Chapter One: Saying Goodbye
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Hello! This is one of the few A/Ns I'll be putting up. I don't want to take much space, and bore you with my ramblings, so I'll only include them at the footnotes if I need to talk about a certain issue in this story.
For those of you who dislike Dumbledore/Snape, this story might not be for you. They aren't manipulative/evil gits in this story. I hope I do them justice – I think writing Dumbledore as a good person without coming as puppeteering is moderately hard.
Another thing is that, like I mentioned in the summary, our MC, James Sirius Potter, is kinda powerful. Not Merlin-powerful, but powerful for a eleven year old. He won't be kicking Voldemort around like a rag doll, but he'll be able to hold his own against a few Death Nibblers.
And…I think that's it, I guess. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review!
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May 1998, Hogwarts courtyards
"Avada Kedavra!" screamed Voldemort.
A jet of green light sprouted out of the tip of the wand, hitting the Chosen One square in the chest. His expression was that of shock.
His legs gave way, and Harry Potter fell to the ground, dead.
Pinned to the walls of the broken castle by her friends, Ginevra Molly Weasley wailed at the loss of her love.
There was shocked silence for a few minutes from both sides. The Hogwarts students and professors were gaping, while the Death Eaters looked to their master to initiate their celebrations.
Voldemort smiled cruelly, and then his minions cheered with glee. Bellatrix Lestrange cackled maniacally, rejoicing in her master's victory over the Boy Who Lived.
"And now," Voldemort hissed softly, Nagini swimming aggressively in the protective orb of hers, "time to kill those who dare to oppose me."
The Death Eaters charged.
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May 2009, Number 12, Grimmauld Place
Deep in the bowels of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, James Sirius Potter sat as he stared into the unknown, a calm expression filling his face. His body was that of an eleven year old, but his eyes made him look so much older.
Ginevra Potter walked up to him and crouched low, caressing his cheek. "Are you okay, James?" she asked. Her lips were quivering – not that her son noticed. He was far too concerned with the unpredictable and dangerous quest he was about to undertake.
It had been eleven years since the war had truly begun. Eleven harrowing years since James had been born. Those eleven years had brought about only more and more deaths of those who had dared to oppose Lord Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters, who had quickly gained the attention of the other magical communities.
It had been too damn late, James thought bitterly.
It had all started from the Battle of Hogwarts. The Hogwarts Massacre had been just that – a massacre. So many people had died that it felt like bodies had rained down on the grounds of Hogwarts. The death tolls had been high on both sides, but the Light side had dealt far worse damage than the Dark.
Voldemort's army was expendable. The other side's was not.
Only a few people had survived the mass killing. Those amongst them were Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin and more than two dozen people who were still willing to fight, all led by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall to safety – Grimmauld Place, to be precise – where they had quickly cast the Fidelius charm to prevent the Death Eaters from finding them. Minerva had wanted to stay back at the school and fight against the forces of Voldemort, but Filius Flitwick had stopped her. "The students need you to be alive, Minerva," the half-goblin had told her softly before yelling at her to get to safety and scurrying to hold off the Death Eaters, along with Aberforth Dumbledore, Hagrid, his half-brother Grawp, and a handful of students willing to give up their lives for their comrades, long enough for them to escape. Those had been Flitwick's last known words, and McGonagall had been inconsolable for a week, saddened by the loss of her fellow staff member and longtime friend.
And if the rumors were true, Flitwick had indeed lived up to his lineage.
They had found Yaxley scourging the Black residence for important items, and his eyes had been permanently wide with shock when a Diffindo from Kingsley had decapitated the Death Eater. Nobody had given his death a second glance, and Minerva had eagerly transfigured him into paper before tossing it into the fireplace.
They had all stayed in Grimmauld Place for the next decade, determined to survive.
The Order had been reinstated quickly, Kingsley Shacklebolt as head. Many students had decided to give up and head back to any home that had remained, believing that the battle was already lost, and Kingsley had complied, not wanting to force them in the fight. The rest – mainly muggleborns half-bloods that had survived – had stayed, determined to put Voldemort's reign to an end.
They had struggled to keep up with the Dark Lords forces for nearly a year since Harry's death, and had begun losing hope – until Ginny had given birth.
She had reluctantly admitted that she and Harry had had sex the night before the battle had began. Ron, instead of getting angry at the fact that his sister had been 'sullied' by his best friend, had broken down in tears, mumbling incoherently about the child being the last trace of his deceased friend. McGonagall had joined in too, with Hermione and the few female Hogwarts students from the Order, and had supported Ginny during her long pregnancy and labor.
The birth of James Sirius Potter was a symbol of hope. With renewed vigor, the Order had continued their relentless effort to purge Britain of Voldemort and his minions.
But their efforts had been minute. Every other raid had resulted in the death of at least one Order member. In the past year, precautions had been taken to save Order members if they had been injured gravely – such as portkeys – but not many Death Eaters had used anything short of an Avada Kedavra as an opening attack.
Nevertheless, it was all going to change now. If I carry out my tasks efficiently, this dystopia will never exist, James mused to himself determinedly.
"James?" came Ginny's hesitant voice, snapping him out of his reverie. He looked at her, and saw her staring at him with undisguised concern.
"Yes, Mum," he replied softly. She placed a hand on his lap, and he gripped her fingers tightly, not wanting to let go. Her cheery façade broke, and she burst into tears, engulfing him in a hug that he returned wholeheartedly.
In barely an hour, this would no longer exist. He would be saying goodbye to his mother, his aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron, McGonagall, and the many people that he'd grown to love since he'd been born.
Sometimes, he cursed himself for accepting this immense responsibility.
"Is it ready?" James asked her when she let go of him. Ginny wiped her tears and nodded jerkily.
"Just a bit more time, James." She smiled at him, and he knew that this one was genuine. The first genuine smile she had given him in ages.
He nodded shortly. "Good. Shall we go?" He didn't want to wait. Waiting would only make it worse and harder for him to leave.
"Come."
He stood up, tugging at the hems of his jacket, and followed her out of his small room. It was hard to believe that the place he had called home for all his live would no longer be it. He liked the dark, gloomy walls and the saddening air – anything that seemed bright made him nauseous, as if they were trying to make him think that everything was fine during these dark, dangerous times.
He would miss this place, but he certainly wouldn't miss this world.
As he walked towards the dueling rooms of Black Manor, he passed by many friendly and familiar faces that smiled at him as he followed his mother. Mutters of "Hi!" and "Hello, James," made him smile, but that smile quickly disappeared as his mind turned to his mission. He didn't feel sad about leaving here – he just felt sad leaving his family to the wrath of the Dark Lord.
The number of people outside their designated rooms dwindled as Ginny and James drew closer and closer to the dueling quarters. The doors were shut firm, and a simple Alohomora would not do the trick. As far as he knew, it could only be opened by the people inside.
Ginny rapped her knuckles in the door. "Password?" a muffled voice asked, distorted so that no one could know who was behind it.
Ginny drew herself and tightened her jaw. "Harry," he uttered stiffly.
The password seemed to be correct, because the door cracked open, and the two of the were pulled inside in a jiffy before the doors slammed shut.
The dueling chambers were enormous – well, every room in Grimmauld Place was enormous, just like those bigger-on-the-inside tents, and it was a good thing, too, or else the Order would've found it hard to accommodate themselves. The room was lit dimly, and it was practically empty save for the other end, where a cluster of witches and wizards stood.
They were the only people from the entire Order that knew what was currently at stake.
"Quickly. We must not waste time, Ginevra." James looked up, and saw that Kingsley Shacklebolt had spoken. He noticed the chocolate-skinned man nod with a smile, and James nodded back curtly.
"My name," his mother hissed, "is Ginny." She glared at him intimidatingly, but Kingsley simply shrugged.
They followed him to the main attraction, where the inner circle of the Order stood.
"Hello, James," said a soft, soothing voice to his right. James smiled at Hermione Granger, a flush creeping up his face. He knew it was wrong to look ogle at his mum's best friend, but it wasn't his fault. He couldn't help it if Hermione had grown into a stunning woman and out of the shy, bushy-haired and bucktoothed bookworm in the photos of theirs.
"Hello," he said numbly. No matter how good-looking Hermione was, she couldn't distract him from the purpose of his visit.
Next to her, Ronald Weasley grinned at him. He waved at him with a wide smile, but James was not in the mood for happiness. Joy and cheer could come later. As of now, he only had a one track mind.
"So, the prodigal son returns," a voice sneered from his left.
Minerva McGonagall frowned at the man, and, next to her, Cho Chang smiled at James. "For Merlin's sake, Severus, could you lay of the kid for a moment?" he said. "The boy has enough on his plate already!"
Severus Snape's lips thinned. "Be that as it may, Minerva, we cannot allow the boy to develop an inflated head like his father before him. The boy must learn to be humble, especially under the circumstances."
James rolled his eyes at the man; everyone knew that he didn't mean those words, so no one challenged him for his dig at Harry. After all, Snape had been forced to treat Harry ruthlessly during his school years as to not give away his position as Dumbledore's spy, something that everyone in the room had now understood.
They hadn't known about Snape's true allegiance until a month after James's birth. According to his mother, a ruffled barn owl had flown towards Grimmauld Place, holding a handwritten letter from Severus Snape, which had promptly been dropped in through the window and into McGonagall's lap. At first, the retired transfiguration teacher had been livid, until she had read the part about him swearing an oath to hold a truce until he proved his allegiance to the Order and Dumbledore. Very reluctantly, McGonagall had been persuaded into agreeing with the terms by an eager Remus Lupin, who'd said that if Snape was lying, he would happily kill the man himself.
The air had been cold when Snape had entered the house. The Order members had been debriefed about the situation, and had reluctantly agreed to not attack their hated potions professor on sight. That didn't stop them from hurling brutal and uncensored insults at the man, who had held his head high as he was led into the dueling chambers of Black Manor by McGonagall, Shacklebolt and Lupin.
They had viewed his memories in Dumbledore's pensieve, which Snape had nicked from the headmaster's office shortly after Voldemort had decimated Hogwarts' remaining forces, and kept it with himself ever since. The reason for his eager letter had been Voldemort's sudden doubts about his loyalty, with repeated Legillimency thrusts during conversations and demands to spill the secrets of Albus Dumbledore.
It was all Snape could do to appease the Dark Lord.
When half an hour had ended since Snape's appearance, the Order had grown restless. Suspecting that Snape had killed McGonagall and the others, Ron and Hermione had stormed the chambers, only to see a distraught Minerva McGonagall weeping uncontrollably in Shacklebolt's arms. Lupin was flabbergasted and on his knees, staring at the ground in disbelief as his wand rolled on the cold, stone floor, while Kingsley stared at Snape with approval.
The news had spread through the safe house like wildfire.
Ever since then, Snape had been treated like a completely different person. The Order members still held a bit of resentment due to his treatment of them during school, but had accepted him into the Order. A few had even had the gall to call him "the most Gryffindorish Slytherin ever," receiving irate glares from Snape and a round of laughter from anyone in the vicinity.
Word on the street was that Voldemort had killed ten muggle families in outrage at Snape's obvious change of sides.
"Can we move along?" Ron snapped, unwilling to let Snape waste time and talk about Harry in such a manner. While he trusted Snape, that didn't mean he liked him, and everybody, including Severus, knew that fact. "We don't have all the time in the world."
"Quite, Weasley," Snape snapped, smirking at Ron. "If only you had learnt this particular fact during your schooling, you would've been able to procure better grades than those flimsy scores."
Ron purpled, but Hermione intervened. "Professor, we're being serious," she said.
"I hope you won't start pranking everybody like him, then," Remus said, his lips twitching as he subtly talked about his now-deceased friend.
"How very clever, Lupin," Snape drawled.
James decided to intervene. "Quick, now." People stared at him, but he didn't care. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
"Quite," Snape whispered. He cleared his throat, then looked knowingly at McGonagall. "Minerva?"
She nodded. With a wave of her wand, she Summoned a fairly decently sized backpack and caught it nimbly with her hands. James knew that it had an Undetectable Extension Charm on it and contained various things that would help him on his journey. She handed it over to him, and he took it reverently. "Take care of it, Mr Potter," McGonagall said. "You do not want to lose that particular thing.
He nodded. "What does it have?"
"Clothes, an tent if you find yourself somewhere unknown, H-Harry's Invisibility Cloak," Remus' voice hitched as he said the name, "the Marauder's Map, a batch of healing potions, amongst other things. There's also a good bit of money – about a thousand galleons or so – so you don't need to worry much about expenses. If out plan works well, you won't have to worry about expenses at all," he added, smiling lightly.
James nodded.
He suddenly felt a sudden, quick thrust pounding his mental barriers like a battering ram, but James only flinched, strengthening his Occlumency shields. He looked up into the black eyes if Snape, and smirked at the man.
"Cheeky brat," Snape groused. Minerva scowled at him.
"There was no need to use Legillimency on him now, Severus!" she reprimanded. "We need the boy in proper condition for him to successfully take the jump!"
"She's right, you know," Ginny told Snape, who scowled.
"I was simply checking if Potter here was able to counter surprise attacks," he defended. "And it looks like he succeeded. Perhaps he is not too much like his father."
"He's been able to do that," Ginny snapped, "for three years! I could've easily stopped you from torturing my son with those damnable Occlumency sessions of yours, Snape!"
Snape scowled, but didn't say anything.
James sighed. His training had been ruthless, all right, but needed. Growing up under such a harsh environment meant that there was no room for childishness, and he'd grown up rather quickly, much to his mother's dismay. The rest of them, on the other had, had decided that this was the right time for James to be trained in all aspects of magic, as it was at that time when their plan had been finally developed.
He'd received his first wand a few days after his fifth birthday, the wand being procured during one of their raids on Death Eater settlements. It wasn't a perfect fit, but it would do for him. In fact, it was for the better. If he could use spells effectively and powerfully through the unchosen wand, then his magic would be much stronger while using a wand specifically for him. It was something about growing a resistance to the wand, but James didn't care – all he cared about was saving the world.
For the next several years he'd been tutored under McGonagall, Snape, Remus and Kingsley. Hermione, Ron and the others dropped in from time to time to aid him in certain aspects, when they weren't planning on how to bring Nagini out into the open so that they could get an open shot and kill the bitch. So far they had lost eight members to Voldemort's wand during the two tries to kill the snake, and Cho Chang had had her left hand cleanly sliced off at the wrist.
He'd been appropriate in Transfiguration, and mediocre in Potions, which, by Snape's standards, meant that he was exceeding the man's expectations. Defensive magic was where he truly stood out. And, under Remus' and Kingsley's tutelage, he could hold his own against Hermione when he'd turned eleven. The fact that he had a large magical core also helped matters.
"We mustn't dawdle," McGonagall said, annoyed. "Time is precious. The quicker we do this, the faster this comes to an end."
"Yes, Professor," said Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Cho simultaneously. The rest looked at them in amusement.
"Minerva, could you?" James asked her impatiently. McGonagall nodded, Summoning a small, fragile object from inside James's backpack – a time-turner.
"Be careful, James," she said softly as she handed the time-turner over to him. It had been stolen secretly from Malfoy Manor by Snape when he had made his escape, and no one of Voldemort's side was the wiser. It had been the Potion Master's idea, after all, taking advantage of his godfather status in the Malfoy household to gain access to the artifact. It as similar to many other turners, but this one was…unique. It could take a person back in time for more than a few hours – years, in fact, although it still had a limit of only twenty years or so. Snape had first wanted to go back further in time and end the Gaunt line, but the time-turner prevented them from going so back in time. They had to do with what they had – during war, you couldn't be picky.
"The keyword is set to your father's full name," she told him. "All you need to do is turn it forty times, and then speak the passcode. Is that understood?" James nodded, and she smiled.
"You may be sure of yourself, Potter, but I'm not," a voice snapped suddenly. James rolled his eyes and looked at Snape uncaringly. That only seemed to infuriate the man. "Potter!" he shouted. "What is the first thing you will do upon reaching your destination?"
"Confund the person in charge of the London orphanage and make them think that I've been living there for several years," James replied. That was something he made sure to do.
Snape continued to quiz him. "Then?"
"Add my name and address to the Hogwarts list," he continued in a bored tone. "Then kill Quirrel, possibly pick up some girls on the way," he added the part just to spite Snape.
Snape scowled. "What about the Horcruxes, eh?" he asked. "List off their locations, and anything noteworthy about them."
"Ravenclaw's diadem's in the Room of Requirement, the Locket in Black Manor, Riddle's diary with Malfoy, my father," he flinched involuntarily at that, "the cup in the Lestranges' vault, and the ring in the Gaunt Shack. Oh, and Gaunt's ring carries a curse and compulsion charm, forgot about that."
"Severus—" Remus began, but Snape ignored it.
"Alias?"
"James Sirius Black."
It was a spur of the moment decision, really. James would go back in time and pose as Sirius' son, or, if that didn't work out, a blood relative. They were planning serious line theft, but it was borderline illegal. It had all happened on a technicality. When Sirius had died, he had declared Harry as the Heir of House Black "in sense, mind, magic and blood", the latter by wanting Harry to perform an inheritance ritual to legally make Harry his son. Since Harry had not know about it, the title passed onto the next in line – James Sirius himself. It had been difficult to perform the ritual, as getting into Gringotts was not as easy as it sounded, although the goblin bank was neutral territory. Nobody wanted to provoke the goblins and bring upon themselves a full-blown goblin rebellion.
The goblins had been understanding enough about their situation, and legally made him Heir Black, along with transfusing Sirius' blood into his system, which technically made his Sirius Black's son also. Which had been weird, since his actual rather was Harry Potter, Sirius' godson. James had spent several months trying to wrap his head around the thing, but Ron had told him that wizarding customs were complicated.
"What will you do if you wear the ring, then?"
"Er…" James frowned. "Contain the curse with your counter-curse into my hand and then cut it off. Right?"
"Idiot boy," Snape snapped, although he seemed simultaneously pleased. "The correct answer is 'I will not wear it in the first place'! You're just as big a dunderhead as your father, Potter—"
"That will be enough, Severus," Kingsley said in that deep, calm voice of his. "The boy will remember everything; I am sure of it. We all are." Snape harrumphed and looked away.
"You really should be going, James," Kingsley continued. "It is time."
He was suddenly turned around by a pair of soft, comforting hands, and looked into the watery eyes of his mother. "Take care, J-James," she choked out, hugging his tightly. "Say hello to H-Harry for me, will you?"
He let tears stream down his face, not caring in the slightest. "I can't, Mum," he sobbed, smiling lightly. "It wouldn't do to tell anyone about our secrets, would it?"
She gave a watery laugh and only hugged him tighter. She was holding onto him like a lifeline. Around him, he could hear multiple other sobs as well. He wouldn't humiliate Snape for crying, either, however fun that might seem.
Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Ginny let go. Her face was splotchy and red, her eyes puffy. "Be careful, will you?" He nodded shakily, wiping the tears off his face.
The next one to pull him into a hug was Hermione, who held onto him far longer than his mother. Then he was passed onto Ron, who clapped him on the back, and Cho, who kissed him on the cheeks. Kingsley smiled at him and then there was McGonagall.
"We are sorry to put such a responsibility on your shoulders, Mr Potter," McGonagall said. "I—"
"It's alright, Minerva," he interrupted stiffly. He knew why no one else could do it – the had all existed in that time, while James hadn't. Moreover, neither of them were eleven years old to help Harry with his school years without suspicion, should problems arise. He had understood the reasons very clearly, and had gladly taken the mantle.
It was for the greater good, after all.
Remus was next. "Take care of Harry," he said. Then he smiled viciously. "And kill Wormtail for me, please."
James nodded. "I will." He mouthed a thank-you before he turned his attention to the Potions Master.
"Snape." James never called him by his title because he knew that it irritated the man.
"Potter." Snape used the same, curt tone.
"I'm leaving now."
"I am so glad."
"I'll never be coming back."
"I will celebrate the rest of my sorry life."
"I'll miss you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.
"I'll miss you too— what I mean to say is—" Snape amended when the others' eyes widened in shock. He glared at James. "You set me up, Potter."
James smiled sadly. "I wasn't lying." Snape's expression turned soft, and then he placed a hand in his shoulder.
"I will miss all of you," James declared, his eyes shifting from person to person. "I will never forget what everybody did for me. I am only here because of you – and I will do my best to make it up to you all."
They said their goodbyes for another few minutes, and then they formed a circle around James, who stood in the center with the time-turner around his neck.
He breathed out softly, blocking out the muffled wails coming from his mother.
This is it, he mused. Say goodbye, James. A new world awaits you.
Suddenly, the wards shifted.
Everybody's eyes widened in horror. "The Fidelius!" Hermione shrieked.
"But— how is it possible?!" Ron yelled. "'Mione's the secret keeper!"
"We have a traitor in the midst," Snape hissed angrily. "Keep your eyes somewhere else, Weasley!" he added when he noticed Ron glaring at him.
"I wasn't blaming you—"
"Enough!" Kingsley bellowed. He rarely raised his voice, so everybody listened. "We have to keep James safe. At least hold off the intruders until he get out of this shit-hole. Understood?" he said, tone authoritative.
"Yes, sir." Cho nodded. She pulled out the DA galleon from her robes and held it tight, her face locked in a rictus of fury. The fake galleon glowed hot, so hot that James could feel his own through his robes.
Suddenly there was a loud, muffled bang from outside, followed by a never ending series of shrieks. Everybody in the room tensed as there was the sound of spells being exchanged and lives being ended.
The galleon glowed hot again, and James pulled out his own to see two condensed words on the side of the coin that Seamus Finnegan had sent: Dth Etrs.
"It's bloody Voldemort!" Ron screamed, pulling out his wand. "Hermione, Cho, Ginny, come on!" The four of them left, not before Ginny kissed her son on the forehead. The only people remaining were Remus, Kingsley, McGonagall and Snape.
"I will protect the boy." Snape's voice brooked no argument, and Kingsley, McGonagall and Lupin began to walk reluctantly into the madhouse, where Order members were trying to repel the Death Eaters. Snape looked at James with concern and fear as he walked to the side. "Get to turning, James."
James nodded with a gulp. Never had he been so afraid. If he made one, single mistake, all their hard work would be for nothing. His fingers trembled as he began turning the time-turner once, twice, thrice…
BOOM.
The doors smashed open, and smoke flitted inside.
Lord Voldemort entered the dueling chambers, his eyes red with malice and his serpentine features in full effect. Flanking his tall, graceful and lithe form were Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov, the former looking nervous while the latter was as impassive and rigid as a statue.
"Hello, my friends," Voldemort hissed in that cold, high voice of his. The pale wizard twisted the Elder Wand in his hands, pressing the tip into his palm. "How nice of you to welcome me into your abode."
Voldemort laughed mirthlessly, then flicked his wand in a split-second. James's eyes widened and he momentarily stopped turning as a streak of flames raced towards him, but a wall of translucent blue light was conjured, the flames splashing harmlessly against the barrier.
Voldemort frowned as Severus Snape stepped in front of James. "Ah, Severus, my slippery friend," he muttered. "It has been years since you renounced your service to your lord." He glared at Snape. "Join me, traitor, and I might let you live."
"Never," Snape responded with his head held high, not hesitating for a second. "I renounced you the moment you killed Lily. I will not let you kill James either!"
Voldemort smiled cruelly. "Then you shall die alone."
"He will not be alone!" Minerva McGonagall yelled indignantly, stepping next to Snape. Kingsley joined him, then Remus. "It is you who is alone, Voldemort. Your inability to love will be your downfall."
"Ah, yes, Dumbledore's old drivel is still being recycled," Voldemort retorted. "It's time to put it at an end."
"How did you enter?" James said, trying to prolong the conversation to buy himself and he rest some time as he continued to discreetly turn the ring of the time-turner. "Who gave you the location?"
"James Sirius Potter…" Voldemort hissed, his red eyes shifting to the boy. "I believe it was a young girl by the name of Marietta Edgecombe, who managed to procure a written location of your base and passed it onto her lord. It is a sad thing that a pureblood such as she died by the filthy mudblood Granger. What a waste of pure, magical blood."
"It's a good thing she died," James continued. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine… "I wouldn't want to see the despair on her face by telling her that she was serving a mangy half-blood son of a muggle and a squib."
Blood rushed to Voldemort's face in anger, and he screamed in rage before firing a series of curses, his lackeys following suit. Remus took on Malfoy while McGonagall dueled Dolohov. Kingsley blocked the curses sent his way while Snape attacked. Voldemort seemed to struggle a bit – he was no doubt weakened by the loss of so many Horcruxes – but held his own and pushed Kingsley and Snape to their boundaries, proving to be the most powerful wizard alive of the time once again.
A streak of green jetted out of Voldemort's wand, but Kingsley conjured a shield of silver, quickly casting an Unbreakable Charm on it so that it absorbed the Killing Curse. Snape quickly retaliated by a Sectumsempra, and allowed himself a moment of shock when the curse sliced off two fingers from Voldemort's left hand.
Voldemort shrieked with fury and began firing curses at an even faster rate. To James's right, Remus was glaring as he shielded himself from a blood-boiling curse while Malfoy looked bruised and bloody – he looked like his heart wasn't in it. On the other hand, Dolohov was holding his own against McGonagall, who was trying her best to be on the offensive while defending herself from dangerous curses.
"Diffindo!" James shouted, taking everybody by surprise as he slashed his wand.
Dolohov's eyes were wide in shock as the cutting curse struck him clean across his torso, from shoulder to waist. With him momentarily stunned, McGonagall seized her chance, sending a supercharged Reductor that instantly killed the Death Eater.
Angry at the loss of his loyal servant, Voldemort turned his attention from Kingsley and Snape, allowing a jet of flames to scorch his legs, and that only added to his fury. With a yell of "Avada Kedavra!", Voldemort cast the curse at McGonagall. The ex-professor fell like a puppet having its strings cut as the curse extinguished her life.
"Minerva!" James sobbed, but turned the time-turner. Just three more turns to go—!
A powerful Bludgeoning hex managed to cave Malfoy's skull in, instantly rendering him dead, but not before Malfoy's Incendiary charm hit Remus. The werewolf screamed in pain as he was soaked in flames, falling to his knees. Kingsley growled before tossing the Unbreakable silver shield at Voldemort, who jumped out the way, while Kingsley moved in on Remus.
A couple Aguamenti later, the flames were doused, but not before serving all their service. Nearly all of Remus' skin was burnt, and he was twitching as Kingsley began muttering quick healing spells. He had forgotten that he was currently in a combat zone, as he was struck unaware when a Bombarda struck his back, blowing it off and exposing the back of his ribs to the world.
Kingsley and McGonagall were dead. Remus was nearly gone, and Snape was struggling to keep James and himself alive.
"Potter!" Snape growled, snapping him out of his reverie. Last turn, he said to himself, and he performed the motion.
"Harry James Potter!" James yelled, speaking the passcode as he hoped for it to work.
Time slowed.
"Potter!" Voldemort raged as the time-turner began to whirr and engulf James in an incandescent white light. Voldemort flicked his wand and said his favorite curse one again, and James closed his eyes as the green light raced towards him, but Snape intervened. He lunged over James, taking the curse to his back. His eyes quickly lost all their color and went to a cold, dull grey.
That was the last thing James saw before he winked out of existence.
XxXxX
He woke up in an expanse of green.
His eyes fluttered as he pushed himself back up. James's ears were ringing, and his head was swimming, as if someone had split it open with a dull axe. It was similar to the feeling he'd felt during his first Occlumency practice with Snape.
The memories of what had happened hit him like a train, and, removing his Occlumency shields, he did the only thing he could.
He cried.
Fat, hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of the recent events at Grimmauld Place. He remembered Minerva McGonagall being felled by Voldemort's wand, Remus bursting in flames, Kingsley's back being seared open by a blasting curse, exposing his ribs and backbone to the morning chill. He remembered looking into Severus Snape's eyes he sacrificed himself for the boy, but, most of all, James remembered his mother's warm smile, and the feel of her fingers cupping his face as she poured all her love for her son into that kiss on his forehead.
His body shook for a few moments as he thought of all these things. He'd always thought that he would manage being sent into the past, but this was a hundred times worse. He'd left his family, his life back at Grimmauld Place, determined to sacrifice himself to possibly save the entire wizarding world.
This was torture.
James didn't try to stop himself from crying. With no one around, he didn't need to keep his façade on any longer. He theorized that, if he poured all his grief into his sobs, he would no longer need to cry.
There was a sudden caw from up above, and James let out a primal growl. He'd never felt so angry. He wanted to do something. To hurt. To kill.
Another caw. He tried to ignore it, but his irritation kept building. Then another, and another, before he finally snapped. "Avada Kedavra!" he yelled, pointing his wand high up. The Trace had been removed from his person years ago, so there was now no need to worry about Ministry letters. There was a flash of green, followed by a soft thud as the crow hit the ground. His eyes tracked the bird, spread-eagled, then spent half a minute transfiguring it into a bone before obliterating it with an exploding curse.
His anger abated, but only slightly. He still wanted to do something, find a person and snap them into— Deep breaths, he told himself, and he followed his instructions.
James felt a twinge of guilt at the death of the crow, but the spark quickly spluttered out. There was no time to feel sad over the death of something so insignificant. He had better, more important things to do than cry over a bird.
He noticed something whirring next to him, and saw the broken form of the time-turner. The glass had cracked open and the magical sand had spilled out onto the grassy ground. Quickly realizing the dangerous nature of time-turning sand, he siphoned every last grain and placed it back into the cracked glass, repairing it with a muttered, "Reparo." The time-turner would no longer work, but he did not need it to. It wouldn't work for twenty years, anyway, because he'd gone back in time that much. It's purpose had ended.
He rose and tightened his fist around his wand. Destination, Determination, and Deliberation, he thought with a smile, remembering Hermione's lessens. He wondered if she and Ron had survived the surprise raid, but shook his head once again. Now was not the time to dwell on the past.
He concentrated on his destination: London. He needed to get himself to an orphanage there. The closer it was to King's Cross, the better. The next thing he would need to do was sneak into Hogwarts and add his name and address to the Hogwarts register, or he would never be allowed into the place.
With a sigh, he twisted, disappearing as if sucked into a vortex.
XxXxX
The very first thing James did was check out the most recent newspaper. He sighed in relief when he saw the date as 28th May, 1991. He was back when it had all started, and had only three more months before term would begin.
It would also be the first time he would see Hogwarts outside of the moving pictures Ron had had with him.
The matron of the orphanage, a Mrs Rheinschild, was a very old and very strict woman, although she had a very weak mind. A subtle Confundus Charm persuaded her to believe James's cover story (that his mother had dropped him off around here and run away) and she quickly took him under her wing.
The orphans there had been cruel to him in the beginning, but had quickly learned to stay away from James. A dozen stinging hexes later, the orphanage bullies had steered clear of James, all the while being none the wiser about magic. He had no qualms on using curses of all sorts to keep himself safe, as the wand was untraceable.
A week into staying at the orphanage, James quickly decided that it was a good time to add his name to the Hogwarts register. The sooner the better, as he did not want to leave things for the last minute.
McGonagall had told him that the Deputy Head-person had all the names of magical students for that year written in the book of records, and were written by a special quill. It would've been quite hard to do this part of the mission if it hadn't been for Snape's quick thinking – he had nicked the quill along with Dumbledore's pensieve before he had first entered Grimmauld Place. McGonagall had been eternally grateful, and had proceeded to handing the item over to James, to whom she told that it was important to use if as the names would be recorded by only said quill.
Keeping the quill at the ready, James made his way out in the dead of the night. Term was finished, and the only people still remaining at Hogwarts would be Hagrid, Argus Filch and possibly Dumbledore, if he wasn't off for a Wizengamot meeting or something similar. Since the professors began preparing for the next year in the early July, and the Hogwarts letters were sent around that time, he didn't want to any chances.
He twisted around his spot and Apparated into the streets of Hogsmeade with a soft crack. The magical village was dimly lit, but the store windows were darkened, save for the Three Broomsticks, which meant that the village was asleep. James quickly pulled out the Cloak and wrapped it around himself to make himself invisible – while there was no sign of life, he didn't want to be caught unawares by the people in the Three Broomsticks.
Under the Cloak, James opened the Marauder's Map and tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," he whispered, and smiled when the map came to life. He knew that he could very well get into Hogwarts through the Shrieking Shack, but, as it was nighttime, the wooden doors of Hogwarts would undoubtedly be closed, which was why he decided to sneak into the castle via Honeydukes. As subtly as he could, he Apparated into the sweetshop, and held his breath, waiting for the owner to apprehend him or the alarms to set off. Thankfully, nothing of that sort happened, and he sighed in relief before creeping towards the secret passageway, nicking a bar of chocolate along the way for his troubles.
He crawled through the small passageway, ignoring the dirt and grime that attached to his body. He had suffered far worse during war conditions – a little dust did no harm. He reached the end of the tunnel fairly quickly, pulling out the map to make sure that no one was around the statue of the one-eyed witch. The groundskeeper was in his hut, while the school caretaker was in the staff room, which was a long distance away. Dumbledore was in his own office, so James did not need to worry about the three of them at all.
With a mutter of "Dissendium!", James quickly threw the Cloak over himself and began to creep slowly towards the Deputy Head's office. He masked his footfalls with a verbal Silencing Charm, not wanting to grab the attention of the portraits.
Safest place in Britain? James felt like blowing a raspberry. An eleven year old – a powerful eleven year old, to be precise – had managed to sneak into the castle in the middle of the night. One might think that, after the war, Hogwarts would've had better security.
His walk to McGonagall's office was fortunately uneventful. He pulled out his wand carefully, and began checking the door for charms and jinxes, and was pleased to find none. His hand closed around the doorknob, and twisted it, and cracked the door open. James smiled.
He checked the Marauder's Map once again, but no one was in the vicinity. As softly as he could, James entered the office. He quickly found a thick, red book with yellowing pages sitting on a raised pedestal. James instantly recognized it as the Book of Names, mostly because of the title etched on the front of the book's cover.
He quickly checked it for protective spells, and, when he found none, quickly opened the book. The register started from the sixteenth century, which made James wonder if the system had started from that time, or if it was simply the latest volume. He flicked the dog-eared pages, finally reaching the year 1991 after several minutes of searching, and breathed out heavily.
"This is it," he muttered to himself, tapping the quill in his hands and muttering a handwriting-copying spell. The quill flashed for a second, and when James was done making sure that the charm had taken effect, he began writing: James Sirius Black; Current Residence: 72 Shell Road, Chelsea, London. Satisfied, he put the quill back in his pocket, and watched as the names began to shift until his name was in its proper alphabetical order. Once he was sure that his cover was perfect, he began to quickly make his way out.
As he crawled into Honeydukes, he noticed the sun beginning to rise, streams of daylight pouring in through the tinted windows of the sweetshop. Not wanting to meet with an irate shop owner, he quickly Apparated back to the muggle orphanage where he was currently residing.
James sighed. All had gone well, but he really wanted to sleep now. Maybe he could Confund Mrs Rheinschild and make her let him sleep for a few more hours.
