Disclaimer: HP doesn't belong to me—all dibs go to JKR.
Title: Miles to go before I sleep.
Summary: AU Another time travel fic: can Harry bid his time and make his presence count? Story centered around Harry and Luna. No ships planned.
Prologue: The Battle of Wiltshire
Harry ducked another bright red spell as he circled Voldemort. The Dark Lord stared him down, his yew and phoenix feather wand held lightly in his right hand. Harry gripped his new wand—made of white oak and hair from a centaur, tightly. There would be no melancholic phoenix song this time, no battle of wills and magic, just a test of skill and ingenuity. Harry had a passing wish to take a moment and acknowledge individually the friends he had seen fall tonight, to dedicate this battle to them, but the moment passed as he focused his tired limbs to the challenge ahead. He barely noted Luna's hare patronus darting past him or the dirt-matted hair of George Weasley who fought back to back with her. If he had surveyed the field, he would have noticed that the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, both young and old, were gathering themselves into a rough circle around himself and Voldemort, each making sure no Death Eater would try to hit him in a blind spot. Bodies of Aurors, Order members, and Death Eaters littered the ground.
Then he saw it. A small shift in Voldemort's grip on his wand, and the battle continued in earnest. He fought with single-minded determination, trusting his friends to allow him to concentrate on his solitary opponent. His years after Hogwarts had been centered around training his dueling skills to end this battle—unlike Voldemort, Harry wasn't concerned about the politics of the different factions of the war, or the delegation of duties and missions—he left that to McGonagall, Moody, and Shacklebolt. No, Harry was only interested in surviving this night.
Harry darted to the right, conjuring a shield to block a cutting curse and returning with a bone breaking curse. When Voldemort conjured a fiery whip, he countered by throwing a spell towards the Dark Lord's feet and taking off into the air in his animagus form to avoid the whip. He dove down behind Voldemort and shot an array of cutting curses as he kept moving. Voldemort recovered quickly. He smirked at the Boy-Who-Lived as his whip wrapped around the younger man's left arm, yanking him forwards and off balance. In one smooth motion, Voldemort released the spell and swung his wand in tight arc before jabbing it in Harry's direction.
"Avada Kedavra!"
He tried to avoid it—he really did. Harry wasn't in a position to lunge out of the way so he did the only thing he could think of—he sent a blasting curse at the ground, grimly hoping that it would result in moving him out of the way of the sickly green curse. To a degree, his quick thinking did have the effect he'd intended, it just wasn't enough. Time seemed to slow down for a moment—he didn't see the curse hit, but rather reached out with his left hand as a result of the Seeker instinct of a game he hadn't played in years to catch a golden, spinning globe with a bloody chain. A time turner.