They were gone. All of them. All of them were gone.
How, he thought miserably. He had won. He had killed Voldemort- all of it was over. But this was not how the story was supposed to end. The happily ever after couldn't end with Harry there, on his knees in the midst of a sea of bodies. It shouldn't end with him staring helplessly at the carcasses of those who were once his family, and who were meant to be more.
No, he thought, letting tears temporarily blind his vision as he grasped Ginny's cold hand tighter. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to forget her lifeless brown eyes. No, it shouldn't have ended like that. It just wasn't right- Ginny was supposed to be his wife. They were supposed to live through it all- they were supposed to have kids. Ron would have been there- he would have been Harry's best man. Hermione was definitely going to be a bridesmaid.
Was...
How did everything go so downhill from there? He had died, and then came back- he had done this for them. Voldemort was gone. But he took all those he had had a reason to live for with him.
What was the point of life, he thought grimly as his sight once against met the bodies of his friends. George had gone to his death along with Percy, wanting to avenge his twin. Ron and Hermione, Neville and Luna, all of them- they had fought, fought until the very end of...everything. So what was the point of Harry's life now, when everyone else had died, when the survivors had either been shipped to St Mugnos or fled away by other people, or done the fleeing themselves. He had been born to fight- marked since the day he was an innocent child. He had no purpose in life now that he had completed his task.
But it just isn't fair...He thought, almost childishly. Why did he have to be the one to always feel pain? Why was he the one with the gaping hole in his heart, feeling loss. Why not someone else? Why him...
Standing up, he made his choice. He pulled out his classic holly phoenix-feather wand, gripping it tightly. It was his entrance to the magical world, and it was what would help him leave it now. Gulping in not fear but readying he pointed it at his own throat. There was no fear this time- only determination. His hand shaking, he began to whisper the magic words.
"Avada-"
"Stop!"
Harry abruptly turned around, only to find no one. There was no one but him. Was it a hallucination? A diversion by the small, nearly non-existent part of his mind that was reluctant, to stop him? Well, it wouldn't work.
"W-who are you?" Harry whispered cautiously in to the night, just in case. "And what do you want?"
"I want you to wait...you have another choice...The war-"
"NO!" Harry said, his whisper turning into a scream of denial. "THERE'S NOTHING LEFT! I DON'T WANT TO DO IT ANYMORE, I DON'T WANT TO-"
"Don't you want to see them all again? Don't you want to change it all, to save all the lives that you can?" the soft feminine voice demanded, silencing Harry effectively.
"They're gone," he muttered, his voice a mere whisper again. "I can't bring them back. So I have to join them."
"No. This wasn't supposed to happen- you are right. Now you can change it. You have another choice, Harry."
Harry's heart was in his throat as all his hope came rushing back.
"I can bring you back to your ten-year old self. With your knowledge of the future, Harry Potter, you can save them. You will be an eleven year old- only with the memories of a seventeen-year old wizard- your current memories. This has never happened before, and nor do I think it will again. Will you take this chance?"
Harry didn't need to think about it for long. He would take it all- the years of abuse he'd suffered by the Dursleys, the humility, the hatred, all of it to save his friends. And he would do it all rightly this time. He would make sure of it.
"I...I agree." he said almost immediately. "But-who are you?"
There was a pause in which the cold wind blew and leaves of the dead tree nearby rustled. Harry thought no answer would come, for a moment. But then...
"I am Fate, Harry. And it is not your time to go yet."
Harry closed his eyes for a last time as he fell to the ground, gasping, feeling as if his soul was being ripped out of his body. But it was not his time yet. Somewhere, in a dark cupboard under the stairs in Surrey, Harry Potter woke up.
-O-
He opened his eyes, not daring to believe it. It was dim inside wherever he was. Light was crawling beneath the closed door, but it was still dark enough not to see well.
Cautiously so as not to get his hopes up, Harry touched his face carefully- it was soft, free of battle scars except the infamous one on his forehead, and very child-like, clean without any hair.
Harry couldn't help it- he laughed silently. He laughed so much that tears of joy slid down his cheeks. He could do it. He could really do it- he could save all of his friends. He could even save Cedric, Colin, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and so many people. He would do things right this time. He would make sure of it. Everything would be perfect- he would not ignore Ginny as he had so stupidly done in his last life. He would be sure they were all ready. He would look at things in a new light- he would try to divert many of those who had unintentionally gone to the dark side, and he would be..better. At that moment, it didn't matter to him what great pressure he was under. It just mattered that he was ready. But...when was he? Harry had a hunch. Cautiously, he slipped his hand under his baggy shirt, one of Dudley's. Sure enough, he winced slightly at his touch. Ouch. A bruised stomach from all the kicks. Harry had been too jubilant to notice. Taking a deep breath and concentrating, Harry pointed all his magic toward the horrible ache in his abodemn - soon, he barely felt anything at all, but he was exhausted. Wandless magic was always so tiring, never mind that he was older than he let on. At least now he knew it was a few days after the Boa Constrictor accident. Dudley and Aunt Petunia were another thing, too, Harry decided, to add to his list. Uncle Vernon was beyond repair. But every time he'd dare touch Harry, he knew Aunt Petunia would throw a snaky remark, usually an insult, and then leave as quickly as possible. When he was younger and had thought this was because she didn't want to waste precious time watching him being beaten to death, he knew better now. She was right on the verge of stuttering a 'good luck' to him before he left, but she had too much pride to. She must have felt something, at least a a twinge of remorse, he reasoned. And Dudley actually never happened upon his father's little 'disciplining sessions'.
Vernon apparently didn't trust him enough not to blab about it, despite him being his 'Dinky Diddydums'. But Dudley was just a kid- and he'd, in a strange sort of way, apologized to Harry. He could change his cousin- it wasn't really his fault he was brought up the way he was. He could change everything.
Deciding to take his cue and not wait to be woken up by Aunt Petunia's lovely voice, Harry got out of his tiny cupboard under the stairs.
It gave him a sense of deja vu, preparing breakfast for the Dursleys again. He was sure to make it a lot better that time. The bacon was perfect- not too crispy, and not too chewy and soft. HE prepared everything perfectly- it wouldn't do to slide off act now, he reminded himself as he heaped a mouth-watering amount of omelette onto the plates. He disliked all the servitude- but he knew that it was necessary. He had promised himself he would do whatever it took to help save his friends- even if it meant dealing it the Dursleys all over again. After making sure breakfast was ready, and glancing at the clock once again to confirm that it was, indeed, close to the Dursleys' waking time, Harry discreetly made himself a cheese sandwich and ran back to the cupboard.
He did not have much appetite- but he was hungry. It must have been close to his release date since the cupboard was not locked, meaning the impossible- it was the day Harry got his Hogwarts letter. Or his first one, anyway. And speaking of Hogwarts...
Not having any intention to make a single mistake Harry ruffled about and found a piece of paper and a fountain pen which was nearly out of ink.
There were things he had to make sure of. Problems...what were they. Harry got comfortable with the pen, and but his lip before beginning to write down.
The Sorcerer's Stone- redo? He couldn't leave the stone to Quirrel, nor could he risk hurting any of his friends again. The mountain troll incident would definitely not be taking place. He had to fix up Ron and Hermione's relationship quickly.
T.M.R's diary. That one was really tricky. Harry would would take a dozen Crucio's before he let Ginny go through that again. But the chamber had to be opened- the Horcrux had to be destroyed, and the Basilisk had to be killed. Harry, however, had no intention letting Ginny be the victim this time- nor anyone else, for that matter. He'd have to look into that later.
Lockhart, Sirius, Cedric.
Yes, Lockhart was a fraud. Yes, he deserved at least a few months in Azkaban for this, but no, Harry did not intend to erase every memory of his for it. He just wasn't that kind of person. He knew it was probably Lockhart's fault in the first place, but he would try and make it one of his lesser priorities to make sure that didn't happen again. He definitely couldn't let Sirius rot in Azkaban with the dementors, or let Cedric die.
Sighing, Harry hid the piece of paper carefully so that no one could see it and rushed out, ready to do his part.
-O-
To his credit, Harry thought he played his part well. He let fury fill him when refused his Hogwarts letter, (he had decided not to open it in the hall and to continue this particular event the way it was because it might mean we wouldn't get to meet Hagrid if it turned out differently) fury that came from his originally eleven year-old self. He was defiant- he fought...Until his Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved him in the cupboard, telling him to pack quick and go to Dudley's second bedroom or else...
Harry let a small smirk grace his lips when he was alone. He gathered a few things in his arms, and made sure to tuck his new 'To-Do' list safely in his pocket and survey it later, should he have the time to ponder things.
Seeing Dudley's second bedroom made his heart ache, for some reason. He looked at the window on the left corner, and he could just barely imagine thick iron bars sealing it shut tightly, and two crazy Weasley twins, plus Ron, pulling off the bars with out jerk of their Ford Anglia, triumphant looks on their faces. He smiled wistfully, not letting his tears fall. He would make sure they survived to remember that incident years later and laugh about it. He would change everything. Everything would be perfect.
So happy to be writing after the horrific exams that I don't care if it's cliche...I've been wanting to do this one for a while. R&R 'cuz I really appreciate it.
