A/N: Written by Chaser 1 of the Montrose Magpies for QLFC Finals Round 1.

Prompt: Back to the Future

Optional prompts: (colour) coral; (emotion) disgust; (quote) 'It's time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad and I'd much rather say hello. Hello to a new adventure.' — Ernie Harwell

Thank you so much to Emiliya Wolfe and The Lady Rogue for betaing this.

A bit of worldbuilding that never quite became explicit in the story: The wizarding world is currently in a place where pureblood elitists openly subjugate No-Majs, half-bloods, and blood traitors, so No-Majs are aware of the existence of magic.

Word count: 3030 on Google Docs

Estelle spun a spanner in her hand as she sat inside the garage, staring at the empty road ahead of her. It had only been a few seconds since her friend had disappeared, but it felt like each second had dragged out for an hour. She should have gone with Daisy. It would have been risky, but what wasn't these days? She should never have agreed to stay—

A coral-coloured car appeared at the far end of the road, careening down the asphalt before skidding to a stop in front of her, its tyres screeching. Then, it started up again, inching into the safety of the building. Once it was inside, the door began to close with a soft mechanical hum.

The door on the driver's side opened, and Daisy climbed out, a broad smile on her face. 'I can't believe I just did that!'

Letting out a breath that was half relief and half disappointment, Estelle stood. 'It worked? You went back in time?'

Daisy nodded. '1973. Man, was that a different time. I'll need to get more gas before we go again, but everything's in working order.'

As Daisy circled the car to make sure nothing had come off in her trip, babbling all the while about the experience, Estelle pulled out the heart-shaped locket that she always wore around her neck. It was one of the few sentimental things she allowed herself to cling to; that and the colour of the car. Coral was an old favourite, a testament to the innocence that she had lost way too young.

She wedged her fingernail into the clasp of the locket and opened it, taking a moment to stare at her parents' still faces. Her mother, with her wispy blonde hair and a smile that was broader than Estelle had ever seen it. Her father, with those bright green eyes that seemed to glint with amusement. The photographs had been taken back when things were happy—when they still thought they could outrun the danger.

Estelle snapped the locket closed, unable to look at their faces any longer.

She hoped they were doing the right thing.

An alarm beeped once, twice, three times, cutting Daisy off, and the smell of wet paint filled the room.

A shiver of fear ran down Estelle's spine.

Looking around, she made sure there wasn't anything incriminating in sight. Then, she rushed forward, meeting Daisy by the car as her friend hit the button for the emergency elevator. Without a noise, the floor beneath them started to sink, a fake floor sliding out to replace it when they were far enough down.

Estelle's heart pounded, and she didn't relax until the floor clicked close, enshrouding them in darkness. It was not a moment too soon; a second later, footsteps thundered across the floor above their heads, and the sound of muffled voices drifted down.

'Nothing here,' a gruff voice said. 'Must've been a false alarm.'

'Pixies, probably. They're all over Chicago. My wife came across a clique of them in Millennium Park the other day.'

'Huh,' the first speaker said, growing quieter as he supposedly walked away. 'I thought they all hung out near the art institute.'

The two girls waited, crouched in the small space, for over an hour, only moving when they were sure the Aurors had left.

-x-

The apartment where Estelle was living with her mother was small and cramped, the wallpaper peeling and the carpet well on the way to yellowed. Originally, they had tried to maintain it, but over time, it had fallen by the wayside. Ever since the Aurors—or, as they were called on the streets, the pureblood patrol—had cracked down on tracking magic, they'd had to rely on non-magical means.

They still had their wands, but Estelle's mother had made her swear not to use hers unless it was a matter of life or death. Otherwise, there was a good chance it would become one.

It was one of the benefits of working so closely with Daisy; as a No-Maj, her first inclination was never to use magic.

'Did anyone follow you home?' her mother asked as Estelle entered the kitchen.

Estelle shook her head and took an apple from the bowl on the counter, biting into it. The fruit tree in their backyard was one of the few things that had survived from before, so they ate apples frequently. 'The patrollers almost caught us, but we were prepared for it.'

'Security has been getting tighter.' Her mother frowned, the action making her grey eyes more pronounced. 'Telle, you're being careful, aren't you? I know you have to follow your visions, but it's dangerous out there.'

'Since Dad, Nan and Pa went back to England, everything is,' Estelle said bitterly.

Her mother sighed, and Estelle felt a pang of regret. As much as the loss had hurt her, she knew it had hurt her mother just as much. 'You know he had to go.'

'I know.' Estelle looked down at her lap, hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. 'I just hate it. He died, and Nan and Pa died, and now we're all that's left, hiding in the backstreets and trying to form a resistance that's never going to get off the ground because people are too scared to do anything that might get them killed.'

'That's not all. You have plans, don't you? You and Daisy.'

'That's true,' Estelle said, but she was hesitant. 'Daisy tested the car today. It worked.'

At first, the idea of going back in time to the point where it all went wrong—the point her visions had shown her—had seemed logical. After all, to a desperate mind, any mildly viable option could resemble a lifeline. But the closer she got to actually going, the more her gut roiled at the thought.

'That's wonderful.' Her mother smiled. It wasn't one of the brilliant ones like in the photo in Estelle's locket, but it was genuinely happy—hopeful. 'I'm not sure you should be the ones to go back, though. You've told me what the visions showed you, and Daisy made the car; I can handle it from here.'

'It has to be me,' Estelle said. 'They'll never believe it if it's someone else, but I have the eyes and the hair—and the blood. I'm the proof.'

Indecision flashed across her mother's face. On one hand, Estelle knew, her mother wanted to protect her from the world; on the other, she had to know there were some things a person couldn't be protected from. Moving around the counter, she leant forward, kissing Estelle on the head.

That simple action opened the floodgates, and the first tears fell from Estelle's eyes. Ducking her head, she tried to hide her weakness, but from the way her mother's hand rested against her back, rubbing softly, she knew she had failed. 'What I'm going to have to do… it disgusts me.'

'I know,' her mother said. 'More than anything, I wish I could take this burden from you.'

Her tears fell faster, and a sob forced its way out her throat. 'I don't want to say goodbye.'

'For what it's worth, I don't think it's saying goodbye to the past; I think it's saying hello to a better future.'

Estelle tried her best to keep that in mind that night as she lay in bed next to her mother, not wanting to be parted from her until it was absolutely necessary. And the next morning, as her mother waved the girls goodbye, she clung to it.

They couldn't get caught up in the past; they had to focus on the future. It was the only way to build a rebellion, and it was the only way to take this foolhardy, headlong rush.

-x-

Estelle supposed that the house was supposed to look welcoming, and to many, she was sure it would. With wheat-coloured bricks and burgundy highlights, it had a homely vibe. The street itself was peaceful; there were kids playing, laughing with such carefree abandon that she had been taken aback when she first heard them. But to her, it was the scariest sight she had ever seen.

After all, this moment was what she had been working towards for the past five years, ever since she got that first vision and started looking for the No-Maj inventor she had seen by her side.

In the few weeks since she and Daisy had arrived in 1980, they had made their way from Chicago to London, learning how to blend in along the way so they could minimise the impact they had on the timeline. The main thing that had surprised her was the comparative calm. There was a sense of fear hanging in the air, but it was nothing compared to the constant terror she was used to.

She had left Daisy to keep an eye on the car. Ostensibly, it was because the colour made it stand out. In actuality, it was because she couldn't bear to let her friend see what she was about to do. She was disgusted enough with herself without having an audience.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and knocked on the door. For a moment, she considered leaving—backing out while she still could. But then she heard a muffled voice call out, and while she couldn't make out the words, the almost-forgotten warmth in it kept her feet grounded there.

The door opened, and her breath caught in her throat. The man who was standing on the threshold was decades younger than she'd ever seen him, but she would recognise that bright smile and those amused eyes anywhere. A giddy energy followed him, like he was always one moment from coming up with a joke or prank.

'You're James,' she said, the words breathy.

Her grandfather's expression hardened. 'Who are you?'

Behind him, her grandmother appeared, her red hair loose. 'Is Sirius here already?'

'I'm Estelle.' She looked between them, drinking in their presence. 'I'm your granddaughter.'

-x-

The first thing Estelle noticed when they let her into the living room was that the curtains were a familiar shade of coral.

'It's my favourite colour,' her grandmother explained, watching her like a hawk. After Estelle's pronouncement, they had cast the paternity spells, as she'd known they would, and confirmed that her father was their newborn son. Ever since then, they'd both been unable to take their eyes off her.

'I know. It's mine, too.'

'Why are you here?' her grandfather asked suddenly.

Her grandmother shot him a quelling look. 'You're welcome for as long as you like.'

'I'm not being rude,' he said, raising his hands. 'But for her to travel this far back in time, something major must have happened.'

Estelle took a seat, steeling herself for her next words. 'Sometime soon, you're going to hear about a prophecy, and you're going to have to make a decision. Your instinct will be to go to America… but you can't. You'll survive for a while, and my father—your son—will have a wonderful childhood before marrying a woman whose parents fled shortly after you did. They'll be so in love, and they'll have a daughter—me.

'But then reports will reach us of the extent of Voldemort's depravity, and the two of you will go back to London with your son to fight him, and you'll all die, leaving the world to descend into a dark place where No-Majs are enslaved by purebloods and anybody who disagrees with their treatment is forced to scuttle around like rats.'

'Do you have any proof?' her grandmother asked.

'If you have a Pensieve, I can show you my memories.'

Her grandfather nodded. 'Frank has one; I'll borrow it tomorrow. But for now, what do we have to do?'

'You have to stay in England.' Estelle closed her eyes, picturing the vision that had been constricting her like chains since the first time it came to her. 'Make it look like you're trying to hide, but really, leave enough loose ends to let Voldemort find you. I had a vision, and it showed… it showed both of you sacrificing yourselves to save my father's life. It gave him the protection he needs not only to defeat Voldemort, but to survive him.'

Opening her eyes, she forced herself to meet their gazes directly. In them, she read shock, horror, disbelief—and resignation. As her mother had said, a parent would do anything for their child, and Estelle had firsthand knowledge of the lengths a resistance fighter would go to for their cause. After all, she was asking her own grandparents, people whom she loved more than anything, to cut their lives thirty years short, sacrificing the chance to watch their son grow.

'Stay here tonight,' her grandmother said, resting a hand on Estelle's knee. 'We can get to know each other. Then, tomorrow, we'll take a look at your memories.'

She should go; Daisy would worry if she wasn't back by sundown. But this was the only chance her grandparents would get to glimpse the future.

Estelle couldn't take that from them too.

-x-

As the coral-coloured car slowed to a stop, Estelle wiped the tears from her eyes. It felt like her grandparents had died less than twenty-four hours ago, but as far as anyone else was aware, forty years had passed since then. The instantaneous nature of the time jump had amazed her the first time it happened, but now, it was heartbreaking.

In the end, Estelle and Daisy had stayed in the past for almost two years, setting up camp on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow to keep an eye on the Potters and make sure there weren't any complications. The night of Halloween had been the worst of Estelle's life. She hadn't been able to sleep a wink, knowing that a few streets away, her grandparents were laying down their lives on her instructions. The next morning, after confirming that everything had transpired as per her visions, they had left, not wanting to stick around for the celebrations.

'Are you alright?' Daisy asked, her voice quiet.

'I have to be.'

'It's normal to—'

'What about this is normal?' Estelle opened the door and climbed out. If she spoke about it, Daisy would tell her that it wasn't her fault, and she might even believe her. But it was.

The townhouse in front of them was different than she had imagined. It was box-shaped, with a plain front and a neat, well-mowed lawn. It was difficult to picture her free-spirited mother living in a place like this, but when she checked the number on the mailbox, it was the one that she had seen in her latest vision.

Before she could reach the front door, it opened, and a man with untidy black hair came out, holding a bag of trash. He stopped short when he saw her.

Her father. An adult. Alive.

Without thinking, she rushed at him, throwing herself into his arms. He dropped the bag and pulled her in for a hug, laughing. 'It's only been a week, Lil. Did you really miss me that much?'

'You have no idea.' He smelt like broom polish and woodsmoke, and she clutched him tighter. Her disgust, her shame—all of it paled in comparison to the reality of him standing in front of her, older than she'd ever seen him.

He pulled back. 'What's with the accent? And what are you wearing?'

Estelle shrugged. 'Just trying something new. Do you like it?'

'Hmm,' he said noncommittally. 'Well, go and let your mother know you're here. She'll want to fuss over you, I'm sure. Oh, and who's your friend?'

The moment he mentioned her mother, Estelle was darting around him to rush inside. 'Her name's Daisy,' she called back over her shoulder.

When she entered the living room, she saw a woman with shoulder-length red hair hanging a photo frame on the wall.

'Excuse me. Do you know where Mum is?' she asked.

The woman turned and beamed at her. 'Lily, you charmer. I know the haircut makes me look younger, but not that much younger.'

As the woman turned, Estelle realised three things, each more disturbing than the last.

Firstly, both her father and this woman had called her Lily.

Secondly, the photograph the woman was putting up was a family portrait, featuring five people: Estelle's father, this woman, two older boys, and a girl that looked very much like Estelle, except with red hair instead of black.

Thirdly, Estelle's hair—a tuft of which had fallen in front of her face as they spoke—had turned vivid red.

A sense of loss crashed over her.

The true consequence of her actions hadn't been her grandparents' lives; it had been her mother's.

'Where's Luna Lovegood?' she asked desperately, not even caring whether the question seemed odd.

The woman's eyebrows drew together. 'She's still in Prague with Rolf. Lily, did something happen?'

She shook her head. 'I'm—I'm going to go outside for a bit. I need some fresh air.'

'But you only just got here. Sweethea—'

Estelle ignored her, running back outside, her breath coming fast. Her father and Daisy both called out to her, but she didn't falter.

Her mother might not be dead, but still, Estelle had taken everything from her—her husband, her daughter, possibly even her purpose—and given them to someone else.

How many lives had she ripped apart? How would she be able to call this woman her mother, and how could she look at her mother and not tell her the truth?

If her visions were correct, Voldemort was dead, and life was happy. The world was a better place for her actions.

But had the cost been too high?

When she reached the end of the street, she stopped, pulling out the locket her mother had given her. Her fingers shook, but eventually, she managed to open it.

She let out a relieved sob at the sight of her mother's face smiling up at her.

Say hello to the future, Estelle thought, remembering her mother's words.

She had no idea how she was going to do that now.