Just a story that's been bouncing around in my head.

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Chapter one: the escape and meeting

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Nymphadora Tonks had run out of time. Her plans, grand in scale and nearly impossible had to be rushed to the finish line, unable to finish her final preparation. Separating knowledge from memory. As her wards fell she charged the outside runes of her circle and lit the 5 candles surrounding it. As her door was being knocked she slit her palm and quickly filled the sacrificial bowl. When the Neo-Death Eaters, lead by a thrice living Tom Riddle, aka Lord voldemort, stormed into the room she smiled. And broke the containment rune to trigger the ritual. A torrent of blue flames burst out from the circle incinerating the invading parties and ripping a hole in the fabric of reality centered around Tonks.

The man known as Lord Voldemort was the only thing left alive within a kilometer of the blast. His quick reflexes and considerable skill having allowed him to raise a strong enough shield to deflect most of the blast around him. Though angered at losing some of his most powerful personnel, and the metamorph. It was an acceptable outcome. The thorn in his side was gone, she had been the only real threat since the death of harry potter more than 50 years prior.

He turned to apparate back to his base of operations and nothing happened. He tried again. When he failed again he tried to activate the portkey he kept on himself to make his way back. It, too, did not work. Incensed by his magics refusal to cooperate, he brought forth his wand, and the most powerful of the deathly hallows, and cast a charm to discover any wards to prevent transportation magic. There was no response. He tried again and again, but he might as well have been waving a twig for all the good that it did him.

Tom Riddle's anger was at its peak when the armored trucks rolled up. Him standing out like a beacon in the blasted land that was the crater Tonks' ritual had created caused him to be suspect number one. He turned to see the muggles moving up and he tried, and failed, to release his anger yet again. The Magic response team, recognizing both him and what he was attempting to do, responded appropriately and filled the air between them with lead. Without the use of magic the result was obvious. Tom riddle fell and died. Never knowing why his magic had failed him.

Tonks was drifting through the aether outside of reality. Her ritual had torn a hole in reality and flung her through towards the past and a specific date august 2nd, 1992. And a specific place, the smallest bedroom at number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey. She knew harry potter was right there right then. She had planned on giving him her knowledge, and just the knowledge, before she faded into non-existence due to past-alteration, but that plan was no longer an option, she had at most a minute, and as little as 7 seconds, before the universe corrected itself. She just hoped that Harry could forgive her. That much life experience was bound to alter him.

Her plan had been in the works for the past 10 years. That was when she first came upon the theorycrafting that had supposed the possibility of long distance time travel. It required an immense amount of magic though. Far more than any person could maintain. So i needed to be an artifact or a ritual. And a ritual would be easier to design. So she set about making a ritual that would allow her to travel to where she knew he would be, be alone, have knowledge of magic, and be as far back in time as possible with all three requisites were met. She had underestimated the amount of magic it would need. It absorbed all of the magic within a kilometer of the ritual, unlike most rituals or artifacts which sip on the ambient magic to work, or in the case of time turners which gulp, the ritual acted like a drain at the bottom of the ocean and sucked in magic by the megaliter, not a scrap of it was left anywhere around where the ritual was located. The flames devouring it and feeding on biomass to supplement the magic taken. The area around her hideout would be a barren wasteland for the next thousand years, had that reality not been destroyed by her traveling into the past.

After what felt like an eternity Tonks found herself in a small dark bedroom looking at a small boy who had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Sorry." tonks said the last word she would ever utter and placed her wand at harry's Third-eye Chakra and forced all of her magic and memories into him. The shock of it caused harry to pass out and collapse to the floor in a boneless heap. Tonks now starting to fade losing her solidity, placed him onto the small bed her last sight was that of the small boys body shifting in a way only a metamorph's could into an older and obviously more feminine form. Her last thought was 'shite.' then she faded fully and ceased to exist.

Harry awoke the next morning, looked down and said "shite." she couldn't deny that all of Tonks' memories had changed her personal view of herself. Which was bad, because all metamorphs reverted to their self-image while unconscious. She needed to do something. She knew that the weasleys, bless them, would be rescuing her some time in the next few days. She'd need to come up with a plausible story beforehand.

Even though she knew she had had a radical change in personality the weight of years Tonks had pushed onto her had almost overwritten her memories as Harry Potter. She was still herself. Mostly. 81 years of memories of being a woman had certainly altered her self-image, but fortunately she still had raven hair and emerald eyes. She still looked like a scion of the Potter family, Albeit a female one. And definitely older than 12.

'Well then, I guess first things first' she then started to look around for… 'ah, thats right, they locked everything up. I can't really do anything until the rescue.'