spider whirl an intricate web. As he studied the design of the web, he thought about how so many moments of his life were connected and had led him to this point. He thought of his abusive childhood with the Dursleys, meeting Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger on their first train ride to Hogwarts, the valentine Ginny Weasley had sent him second year, the first time he met Sirius in the Shrieking Shack, Neville Longbottom standing next to him with courage in the Department of Mysteries, and glancing into the Pensieve with Albus Dumbledore. It was a shame that every single one of those people were dead.

The Battle of Hogwarts was just the beginning of the war. The second Harry rolled out of Hagrid's arms and Voldemort realized that he survived yet another killing curse, he Disapparated and took all of his Death Eaters with him. They regrouped for a few weeks, and came back with an unimaginable vengeance in the form of guerrilla warfare. They lived in the darkness, attacked at random, and caused mass casualties. Each edition of The Daily Prophet carried a running list of all of the people that have died due to Death Eater attacks. This list eventually became so extensive that The Prophet released two papers each day, one with the list of casualties and the other with the most recent news.

Eventually the Order of the Phoenix dwindled down to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. Each and every day Harry stood in front of the Ministry, hoping this would be the day Voldemort would attack him. He was ready to face his nemesis, ready to let destiny run its course and decide who would survive. He was tired of watching friends die, tired of secret funerals, tired of fearing for others' safety. He wanted to end it, but Voldemort was not ready.

Although Voldemort did not believe in the power of love, he did know that Harry believed in its power. That's why he decided his best chance to defeat him would be to remove all of those people that Harry loved from this world. And not just remove them, but destroy them. Neville was tortured into insanity before being sent back to Harry with whip marks across his back and poison in his system. The poison slowly destroyed Neville's lungs, making each passing breath more difficult and killing him within the week.

Ron and Hermione were captured in battle. They were taken to an undisclosed location. Voldemort paralyzed Ron and made him watch as his wife was beaten, raped, and killed. He then extracted Ron's memory and sent it with an owl to deliver to Harry at the Ministry before killing Ron.

Harry emptied his vault attempting to secure Grimmauld Place with impenetrable wards. The problem was money meant nothing in a society dominated by fear. One of the workers was tortured by Voldemort himself and exposed a security flaw within Grimmauld Place. Voldemort and his most loyal Death Eaters extracted Ginny and slowly sent her back to Harry… piece by piece.

Harry studied the spider's web, a bottle of whisky in his hand and tears dripping down his face. He thought of his abusive childhood, and how this cupboard was the one place he felt completely safe. It was a miserable childhood, and yet he somehow missed it. He missed the simplicity of it all. Stay out of the way, and you won't get beat. It was a simple concept. Was it fair? Not at all. Did he hate Vernon Dursley for it? With every fiber of his being. But that was the simplest time of his life, and he yearned for simplicity, for some kind of normalcy.

So he sat, and he drank. Kreacher came by occasionally and gave him some food and water, but Harry only accepted enough to survive before ordering him away. As he sulked, he heard another crack and knew Kreacher must be here to check up on him again.

There was a soft knock on the cupboard door. "Master? You need to eat." Kreacher softly said.

"What. Have. You. Brought. Me. This. Time?" Harry mumbled.

"Meatloaf, just like Mistress Ginny used to make." Kreacher replied with a sympathetic pride in his voice. It had taken him forever to perfect the recipe, but he finally made it taste exactly like Ginny used to make it.

"Fine, come in" Harry replied.

Kreacher opened the cupboard door slowly and straightened up, making sure not to respond to the repulsiveness of the entire scene. The odor was horrible; a mixture of an unshowered Harry, rotting leftovers, and potent whiskey almost overwhelmed Kreacher's senses. And that's saying a lot, as he had lived in an uncleaned Grimmauld Place for years before Master Harry moved in.

Kreacher regained his senses and delicately said "Master Harry, please come out. The wizarding world loves you, they will take care of you. There is no need to shut yourself away in this cupboard"

Harry seemed to snap out of his drunken state, and a bitterness showed through his eyes. "The world… Ha… my world is gone Kreacher. I've lost everyone. I've lost everything. And yet I'm a sodding hero... PEOPLE ARE CELEBRATING. How? How are they fucking celebrating? Maybe they can forget their fallen ones, but I can't. I won't. So no Kreacher, I'm not going to come out. I'm not going to let the wizarding world love me. I don't deserve it. I couldn't save the people that meant the most to me. The wizarding world can go on without bloody Harry Potter now. Now go. Leave me alone. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but unless you find a way to bring back my friends just fuck off. Leave me here to die. That's an order."

Kreacher's eyes grew wide, he couldn't resist a direct order. He stared at his master, slowly absorbing this image into his mind. This was the last time he would ever see him. This man was the man who saved him numerous times, who cared for him and saw past the rough exterior when first meeting him, who treated him with respect that he did not deserve. Who opened his eyes to another side of life; another way of living. He needed to capture this image in his mind. This would be the last time he saw his master, no... his friend.

"It has been an honor serving you, just call my name if you need me again" Kreacher said before he bowed. He knew Harry hated it when he bowed, but it felt like an appropriate time to show him respect. He slowly turned away and with a small crack, Disapparated.

Harry took a sip of water and closed his eyes while eating the meatloaf. He imagined sitting at a kitchen table across from his beautiful wife, complimenting her on her cooking while telling each other about how their day was. He imagined spraying Ginny with water while cleaning the dishes. He imagined making love with her with a belly full of meatloaf. He imagined cuddling with her while whispering about their future children. Yes, the war was won, but too many battles were lost.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Harry took a deep breathe. He inhaled the smell of strawberries. He tasted Ginny's lips upon his. They were soft… so soft. He felt her small fingers intertwine with his. Her body lying gently upon him. He could feel the beat of her heart upon his chest. They stayed in this perfect moment for what felt like hours. This is where he belonged.. next to Ginny. They were finally safe, finally peaceful.

Suddenly, he heard a small crack. His eyes slowly opened, as he slowly was drawn out of his sleep. Well, it was actually a mixture between a slumber and a hallucination. Harry knew he was close, so close to a peaceful death. After not eating or drinking for the past two days, he felt his energy fade.

Although it didn't make much sense, he couldn't turn his wand upon himself. That would be too easy a way to die. After all the sacrifices everyone has made so he could live, he simply could not take the coward's way out. Somehow, dying of natural causes seemed more appealing. It was natural, normal…the way he always wanted his life to be. Yes...dying of natural causes still dishonors the sacrifices everyone had made, but he would explain it to them in the afterlife.

Harry groaned; he did not understand why Kreacher returned. He was the only one who knew where Harry was, and Harry had given him a direct order to let him die. Why can't he just let Harry die in peace?

Kreacher didn't bother knocking; instead he just flung open the cupboard door. The light poured in, burning Harry's eyes. Kreacher screamed, "My master is still alive! Kreacher has returned from his mission!"

"Unfortunately… And what the bloody hell are you talking about? Your mission was to stay away from me."

"No master, apologies for the language but you said 'unless you find a way to bring back my friends just fuck off.' Well, Kreacher has not slept for three days and thinks he has found a way to bring your friends back!"

"Kreacher, there's no way to resurrect the dead. Dumbledore has told me that on numerous occasions. Well, the Resurrection Stone is a possibility but I wouldn't make my friends live in that awful state."

"No master, there is no way to resurrect the dead. But there is a way for them not to die in the first place!"

"You're wrong; believe me I've thought of that as well. But all the Time Turners were destroyed. Plus, they couldn't go far back enough to make any difference. Even if some survived, they are limited to only a few hours."

"Oh no master, Time Turners are not the answer. I talked to all of the house elves in Hogwarts. They are fond of Kreacher since they know I serve you. I told them my dilemma, and one of them, Dee, said she overheard her old master speaking to a man with blue robes about another way to go back in time"

That last sentence had finally peaked Harry's interest. A man in blue robes worked for the Department of Mysteries. And if that was the case, could they have possibly found a way to go back in time? "When did they hear this conversation?" Harry asked.

"It was two years ago, right after the Battle of Hogwarts. Her master, Mr. Robinson, had a man with blue robes to his home and she overheard everything while serving dinner. Her master died only a few weeks later and with no heirs, so she was sent by the Ministry to work at Hogwarts," Kreacher replied

"Well, even if this is true.. There's no way of knowing who that man in blue robes was or if he was even right in saying there was another way" Harry sighed, his eyes darting around the cupboard looking for a bottle of firewhiskey.

"Kreacher found this information out two days ago, master. The next two days Kreacher spent trying to find this man. Kreacher stood outside of the Ministry day and night talking to every man in blue robes he saw. He asked them if they knew a Mister Robinson with a house elf named Dee. Most ignored Kreacher, but one man stopped in his tracks when he heard the name Mister Robinson and talked to Kreacher," Kreacher said excitedly.

Harry's heart was pounding, his head spinning from excitement along with his lack of nutrition. "Kreacher… what was his name?"

"Mister Malcolm McGonagall sir"

Harry's heart stopped on a dime. "What did he say to you?"

"He says he knew Mister Robinson and Dee. I pulled him aside and whispered to him if he knew of a way to go back in time. He was not happy Kreacher said that, but I didn't know how else to see if it was him. He started walking away but Kreacher told him he belonged to Mister Harry Potter. Kreacher is sorry for using master's name, but Kreacher recognized the name McGonagall from when master sent Kreacher to work at Hogwarts." Kreacher had to refrain himself from hitting his head on the wall. Harry had forbidden that a long time ago. Well, technically he had forbidden him to call him "master" also, but eventually gave up on enforcing that after he saw how much effort it took Kreacher.

"It's alright Kreacher, go on. What did he tell you? And do you know if he's related to Professor McGonagall? I know she wasn't married."

"Yes, he is her younger brother. He says he would not speak to Kreacher, but he will speak to Mister Potter," Kreacher replied.

Harry felt an odd feeling inside the pit of his stomach. Was that hope? "Kreacher… I don't know what to say. Thank you. You are the best friend a guy could ask for." Harry had told him this before, but he needed Kreacher to fully understand. You see, as Harry lost everything, Kreacher was always there to take care of him. It was amazing how much the elf opened up to him after the simple acts of kindness Harry showed him after leaving Hogwarts to hunt Horcruxes. Through all of his friends' deaths, Kreacher was there to care for Harry and help him survive. It had taken a full six months after Ginny's death to conquer Voldemort, and the entire time Kreacher was the only one Harry had to talk to. They had a relationship that went well beyond master/servant, and well beyond a normal friendship.

Kreacher's eyes swelled with pride and tears began openly falling. "Kreacher has gotten Mister McGonagall's address and said Master Harry will contact him".

"I will. Actually, I will do that right now." Harry said.

"No, Master Harry must eat and drink first." Kreacher said with some command in his voice. Harry thought of Mrs. Weasley, smiled inwardly, and then quickly frowned. She died a horrible death after Voldemort learned she had defeated Bellatrix. He remembered the pain of losing the closest thing he had to a mum, and the trouble he had comprehending how devastated Ginny was. He eventually got her through it, but her smile never really reached her eyes after losing her mother.

"Fine, can you grab me some parchment and a quill though? I want to write a quick note to him in order to set up a meeting."

Kreacher summoned the meal he had left on the countertop and gave it to Harry, then quickly retreated to the kitchen to find a pen and paper.

After Kreacher returned, Harry wrote a very quick note telling Mr. McGonagall his whereabouts and asking him to join him at Privet Drive as soon as possible. He then turned to Kreacher and said "Can you take this note to the owlery in Diagon Alley and attach it to the fastest owl there? I don't want to make a public appearance and I still can't imagine getting another owl." His heart swelled as he thought of Hedwig. "Then, seriously Kreacher, get some rest. You have done remarkably well. Regardless of whether or not this works, you saved my life… and possibly all of my friends. I can't thank you enough."

"Of course, Master Harry."

"Kreacher... It's just Harry."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

After Kreacher Disapparated, Harry scurried out of the cupboard and hopped into the shower. As the warm water rained down onto his skin, he thought of about how much his life could change in just a few short hours. After he talked to Malcolm McGonagall, he would know whether or not it was possible to see his friends once again. Moreover, he would know whether or not it was possible to save them. Many of these people were not just his friends, but his family. The Weasley family had always treated him like one of their own, but after marrying Ginny he was officially part of the family. He sighed as he thought about how his family always died.

He was probably being overly optimistic, Harry thought. All of this could come crashing down around him very quickly. The conversation Mr. McGonagall had with Mr. Robinson was years ago, if that conversation happened at all. Maybe Dee misheard them. Maybe she didn't mishear them, but the project was abandoned. Surely someone would have heard if there was a way to turn back time. Someone would have stopped this war from happening. The realization came crashing down upon him; the chances of this conversation leading to anything worthwhile was extremely thin, if even existent at all. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower into a cold world.

A few hours later, the doorbell rang. Harry had not received a reply from Mr. McGonagall, but nonetheless had been waiting for him all day. The note he sent didn't require a response, it just said to come at his earliest convenience. It was nearing 6:00pm, so Harry thought he must be coming from work. He realized he was correct when he saw those magnificent blue robes outside of his peephole.

He opened the door and studied the man. This is precisely what he would expect the late Professor McGonagall's brother to look like. The man had thin grey hair, with a few brown hairs desperately clinging to their youth.[2] [3] He had a thin build and wore small, rectangular glasses. He looked like a man who would live in a library if given the chance. Harry extended his hand. "Mr. McGonagall, it's great to meet you."

"It is an honor to meet you, lad. Although, it's not the first time I've seen you," McGonagall replied as he shook Harry's hand and stepped through the doorway.

"I remember seeing you at Professor McGonagall's funeral sir. I'm so sorry for your loss. Professor McGonagall was my favorite teacher and the Head of my House. I got into a bit of trouble over the years so I knew her well."

"Thank you, she went down fighting and I know that's the way she wanted to go. Ah yes, I know you did. We couldn't go through a single holiday meal without her telling stories of your adventures." Mr. McGonagall smiled. "She never talked about a student the way she talked about you. I know you must have meant a great deal to her."

"That means a lot to me sir."

"I'm glad. But anyway, down to business. This house elf of yours tracked me down and spoke of my work. First off, how did he know about it?" Mr McGonagall said seriously. Harry felt like he was about to take away house points.

"Well, it's kind of a long story. But basically Kreacher took it upon himself to try to find a way to bring my friends back from the dead. He asked all of the elves at Hogwarts for help and one of them named Dee told him about a man in blue robes that visited with her old master, Mr. Robinson and talked about a way to go back in time. She didn't know your name of course, which is why Kreacher stood outside the Ministry asking everyone with blue robes if they knew Mr. Robinson."

"Speaking about my work is incredibly dangerous," Mr. McGonagall replied.

"So it's true?" Harry said with awe.

"Well… no. We have a theory, but it is just that.. a theory." McGonagall began. "Theoretically, it could work, but it would likely kill whoever attempted it."

"Likely?" Harry questioned. This was his shot; if there was a chance, he was going to take it.

"Almost certainly," McGonagall quickly responded; he did not like the direction this conversation was headed[4] [5] . "So close to certainty, that my superiors shut down the project and assigned me to a new one. Which is quite the statement, as this was number one on their priority list for quite a while and we had some of the greatest minds in the country working on it."

"Is there a chance it could work though?" Harry replied.

"Only theoretically, we had never successfully sent someone back. Not even a few seconds into the past," McGonagall sighed.

"Did you attempt to before?"

"No, we couldn't find anyone daft enough to be the first to try it."

Harry smirked; Snape had always claimed he was daft. Time to prove him right. "Well congratulations Mr. McGonagall, you found someone."

"No" McGonagall stated firmly. "You don't understand what it entails."

"Then tell me," Harry immediately replied.

"It starts with an extremely complex potion," McGonagall began. "The foulest and most temperamental potion imaginable. Even the most experienced potion-makers struggle to make it. One small stir can be the difference between life and death. The beetles used need to be an exact age, to the day, or else the potion will be poison. And this potion is just the beginning, as the exact ingredients and number of stirs only determines exactly how far back in time you will be sent. Exactly 77 seconds after you drink the potion, you must have completed the rest of the process or else you will die of poisoning also."

"What's the rest of the process?" Harry replied, his heart racing.

"You must be kissed by a dementor." McGonagall shuddered. "After being kissed, one must have another person in the room to cast a Patronus charm to send the dementor into a veil located deep within the Department of Mysteries. As I said, your body will die 78 seconds after drinking the potion, so then all that matters is what happens to your soul."

"So why does it matter if I drink this potion if it simply kills me?" Harry asked. "Potion effects the body."

"You haven't studied your NEWTS yet, Mr Potter," McGonagall replied. "Of course, understandably so. But had you been able to continue your education, you would have learned that certain potions are able to affect the soul, temporarily at least," McGonagall lectured. Harry thought of how much more interested in potions he could have been if it had not been for Snape's endless taunting.

"I'm still confused," Harry said slowly. "So why can't I take the potion and just jump through the veil? Why include a dementor and put my soul at risk?"

"Why are you still saying your soul?" McGonagall pleaded. The whole reason he described it in such detail was to deter the boy from attempting it. "There is too much risk. You're gambling both your life and your soul. Be grateful for the life you've been given Mr. Potter! You're a hero! There will be folktales about you someday.. hell, there already are!"

"Don't call me a hero. Don't you get it? I'm the reason they are all dead. I'm the reason your sister is dead." Harry said solemnly.

"That's not true Harry" McGonagall said softly. "You know that's not true. You did everything you could so that everyone could live. The stories that circulated about your constant sacrifice were remarkable. But remember, the war was much more than about you, and I would appreciate it if you didn't act as if my sister was a helpless witch. She died because she battled for the good in this world, not because of anything you did."

Harry felt horrible, although he still blamed himself for not defeating Voldemort sooner. "I'm sorry. You're right. But one thing you are wrong about is saying that I did everything I could. I am doing everything that I can so that everyone can live. You're the only one that can help. So please, help me. Why include dementors?"

The emotions in Harry's eyes were almost unbearable for McGonagall to look at. He closed his eyes, regretting this conversation more than ever before replying, "The soul must be lost for this to work. With the soul detached from the body, the veil doesn't know what to do with it. You see, when a dementor steals a soul it doesn't actually merge with the soul. It kind of just eats it and it is stored within the dementor. When the dementor enters the veil, the soul theoretically will become independent and have no true host. Once the veil realizes this, it will spit it back out into the world very quickly, which is why you have to enter the veil with such precise timing. It will be inside of the veil for approximately two seconds, and in this time the soul must be aged backwards by the potion. Now, within the veil there is no flow of time, but the time your soul enters the veil is kind of stamped onto the soul itself. Think of it like a tag. When it spits it out into the world, release it to a time in which your souls age aligns with the correct date"

Harry smirked "I feel like most of this is completely over my head, but go on."

"Don't you see; when your soul goes into the veil it will be stamped. So for you it would say Harry Potter, 22, and today's date. Now the potion is made to temporarily decrease your soul's age, so within those two seconds your soul is inside of the veil, your soul's age decreases. So let's say you made a potion to go back 10 years. That means your potion will temporarily decrease your souls age by 10 years. When the veil spits your soul back out into the world it would need to align the date with the soul's age. So it would see your soul's age was 12, and would send your soul back into the world at today's date 12 years ago.

Harry's head was pounding, but he thought he understood the gist of it at least. "Well I think that's pretty much as well as anyone could explain something that complex," Harry laughed. "And I notice you used my name in the example.. Does that mean you'd be willing to help?"

"You understand what you're asking me to do correct? You're asking me to risk a boy's life in an experiment that's bound to go wrong?"

"No, I'm asking you to save hundreds of lives. I'm the only one that can defeat Voldemort. Even if you want to disregard the prophecy, I'm the only one alive who knows enough about his secrets to stop him."

"I still don't feel comfortable doing this," McGonagall sighed.

"I'm on the brink of breaking Mr. McGonagall," Harry admitted. "Although Voldemort and his Death Eaters are gone, my life is still a constant struggle to survive. "

"I'm sorry lad, I don't get what you're saying."

"I guess you could say I'm my most dangerous enemy" Harry said quietly. "My entire life I thought that once I defeated Voldemort, I could start living. And after I finally killed him, I looked around and realized there was not a person left to rejoice with. I've sat here, under those stairs, for nearly a month. This is not some little fit I'm going through. This is my life and my future."

McGonagall wiped the tears that were escaping his eyes and stared at the boy in front of him. No, McGonagall thought, not a boy.. a man. The man he stared at had been through hell, and had seen more action than most Aurors do in their entire career. Those green eyes that looked back at him had seen more death than imaginable. "I'm with you Harry, as long as you understand the risks."

"I do," Harry said flatly.

"Well then, we will have to find a third person to help. I can get us some premade potion that we have been storing and make alterations for the exact amount of time you wish to go back, but we will need a third person to assist with the Patronus charm" McGonagall stated "If only I cast it, then the dementor may just veer off to the left or right to avoid my charm. With a second person, we can each cast our Patronus at an angle and back the dementor into the veil without an opportunity for escape. And obviously you can't cast it because you would have already been kissed."

"I know who we can trust," Harry simply stated.

"Who?" McGonagall replied.

"My brother-in-law."

~~~ My first story so please review and give feedback. I plan on turning this into a pretty long novel. This chapter was extremely dark, and it won't be as dark in the future. I just needed to set the scene in order to show the horrible things that Harry has been through I highly suggest reading the next two chapters before passing a judgement on the story. Based on my traffic stats, if you read the second and third chapters, there is a very good chance you read it all the way through!

Also, chapters 1-9 are going to be reviewed and updated by betas. I know there are mistakes, but I recently recruited betas to really clean up the story. So, future updates will be much more polished than these initial chapters.

Obviously Kreacher is very different than canon, but his change in attitude will be described later. Let me know any suggestions you have, how you like the plot/characters, or really just anything! I've found myself checking my inbox a little too often hoping for reviews, so please fill my inbox up!