It was a dark day when Hogwarts fell.
Even after his death and subsequent ascension to Master-of-Death status, Harry wasn't prepared.
Voldemort had fled, only to return three days later and seize control of Hogwarts, while the remaining members of the Order were forced to go into hiding. With Voldemort in control of all of wizarding Britain-Hell, all of the wizarding world for all they knew- finding a hiding place was difficult, but they managed.
Though it was strange, being stuck in a white recolor of King's Cross, while also looking down at their not-quite-dead-but-not-really-alive bodies.
The tethers between their souls and bodies had been stretched thinly enough that they could enter what was basically Limbo, while also being able to interact on the physical plane. It was unusual, but it didn't require much focus- though Harry supposed that was just because he was Death.
And it was as Death that he was able to visit the dearly deceased and get their advice on what he could do. There was a bit of disagreement of course; Sirius, Severus, Fred, and James wanted Voldemort dead but Cedric, Albus, Lily, and Remus understood that, despite it being very much in his power, Harry really didn't want to kill anyone.
In the end, there was really only one option that everyone agreed on- courtesy of a woman Harry had never met, but whose name he knew simply because she was dead.
Merope Gaunt.
Her thinking was as such;
Tom Marvolo Riddle became so hateful because he'd never grown up in a loving environment (because she died). As (Master of) Death, Harry could control whether someone died or not- though he couldn't bring them back after they died. With a bit of time-manipulation (courtesy of Chronos, who hated what Voldemort had become), it would be a simple thing for Harry to go back to 1926 and stop Voldemort before he could even rise up.
This was the plan they'd agreed on, and it would've worked- hypothetically speaking, since nothing had happened- since Harry was immune to the effects of time-paradoxes.
It was just the matter of actually contacting Chronos- a feat which would involve going to the Underworld and having a nice friendly talk with Hades to get into Tartarus.
Having met Hades a couple weeks into his godhood and a then twice more in the few months before the present day, Harry wasn't eager to see him again. It's not that he was a bad guy- he was just...
"Oh! Harrykins darling! What a surprise!"
Eehhh...
"You really should visit more often, you know- Cerberus was getting restless without his favorite playmate," he chastised. Harry tried hard not to flinch. For reasons he didn't want to understand, Hades and his...family- for lack of a better word- really liked him, to the point where it was actually kinda creepy. He was thankful no other gods could enter his realm without his say-so.
"Er- yeah...hi to you, too- hey, is Chronos around?"
Hades huffed, his dark brows scrunching.
"He is- but why do you want to do business with that old fuddy-duddy? You know, he actually ate me!" The bitterness was quite evident.
"Yes, I know. But the human race is at stake, and I know you don't want all that extra work, and right now, he's the only one who can help me."
Hades grumbled and crossed his arms.
A minute passed. And then another.
"...Fine. But I want something for this, darling."
"Name it and it's yours."
Harry instantly wanted to take back those words. Leaving Hades to pick a price was a very dangerous thing-
"A hug."
-wait what?
"That's it?"
The elder god nodded and shrugged his shoulders.
"I'd ask for a kiss, but...you're still young, and I respect that."
This time Harry couldn't stop himself from cringing. He'd have preferred not to have any physical contact with Hades, but...a hug was better than a kiss...he guessed.
"...Alright."
Knowing it was better to get this done quickly, Harry glided over and wrapped his arms around Hades, feeling the icy cold of his skin even though his cloak. Sharp teeth curved into a smirk and red eyes slid closed, savoring. Skeletal fingers began brushing through Harry's hair, and that was when the shorter god decided to pull away, trying to conceal his shivering.
"Seeeee? That wasn't so bad, was it?"
Harry didn't voice his thoughts, and instead quickly brushed by him.
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The "Pit of Tartarus" was more of a sweltering hot room accessible only by a secret tunnel which only Hades' most trusted even knew about. Guarded by more than just a Cerberus, it was of the highest security imaginable. Such a place- dark and burning and simultaneously empty and beyond full- was the perfect prison for the titans.
Harry wiped the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand and looked around. He couldn't see a thing- not that he really expected to (it was just disorienting).
"Chronos."
The titan appeared before him, tan and dark-haired, and radiating raw power even through the red shackles that bound him.
"Well, well, well. Little godling finally decided to pop by. Have you come to bless us of the damned with your light soul? Or are you so cruel as to give us a glimpse, and then leave us in darkness?"
Somehow, this felt familiar, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it...whatever.
"I need you to send me backwards through time." No point beating around the bush.
"Oh? And why should I do you this, little godling?" The patronizing tone of his voice was irritating.
"Because...because Tom Riddle has grown into a monster, and I wish to change his fate."
At this, Chronos actually growled- much like a rabid dog if Harry were being honest- and Harry dared to hope.
"Will you help me change him, Chronos?"
After a moment, the titan nodded.
"I will help you, godling. But only if you promise me something."
Harry bit back a groan. Just how many promises would he have to make for this? How many could he even keep?
Taking his silence as a gesture to continue, Chronos named his terms. It was difficult to agree, but Harry did anyway. It was just another reason to make sure he succeeded.
And just like that, Harry found himself in London of 1926. The date was December 18th. Good. He still had time to get things in order.
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It took a bit of magic and string-pulling and lying, but by the 30th, Harry had a house to call his own and a decently-sized account in both Gringotts and a couple different banks in the muggle world- under different names, of course. He'd also invested in stocks- but only ones he knew would still be there by the 1980s.
And now, on the night of December 30th, just two blocks away from St. Wool's Orphanage, it was time to set his plan in motion.
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Merope Gaunt looked worse in life than when Harry had seen her in death- especially so since this wasn't just a memory. She had dull hair and...well, dull everything, really, except her eyes he guessed. They were dark and...utterly hopeless. She looked so defeated, it tore at his heart just watching her.
Pale arms, bony and thin and frail, clutched at her middle, and the starved and beaten woman looked to be in great pain. She stumbled, and Harry caught her. It was like he'd just happened to be passing by.
"Excuse me, miss? Are you- are you alright?" He had to play the part of a concerned stranger.
Merope looked up at him, her face heavy.
"Oh...oh, sir, please, I need- I...I need to get to the- the orphanage. Wo-won't you...can you tell me how to...how to get there?"
Harry shook his head.
"Nonsense, ma'am! Come with me to my home- it's closer!"
Merope was too weak to protest, and allowed Harry to carry her into his house, conveniently two houses away from where she stumbled.
Harry had no experience with childbirth, but he figured it wouldn't be too hard to figure out. Merope was gasping in sharp, silent pain- contractions, most likely-and Harry was inwardly panicking. But there wasn't time to call a midwife, so he just laid her in the master bedroom on the first floor and told her to push when she felt it was time.
Once the ordeal was through, Harry was quick to wash and swaddle baby Tom before placing him gently in his mother's arms.
Merope's thread- the lovely thing connecting a soul to a body- was starting to tear.
"Rest, miss. You'll be able to name him afterwards."
And reluctantly, Merope closed her eyes and fell asleep.
The soul was going to leave soon.
No, not yet. You are still needed here.
The glowing grey of her badly scarred soul was starting to flicker, as if in protest. It hovered above Merope's prone form, but didn't float upwards like most souls would've. Harry gently cupped his hands around it, and smiled in understanding. He could see this soul had been under so much- it was surprising it hadn't left sooner.
"I know..." he murmured, careful not to wake Tom, who'd fallen asleep.
"I know it's hard. But everything will be alright from now on. I will keep you safe and heal your scars, and together, we will look after the precious soul of your son."
The soul stopped flickering.
"Don't give up yet. Life will end your hardships."
There was a flash of crimson and gold light as Harry laced it with his own magic. When the light died down, the soul was bright and whole and so, so very beautiful.
Harry's smile widened and he repaired the frayed threads of Merope's soul before placing it back into her body.
Her breath, heavy and labored before, evened out, and she already looked healthier. Confident, Harry set to work preparing a nice dinner of chicken and noodle soup. Merope would need the nutrients, and if he was right in his assumption and she had lived off basically nothing, the soup shouldn't be very hard on her stomach.
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Merope woke up to the scent of soup and the sounds of a baby- her precious baby- giggling. Her eyes opened blearily; she wasn't expecting to wake up at all, truthfully.
"And...peek-a-boo!"
Another giggle.
The kind stranger who'd helped her was playing with her baby. Somehow, it suited him.
Right then, as if sensing her wakefulness, the man- who looked just a bit younger than herself- turned her way, the baby in his lap mirroring him. How strange, that she recognized his green eyes- exactly the color of a killing curse- though she couldn't ever remember meeting him before today.
"-him?"
Oh. He was speaking to her.
"Beg pardon?"
He smiled in a way that told her she was pardoned.
"Have you decided on a name for him?"
The man turned back to the child with a fond look. He clearly had a fondness for children.
Merope swallowed.
"Tom, after his papa. And then...Marvolo, after mine."
He nodded- almost as if he already knew. But that couldn't be.
"And his surname...it'll be Riddle."
Another nod, and Merope remembered her manners.
"Oh yes. I am Merope. Merope Gaunt. And you are?"
"I'm Harry Potter. You can just call me Harry, if you want."
"Potter?" Any wizard worth his magic knew of the Potters, but...
"I wasn't aware there was a 'Harry'..."
"That's fine. Not many know of me."
Merope was silent, and Harry returned to playing with Tom for a few minutes before abruptly getting up. He gently set the baby in her arms and then left the room, only to come back with two steaming bowls of soup.
In her arms, Tom fussed, and Merope figured it was time for his dinner, as well. She set him in her lap for just a second while she undid the top buttons of her dress. Harry politely looked away as she lifted Tom again to suck on her teat, and she felt grateful.
Once Tom was fed and sleeping, Merope began eating, noticing the soup was still warm. A heating charm, perhaps. But it tasted delicious, regardless- savory and well-seasoned, and nothing at all like what she'd eaten before, even when Tom was with her.
Once she was done, Harry took the bowl from her.
"Are you still hungry? There's still plenty soup left."
She shook her head, her tongue still relishing in the taste, and Harry hummed.
"That's fine, I guess. Rest up, in any case. You and Tom are always welcome here for as long as you want."
She felt tired, then, and hoped her gratitude was showing in her eyes- since she couldn't speak.
As he left the room once more, Merope closed her eyes and fell asleep to the memory of kind green eyes and a generous smile.
And up above, Fate watched them, grinning. She was more powerful than even Death, and she could not be swayed- especially not by him.