Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, which is precisely why I'm writing on this particular site.
Author Notes: So, the prologue is VERY short; don't worry about that. The story will have a lot more meat when it gets started, and there will be more background information later.
Quote: "Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of Imagination." Oscar Wilde
Time Begins Again
Prologue:
Van Klacksman's "Conjectures on temporal phenomena" was a heavy tome, one largely disregarded by both the general public and most scholars. Its in depth study of the confusions, exceptions and paradoxes throughout history resembled the rantings of many conspiracy theorists and its explanations left one more confused than ever. It had been viewed at worst as an esoteric piece of philosophical horse manure, and at best as ramblings on theoretical Impossibilities.
It was surprising therefore, for one of the rare complete editions to be found intensely scrutinized by an old, scholarly looking man. To him, there was a method behind the madness, and he read each page with an equal intensity . The man was hunched over a large desk, his eyes only a hand's width away from the page; Those eyes, once a vivid green, were now faded and murky from decades of his near constant study.
The man would sit at his desk from before Dawn till long into the night, barely eating, only resting when absolutely necessary. This had been the man's existence for nearing a half century, pouring over tome after tome in search of mastery over the most elusive element; Time. He was not the the first to take on this goal - many had failed before him- but he had an advantage over other scholars. Several even. This man was impassioned and single minded beyond anything the average person was capable of.
More importantly though, This man was also a wizard, allowed not only normal and natural means, but also those magical. "Muggles" - as normal people are called by some- In their ignorance of magic, lack the means and power to fulfill theoretical phenomena. On the other hand, Wizards and Witches, as magical folk were called, lacked the education, the technological capabilities and group discipline to accomplish such ambitious projects, especially with their general contempt of "Muggles"
This man, however, had been raised by muggles, and had known of - if only in passing- of the reach of science. Around the dark, cluttered room, Books upon books were stuffed tightly into the floor to ceiling bookshelves, and great piles of papers were stacked neatly into shelves and unused corners. Decades of learning both muggle and magical were in this room, with decades more of analyzes, calculations, and reflections; reports of experiments. All the work leading to the final accomplishment of the man's ultimate goal.
After so many years, this goal was near completion, and the man had renewed his efforts with a feverish glint in his eyes. He would scan a page, all the while carving rune after rune into ward stone after ward stone. After finishing a set, he would rush the middle of the room, where an intricate design was already in place, circle upon circle defining a perfect arithmetic equation, and he would carefully place each stone in it's appropriate spot. It was the final stage, the product of a life's devotion, and as he place yet another stone, it was complete.
The man took a tremulous step back, surveying his work with anxious hope. The stones were set in a series of perfect circles, one dominating the others, with smaller circles overlapping it to form a pentacle. Each stone fit perfectly with it's neighbor, and the inscriptions seemed to merge into the next, in a fluid equilibrium. Seemingly satisfied, he returned to his desk, and pushing the large tome aside, picked up a stack of notes. He stayed in this position, illuminated by the falling sun, checking over his notes, until the shadows in the room grew long, and as the sun fell below the horizon, the room grew dark.
0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0 v 0
When the sun crested over the horizon again, the room was unrecognizable. Nothing of the knowledge stored there was left but ash, and the ward-stones were nowhere to be found. The room had caved in, due to damage left by an intense fire., and the cottage it had once occupied was left a ruin.
if one looked closely enough among the debris, they would see the shattered bones that were the final remains of a man. Too little remained for the man to be recognized, but the cottage had not been seen by anyone for several decades, and there was only one person who was left from that tragic family.