Disclaimers and all that fun stuff: I own nothing. Like, seriously, I'm a 21 y/o college guy who has several thousand in loans to pay off. I own my clothes, my computer, and... thats pretty much it. If I owned Harry Potter, then all of that would change very very quickly. But I don't, so it won't.

A Second Chance

In a dark cave under the ruins of what used to be Diagon Alley, surrounded by wardstones bursting with power, flowing into the center of an immensely complicated runic circle, wearing dirty but highly functional basilisk skin armor, waving the legendary wand of Godric Gryffindor around in intricate patterns and muttering in ancient Aramaic, Harry Potter stood tall and focused as he chanted the required verses for a ritual that had literally been lost to the sands of time. That is, until he came across it in his family grimoire, along with ancient family magics dating back to the time when the Potter family patriarch was designing the Great Pyramids of Egypt. Within the pages of the enchanted, never-ending spell book of Potter Family Secrets, Harry found The Power The Dark Lord Knows Not- the power to literally bend the world to his whims in ways even magic could not. Along the way, Harry discovered several other interesting facts, such as that Merlin himself was a Potter, and perhaps more impressively, was that Merlin hadn't even mastered a third of the powers that Harry had discovered. In the 12 years that followed the destruction of Hogwarts, Harry had learned all there was to learn from his most prized possession. However, it was too late to save his friends and adoptive family. He was the only person left in all of Britain- possibly even all of Europe. The final battle with Voldemort had unleashed powers not seen since the formation of the Sahara Desert before recorded history. Powers to summon Greater Demon Lords and True Archangels, the power to raise and crush mountains, powers that made World War II look like a simple poke war between agitated children. However, for all of his vaunted powers, there was one thing Harry Potter, The-Last-Man-Standing, could not do, and that was to bring back the dead. So, Harry figured out the next best thing. He decided to fold space and time to his will and step into the body of his 14 year old self, just before stepping into the maze of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. He would finish off the abomination of magic that was Voldemort before he regained a body. Before he plundered the secrets of Olympus, before he raided the tombs of the Aztecs, and most importantly, before he sent Harry the heads of his dearest friends, using a certain reanimated owl that could not remember that her name used to be Hedwig. Harry was only thirty syllables away from seeing them all once more. From seeing the bright, smiling faces of children whose only concern in life was who to bet on in an inter-school tournament.

The Last Potter was fifteen syllables from seeing his beloved mentor, Albus Dumbledore once more.

Eight syllables from seeing Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasley's, whole and alive again.

Three. Neville and Luna, restored to sanity.

One. Hermione...

Zero.

The fabric of space and time ripped, and he could see through the portal to his younger self, approaching the entrance.

He stepped through...

And was promptly atomized as the space-time-continuum prevented him from changing what he knew had already happened.

After all, awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time.

THE END.