Disclaimer, which stands for the whole story: I do not own Harry Potter.
In a brief yet potent blaze of deep blue light, Harry dropped ungracefully into the hard stone floor, his knees and ribs burning in pain. A piercing crack immediately rent the air, and echoed into infinity, accompanied by a fleeting burst of light and its lingering after-effects on his retinas. As it instantly snatched his attention, Harry swept his unkempt and greasy fringe from his face before rapidly glancing up from his deplorable position on the cold flagstones. He would later look back at that very instant and realise how completely he was unprepared for the panorama he was confronted with. Of course. For Harry Potter, every situation had to be complicated in some way, whether it was Horcruxes being pre-emptively moved and a war being drastically changed, friends suddenly valuing self-preservation over loyalty, or a silent coup of the magical government, things could never just be straightforward.
Emerald and crimson bolts flew over the cracked concrete of the east Hogwarts Courtyard in obscene numbers, jets of shocking violet and azure mirroring their advance. White mist was just beginning to dissipate from the immediate area of a massive crater in the Hogwarts grounds. The cracked and dry soil was positively paved with relics of the deceased and wounded, ambiguous in their condition.
Identical ivory faces stood out from the cloaks of the attackers, painfully familiar to Harry (how could they not be?) The company of unsmiling figures moved with finesse, slashing at the drastically outnumbered defenders, who were being gradually forced back towards the oaken doors. A scarlet curse from a Death Eater forced a painful scream from a young girl as she fell to the ground. Another cloaked silhouette bathed a student in sickly green luminescence. It surprised him that the Hogwarts students had worked up the courage to attempt to fight the Death Eaters off, especially after Voldemort's speech to them during his takeover.
Realising that he had merely been sprawled on the ground spectating the battle, Harry leapt to his feet. After brief contemplation of his next step, he charged into battle like the dignified and majestic Gryffindor he had always been. He barked out a concussion curse, which connected with a Death Eater's jaw and threw him to the ground with his likely throbbing head cradled in his hands. Not pausing to view the effects, Harry then cast a stunner at the nearest enemy, which was rapidly parried towards its creator. He sidestepped the crimson spell, but the Death Eater was attempting to suppress him under a volley of curses.
Ducking under a cruciatus curse and blocking two cutting curses, Harry spun to his left and swiftly unleashed a spell chain upon his enemy. The first bone-breaking curse he cast flew over the man's shoulder, hitting an ambiguous figure in the distance. He was not deterred, hitting the paved ground in front of him with a silent bombardment charm followed by a separate banisher. Splinters of serrated debris were tossed erratically into the air among copious clouds of dust, before darting towards the Death Eater like a drove of frenzied hawks. He sliced a path through the dust with his wand held aloft, vanishing the shards of rock and reflecting his next spell, a cutter.
'Orchideous!' He thought, commanding the appearance of an elaborate corsage of white lilies, which took the brunt of the curse and were shredded into nothing, though he felt a whisper of the curse glide across his cheek. Hot blood trickled tentatively from the opening and slowly tapered into a pool at his collarbone. While running his hand across it, Harry parried a lethal-looking orange curse back towards the solid blue shield he was maintaining. Stepping forward, he batted away a disarming charm and dove under a cruciatus curse, before muttering "Verbero Defensa." followed by a silent 'Avifors!' His first spell hit the shield wall, shattering it in a magnificent display of white sparks. The second streaked gleefully through the air and hit the man in the chest. He twitched madly for a short time before vanishing from view.
It, for a second, appeared as if the Death Eater had disappeared, leaving his clothes remaining on the ground, mask laid on top in a poignant statement. The hood of the cloak twitched, and a vibrant and excitable bird of paradise nudged its way out and took flight into the black, lustrous abyss of the night sky, its plumed and colourful down contrasting with the chaste black and white heavens.
Harry's admiration was cut short as he abruptly felt a sharp pain at the small of his back and was thrown forward and into the cracked earth in a repeat of his unexpected arrival at Hogwarts. Scrambling to his feet as quickly as the searing pain in his back allowed, he levelled his wand at the advancing figure. The force with which the dark purple bolt blasted from his wand knocked him onto the floor again, and he grunted in pain from his back wound, before sitting up to observe the effects of his attack. The spell formed into a glowing arc, which relentlessly powered into the Death Eater's shoulder in a supernova of scarlet, forcing a scream of undisguised anguish. Harry stunned him as he knelt, whimpering, on the ground, before jumping up and deflecting a bright yellow spell that bore down on him, having been deflected from another duel close by.
He cast a perimeter shield charm around myself, then half-sat, half-kneeled on the hard soil, catching his breath and looking myself over for discounted injuries. As Harry cast a temporary wound-sealing spell on his back, and ran his wand along the small but surprisingly deep slash in his cheek, an orchestra of cracks, varying in noise level, sounded across the grounds. Multiple squads of crimson- robed Aurors immediately leapt into the fray. As he stood and readied myself to join them, one of the new arrivals headed straight towards where Harry was sat, firing a killing curse at him.
"What the fuck?" Harry yelled, as he rolled out of the way of imminent death. The spell hit the ground next to him, kicking up dust and illuminating the area in the infamous manner of the curse.
"What in hell are you doing, Potter?" A gruff and very familiar voice asked fiercely, as a disarming spell flew menacingly at Harry and mercilessly ripped the wand from his fingers, followed by a weak concussion curse, which briefly threw his world into a screeching abyss of confusing sounds and words. He was spared the problem of responding when the first Auror spoke.
"Sorry Alastor." A smooth feminine voice replied harshly …Alastor? As in 'Alastor Moody'? What even; he's fucking dead. But the voice of the other Auror spoke to Harry, on more levels than one. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"You'd better be bloody sorry, Potter! You know full well his policy on Unforgivables." Potter? Who was he talking to? Next was a binding charm, tying his wrists and ankles together and causing him to overbalance and hit the floor. Moody advanced on Harry, shining his wandlight towards him, which by no means assisted with his thumping head. How was he alive? Voldemort must have been experimenting with necromancy, he thought, desperate for some explanation. This man died at the hand of Tom Riddle himself two years ago.
"Now… let's see who you are, pretty boy." Moody growled, grabbing him by the ropes across his shoulders and hauling him up to eye-level. Sweeping his long and dirty hair back, he looked, wide-eyed, into his face. He was younger, his hair was less grizzled and grey, but the most noticeable contrast between him and the Moody Harry knew was this Moody's absence of a large, blue and particularly unnerving eye. He had two normal, dark brown eyes, but was only slightly less ferocious to him.
"Get away from me!" Harry muttered cautiously. He paid no heed, of course. "Lily, get over here!" The taller Auror strode over to him as Moody pointed his ignited wand towards his face, causing him to close his eyes with a drawn out hiss. "Remind you of anyone?"
A shuddering gasp issued from somewhere nearby, followed by a hesitantly whispered "J-James?" The obnoxiously glaring light moved away and Harry slowly opened his eyes, to be startled as he had never been before.
Memories were recalled, released by the newly opened floodgates within the darkest expanses of his lonely mind; memories from a leather-bound album and from the Hogwarts trophy room, memories from teachers, memories from stories of the forerunner of Hermione Granger.
All triggered by the beautiful woman standing in front of him with a look of open bewilderment upon her tired yet elegant visage, framed by shoulder length auburn tresses. A pale white scar stood out from her porcelain skin, running from her left cheekbone to the base of her ear. Another emotion was evident when he looked into her eyes. Anger. Was this one of Voldemort's infamous illusions, designed to induce insanity, or simply a wishful dream?
"Send him back, Alastor. We can deal with him later." She asserted bitterly, turning away. Moody took a simple silver chain out of his pocket and tied it around Harry's neck. Tapping it with his wand, Moody muttered something he didn't catch, activating a serenade of clicking sounds.
"See you soon, pretty boy. Don't get comfortable." He heard, scowling as Lily, Moody, the barren field and the majestic castle behind them vanished in an explosion of cerise light. All that before he even thought to protest.
x-x-x
Breaking eye contact with his reflection in the heavily cracked mirror, Harry looked over his dirt-streaked face, spotting cuts and blemishes that he didn't remember sustaining. The slash across his cheek was still evident, as was a similar mark snaking a jagged path up his jaw, which he had been gifted with during his investigation of a possible Horcrux haven last year. Harry had not had a chance to see his own reflection for over a week, since the Snatcher attack on his tent (which he reluctantly abandoned) as he camped out near to the shore of a loch in the Highlands. It had been three years, almost to the day, since they had decided that they weren't ready to risk their lives to assist in wresting Wizarding Britain from the grip of Voldemort.
After the events at the diner on Tottenham Court Road, Ron had made the decision to leave, arguing that if Harry could be tracked, there was no hope of finishing their mission, as 'He could bear down on us wherever we hide'. Surprisingly eloquent for Ron, but a bit ironic, after he'd pledged to persevere and stick by Harry forever. Harry confronted him on this rather flimsy reason, and he flew into a rage, telling Harry to 'command one of your adoring fans to take my place'. He always was impulsive, and had never gotten over his jealousy.
Hermione stayed with him for maybe a month longer, and they succeeded in seizing the locket Horcrux from Dolores Umbridge in the Ministry courtroom, only being detected as they fled. Hermione took a cutter to the ribs during Apparition. But after their escape back to Grimmauld Place and her subsequent staunching of the wound, she sat him down with a solemn expression.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't see this… this adventure ending well for us," she said softly, eyes brimming with sorrowful tears. "I need to leave Britain. Wizarding Britain's under quarantine, but I can still travel via Muggle means. I'm so sorry, Harry, but… I need to leave. There's no place for me here anymore." she gestured to the Daily Prophet lying on the kitchen counter between them, in an allusion to the recent updates on the progress of the Muggleborn Registration Act.
She made a fuss of repacking, taking out everything she wouldn't need and donating it to the 'Help Harry Liberate Britain' cause, such as her bottle of Dittany, half of her Muggle savings, and Harry's clothes and Cloak. She seemed to be dawdling about, and Harry could tell that she was trying to motivate herself to leave. Eventually she did (with endless apologies) and he was alone. Alone, with nothing but the roaring silence of Sirius' most hated place to distract him from his goal. Said goal was looking more impossible than ever at that point, and had not gotten any more possible in the three years that had followed.
His thoughts led to something he remembered a wise old sorcerer remarking, eons ago. 'I think Mr Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trust-worthy.' "Well, I don't. Not anymore." muttered Harry.
The distinct noise of metal scraping against concrete resounded through the dark, spartan cell Harry was standing in, immediately calling his attention to the sandy-haired man in red robes that had entered the room.
"Never thought you'd see me again, did you Potter?" He said maliciously, eyes burning with undisguised anger. The man was tall, with light brown hair and blue eyes, and his face was distorted by a disfiguring burn that spread across his right cheek.
Harry looked at him, confused. "I've never seen you before. You're mistaken." He was tired, and didn't want to confront this man on his apparent vendetta. He just wanted to sleep, and consider his current options. The Auror clearly wasn't tolerating it, however, and began throwing insults at him, most of which he tuned out.
"…Slut of a mother never teach you any manners? I'm over here, Potter!" he growled. Harry turned around, incensed. He began to move threateningly towards the Auror, who quickly drew his wand and trained it on him.
"No, no closer." He said cheerfully, before suddenly frowning and exhaling tiredly. "Why did you do it?"
More confounded than ever, Harry responded. "I don't-"
"Why? Fuck!" He picked up the simple wooden chair next to him and threw it at the wall, where it shattered, the noise echoing around the small cell. The Auror's rough breathing gave way to his next words. "What did they ever do to you, or anyone? They were innocent non-combatants, Potter!"
"Who are you-" This was getting more complicated by the second, Harry thought.
"Don't pretend, you prick. It was you, I know it! Locked doors and Fiendfyre. What is with you sick bastards?" Jaw set, he glared at Harry balefully. When Harry did not respond, the man leapt on him with no warning, bringing them both tumbling to the ground. Blows rained down on him as the man furiously and repeatedly punched him. A sharp crack rang out as the Auror's fist made contact with Harry's face. The subsequent punches to his gut sucked the wind out of him. This psycho didn't seem to be considering relenting, he was likely going to keep attacking until-
"BROWN! Get the hell off him!" Brown drew back, fists still raised, his wand held in the left. He stood and turned to face Moody, and grasped his left shoulder with his other hand, the Auror salute.
"Sir, I… I-" He stuttered, his manner startlingly different now.
"Shut it, Brown. Out, now!" Brown scrambled to leave, and Moody sighed. "Poor sod."
"Moody, let's get this over with so we can cart him off to Azkaban." Lily Potter said as she stepped into the room, a haughty and angry expression on her face, which only intensified as she laid eyes on Harry.
"Nothing can be done while he's in this state, Potter. Try again tomorrow." Lily nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving Harry's face. "Get Hopkirk to come down here and take care of him. Brown messed him up pretty bad." She nodded again. "And tell Albus. He'll be damn happy about this!"
A third nod, accompanied by a "Yes, sir." She spared Harry one more furious glare before leaving, her clicking footfalls audible even after she left.
"You'd better get your story straight, boy. We'll be back tomorrow. Look forward to it." barked Moody. He turned and followed Lily out of the room, pausing at the door to tap it with his wand. As his footsteps died away, the door lock gave a series of clicks, reiterating that there was no way out of this.
(A/N- Exams are pretty much over, and I'm back. This story is a new idea of mine, and my first foray into time-travel AUs. Also, anyone wondering about Dark Lord Ascending, my muse has left me on that front. I'll sit down and have a look at it now, and see if I can get anything written, but it's not looking too good right now. Anyway, enjoy.
Many thanks to the guys over at DLP for their critique and advice.)