I'm back

by FreedomOfThinking

"I could make a life for myself, carve my own path and live happily... but that snake faced bastard is still out there somewhere, and I won't rest until he's dead. And if I fail? Well, what's another body among foundations?" (Inspired by Kathryn518's I'm still here) (Time Travel, Family Magic, AU)

1. Chapter 1

So I've had this story idea in my head for a long time now. This was inspired by "I'm still here" by kathryn518. An amazing piece of work that I suggest you look through first.

I'm currently sitting in the middle of a cafe drinking a beer and posting this. I hope you enjoy.

This story has started because I felt sad that I'm still here has not updated in a while. So I decided to run my own. If you are aware of that master piece, you should know how most of this story is going to go.

best of days,

Freedom.

---

Nicholas Flamel stepped back in intrigue as a hurricane began to form around the singularity. A smile spread across his face as he stood calmly in the center of the magical maelstrom.

---

Now hold on a second.

To be fair, that is a strange bit of information to take in.

So let's drag the clock back 24 hours, so that we all know exactly what is happening.

It had appeared behind his small cottage that he shared with his wife Pernelle a day ago.

No loud noises.

No dramatic explosions of magic.

Not even a shifting of the earth or sky.

It had just appeared without rhyme or reason.

And to be fair, it was impossible for some deranged witch or wizard to have cast or created, it.

Since the warding scheme which protected the home of the Flamel's stretched for miles, it was impossible for any unsavory individuals to so much as sneeze near the ward lines without the immortal Alchemist knowing.

But it was a magical little ball of bright white light that had appeared nonetheless.

The Flamel's had judged and measured its distance from the house at 50 meters, and after an hour of constant vigilance the strange orb had not shown any intent of moving. To be fair, it hadn't shown any intent of any kind.

It had radiated nothing but calm.

How odd.

Waves of magic had washed over Nicholas Flamel as he had approached it, but the age old alchemist felt no malicious intent.

No, this magic had no will whatsoever.

Unshackled and pure, it simply had decided to abruptly exist. Supposedly there was no purpose behind it.

However, Nicholas knew that magic, even magic in its purest of forms, unbound and untame, always had a purpose.

It may be convoluted, possessed tact and subtlety, but in the end existence always had a mission, and magic was the guide.

Nick had quarantined the anomaly once he begun to observe it closely. Just in case this was the coming of the apocalypse, or the begin of the end of days. While he could send letters to his colleagues around the world and probably open up a line of inquiry as to what exactly the singularity was, he felt more than prepared to uncover the secrets of this discovery. It had practically been dumped at his front door anyway, of course this was up to him to investigate.

Funnily enough, he had not been the one to first spot it.

Pernelle, his dearly beloved wife, was the one who had found it there, floating.

She had been in the small garden beside their home that served as one of her favourite pastimes when the anomaly had popped into existence. The pop was audible, as it was that which drew her attention.

Needless to say, she had called out to her husband, asking him to come and investigate.

"Nick?! Something has appeared!"

A muffled response had followed, and by the sound of heavy weight impacting the floor, her husband had tripped in his attempt to stand from behind his desk. She always blamed the combination of his own eagerness and the slanted floor of the basement for the constant bruises on his side.

"Appear you say? I'll be right up!" the joy in his voice was unmistakable. Nicholas Flamel was a scientist at heart, and while he was not limited to the tools and sensibilities of Muggles, he enjoyed the same sense of intrigue and query.

Nicholas had quickly exited the laboratory he called a basement, coming out of the small and unassuming home with a wand in hand. His senses were still as sharp as ever, and Pernelle's slightly worried tone had alerted him to a potential danger on top of a possible discovery. He was still surprised and excited to see the small glowing orb a bit of a distance away from their home.

"By Merlin!"

"What is it?" Pernelle asked, hoping he knew. Most of the time, her dear Nick had an answer to everything. Having spent most of his long life questioning the world, a fair bit of his time spent was receiving answers.

He lacked one for this strange anomaly.

Nicholas smiled brightly, "I haven't the slightest... Isn't that fantastic!"

"It could be very dangerous Nick!" his wife was only worried about him, especially when the gleam of intrigue melted into his vision.

"Mmm" he hummed, "it very well could be"

Pernelle sighed as he made his way forward. She followed behind him, her wand in her hand now and both had approached the globe while casting a series of diagnostic and sensory spells.

Nothing happened, and nothing was received.

The little bright globe remained, it's constant shine never faltering. Nor did its pulses of magic. Like waves of heat, they had washed over the Flamels.

In a few hours, Nicholas had brought out a desk, some magical equipment he had collected over the years, his favourite pair of blue glasses, and enough parchment to record every little test he would conduct.

The oldest man in the world begun to tinker with the orb. Spells of varying degrees of power were cast and directed towards the orb. Most passed through it, some simply disappeared before touching it.

Nicholas had noted down that the more powerful the spell, at a certain threshold, the orb would absorb it.

It proved to do almost nothing however. While the light flickered slightly, it did no more than that. The intensity of magic that was produced remained the same, and Nicholas could confidently make contact with the strange occurrence.

On the next day however, after scratching down a few notes on his papers detailing 'The Singularity', Flamel finally considered something new.

It was a magical entity, and while it did not display anything notable of a conscious, it could perhaps be intelligent.

Pernelle watched on from the window of the house, having glanced up from preparing a small soup for the both of them when Nicholas moved towards the Singularity.

Pushing aside the Astral Telescope which had been wheeled out in an attempt to gaze into the small globe, a few ward scanners and a beast manipulator, Flamel came as physically close to it as he dared.

"What are you?"

Like an eye, he felt a focus shift towards him. There was no pupil to speak of, but the light grew in intensity.

He felt as if he was being stared at by Merlin himself.

"Are you Nicholas Flamel?"

A whispering shout, coming from a thousand voices yet none at the same time. The deafening question shaking the inventor of the philosopher's stone at his very core.

Magic itself was speaking to him.

And let it be known that Flamel did not back down, where others would have trembled, he stared into the Singularity and responded with confidence. After all, having lived for over half a millennium, one does not make incredible magical advancements without taking a few risks.

"I am"

Then the hurricane had started.

For a brief instant the orb flickered out of existence, turning into a fine white mist, not unlike the beginning stages of a corporeal patronus. It dissipated into nothing, leaving only the gale force winds and a storm of pure magic.

The heat of it was incredible.

Nicholas quickly pulled out one of his journals and began to write with the tip of his wand.

"Responded...verbally...fascinating..." he mumbled as his brown robes were billowing in the waves of air.

Wind came howling through the planes of the Flamel estate, lose clumps of dirt and grass flying everywhere.

The small forest to the back of the house shook as the earth trembled.

As if the sky itself couldn't handle it, lighting struck the earth. Not just once, but multiple times, all of the electricity concentrating on where the orb had been.

"Stay away Pernelle!" Nicholas shouted back to the house, looking over his shoulder to stare at Pernelle "I've got this completely under control!"

He laughed at the expression on her face as the winds picked up further, threatening to pull him into the cyclone that was forming.

And then it died.

Everything receded into nothing. The wind ceased howling. The tree's quit shaking. The earth stopped rumbling.

It was somewhat disappointing and Flamel frowned. Even if all his things and his favourite desk had been scattered everywhere, he was annoyed that nothing had happened.

Pernelle was calling to him, asking him to come in a try some soup before it got cold. He turned to reply and she screamed once, "behind you Nick!"

Quick as the very lightning which had struck the ground moments before, Flamel turned, Mahogany wand ready and willing.

Almost as if it was crudely drawn by a child, a figure stood before him. Stick thin white lines composed its form, a circle being its head.

A stick figure, of the same glowing white mist which the orb had become.

"...incredible..." Nicholas whispered, dropping his note book and moving closer to the figure, ignoring Pernelle's angry comment about retreat being a safer option.

Reaching forward slowly, the magical… 'thing' copied his gesture, a small misty white limb which represented an arm moving towards him.

Nicholas and the creature touched, his finger making contact with the misty being for a brief moment.

The following wave of magic blew him backwards, and the Alchemist was flung all the way into the side of his home, colliding with the door in a loud bang.

"NICK!"

Pernelle was by his side in a moment, clutching him and checking for injuries.

"I'm alright! I promise, I'm fine… I… what?"

Matter and material was being drawn from the ground around the mist, pulling clumps of dirt and earth towards the figure.

While attraction of objects and materials was admittedly strange, especially so considering the strange magical anomaly that had appeared out of nowhere was the cause, the mist was...

"It's converting it… into... Bone?"

Indeed it was.

Earth was being systematically morphed into marrow and bone. A skeleton was forming around the white mist, being created by the earth and land itself. The figure being put together by magic was humanoid, with a very human skeleton.

Once the skull at formed, the being collapsed forward onto its hands and knees. Shivers seemed to run up the back of it, and both the Flamels were treated to the horrid sight of a nervous system forming slowly.

The humanoid that was forming rolled onto its back, shaking and shivering in tn the throes of its creation.

Muscle followed, as did Organs. Earth would be drawn from the ground and clump against parts of the being's body, eventually falling away to reveal a new organ. Lungs. Liver. A heart. Everything.

Skin blossomed over its features, drawing across its form from different locations, like ripples of water.

"It's male" Nicholas observed, finally standing from his slump on the floor.

Pernelle coughed into her hand.

In a flash of magic, the being was covered in dirt, buried in an instant.

Never one to be fearful of such strange things, Nicholas ventured forward expressionless, his wand in hand and eyes focused on the small dirt coffin that had formed.

In a few strides he was beside it, staring down at the partially buried boy. The earth and dirt covered the lad's intimate area, but the Flamel was able to see his face.

Partial aristocratic features, incredibly dark hair, yet a soft expression.

Eyelids shot open, and Nicholas stared into deep pools of green for only a moment.

"Nick?" the boy asked, looking up at him knowingly.

And that was all he got out before the Alchemist stunned him.

---

London

---

Harry James Potter had been known for many things.

Within the first two decades of his life, not only had he slain a Dark Lord a year after his birth, murdered a fully grown Basilisk at 12, participated in a vicious tournament of deadly trials, but he had uncovered the return of the very same Dark Lord that he had murdered as a child.

As an exemplar, the standing example of those that stood against Lord Voldemort, Harry was the embodiment of good.

But he failed to maintain that image in his later years. Desperate times led to desperate measures and some things had to be sacrificed.

Because when the war had returned, and magic and spells were flung between shops at Diagon Alley, the halls of Hogwarts or even the Ministry of Magic, being 'good' and winning was no longer synonymous.

The death of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore at the hands of Severus Snape led to a far darker world than most would have expected. Especially so, since the great Albus had orchestrated the events of his death, his carefully laid plans prepared to prop Harry for victory, and ensure the death of Voldemort.

But even the best-laid plans often go awry.

The last heir of Slytherin, Tom Marvolo Riddle, discovered the plans that had been set in motion to defeat him. His anchors to life, his Horcruxes, were scattered to the globe after their original locations were revealed. It would take years to find them again.

And the time that was spent in search, Voldemort did not keep himself idle.

He did not wait.

The first of december, 1998 was a date for all to remember.

Many perished in the opening stages of the Dark Lord's plan, and violence followed in the wake of his servants.

Voldemort waged a war upon not just Britain, but the world itself, and Harry Potter had been forced to adapt.

Wizards and Muggles were being cut down in the streets, bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed. The world was not pretty and perfect anymore, magic was no longer beautiful and whimsical… everything had gone dark.

Dumbledore was rolling in his grave.

With a sigh, the Boy-Who-Lived closed his eyes for a brief moment, preparing himself for the coming meeting. He had no reason to be scared or fearful, but he nonetheless felt a sense of anticipation.

Harry was resting in the trench, back against the mud wall and his wand twirling in hand. London was a disaster. The inner city had been claimed by the forces of the dark lord, Werewolves and Vampires alike roamed the streets and skies. Muggle artillery boomed in the distance, and red blots of buildings were consumed in flames. The sounds of Muggle and Wizard troops hustled in the background. When two different worlds had collided, Harry had thought that would be the end of it all, that a three way war would emerge. But the Muggles found themselves split down the middle. Many joined with Lord Voldemort, and many had joined with Harry. Others drew in upon themselves, and entire countries would vanish into lock down and martial law. Australia was a charred remain of a wasteland. No one had heard from Belgium in months. America was experiencing a civil war of titanic proportions.

And so was the home turf.

England was divided.

It had been a few weeks since Harry was in France, and Paris had vanished in flames a year ago. Time seemed pointless to record, but Harry had kept track of some of the important events. Even the turn of the century did nothing to phase him.

The year 2000 had passed without any notice, with everyone too busy trying to fight and remain alive. Time had been forgotten, but the war continued for years.

'You did this' Harry thought, 'you destroyed our world… and for what?'

A dark chuckle came through his mind, but nothing more. They hardly spoke to one another. Only feelings and strong emotions would filter through the layers of protection that both had formed for the other.

Water begun to fall from the sky and people drifted by him in the trenches, barking orders or carrying equipment.

He had passed seas of faces. Remembering them, and the names attached to them only brought grief. It was pointless to.

Still, Harry remembered a few. Those that were the most important to him always had a place in his heart.

Ronald Weasley, one of his most trusted friends and a man who he had considered a brother, had been slain by the Killing Curse at the battle of Moscow.

Russia had fallen only days later, the Inferni horde swallowing the country without remorse. Harry had barely managed to get the body back.

Ron had gotten his funeral, unlike thousands of others.

Hermione had been killed in an airstrike.

German military forces loyal to the Dark Lord.

An insider within Voldemort's forces had given away the location of a Horcrux, one of the last that remained. Harry had destroyed it, slashed it to pieces with his Basilisk Dagger.

But espionage works both ways. Someone had been told that the 'Golden Duo' were there, and everything had happened too fast for Harry to save anyone.

They had only seconds to respond to the roar of jet engines.

Dark shapes had passed over head, and Harry had realised far too late that Voldemort would value the death of Harry more than even potentially harming his own Horcrux.

They had carpet bombed most of the forest.

Harry could remember the look of surprise on her face, a second before the firestorm had claimed her and the rest of his team.

Large burns, like lashes from a whip raked the side of his body. After all, a shield charm could only do so much.

Who else?

Potter struggled not to remember, but unbidden, faces and memories flashed before his tightly shut eyes.

Fred. George. Sirius. Remus. Tonks. Kingsley. Ginny. There were thousands more.

'No more' his train of thought halted, 'I chose not to follow this'

Harry ignored his inner turmoil, instead focusing on the world as the rain filtered around him. Clumps of mud fell from the walls of the trench.

The world was bleak. It grew darker every day and he was not proud to say that he had changed with it too.

His squeaky clean persona, the Boy-Who-Lived, had been stripped away to reveal something much more feral.

Something far more insidious.

War could make monsters out of people… but a war of this scale...

"Potter"

A false leg clumped towards him.

"Moody"

One of the few people that had survived the Ministry Raid in 99', Alastor Moody had become a loyal friend of Harry's in the time they served together. They had bonded over similar beliefs, a driving hatred of their common enemy, and a good few war stories.

Potter had accumulated quite a few by this time.

Both had a bone to pick with the Dark Lord, and the deaths of dear friends to avenge. Tonks was like a daughter to the grizzled Auror, and Bellatrix Lestrange had felt his wrath. Lupin had died at the battle of Hogwarts, and Nymphadora had been looking for a way out. She wanted someone to punch her ticket.

Bellatrix had hit her with the Killing Curse.

Short and sweet. No warning, and no chance to dodge or evade.

It was a mercy, seeing the woman perish as peacefully as she could. Even if she had left her son orphaned in a cold and desolate world, Tonks went down with a resigned smile on her face.

Moody hadn't seen it that way. He was out for blood, and blood was what he got. His purple spell had cracked across the battlefield, drawing the eyes of quite a few people. The Dark Witch had conjured a shield, and her taunting smile of insanity drawn across her face in glee.

Except the shield didn't stop the spell.

Bellatrix's face twisted into confusion as the curse slammed into her midsection.

Harry remembered seeing her disappear in a mist of blood and bone. The crazed glint in Moody's human eye really did make the Dark Wizard hunter seem 'mad'.

The spell was one of Moody's personal creations.

The Avenger.

A special something that he had concocted specifically for the use upon Dark Wizards. The catch policy was no longer in effect, and had not been for a long time.

Every wizard and witch these days knew how to cast an Unforgivable. Spell work had only grown darker as the word descended into the abyss. The Killing Curse was more common than a shielding charm.

Harry had endeavoured to learn everything perfectly at this point in time. He couldn't afford many more mistakes or slow reactions. Harry needed to be perfect in battle, and there weren't many ways to do so with only a repertoire of Light spells.

Potter had adapted and learnt all that he could, until he reached the pinnacle of power. An unhealthy mix of dark and light magic.

His own arsenal was matched by no wizard, bar one.

"Some scouts returned today. Our man on the inside had some news"

Harry lifted an eyebrow at Moody, who stood a few feet away from him, his magical eye swirling in his head. His other eye was focused on Harry.

"And?"

"He's here"

Harry pushed himself off of the wall, coming forward to stand directly in front of Moody.

Voldemort had vanished into South America many years ago. Any team that was sent in to even locate the man never returned. Many had theorised or wondered what the Dark Lord was doing in the Amazon, but in the end it all came down to speculation.

"Where?"

"Department of mysteries, the Ministry"

---

Flamel Property, England

---

Harry snapped up, leaping to the side in a panicked frenzy.

His sudden movement from the small cott he had been laying in gave him a brief second of clarity.

He ducked the red spell that flew at him, his green eyes wild and wary.

A beautiful woman with soft motherly features stood before him, wand directly pointed at him.

Words were coming out of her mouth but Harry didn't give them time to reach his brain. Reflex and adrenaline kicked in, sending his body into overdrive.

The room he was locked in wasn't overly large, a couch and a pair of armchairs had surrounded the small bed, but this was ignored for the escape plan his brain was instantly drawing.

A man stepped into the room, coming from a doorway that lay in the path of what Harry assumed was a potential exit.

Light filtered into the room from a window to his side.

Early morning.

The man was speaking too, but the blood pounded in his ears.

'Gotta get out…. Gotta get to Moody'

With a wave of his hand, Harry flung himself through the window, sending shards of glass and the wooden supports hurtling in many directions.

He rolled once or twice, coming to a stop and quickly scrambling up onto his feet.

'Not this time Tom… not this time you bastard'

Without glancing at the house behind him, he stumbled off in the direction of the trees.

'Exit. Exit. Look for the exit..'

He could feel the wards that prevented apparition.

A familiar smell forced itself into his fevered mind, stopping the channel of magic to his left head.

Oak.

Spices.

Copper and steel.

Harry glanced down to see blood dripping from the tips of his fingers, landing into the soft patches of grass and dirt beneath him.

A small garden lay to his left, and the earth before him looked torn and ragged.

"I said, stop!"

Bleeding, ragged, and with a crazed look in his eye, Harry spun to face his pursuer.

Long locks of white hair dominated a firm and aristocratic face. High cheekbones and a determined frown.

Harry knew that frown.

After all, a wide variety of his experiments during the war had earned him that very same frown for a multitude of reasons.

Ethics and morality were firm and strong principles that guided the work of Nicholas Flamel. But in recent years, he had wavered in his need to save Harry's soul. Victory would not come without sacrifice.

Not to mention that Nicholas had been on the receiving end of Voldemort's ire. The dark wizard had dealt the damage personally, and Flamel had never been the same.

But to see him standing before Harry, his green eyes taking in every aspect of the ancient Alchemist.

"...Nick?" Harry took a step forward to the man, "is it really you? Did… did we do it?"

The man didn't say a word.

Harry took another step then collapsed to the ground on his knees, a small pool of blood forming beneath him.

A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, gently resting him backwards.

Perhaps the truth was best served in this situation?

Flamel decided so, and spoke carefully to the crazed boy.

"I can say without a doubt, that I have no idea who you are" a wand waved over his body, closing up the large gashes and cuts which covered him, "you appeared on my property a day ago… in a small ball of light"

Harry's vision blurred slightly, but he did not faint. The blood loss had been stemmed, and Nick was healing him.

"Is he alright?" a soft voice called out.

"He's fine my dear" Nick called back, "he just cut himself on the glass, after his most daring 'escape'"

The other speaker, the lady from earlier stepped into Harry's view, and his jaw went slack. A soft face filled with concern, one that had patched him up hundreds of times before.

"Pernelle? But you're…!" Harry blinked slowly, the information to much to handle.

"What… what year is it?"

"1994" Nicholas told the delirious fellow after a moment of hesitation.

Harry's brain grasped at straws, his attempts at reasoning shot to hell. A sheen of panic began to cover his thoughts, and in a moment he was beginning to breathe erratically.

"Captain Harry James Potter, 5th Squad, Designation: Scarhead"

Pernelle blinked.

"What?"

"Captain Harry James Potter, 5th Squad, Designation: Scarhead"

But the boy only repeated the sentence.

It took Flamel one second to see the panic begin to set in, before he intoned a soft spell at the boy he held.

Green eyes closed, and the boy drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Pernelle cleaned up the damage that had been done to their house as Nicholas floated the boy back to the cott.

They would speak with him as soon as he woke again.

---

London

---

"Well what do we have here?"

Moody snorted at Harry's question, forcing the two wizards before him on their knees in front of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Both wore the black battle robes of Voldemort's followers. Their masks lay on the floor before them and their hands were restrained behind their backs. Terrified faces looked up at the sick smile of Harry Potter. One was open with his feelings… the other tried to school his face, but Harry knew better. He knew that face.

In the ruin of the city, Harry and his team had advanced to a safe point. Command told them that the front of the ministry was being monitored, and squads of Death Eaters were patrolling in 15 minute intervals.

These two and their squad had just relieved the post that Harry's assault team was watching.

In the husk of a bombed out building they had established a small base, preparing for the inevitable assault to reclaim the ministry.

"Theodore Nott?" Harry crouched down to look at the brown haired pureblood, "is that you?"

"Fuck you, scar-head"

A strong fist smashed into the side of Nott's face, sending him to the floor with a broken nose. The other Death Eater whimpered, but stayed silent.

"Get him up, Neville"

The physically powerful form of Neville Longbottom crouched down to lift their former schoolmate off the cobble floor, bringing him back to his knees once more.

"Now. We haven't got a whole lot of time Nott… so why don't you tell me exactly how many of your brothers in arms are guarding the outside of the ministry?" Harry stowed his wand, opening his left hand and revealing a small icon engraved in it.

The image of a book made up of scars.

"Before I have to get nasty"

Nott could only stare at the small symbol and the boy, Nott's underling… he started blabbering.

"Theo… Theo this isn't worth it… just… just-"

Nott was obviously in charge of the patrolling squad of Death Eaters, and he been informed of all the details regarding the defense. That made him the target. He possessed all the information.

After awhile, he wouldn't just be talking.

Harry would get him to start singing.

"Shut up Miles!" the Slytherin swung his body, colliding against his comrade and stifling the flow of words, "Do you really think we're going to live through this? If they don't do us in, he will"

"I could have your best intentions at heart Nott, how could you know?" Harry countered, still facing Nott directly face to face.

"Liar" Nott spatt in Harry's face, and Neville cracked him across the jaw this time. Nott reeled, but pulled himself up to face Harry. He wouldn't cower, even with blood dripping from a split lip.

A few years ago Harry would have respected a will such as Theodore Nott's. Now, it was just annoying. It took longer than it should.

"Unfortunately" the last Potter wiped the blood and saliva from his face, "we don't have time to waste"

A red book, almost like a journal, appeared in his left hand.

Nott stiffened, and Miles trembled.

"Let's get started"

Harry flipped to page 35 and the air shimmered.

The book snapped shut and vanished in Harry's palm.

"Much appreciated Nott. Really" green eyes gazed into dull blue, a small smile crossing Harry's face as the eyes closed.

Theo was covered in slashes and burns.

His once handsome face had been torn up by Harry's little creation. It had only taken Potter five minutes to take the man apart.

While he had never truly learnt the ability to invade minds, Harry had found a plethora of alternate ways to get someone to talk. To get under their skin.

Harry always made them sing, and Theo was nothing special.

Adding some of Nott's skills to the book was an added bonus.

The leader of the assault team stood, a calm expression on his face.

"Shut them up Neville"

The other Death Eater, Miles, struggled briefly. He had watched in silent horror as Harry had pulled out every stop to get Nott to speak.

His last words were muffled by a firm hand, and a knife gliding across his throat.

"See you in hell, Potter"

Harry barely caught the whispered words as Theo was brought up again, the same knife that had killed his friend being brought to his neck.

Any use of magic would alert the other Death Eaters to their presence. This wasn't the first time Harry and his team had dealt with guards before in such a manner, and the practise showed off.

"I'll hold you to it" Harry smiled as Nott's throat was slit, the sound of gagging coming from Miles who had collapsed forward.

The boy had turned pale as he desperately gasped on the floor, blood pooling around him in a macabre display.

Nott didn't seem to notice as he bled.

The man just kept his eyes closed, accepting death.

Two bodies were left twitching on the floor as Harry and his team advanced towards the Ministry. They slipped back into the alleys that were filled with rubble from the bombed out husks of buildings.

London was a shell of its former self.

Especially the wizarding centers.

They had taken the brunt of all the fighting.

"This is Potter" Harry brought a radio up to his mouth, "we're going in"

---

Flamel Property, England

---

"The veil of death?"

Harry nodded at Flamel but his eyes were closed, trying to organise his thoughts.

"He had found some kind of ritual, we're not exactly sure what, but it turned the Veil into a gateway…" Harry opened his eyes, focusing on the Alchemist before frowning, "I don't remember what happened exactly… but I do know that I was the first through the gate… kind of an accident really"

This, "Harry Potter" had been weaving the details of his own story, trying his best to explain what had happened before appearing on the Flamel's property.

He had been at war.

A wizarding and muggle war. Brutal and vicious, this war had claimed the globe, and the fire of it had spread to every corner.

Nicholas shook his head, banishing any needless thoughts about what such a war had caused, instead wishing to focus on the individual before him.

He turned his attention towards the boy before him. Well, a man really. He might be a boy in body, but this being had experienced war.

The haunted look in his eyes reminded Flamel of the witches and wizards that had fought against Grindelwald.

The eyes gave it away for everyone, as the windows to the soul they couldn't help but be expressive. And these green eyes that glanced off into nothing…

This 'Harry Potter' had seen everything.

"When you arrived here… there was an anomaly… a strange kind of white sphere" Nicholas gained Harry's attention, drawing the poisonous green pupils towards him, "it asked for my name. Do you know why?"

Harry was silent. His mouth twitched slightly, but no words came out. They were not allowed out.

The familiarity that Potter had expressed to him showed that this boy must have been well acquainted with him in the future, and that in turn told him a lot.

Not only was the boy a powerful wizard and an intellectual, but also adventurous and brave, qualities that Nick was unashamed to admit all his friend's shared.

But the look in his eyes right now, the fear and hesitance…

"You were there" the boy finally allowed, "you helped me through the gate… you…" he took a deep breath, slightly curling in on himself in the armchair.

"You told me to find you… that was all I could think off"

Pernelle joined the conversation after a few moments of silence, "The singularity was looking for confirmation Nick, meaning that whatever ritual or spell was used, it had to have been officiated by you"

Harry's haunted gaze drifted to Pernelle.

Nicholas stared at the boy, then looked towards his wife.

"What? Have I got something on my face?"

The men said nothing, and Harry continued to stare.

"She died. Didn't she?" Nicholas finally asked, already sure of the answer.

Pernelle went pale as Harry nodded.

"He… Voldemort wanted to hurt us Nick… you and me were a very tough team. On and off the battlefield, there wasn't much that could stop us" Harry hiccuped and forced himself to look away.

Nicholas, out of reflex placed a comforting hand on the boy's arm, trying to steady him.

"But I didn't have anything left for me, aside from victory… you still had-"

"Me" Pernelle spoke softly, her gaze turned to the fireplace.

Harry nodded, a lump in his throat, "after that… " he stopped, unable to speak any further.

"Did I fight?"

Both of them looked to Pernelle, a firm glint in her eyes, "well?"

Harry's chuckle caught them both off guard, but Pernelle still retained the burn in her gaze.

"Fight? You did more than just fight. Six of his lieutenants, thirteen werewolves and even a piece of his left ear" Harry grinned at her, "you went down with style, Mu-" he cut himself off, receding into his head again.

Expression vanished from his features, and his hands tightened into fists on his lap.

Pernelle felt herself stiffen.

Nicholas schooled his features.

"I'm sorry" Harry spoke softly, eyes gazing at his feet, "I know that you're not… my Flamels, but you-" he choked on words and returned to silence.

"We know" Pernelle said softly, smiling lightly at him, "it's alright"

"So" Nicholas intervened, "what's the plan then?"

Harry's eyes darted to him now.

"Nothing's changed. Locate and destroy Voldemort"

"Might have some trouble with that" Nick said softly, taking a newspaper from the coffee table, the same table which had been transfigured into Harry's temporary cott.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the Alchemist who was going through a stack of old newspapers.

"I fail to see how. If I'm back in the time I think I am, I'll have plenty of time to hunt down his life-lines then do the bastard in myself. I know how everything will unfold, I am the Boy-Who-Lived, after all" Harry growled at the end, and looked in utter confusion as Nicholas laughed.

"Not quite" the Flamel tugged up the newspaper he was looking for, flipped it and presented the article to Harry.

'The Girl-Who-Lived and Family to attend World Cup with Minister!'

Harry blinked.

Then he blinked again.

"What the fuck?"

Pernelle instinctively scolded him.

---

Quidditch World Cup

---

Rose Potter cheered as Victor Krum snatched the snitch between his fingers. The fans of the bulgarian team all roared in approval, and Rose couldn't help but snigger as Ron groaned, already complaining about the Irish team.

Hermione snorted softly, but even if she did not hold any love for Quidditch, she could enjoy the matches.

Professional play was exhilarating to see, and as an amateur at Hogwarts, Rose enjoyed every second of her time at the world cup.

"Having fun?" a gruff but teasing voice came from behind her, and a large hand slipped into her hair to tossel it around.

"Padfoot!" she groaned, trying to duck under Sirius Black's teasing hand, even as he messed with her red locks of hair.

"Hands off my daughter you dog" Lily Potter stepped up and cuffed Sirius behind the ear. It wasn't done out of malice, and her teasing tone came through quite clearly.

Rose's godfather retreated as her mother approached.

"He does ask a good question though, are you having fun?" Rose tucked herself into her mother's side, a grin across her face as she nodded stupidly.

Lily snorted at the wide grin, but smiled fondly down at her daughter.

While Rose possessed the firm features of her father in a more effeminate variation, her mother's hair and eyes stood out quite clearly.

Unfortunately, she had inherited her father's messy hair, and while it could be combated, it took hours to do so.

Sirius had messed with a painstaking amount of work.

Her Dogfather barked a laugh, and stepped up to the other side of Rose, a grin across his features, "is it the game that's got you so excited, or was it that Diggory-"

"What was that?" an arm looped around the Black patriarch's neck, and a familiar head of dark hair came into view, "I didn't quite catch that"

James Potter was as confident, handsome and well dressed as ever, even when he was teasing around with his best mate.

"Oh" Sirius felt the arm tighten around his neck, "I was merely asking if your most esteemed and valued daughter was digging the game"

Rose groaned into her hands as Sirius attempted to weasel his way out with the use of muggle slang.

James raised an eyebrow, "really? That's the best you could come up with? You-"

"Children. Please"

Remus Lupin was at the back of the booth known, playing referee for his friends with his soft yet commanding voice. Arguably the most mature of the Marauders, the part time werewolf had always kept his compatriots in line.

Rose did however notice the drink in his hand. A half full mug of muggle beer most likely.

"Oh no young Lady" Lily noticed where her daughter was looking, "you're far too young"

"But mum! It's a special occasion!"

Lily just gave a stern look.

"Fine" Rose huffed, bringing the small mug of butterbeer to her lips.

She felt magic ghost over her hand and glanced towards her Godfather.

He sent her a subtle wink before returning to the banter with James, having successfully changed her drink under the radar of her parents.

His wand was held sneakily by his side, out of sight of James and Lily. Only Remus had noticed the spell. Rose looked to Mooney next, and the man said nothing.

He merely took another pull of his drink, eyes dancing with mischief.

While he may be the more mature of them, there was a reason he was apart of the Marauders.

Rose grinned around her cup and drank.

She loved her family, no matter how silly they were.

---

Flamel Property

---

"And where exactly do you think you're going?" Nicholas raised a firm eyebrow at the now stiff boy in the doorway.

They had talked most of the day away, asking 'Harry' questions about his world, and what he knew about his mode of transportation to this world.

Certain memories were given to the Flamels, proof of combat and truth. The boy had flipped out a small red book, turning through the pages before small vials appeared in his waiting right hand.

Harry had opted to not review the contents of each memory, leaving Pernelle to investigate the first memory for any foul play or trick.

She had returned ashen-faced, allowing Nick to take his turn.

Both were horrified by some of the images they were subjected to.

Flickered lights of spells closing between combatants from within the British Ministry. Harry had called this the first battle for the Ministry and was the more tame of the two that had occured. Witches and Wizards were bifurcated, dissolved, broken into hundreds of pieces and in two cases, inverted. Pernelle could not imagine what the more horrid fight had been.

In the rain that watched Harry rally people through large iron gates, flicking the occasional spell in the direction away from where the people were fleeing. All of them save for a few wore the same dirty white clothing. Many of them had gaunt and hollow expressions.

The Mudblood work camps that Harry had torn down to liberate and free the starved and emaciated witches and wizards.

Within the next memory, the dead rose up to wash against the walls of the Russian Wizarding fortress in Moscow. A plague of dead, raised by devote and vile Necromancers that worked for the Dark Lord.

Harry displayed a monstrous control of fire, something that hadn't been enough to slow the tide of the dead.

The city had fallen within a day.

Hordes of Inferni that had stormed Russia and the Ukraine were responsible. One scene that held the most strength and emotion was of a large and muscular red headed boy, swinging his wand beside Harry to help conjure more fire.

A green jet of light blindsided the boy, and Harry went berserk. Fire consumed the world for hours.

The next memory was cold.

Hidden within the mud and dirt, Harry's team lay still. They had caked themselves in their surroundings in order to avoid a patrol that was marching past them. Trees were outlined by the flashes of lightning. Their breathing was hidden by rain and the cracks of thunder.

One of his squadmates, a skinny boy with dark hair, was discovered in the dirt. Rather than being taken in for questioning and tortured, the boy shifted into a werewolf, tearing through the muggle soldiers as they peppered him with gun fire.

Another fantastic invention of war. Selective Lycanthropy. The ability to change into a werewolf at will.

Muggles and Wizards alike had opted for the treatment, becoming walking weapons of destruction.

Harry's team remained still. The enemy troops would dismiss the boy as a straggler from the werewolf factions, expecting him to be one of the wild and rabbid beasts spotted near by. Or perhaps a deserter from the German front lines.

In the end it didn't matter.

Two wizards approached and flayed Teddy Lupin into pieces.

The wolf was able to gore one of them though, pulling the wizard apart into two pieces before collapsing in a bloody heap.

After 15 minutes of reporting and reloading, the patrol moved out, missing the remaining hidden figures in the muck.

Pernelle had excused herself after that, refusing to watch anymore. She was obviously distressed by the violence and Harry had commented off handedly that she just the same as he remembered her.

Nicholas had given a long silence in response to that comment. He chose to study Harry instead of responding, once again checking his body for any toxins, poisons and malicious sources of magic.

Aside from an absurdly large magical core, the body was very healthy.

The boy had been sure that he had time traveled, that his nemesis, Voldemort, had devised a way to return to the past and wreck havoc. But as they had all sifted through news papers and clippings, it became increasingly clearer that while similar, this was not the world that Harry had come from.

One drastically different factor, and probably the most prominent of changes in this timeline was the events of Godric's Hollow, the night of Halloween.

James and Lily Potter had survived the Dark Lord's attack. He Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was still reduced to a pile of ash, but the family had lived.

His female counterpart had survived the Killing Curse as well.

Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, had grown up loved and cared for. She had many friends in both the wizarding and muggle communities, and was breaching gaps created by centuries of prejudice and racism.

Many saw her as a threat to their culture and society, but others looked to her as a beacon of change and hope.

The poster girl of the Ministry of Magic, a powerful witch for her age, and socially accepted, all things that Harry Potter had not grown up with as an orphaned wizard.

Flamel had seen the look of anger in the boy's eyes, the slightest of twitches in his muscles.

Jealousy.

He had not thought on it much, discussing the timeline changes with Harry had been fascinating and it had stolen most of his attention. This initial deviation had lead Nicholas to believe that the Girl-Who-Lived and Harry Potter were absorbed in different time lines, and no sense of similarity would be found past their birthday.

It seemed that large standing events were the same however.

While the Philosophers stone was not destroyed in Rose Potter's first year, she had indeed fought against a possessed teacher. Dumbledore had informed Nicholas of this.

An award for services to the school was given in her second year, which the male Potter had claimed was related to the slaying of a Basilisk. Of all the things that had been revealed, Nick found this to be the most believable.

Sirius Black was an Auror and partner to the formidable James Potter, and while in Harry's world the man was a innocent framed and convicted as a Death Eater, here it appeared that Rodolphus Lestrange had been Azkaban's escapee.

He had been thwarted by the very same girl he targeted.

There were parallels, enough that Nicholas could clearly note and compare, but that did not mean every detail was the same.

Back to the matter at hand though, the warrior that was attempting to leave the Alchemist's home.

"There's going to be an attack" Harry stated calmly, turning to face the Flamel with his hands tightening Dragonhide bracers, "Death Eaters will strike at the world cup in under an hour"

He was dressed for combat.

Robes fitted with a hum of magical enchantments. Dragon hide most likely, going by the coloration and the scales. It was incredibly difficult to charm and enchant Dragon hide. Most spell work slipped off the magically resistant skin, meaning that hours of work were needed for just one part of it.

Nicholas had the feeling that the boy had done his own work. He was not the kind to trust someone else with a creation that he must have worn everyday. Harry had probably slept with it as well.

"And you plan to meet them in battle?" Nick sighed, the simmering rage barely contained by the boy before him.

Harry nodded mutely, moving his hand to clasp the other brace. A small blank bandana hung around his neck.

"It will be more of a pain trying to stop you than permitting you to go, but my dear boy" Nick sighed softly, "perhaps this is no longer your fight?"

Harry stiffened again, his eyes narrowing, "what are you talking about" he didn't ask. It was a demand.

Nick rubbed the stubble on his chin as he spoke, thinking as he talked, "perhaps this is magic giving you a chance, Harry. A chance to rest and make your own life. You have finished your war, not only did you thwart your Voldemort, but you have been blessed with a chance to live-"

"No"

Nick stopped talking as the boy practically shuddered in rage.

"As long as he still lives, my war continues. I am here for one reason and one reason only" a small red book appeared in his right hand, the pages swiftly flipping to the desired chapter, "I will kill him. I refuse to let this world be consumed by the war that I failed to prevent in my own"

A strangely curved dagger appeared in his right hand. The book vanished but the dagger remained.

"Rose Potter is the girl who lived. His defeat is her responsibility, Harry. You are a dimensional traveler that has just escaped conflict-"

"I will not let anyone die again!" the boy shouted, losing himself for only a moment.

Both went quiet.

"You always saw the best in people Nick. You always tried to help me" Harry whispered, "but every day I slipped further and further from the light… I had to in order to stop him" Harry gazed up at the roof with solemn eyes, obviously fighting back tears, "I lost everyone I ever loved… as did everyone else, as did you"

Nick stayed silent. He had been trying to imagine a world without Pernelle. One where she had been taken from him.

"I understand that pain far better than I would have ever wanted to Nicholas. If I were to walk away now, I would be condemning everyone to that pain" Harry shook his head, a few drops of liquid leaving his eyes, "I could never forgive myself if I let that happen"

Both were quiet for a moment.

Nick approached Harry slowly, and gently brought the aching boy into a hug.

"I am not your Nicholas Flamel, Harry Potter" he felt the boy stiffen at this, "but you are a brave soul to do this, far more than most men" Harry slackened slightly, but tentatively returned the hug.

"I will not fail you again Nick, I swear on my life" more tears. This boy had not been completely consumed by war. He still had a heart, and as much as Harry wanted to deny its existence, the Alchemist knew it was there.

Nick scoffed slightly, but hugged the boy tighter.

"You cannot imagine how proud I am to have been your friend in another life. You shall always find a friend in the Flamel Household"

Harry nodded, as they separated, unable to look Nick in the eyes.

"You should probably get going"

Both of them spun to look at the lazy form of Pernelle, a soft smile on her face, "especially if you have people that need saving"

Harry nodded.

His knife flipped into his left hand and was sheathed in a small holster on his side. His black wand appeared in his right. Strange symbols and coloration decorated the wand, intriguing Nicholas, but the boy swept away from them, vanishing through the door.

---

Rose was roused from her sleep by Hermione. She blew a strand of her crazy red hair from her face, blinking up at the blurry form of her best friend.

"Rose! Get up! Quickly!"

The green eyed Potter did as commanded, sleepily getting up and bringing her glasses to her face.

"What?" she asked intelligently, rubbing her face softly as Hermione frantically moved around the room.

"Something's wrong on the other side of the camp. Mister Weasley said that there was some commotion or something, and he would sort it out, but they've been gone for over an hour!" Hermione flickered around the room, hunting for items and things to stuff in her bag, "I went to investigate Rose, and-" she was speaking more to herself, and Rose tuned her out in order to pay attention to the background noise.

The screaming reached finally the Potter's ear. Shadows of running people darted across the side of the tent. Witches and wizards were fleeing from something.

"Where are my parents?"

"Your mother told me to come get you and Mister Potter ran off to find Sirius!" Hermione said quickly, throwing a handful of clothes at Rose, "get changed!" she was scared, something rare for Hermione. No time to think about it however.

Rose slipped the clothes on as fast as she could, shaking the last vestiges of sleep from herself.

Finally buttoning off her jeans, Rose turned to the front of the tent as a familiar redhead stumbled in, dirt in his vibrant hair. Ron Weasley had been roughed up, but he was still quick to return to Rose and Hermione.

"Death Eaters" he said, out of breath and flushed in the face, "they started attacking the west side of the tents. They're coming this way!"

Hermione paled significantly and started speaking to him, but Rose stopped listening as something strange shadowed against the side of the tent. A dull crack of Apparition sounded a second before she noticed it.

It was an animal of some kind, four legs and a long tail. It was just past her waist in height, powerful muscles moving in tandem with its long limbs. Rose could describe its movements as gliding.

'Panther' a voice in her head told her.

Her only notice that Hermione noticed the shadow as well was her soft gasp. Ron followed with a delayed swear.

Neither of them snapped at the boy for cursing.

The shadow of the panther halted at the closed entrance to their tent, people cutting a terrified swath around it.

Rose could see both of its ears perk up, head pointed in the direction of the west side of the camp. It didn't seem to notice them.

In the next instant, it bounded off in the direction of where the Death Eaters were.

Rose didn't even hesitate. Deaf to Hermione's calls and Ron's words, she leapt out of the tent, wand held tightly in her hand.

The tail of the beast vanished around a bend of tents, and Rose gave chase, slowly taking in the fire and smoke which dominated the skyline. In the distance she could see the flashes of spells and charms.

"Rose!" Ron caught up first, trying to grab her arm, "what are you doing?! You're running towards the fight! You know that right?"

"Either leave me alone or get my six Ron! People are in danger and I'm going to see if I can help"

Hermione had caught up just in time to hear that snarl come from her friend's lips, and she flinched slightly.

None of them said anything for a few moments.

The panther was getting away.

"Well?" Rose almost snapped.

"We're with you" Ron said, drawing his wand and shifting into a firm expression, "if anything we can at least help with the evacuation!" he affirmed.

Both of them turned to Hermione.

"Someone has to keep you both out of trouble" she sighed, her wand shifting into her hand, "but if we die Rose, I will kill you"

Ron snorted and Rose smirked.

The trio dashed off, slicing through the crowd and moving as fast as they could towards the battle.

---

Harry prowled around the tents in his Panther Animagus form.

Anger and hostility bled from every pore of his being.

He had been late. The attack had started an hour earlier in this world, so he was unable to catch the Death Eaters as they arrived at the edge of the wards.

He was already costing the lives of innocent people for his blunder.

A snarl tore through his throat, the growl coming out far more intimidating then he had planned. People squeaked and screamed to leap aside and avoid the charging beast.

He was almost there, the sounds of battle having become far clearer than-

Stopping briefly, his notice picked up three scents. Two he recognised in a far off corner of his mind.

Ron and Hermione.

They had been following him.

Which meant…

Rose was right behind him, giving chase. He knew that apparating next to the Weasley tent should have been impossible, but it appeared that in this world Fred, George and Mister Weasley had set the tent up in the same location.

Harry was just as surprised as the witches and wizards that saw a panther apparate in between two wizarding tents.

Not dwelling to think about who would be in the tent, the green eyed beast had leapt off, picking up the smells and sounds of battles in a heartbeat.

The amount of people fleeing was significantly less here, meaning that he had the privacy to change back. He only had a few minutes before the Golden Trio was upon him.

Harry shifted quickly to his human form, pulling the bandana up across his face. His hair shortened and changed into a snow white, his eyes taking a blue tint and his face was covered perfectly.

One of his favourite creations was the Tonks Bandana.

Named posthumously after his dead friend, Harry treasured this tool.

While it couldn't alter facial features or facial proportions, it changed the hair and eyes to match with the current feelings of the wearer.

Until the Bandana was removed by the owner, the looks would remain. It had been an integral invention within the states, keeping hidden from Voldemort's Assassins and acting like any other wizard for hire at the time.

Identities were sacred and safe for the first few years. When Voldemort gained access to the American Wizarding Registry, that had all gone out the window, but it was fun while it had lasted.

"-went right around this corner, I swear I…"

Harry turned and gazed right into the green pools he had known so intimately in only a mirror.

Ron and Hermione were so similar it stung his heart. Her hair might had been slightly darker, and Ron's form was bulkier, but Harry saw everything of his old friends within them.

He blinked and focused as his counterpart addressed him.

---

"Who the hell are you?" Rose demanded, her hand tight around her wand.

While running she had explained the panther. Hermione had deduced it was an Animagus, and judging by the male they found standing where the panther should have been only proved it.

He was dressed without a cloak or cape surprisingly enough. Most wizards these days always traveled with one and only foreign wizards lacked one. His form was layered with an almost leather like clothing, each section divided over his body.

Hermione gasped quietly, and Rose could see the tension in her form out of the corner of her eye. She must have realised what he was wearing.

Ron took a small step forward, his wand was not pointed at the man, but ready to spring up at the stranger in a moments notice.

And he was a stranger with obviously less than noble intentions, going by the use of his Animagus form. He looked grizzled and grim. Rose didn't know what to expect when she began to chase the suspicious panther, but she obviously thought he was a danger.

White hair framed a hidden face. Blue eyes glared into Rose's, like her very existence offended this man.

"Children" he spat, flickering from their sight slightly, "I don't have time for you"

In the next instant he flickered completely out of sight, simply vanishing on the spot. For a brief second the air around him had looked like the haze one would see above an open flame.

Rose was lost for words.

What?-

Who?-

"Come on" Hermione cut across, "let's find out if we can help"

Rose took a second before nodding, pathing around the rest of the tents and coming close to the battle.

---

Harry exploded into movement as soon as he appeared.

The battlefield had become the barren scape of land created by the destruction of the tents, and the spell work from the Death Eaters. It felt like he was back in the war again.

It felt like he was home.

Harry's instincts knocked into overdrive.

His personal shields and armor absorbed the startled stunners from the Ministry workers, and Harry ignored them for the large group of Death Eaters battling before him.

More than three times as many than last time.

'Nothing ever changes' he thought to himself, noticing the bodies of civilians strewn between the burned out husks of tents and forgotten items, as he began to cast.

Six basting spells blew into the dirt, sending a rain of mud high into the air.

With a savage twist of his wand they were transfigured into identical shards of glass. A few Death Eaters felt the spell work, but even less managed to turn and see what was coming.

Harry slashed his wand down, the barrage of sharp glass following the movement.

Eight of Voldemort's servants were shredded by the downpour of glass.

Another Stunner impacted his shield, and Harry turned to glare at the wizard who cast it for a brief moment.

His heart almost seized in his chest. Messy black hair, and a pair of glasses dominating a familiar face looked back at him in horror.

James Potter.

Harry ignored him, and the ache in his chest, returning his focus to the battle. His father was horrified by the acts of brutality he was committing.

A large group of the Death Eaters that had been standing over a pair of huddled witches turned towards him.

Spells and curses of varying degrees were sent flying, and Harry either let them impact against his protections harmlessly, or swatted them into the dirt without a care. He had to dodge a few Killing Curses here and there, but the minimal effort was refreshing.

Ever since he had appeared in the fight, Harry had not stopped moving, practically strolling towards the servants of Voldemort.

His next barrage opened with Moody's personal spell. The Avenger.

A Death Eater exploded into a cloud of bloody mist, startling his friends.

Three large cutting curses followed, slicing deep into the enemy lines.

Harry began to will the ground to move at his command, forcing up pillars of earth and dirt. The return fire from the now disoriented servants of the Dark Bastard impacted harmlessly into the pillars. The Cruciatus and the Killing Curse were now the majority of their repertoire. How dull.

One by one, Harry began to banish pieces of the pillars towards the monsters in black robes, transfiguring them as they flew into deadlier shapes and material.

Howls and screams echoed in the night.

In the distance Harry spotted one of the Death Eaters turn his or her wand on the huddled figures that he had seen earlier.

They were still alive.

But not for much longer if Harry didn't act.

His dagger was drawn from his belt, and it pierced the dirt in front of him as quickly as he could bring it down.

In a heartbeat, the Death Eater was lifted into the air by a large blade that thrust through their back, dragging them into the sky for all to see. The pointed blade had burst from the ground.

Harry knew that a few would make the connection to his dagger, but he did not care. As long as innocent people lived.

Much of the battle between the Ministry and Death Eaters ceased as the follower was thrust into the sky crying in agony. Eventually the body went limp, and Harry snapped off his blade from the ground. The violent display of death remained, the body still suspended by the enlarged end of the dagger. Harry didn't worry about that, knowing that the projection of the blade would slowly turn to stone. It could never be traced back to him.

He shifted through the air, coming to stand above the cowering figures.

Familiar blond hair and blue eyes looked up at him, a miniature version of the girl clutched in her shivering arms.

"Please, do not hurt us" Fleur Delacour stuttered out in French tinted English.

"Wasn't planning on it" Harry smirked for a moment, his attention shifting for only a second, before it drifted back to the battle.

"Stay down and you'll get out of this alive, darling"

The Death Eaters that he now stood in the midst of had thought the fight over, and were ultimately confused by Harry's actions to move in between them.

In those few moments of hesitation that they thought Harry had surrendered, that Harry had given up, many of them forfeited their lives.

Because Harry Potter does not stop.

This clean up was taking too long for his liking.

He vanished his wand into the holster he had retrieved from his book.

The Bandit's Secret was clenched firmly in his left hand, the Dagger now moved to his right.

As people began to turn to him from both sides of the combat, they saw the flash of light from around his wrist.

A small blue bracelet had appeared on his right, decorated in bright gems that let off a harsh glow.

At the same time, hanging low in the air above all of them was what could only be described as a blue star. It cast shadows long and far for every individual present.

Only two seconds had passed.

Harry smirked under the bandana across his face as he sunk into his shadow.

His blade dug into the back of the first death eater he came upon, before he slipped quickly back into their shadow and danced through the darkness to his next victim.

Shouts and exclamations of panic were now more frequent as Harry began hopping between their shadows, unseen by all of them.

Voldemort's forces obviously had enough of this. They were unprepared for the wild card that had been thrown into the situation, and decided to retreat before they suffered further.

Many of the Death Eaters were escaping, pulling out twigs and items before vanishing in a swirl.

Portkeys.

Their numbers began to dwindle very quickly, many stooping to pick up hurt comrades or dead bodies.

There were only a few of them left in such a short amount of time. Harry would later find it funny that they were so quick and ready to flee, but hardly prepared to fight a superior opponent. Right now, he was frustrated at their fleeing.

'No'

He needed information.

His eye caught on one of the Death Eaters that was holding out a telescope to another, obviously shouting at the other to hurry.

Perfect.

Leaping from one of the shadows, Harry cast a wandless and wordless Killing Curse. The pure magical exertion of it shook his bones, but it was necessary. He currently needed the book out more than he needed his wand.

The green spell sliced through the air, impacting with the back of the man that held the portkey.

Death Eaters were vanishing left and right as the body tumbled.

Hundreds of pages blew over in an instant, and the knife was replaced by a large gray cloak.

Harry's chosen target only gave a muffled cry as he appeared before him and smothered him with the cloak.

The material zipped and tied around the Death Eater, wrapping around the man completely before shrinking into a small ball. The Death Eater shrunk with it.

A crack of magic drew his weary attention away from the capture.

Harry's shield buckled under the shear amount of power that the stunning spell possessed, but it held.

Barely.

He fell to his knees in exhaustion, fairly aware of the advancing Ministry men and women.

James Potter, Sirius black, and a growing amount of Aurors had begun to approach him, wands drawn and aimed unwaveringly at him.

"Put the book down and surrender! You're surrounded" Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. It was of no concern that he was surrounded, nor did the approaching Aurors threaten him. The fact that his father (from this world) knew that the source of danger was the book irked him so.

Someone had extensively studied the Potter family history. Harry had the tiniest of feelings that his Dad wasn't as squeaky clean as many thought.

"He's knackered James" Sirius's voice cut across the air, "let's just stun him and be done with it"

James sighed, but kept speaking any way.

"This is your final warning!-"

Harry judged the distance between himself and the small bag containing the captured Death Eater.

"-Put the book down-"

His shields and armor wouldn't be able to hold up against the coming wave of spells. Harry knew he was fast, but thirteen tense Aurors and his trigger happy Godfather was not how he wanted to test his speed.

"-and stand with your hands up!-"

Harry supposed that it wasn't so bad if the Death Eater was captured by the Ministry. While it was annoying that he wouldn't be able to interrogate and 'remove' the piece of shit afterwards, the good guys would still benefit from this.

"You are-!"

"War is on the horizon Mister Potter" Harry used a subtle piece of magic to alter the depth and tone of his words, "you have two choices"

He decided to fuck with his Dad a little bit though.

Turning his head to face the Auror, he was impressed that Sirius managed to restrain himself as he stared directly at James, his eyes shifting back to their natural green for a moment.

"Prepare for the coming of the storm… or guide its path" he smirked at the dumbfounded expression on his father's face. Sirius was about to launch a spell in his direction.

Harry could feel the magic building from his Godfather and other Aurors.

"The choice is yours"

In a subtle movement, he flipped his thumb under the pages of his open book, the digit gracing the very last page at the back of the book.

A small candle appeared in his hand as the cloth vanished.

"Stop him! He's-"

Twenty Stunning spells flew towards him.

Harry had already broken the candle in half.

The familiar tug of his navel told him that the portkey had worked.

One stunning spell had managed to slip through however, and Harry's world went black. Sirius was a very quick caster indeed.

---

Hermione was pale. She felt incredibly ill at the sight of what the stranger had done. It was horrid, seeing him carve up people without a second of thought or hesitation.

Ron's face was blank, but his fists were clenched in confusion and fury. While Violence and Ronald Weasley were not mutually exclusive, he had no fond of senseless death.

Rose was silent.

Parts of her condemned the man for what he had done. Mostly she felt sick as well, but was able to control it better than Hermione was.

But a dark part of her, deep within both her heart and the back of her mind, thought the man had done a good job.

They were Death Eaters! Servants of Voldemort, their whole purpose was to inflict pain, fear and death upon-

"Rose? Ron? Hermione!? What are you all doing here?"

Tonks, a family friend and the cousin of Sirius, slipped into view.

"Nym" Rose almost stuttered in surprise, "w-wha...Hi!" she finished lamely.

"Rose Dorea Potter" a much more serious voice stepped up from beside Tonks, the clump and stomp of an artificial leg announcing the presence of Mad Eye Moody far before the man appeared, "what a surprise. Finding you and your compatriots so close to trouble, how strange"

"Al" Rose took lead, stepping forward to take the blame, "we heard the fighting, and we came to offer help, but-"

"But nothing Potter" Alastor snapped, side stepping around Tonks and looking down at the three of them, "a battle between Death Eaters and Ministry officials is not something that children should be privy to, less so to even participate in"

"We just wanted to help Al!" Rose exclaimed, "there could have been wounded-"

Moody swiped his wand, which had suddenly appeared in his left hand, against his arm.

A thin trickle of blood appeared on it.

"Al! What are you doing! You-"

"Heal it" Moody cut her off yet again.

"What?"

"Are you deaf Potter, I said heal it!"

Rose went silent.

Before Hermione could step forward and fix the self inflicted wound, Moody muttered his own spell, closing up the cut like it had never been there before.

"How are you supposed to help any wounded if you can't even stop a little blood Potter. Any witch or wizard could bleed out in moments, and your scrambling to remember even the most basic of healing spells would condemn them to death"

The lesson was slowly sinking into her skull.

"I get it" Rose said softly, ducking her head under the dark locks of her hair, "I.. I'm sorry Al"

Moody remained terse and silent.

Rose looked up to stare at him, and for once in his life, Moody seemed to look with both eyes.

"I also get it Potter. You want to help. Ever since that Lestrange business your neck has been on the line. But running into danger is not the same as being prepared for it" Moody didn't growl, his voice was oddly calm for once, "the day you are able to help, you'll know it Potter"

"Right, Al" she affirmed, desperately hoping against all hope that-

"I will be informing your father about this little escapade" he stepped in again, "you too Weasley" he growled at Ron's groan.

"But Al!" Rose tried to whine, but Moody was impervious to any and all acts of cuteness.

If a puppy was said to have ties to a dark wizard, Mad Eye Moody wouldn't hesitate to blast it six ways from sunday to get what he wanted.

Without any further adieu, the dark wizard catcher began clomping off in the direction of the other Aurors. Many more had appeared once the fight was concluded, different wizarding devices and tools out, scanning the nearby area.

Bodies were already being removed and witnesses were speaking with the relevant authorities.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Ron and Hermione gave startled yelps at the man's surprise roar, but Rose was used to it. She was already sinking into herself thinking about what her father would say.

Tonks gave a sad smile as she followed after her teacher.

"Right you are boss" she snarked from behind him.

"We're in so much trouble" Ron groaned.

Hermione was too disturbed to say anything.

"Let's just get back to the burrow" Rose mumbled, turning away from the battlefield. The others followed without any hesitation.

---

Sirius stepped back towards James, having finished speaking with Barnes and Cain, both of whom had given their memories of the combat over to the senior Auror.

His partner was in a deep discussion with Ministry officials and Alastor Moody.

Sirius maneuvered over the charred tent poles and debris, his attention on his red faced friend.

"You tell me then! How do you think he got through the port key wards if it wasn't an officially issued port key, because I haven't got a bloody clue!"

Sirius saw the reason for his annoyance.

Lucius Malfoy, stood calmly with the same air of regality that infuriated the Black Lord on the daily. The Malfoy patriarch was head of a ministry law committee, so of course he had accompanied Minister Fudge and Madame Bones.

"Potter" the head of the DMLE scolded, "keep it civil"

"Sorry boss" James replied, "apologies, Malfoy" he returned frostily.

"No offense taken" Lucius replied, his voice suggesting the contrary, "I'm asking you these questions because you had direct communication with the culprit. I had hoped you had gleaned something, but it appears not"

Smug bastard.

Fudge, the portly Minister with a bowler hat, finally chimed in with his own intelligent question.

"This was a Death Eater attack then? Are we sure?"

Sirius bit back a laugh as Amelia was barely able to restrain an eye roll.

"We managed to recover only three bodies, and one living individual. The clothing, masks and the dark marks present on their skin would suggest so" James stepped in again, saving his boss from a snarky reply to the cowardly Minister.

Needless to say the hundreds of eye witnesses that could attest to the attack.

"What has the living individual managed to say?" Lucius asked, his hand subtly moving over his cain.

Oh that bastard.

Sirius just knew that the prat was aware of what this was.

Unfortunately evidence was required, and there was no way he could currently prove that Lucius was aware of the attack before it occurred.

"Nothing yet. He's still trapped in that bloody cloth" Sirius joined the fray, garnering the attention of everyone present.

"Auror Black" Amelia nodded at him, "anything you wanted to add to that?"

"It's a magical artifact of some kind. I saw it in action. Our guy wrapped up that Death Eater in the cloak and it just shrunk him down into a small little bag. Very convenient for transport" Sirius smiled, but turned serious again at Amelia's expression, "don't know exactly what we can do to take it apart, but the guys are suggesting we let the Unspeakables look it at"

Bones shook her head in the negative, "do that and we'll never get our suspect. Markus and Percival can look into it"

She sent off a patronus, "and what was this about a killing curse?"

That got Fudge and Malfoy's attention.

James took a second.

He hadn't told his boss about what he saw, which means someone else had witnessed the terrifying act of magic.

"Wandless and wordless. Very effective" Moody had remained quiet up until that moment, "the lad has had training in shock and awe tactics. Scare the enemy then take them apart"

Amelia looked to James, "is this true?"

James just nodded, "incredible transfiguration skills. He's a very creative individual. All wordless spells and conjurations"

Amelia nodded, already going through her mental list of wizards capable of such feats.

"And what purpose does the book have?"

James looked to Lucius, contemplating how best to stage an accidental death. Malfoy knew far more than he let on.

"Book? What book?" Fudge asked, hoping to remain relevant.

"I have heard that our culprit utilised a small red book. It remained on him at all times during the 'battle'" Lucius summarised, his gaze locked on Potter.

James fumed.

Sirius stepped in once more.

"The book remained open the entire fight, and the suspect was able to use various magical items when it remained in his hands. It would come as no surprise to myself that the book enabled him to do that freaky shadow moving thing"

"We find who this is" Amelia ordered, "and we get him to talk. I've got hundreds of questions and this guy has probably got all the answers"

"Bring him in?" Fudge was shocked, "but the man has cast an Unforgivable! Azkaban would be the correct solution!"

Oh cornelius, always so eager to push things under the rug.

"Aside from the corpses of Death Eaters" Sirius was surprised by the venom in James' voice, "I've got 9 dead civilians and 42 wounded. As much as we could try and keep quiet about this situation, I hardly think it's going to stay silent for long"

Fudge blustered and sputtered, but it was Amelia who took the reigns.

"As much as I hate to say it, Potter is right. We need answers Cornelius. The public will want them as well. As of right now this unknown wizard is our top priority. Put a word out for the hit wizards and assign a bounty. Alive if possible" Amelia swept away, calling a few Aurors to her as she moved to ask other questions.

Before she left however, "also, consider speaking to the French Minister before you attend any press events… both of his daughters were saved by our suspect during the fight. Keep that in mind before you go condemning the fellow"

And she was off, barking orders and flowing into the way of things.

Lucius excused himself and moved off in another direction.

Fudge followed, helplessly asking questions and looking for support.

"I suggest we compile all the memories and review them at a later time" Moody rumbled, "Also Potter, your little girl was trying to sneak around. Not so subtle I'm afraid"

James frowned, "I'll have a word with her after I get through all the memories"

Moody nodded, "good, then we can wait a few days before I put the word out" he glanced around the large space where the fight had taken place, "I'm not in the mood to go hunting right now"

Sirius smirked at the old man, "what? Don't think you could take on a powerful wizard anymore old man?"

Moody growled back at Black, "no. I just think I'd be more inclined to share a drink with the lad. He's exactly how I'd train any of my lot during the war" Moody clomped off, not bothering to look at the two Aurors anymore.

He was probably going to go speak with his protege.

"Office?" Sirius asked.

"Office" James nodded, and they both disapparated.

---

Harry kept his eyes closed as he woke, taking in his surroundings using his other senses.

It was a sterile environment going by the smell, but probably not Saint Mungo's.

No noise aside from the light breath of-

He had used one of his candles to escape! Which meant he was right in the presence of his favourite person in the world.

"I took the liberty of removing your armor and weapons" the drawl was unmistakable, and Harry could practically hear the frown on the face of Severus Snape.

"Had some trouble with the mask then?" Harry smirked under the Bandana that was still attached.

"Something tells me that it wouldn't be worth the effort trying to remove" Snape sounded oddly calm, but his voice was layered with anger.

"Now this is going one of two ways. Answer my questions, or-"

"You'll blast a hole in my memory and leave me a drooling vegetable on the side of the street?" Harry finished for him. He couldn't help but mess with Severus. The man had always been a hard ass, but they had developed a friendship after the Ministry attack. If he had guessed correctly, Harry had undergone a series of rituals and experiments in the very room he was held captive in. Well, a few years from now in this very room.

Snape's impromptu operating table had very powerful manicles that held Harry in place. Unfortunately for Harry, the Potions master had cut off the connection to the seal on his left hand, meaning Harry could not summon his Book.

"...who are you" Snape demanded softly, surprising Harry with the intensity of his voice. The vicious undertone was still there, but it was muted, as if he just couldn't quite get his mind around certain thoughts. Snape wasn't usually so conflicted with his thoughts.

'Maybe it's because Lily is still alive here?'

"Probably not whoever you think I am" Harry replied flippantly, "but there is no easy way to explain this"

"Currently you are tied to a magical operating table that I am in control of. There is no way to leave the table once I have closed the restraints. Your options are very limited and if you do not start talking, I will start flaying your mind for information"

Harry sighed, finally opening his eyes and looking up at the stone ceiling. Snape would upgrade to charmed steel in six years, when he had saved enough money for such an expensive upgrade.

It would be the decision that saved his life from the second and third German blitz.

The table was perfectly flat, so Harry had to lift his head up slightly in order to observe the Potions master.

It appeared that this Severus Snape was the same as his physically. Dark hair cascaded around a proud yet angry visage, a hooked and large nose dominating his features. His eyes were narrowed at Harry, automatically suspecting the worst of him.

"You'll have to take a nice deep dive if you want your answers Severus" Harry smiled back at the man, even though the bandana still covered his face he knew that Snape could tell he was smiling. He purposely made direct eye contact.

Snape hesitated.

This boy knew. Somehow, this random individual knew that Snape was an accomplished master of the mind arts.

It was a trap.

It had to be.

The boy was offering a free ticket into his mind, but it felt wrong. The boy was too confident. Definitely a trap.

"...no. I don't think I will. Explain with words" Snape sneered, as if speaking to a child in his potions class, "that should provide sufficient context"

"Or what?" the boy snorted, "you'll dock points?"

"Do not test my patience boy!" Snape had his wand in hand, arms crossed, but it twitched slightly in the direction of the boy. He had better control of his need to hex prats since he stumbled across James Potter, but that didn't mean he had limitless patience.

The boy went silent, quietly watching Snape for a few moments.

Severus opened his mouth to warn him again, but the boy started talking.

"Your name is Severus Snape. You grew up at Spinner's End in England. Your father was a muggle and an alcoholic. By your own admittance you blame him for your mothers hospitalisation at Saint Mungo's. She would die after your sixth year, leaving you alone when your father moved out"

Snape felt the floor lurch beneath him, but the air had left his lungs, leaving him incapable of speaking.

But the boy was not done talking.

"However, you strived past your life's misgivings. Entering into the art of Potions and some of the Muggle Sciences, you began to carve a name for yourself as not only a formidable individual, but a seasoned practitioner of your trade. Your accolades mean nothing to you in light of the compliments given to you by others, and those you hold dear are very far and few inbetween. If I am correct, currently you are working on an ancient Greek potion, one that was lost-"

"ENOUGH!"

Snape was breathing hard, his eyes cold and furious as he glared through the 'boy' before him.

How had he known?

These were private thoughts. Most of them not even Lily knew, and she was privy to far more than just anyone.

"Like I said" the voice drew his attention, and Snape wanted to snarl at the boy, "take a dive"

How.

It just wasn't possible for him to know anything that-

Snape stopped, closed his eyes and took a calm breath. Anger wasn't getting him anywhere.

He locked eyes with the boy once he opened his own, and started sorting through all the information that was presented to him.

---

Sirius Black and James Potter fell out of the Ministry Pensieve in modest shock, James more so than Sirius.

Both of them took a second of processing the information in silence, before, typically, Sirius broke the quiet.

"Bugger me" Black was stuck somewhere between awe and respect, "that's a bloody powerful wizard! Never seen of anyone like it! Finite and minor control over every aspect of transfiguration must have taken him years to reach that level!"

James went quiet at that, reminded of the red book that the wizard had used to attack the death eaters.

"And the magical items he used! Bloody hell Prongs, we-" Black finally turned to see the sickened look on James' face.

"James?" he asked quietly, fully facing his dear friend and fellow Auror, "what's wrong?"

"He's a Potter…" the man allowed, "I've… it's old family magic that the Potters used… like a magical catalogue of different things…"

To Sirius, James was rambling and he couldn't understand a word of what his best mate was trying to convey.

"Come on. Let's sit down"

Moving to the two seats in the office, Sirius turned a very reserved shade of serious, and brought his friend's attention to himself with a snap of his fingers.

"Now" the Black patriarch commanded roughly, "what are you on about?"

James took a deep breath, centering himself and looked to his friend before explaining.

"The magic that the unknown wizard displayed, that red book" James took another moment, confirming thoughts within his head in a simple nod, "it's an ancient form of combat that my family used. I'd have to go over the books in the family library to get the name specifically, but that wizard was a Potter"

The definite demand in James's voice startled Sirius slightly, as did the firm gaze.

"Mate, you can't be sure-"

"The books are used to store and seal magical items of various sizes and designs for the purpose of combat. Are you telling me that anything our suspect pulled out of thin air wasn't meant for combat?"

"The cloth didn't seem-"

"Sirius. He trapped a fully grown wizard by shrinking him into a cloth prison"

"Did they get him out?"

"Yeah. Apparently the shrinking isn't permanent. Also, it was Wilkes, but that's beside the point!" James fumed, "it's Potter magic! So either our culprit has reverse engineered the old ways of my family…"

James pointedly let Sirius finish his thought.

"Or he's a Potter"

"Exactly" James slumped back in his chair, took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation, "I'm not sure what bothers me more; the fact that there's another Potter out there, or that he's actively using a weapon of war"

Sirius spluttered around the small sip of Firewhisky he was trying to discreetly sneak in.

"Weapon of War?!"

"Don't be a prat" James snorted, "what else do you think a book like that is for? To be able to instantly deploy a serious of dangerous magical equipment and materials at a moments notice. An invisible source of rune work and power that can never truly leave your person? Of course it's a weapon you dolt"

"But for times of war?" Sirius was being honest enough to himself to admit he was intrigued. James didn't like to share some of the deeper history of the Potter family for personal reasons.

They hadn't always been the kindest of families…. Nor ones that leant too spectacularly to the 'Light side' of magic.

"...there were tales" James finally began, wanting this off his chest more than just wanting to explain to his friend, "that these books were capable of holding more than just items"

James conjured a cup and held it out to his friend and partner, giving him the unspoken permission to drink on duty.

Sirius diligently filled the cup with Firewhisky and repeated the same for his own transfigured mug.

It was like a light shone behind James's eyes.

He remembered what the ability was.

"Saccularius" James finally spoke again, "that's what they were called"

"Thief?" Sirius translated hesitantly, "you Potters used to be thieves?"

"Not us" James admonished, smiling at his friend's expression, "the books. The tales said that they could steal the magic of other wizards and witches"

Sirius once again spluttered around his drink, "steal magic? Stop pulling my leg"

"That's what the stories say" James shrugged, "A Saccularius hasn't been made in generations, let alone used. So I don't know how valid it is" he locked eyes with a photo on his desk, Rose held tightly in his arms as a baby, "I've got a nasty feeling that it might be worth looking into"

Sirius hummed non-committedly, watching his friend with caution.

James hadn't been this quiet since Peter.

But in case this was some long lost Potter relative, Sirius let his friend brood. Sometimes silence was a healthy answer for an uncomfortable situation.

The Gryffindor need to charge headfirst was a normal response, but the Black knew when it was appropriate to do so.

"Food for thought" James spoke up finally, "what do you say to accompanying me to ground my daughter?" a light smile dusted James' face.

"All for it!" Sirius cheered, standing from his seat with a smile.

---

"And she died?"

"Indeed" Harry nodded, sitting across from Snape in his lab, "you went to the Dark Lord with half the details of the Prophecy. You begged for Lily's life, and Voldemort did not hesitate to end her when she became an inconvenience"

Snape wisely remained silent, instead drinking from the cup he held between shaky fingers.

He had pillaged through Harry's mind, devouring the information that was there, as well as the truth of Harry's existence.

It had knocked him off his feet when he had escaped from the boy's mind.

Snape had said he was mad, or that it was the truth.

Unfortunately, Harry was sound of mind, and the memories were true.

Both lamented on the former being the more comfortable of realities.

And so Severus had unchained him, brought him a chair, and they spoke. Snape with an initial layer of caution that bled away into an entirely comfortable pattern of speech.

Harry would poke him with a new piece of information, Snape would recoil and snap at him. The boy would just laugh and rebuff him.

Rinse and repeat, until Snape finally stopped snapping.

"You never forgave yourself, even when you lay dying in my arms" Harry mumbled, glancing at his own cup and wondering how much alcohol his body could tolerate.

Best to find out sooner than later.

"How did I die?" Snape was sniffly about the question, but he was curious. Any man would be curious about their own death.

"Poison" Harry knocked the cup back, filling it again with the bottle of muggle Vodka on the small table between them.

Snape snorted, "Nagini?"

Harry hummed in affirmation, taking another pull.

"I'm not sure if you were more distressed by the fact that it was poison that got you, or that you were dying in the first place"

Snape glared, but his heart wasn't in it.

"I'm glad you draw such amusement from my death, Potter, it fills me with joy to know I am still capable of entertaining you" he drawled.

Harry chuckled at him, raising his cup towards his professor from another world, "to your good health?"

"Long may I live" Snape allowed a flicker of a smile across his face, clinking his glass against the other.

"Now comes the hard part, Severus" Harry put the glass down on the table, stood, and began moving around the lab.

"Oh? I was not informed of any further plans" he continued to drawl in his acidic tone, the comic feeling of their conversation still lingering.

"Enough"

Snape had been on the receiving end of that tone and command many times before in the past.

However it had usually originated from a man more snake like than human.

Harry was all business now.

"Dumbledore cannot know about me. He'll risk my plans and prevent them due to the prophecy. Even if he were to accept my existence or my... methods, he would not let me continue as I intend. Not without repercussions"

"Noted" Snape stood as well, coming to stand across a the brewing station that Harry was beginning to operate, "you have my word that I will remain silent of your existence"

"I want more than your silence, Severus" Harry didn't look up as he began allocating materials and equipment, "I want your help"

The red book appeared in his left hand, and strange devices began to appear on the table.

A well maintained brewing kit among jars and pots of materials.

"My help? You seem to have everything in order, Potter" Snape looked down his nose at the boy, his eyes also focused on what Harry was doing.

"I do not have a reliable source of information within Voldemort's inner circle. Nor do I know how the Order operates in this world" Harry glanced up at him, "you've played for two sides before, does a third really make any difference?" his eyes darted back to the potion he was preparing, a small knife beginning to slice red leaves that he had casually tipped from a jar.

"...my incentive for doing such a thing would be...? Snape finally asked, curious.

"I refuse to let you, or anyone else die" Harry's eyes burned as he glared at the man, "I will not fail again. Not this time. Not again"

The boy cared for him. Snape was still getting over the history of warfare and combat that he had experienced. The events that lead up to it were equally concerning, but chief among them was the thousands, if not millions of lives that had been lost.

And here was a weapon of war, carefully brewing a potion that Snape could only guess as to its purpose, ready and willing to continue his fight to prevent others from having to face such horror.

He'd call it honourable and brave to have such intentions, but Snape would rather be dead than to openly compliment a Potter.

"I accept"

Harry grinned at him, "welcome to the team"

"I am honored, truly"

Harry glared, but said nothing.

"What are you brewing?" Snape couldn't help but ask, the itch to know exactly what Potter was developing in his lab frustrated him. Especially so, since he could not tell for the life of him what he was making. The ingredients made no sense, and Snape could not even recognise some of them.

"Just giving you a headstart on reverse engineering that Greek potion you've been working on" Harry smiled like the devil, but it wasn't enough to dissuade Snape.

"What?" he asked dumbly, confounded that the boy was working towards a potion that he had spent five years failing to replicate.

"In the later years of the war, we needed more than just powerful wizards. Muggles outnumber us 12 to 1, and even if on average we 'hit' harder than them, helping them helped us" he measured out a purple liquid, pulled from a vial that had appeared on the desk.

It was deposited into the the now bubbling cauldron, the frothing concoction turning a neon yellow.

The leaves were that he had been slicing were elegantly sprinkled in as he kept talking, "you not only perfected the ancient Greek potion, but you improved upon it, Severus"

The frothing stopped and the potion turned black.

"How so? How did I figure it out in the first place?" he needed these answers.

Harry smiled to himself and flicked to another page in his red book.

"Have a look for yourself"

A tiny black notebook appeared on the table.

The initials on the cover read, "S.S"

Snape had never moved faster in his life to grab the notebook, hungrily tearing through the pages to devour the knowledge within.

After getting himself up to speed with his future(?) self's knowledge, Snape started brewing another potion that Harry requested.

Neither would admit the comfort in brewing side by side, but both wouldn't have it any other way.

---

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was more than shocked to have received a letter from Nicholas Flamel.

Nick had not contacted him a long time. Having stepped away from the real world ever since the situation with the Stone, Albus knew that the Alchemist kept informed, but refused to participate.

So note only receiving a letter from his old friend was shocking, but so to were the contents.

"I wish to enroll my heir"

Simple. To the point. Blunt. Attributes that Nick rarely let out unless he was unsure of something. His own attitudes towards Albus had been delegated into a yearly response, and while polite, there was some heat occasionally between the two.

Unavoidable really, but Dumbledore took it in stride. The immortal Alchemist could hold a grudge far longer than he could.

Grudge's aside, this letter was all Albus could immediately think of.

Dumbledore had not hesitated to stand from behind his desk, clear his schedule for the dark, and promptly Apparate to the Flamel Property.

The same quaint and small home awaited him, the familiar smell of the oak wood trees swayed through the breeze. The air was cold, but not frigid.

Nicholas stood in front of his door, his face tight, but not unwelcoming.

"Albus"

"Nicholas" Dumbledore replied, hoping to keep things positive, "I came as soon as I received your letter"

Nick huffed in exasperation, "I suppose we should speak inside"

Albus nodded and followed the man in, moving to sit in one of the arm chairs as Nick placed himself on the couch.

Pernelle stepped into the room, a smile on her face. She did not feel as heated towards Albus as her husband did, but nonetheless was annoyed at the old man.

"Tea?" she wondered.

"If it's no problem" the headmaster dipped his head in thanks.

"My heir. Male. I've kept him under wraps for a long time now, but it is time he got a taste for society" Nick really had no patience today, his own discomfort coming clearly across his face.

"Does this mysterious Heir have a name?"

"Ares" a new voice chimed in.

Pernelle had reappeared from where Albus new the kitchen to be, but the newcomer came from the very same door the Headmaster had entered through.

"Ares Flamel" the boy had immaculate black hair, sweeping across his face and back behind his head. He stood taller than most, a straight back and firm posture even as he casually lingered in the doorway, studying Albus.

Dumbledore looked back at him.

The boy's powerful green eyes turned to look at Nicholas, "this is Albus Dumbledore?"

Said Headmaster felt slightly ruffled at the comment, but was no less amused by Nick's groan.

"Yes indeed. Albus Dumbledore, Ares Flamel… Ares, meet Albus. Your new Headmaster"

The boy stiffened slightly, his stare turning to a glare for the briefest of moments as he once again appraised Dumbledore.

"Are you sure I can't go to Beauxbatons?"

"Positively" Nick replied, acid in his voice, "your… personal situation is not welcome there"

Ares growled, but said nothing. He turned back around and strode towards the forest.

The twinkle had not left Dumbledore's eye, "young adults, always such hot blooded and passionate"

"You have no idea" Pernelle smirked as she handed Albus a cup.

Nick sighed again, very wearily.

"May I ask as to what brought this on? I had my suspicions that another Flamel was running around somewhere, but he does look…" Dumbledore paused for a few moments, thinking of the best way to put his question.

"He's adopted" Pernelle said softly, the situation obviously causing discomfort to her.

Her and Nick shared a look.

Albus attempted to read between the lines, but when he came up with nothing, merely said, "if it is a private matter, I shall not ask"

That in itself was tantamount to an unspoken question. Something that Nick picked up on and Pernelle ignored.

"It is probably better that we do tell you…" the wife of the Alchemist sighed, "but it is not a pleasant story"

Nicholas went straight in for the kill however, not bothering to beat around the bush as Albus gazed upon the two of them in wonder.

"He was experimented on. His family was personally killed by the Dark Lord the moment he was born. He's held a personal grudge against You-Know-Who for a long time"

Dumbledore didn't know how to react at first.

'Oh Tom… how far did you fall?'

"Does he know?" he asked instead, glancing out the window to see the boy casting spells through the woods.

"He's an intelligent lad. Eventually figured it out for himself, but we told him the truth when he asked" Nicholas thanked Pernelle for the tea after he spoke, blowing on it softly and taking a small sip, "to be honest Albus, he does not need the magical education. He's adapted far faster to his situation than most would have. No, what he needs in a taste of society"

Albus nodded, encapsulated by the story.

"At first we thought Beauxbatons… but his parents, his biological parents, were British, that much we could discover. It feels wrong to send him elsewhere"

"How did you come across him?" Dumbledore wondered, nodding to the memory of the boy's real parents. Whoever they were, he hoped they would be happy knowing their son was to study at Hogwarts like they more than likely had.

The Flamel's shared another look.

"Once again" Albus reiterated, "if it is a private matter..."

"Somewhat" Pernelle spoke softly, gazing out the window, "he practically turned up on our doorstep. Accidental magic if you ask me. We tracked him back to where he had come from" she spoke softly as Ares flung spells like a mad man, "he's a long way from home"

"But he's here now, and that is what matters" Nicholas took her arm, giving her a comforting look. In response, Pernelle smiled softly at left the room, going outside to speak with the boy.

"I know that you know, that I'm still mad at you" Nicholas began, his eyes on the door his wife had left through, but his attention was on Albus.

"Indeed I do" Dumbledore replied, taking another sip of the fresh tea.

"But I'm willing to forgive everything you've ever done if you can help that boy Albus" Nick looked into his eyes, "it is not the school work or the education that he needs Albus. The boy needs friends. Desperately. People to care about him, and people he can care about. While we can love and care for him, you know how closed off someone can become to others"

Gellert.

Nicholas was talking about Grindelwald before Albus' friend and partner had fallen. Fallen into the deep pit of dark magic.

There wasn't a day that went by that Albus wished he couldn't go back and save his friend. But the past remained where it was, frozen in history.

"I understand completely my friend. You do not have to bribe me with platitudes or promises Nick, I will do all in my power to help him, you know this" Albus smiled wistfully, conveying his honesty and promise to his friend.

"Thank you" Nick smiled softly.

"Now" Dumbledore put his cup down, a thrill of excitement coming over him, "How old is the boy? What year shall he be placed in? I wouldn't dream of sticking him with the first years, but seventh year would waste the purpose of the school for him!" Albus smiled jovally, "I've never had to deal with a situation like this before. How exciting!"

"He's thirteen" Pernelle supplied softly.

Nick smirked in response to Dumbledore's words, "I would suggest fourth year. Enough time to build relations with others, but also not to far ahead that he is just a temporary memory for most" Needless to say, it would not be so far back that it would be an insult to Ares' skills.

"Marvelous. Shall I owl you the list of school supplies?"

"Send it directly to Ares. I hope you can build somewhat of a cordial relation with him" Nick seemed to want to frown and smile at the same time, "we're giving him the reigns now. It is his choice to determine how he wants to live. We can only give him the opportunities, he must make the choices"

"Indeed" Albus nodded, standing, "may I speak to the boy?"

Pernelle came through the door, her face neutral.

"That might not be the best of ideas" Nick replied, interpreting her expression.

"He's in a mood right now" she replied.

"All the more reason" Albus smiled, "you asked for my help and I shall give it"

Nick snorted, "fine. But if he asks you to duel please say no. The house can't take anymore of his… enthusiasm"

Dumbledore chuckled, and swept from the room, biding Pernelle and Nicholas a good day.

Ares stood close to the woods, gouges of dirt and toppled trees marking his handy work.

"What do you want?" the boy snapped, not turning to face Albus as he sent off some powerful slicing and cutting curses.

Excellent form and silent casting. At such a young age too. Very impressive.

"Merely to talk my dear boy"

"Don't call me that"

He had replied very quickly, with a snappy attitude. "I am no child, Headmaster Dumbledore"

Albus studied him, softly taking in the sweaty figure. Intense physical training, coupled with magical exertion. Talent and drive.

Ares had shucked his shirt and robes in favour of a bare chest and free hair. His pants were dark and loose, swaying in the breeze.

The boy's shoes were by his shirt. Books were piled around them.

"I can see that" Albus' smile softened. The boy was snappy and defensive, for reasons that Nicholas had already explained. Surgical scars covered his back, arms, and probably trailed across his legs and feet.

Experimentation.

He had become jaded and closed off from the truth, receding into his own strength and anger to defend himself from the reality of his existence.

"Really? What else can you see?" the boy snarked, turning to face Albus, confirming the truth of the scaring. Clinically applied on his chest and abdomen. He was expecting the headmaster to revile and retreat from disgust. A defense mechanism that the jarring sight would have worked on lesser witches and wizards.

Two lines of scarring traced each collar bone, and one thick line moved from between his chest towards his waste.

"Pain" Dumbledore admitted softly, "a pain that will never leave you"

The boy seemed startled, physically moving back from Dumbledore as if struck. His green eyes widened then narrowed.

"What do you know of pain Albus Dumbledore?"

"Many things" Albus smiled still, his heart aching at the sight before him.

He decided to give a little, and see if he would receive.

"Gellert Grindelwald was once a close friend of mine. A man who held the closest position in my heart, far closer than perhaps my own family"

The boy flinched, not expecting the information.

"But… but you were enemies! You fought and dueled him! You defeated him!" the boy accused, jabbing a finger at the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Indeed I did. Gellert had chosen his path at that time. I was unable to dissuade him. Eventually we crossed paths again… the pain of his loss is carried with me, every step I take it is there with me" Dumbledore closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing some memories to take hold of him for only a moment, "I carry this pain, as you carry yours"

"... do you regret anything?" Ares asked after a moment, looking away from Dumbledore, "anything at all?"

"Being unable to save him. But I've made my peace with my choices, and who I am" Albus had extended the proverbial olive branch.

"Whatever you say old timer" the boy snarked back, but it wasn't malicious. His words were not charged with hate or aggression.

"Food for thought" Dumbledore took an expression out of James' personal book, enjoying the look of soft confusion on Ares' face.

"I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts this year, and hopefully the years to come" Albus said as a goodbye, meaning every word.

A reply halted his apparition.

"Will you duel me?"

Dumbledore remembered what the Flamels had told him.

"Perhaps during the school year, we could go a few rounds" Albus winked, not saying no, but not saying yes either.

The boy frowned at him, but looked away with a nod.

Dumbledore departed in a soft crack of air.

---

It is probably full of errors I know, but I'm in the middle of a cafe in fuck all nowhere so please give me some slack /3. I hope you all enjoyed what I've made so far. Depending on the response I get I'll continue this story.

If you have any thoughts or suggestions for things you want to see, I'll add them or argue why its going to be a good idea. This is NOT a harem story or any crap like that, nor is it an OP stomp harry story. There will be exactly ZERO bashing or unconditional hate because I don't believe in unjustified anger or dislike. If people do bad things, they should be despised, but 'bad' is subjective so shut your mouth.

I've got other story idea's that will be appearing some time soon for different fandoms and worlds. If you have any challenges or what not you want to see from me, I'll try it out if I agree with it or like the concept.

For any of you that know me from 'Destiny Still Arrives,' that story is not dead nor is it dying, I've just needed to branch out into other topics first in order to stratch my many and varied itches. I hope you can all understand that I'll be taking more time between stories due to different idea's and my upcoming university courses.

Fantastic shit.

Like I said, all inspiration and credit goes to Kathryn518 for her AMAZING story, "I'm still here"

Read it first, then complain that mine is aweful.

Have a lovely day

-Freedom