This was meant to be a full story based on my earlier one-shot To Stop A Thief, but the plot fizzled out on me. As such, have the scenelets I did manage to write.
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Prologue
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The old man looked round, tears in his eyes.
"There truly is no other way?"
"None." The woman in the wheelchair replied as she oversaw the drawing of the final few runes. "The spell that they used… they managed to anchor it to the Stone of Scone itself, the linchpin of the Veil which aids the Statute of Secrecy. By now, that link isn't necessary, their damned spell has seeped into the very foundations of magic."
"I guess that we can only be grateful they didn't use their proper version of Pureblood as the definition used in their ritual." One of the other women groused, rubbing at the scar tissue which surrounded the glass sphere that took the place of her long-lost right eye.
"They couldn't." The wheelchair-bound woman replied with an undertone of vengeful satisfaction. "Too many of them are pseudo-purebloods, their grandfathers unable to procreate and thus relying on similar-looking Halfbloods or Muggleborn for the sperm and covert Blood-Adoption to ensure magical consanginuity. Over half of them would have lost their magic too if they had done that, not to mention how much more power the spell would have required to set in place. Had they done it that way, we would not be here, like we are now."
The wheelchair-bound women looked sadly at the wand resting in a slot in the armrest of her chair as she finished her explanation, a wand that she could no longer hope to use.
"Done." The tallest man said as he stood up and rubbed at the small of his back with a wince. "Hermione?"
"Looks good." Hermione said, leaning forwards for a better look, then wheeling herself backwards. "Alright, places… and last chance to back out."
"After what happened to Angela?" One of the red-and-silver-haired men growled. "All I ask is that you make sure that Macnair dies."
"I'll do my best." The old man nodded as he patted his pockets to ensure that the contents were still there. "I'll remember you all."
"You have the memory vials for the younger versions of us?" Hermione asked. "Good. Places, everyone. We need to do this exactly right, or it will be worse than useless."
The others moved to their assigned places, two of them relying on canes to help them walk and once they were in place, they began to chant.
"Die iter propositum redeat viator
"Iter diversum iter anathema sit
"Sit amet libero a vinculis alligare
"Opem damus nostris
"Sit fatorum aloe esse saltim racemos reliquissent
"Ne ulli dissoluenda temporis sequela
"Ne return to guide viatorem sibi
"Et reædificabo illud sicut in mundo fuit ut!"
The chanting mages glowed brightly, then light flashed and the man in the middle vanished. Hermione raised one hand and smiled at the sight of it beginning to fade.
"Good luck, Harry." She whispered just before she faded out of existence. "Remember where I will be…"
For a long moment, the empty building was all that remained, then the entire world seemed to ripple into a new configuration.
The Purebloods never realised that their perfect world was in danger and even fewer noticed that anything was happening before they also faded away into nothingness as the timeline they lived in ceased to have existed.
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It was as if a miasma had been lifted from the entire country, a miasma which had pressed down on almost everyone, stealing away their ability to feel joy and inducing only fear and depression. With it finally gone, those who had been affected were happy, a happiness often rising into the giddy heights of ecstatic joy. Strangers would greet each other joyfully in the street, exchange handshakes and hugs and buy drinks for each other as they raised their glasses to the one they held responsible for their liberation from the forces of Darkness.
Not everyone was pleased by the recent events, though. Some of the people on the streets wore wide smiles and laughed at the jokes, but their hearts were filled with rage and despair at the loss of the one who had guided them so close to attaining the perfect world that they had dreamed of. For them, the one who had ruined their chances of a brighter future was to be reviled and targeted, but they could not move against him for years since doing so would bring the massed rage of the mindless sheep down on them now that they no longer had their leader to enhance their power.
Even the Outsiders noticed the celebrations, despite the best efforts of those whose job was to prevent such things from happening. Conjured shooting stars and unusual numbers of owls (fortunately charmed so that non-magicals could not see the letters that they carried) caused the sky to brighten and darken respectively, causing many who were unaware of magic to question what had caused such unusual phenomena.
And all across the country, the same toast was repeated as glasses, goblets and tankards were raised in celebration.
"To Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived!"
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The young form of Harry Potter, newly orphaned and unaware of what people planned for his future, lay sleeping in the basket on the door of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging where he had been placed in the middle of the night by the leader of those who had fought against the one who had robbed him of his parents.
As the sky began lightening in preparation for the sun to rise, a pair of hands picked up the basket and an old man looked into it, his eyes filled with determination and protectiveness as he beheld the contents of the basket in his grasp.
"And so it shall be done anew." The man said quietly as he gripped the handles of the basket with one hand even as he made a series of complex gestures with a stick held in the other. Only a magical observer would have had any clue as to what he was doing as the threads of magic surrounding the house and garden seemed to fold in on themselves, collapsing down into the forehead of the sleeping boy. A moment later, the scar that disfigured his forehead seemed to leak a dark fluid that evaporated into nothingness even as it hit the air.
"And now, our journey begins, young Harry." The man whispered. "But many shall seek you out, wishing to turn you to their own ends. And thus…"
Holding the wand up high, the man closed his eyes and began to chant, stramers of magic weaving around him and the basket he carried.
"Ut hoc secretum esse lateat quousque custos revelat
"Suo arbitrio et arbitrium spontaneam
"De saeculo isto latebit
"Harry James Potter nomine datum Harry James Evans
"Harry James Evans nomen verum Harry James Potter
"Sic, sic erit, fidelius!"
As he finished, a flash of light seemed to surround him and he sagged.
"Forgot how much that takes out of me." He grumbled. "Well, I guess it's time."
The man turned on the spot and vanished with a virtually inaudible pop.
Just under six hundred miles away, an aged wizard awoke in horror as alarms suddenly echoed through his quarters.
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Frank Longbottom looked up from the cradle where his young son Neville was sleeping as the noises from outside registered. Pulling his wand out, he crept to the window and peered out. Just outside the Wards around Longbottom Manor, a single figure in a pale blue cloak duelled two wearing black cloaks while two bodies nearby showed that the odds had been four to one. As he watched, one of the remaining black-cloaks fell to a curse that Frank had never seen before. The other figure tried to increase its effort, but now that the lone fighter didn't have to split his (or her) efforts, the final one of the four in black cloaks was quickly overwhelmed and decapitated with a cutting curse that went straight through the frantically-cast shield as if it wasn't even there.
The blue-clad mage raised a wand in salute, then vanished, leaving Frank feeling an odd mixture of confusion, worry and, for some reason, relief.
"Frank?" Alice called quietly. "The Floo's stopped working again and… what is it?"
Frank looked at her, then back out at the four bodies.
"I… think we need the Aurors."
Alice looked at him, then moved to the window.
"Frank? Are those… bodies?"
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"Mrs Weasley, I am Auror Bones.."
Percival Weasley looked up from the picture he was coloring in as his mother's greeting registered. An Auror? Here?
Cool.
"What seems to be the problem?"
"The DMLE has received a message. Have you or any member of your family gained a new pet recently?"
Percy turned to look at the cage on the other side of his room where his newfound pet Scabbers resided. The rat in question was not lounging around like normal, but was holding onto the cage bars as his ears twitched, trying to hear what was going on.
"Well, my son recently found a rat, a tame one."
"I need to see it. It may be an animagus. Possibly a Death Eater."
Scabbers twitched, then suddenly seemed to flow and expand, breaking through the bars of the cage. Percy screamed in shock and an instant later, a blast of red light hit the wizard in the remains of Scabbers' cage, dropping him to the ground.
"Shit." The woman in the doorway growled as she pulled out her badge and tapped her wand against it. "That's Peter Pettigrew, but Sirius Black was supposed to have killed him."
Percy whimpered in shock, his eyes transfixed on the wizard that he had believed was just a normal rat.
"I think some veritaserum is needed." The woman added as Molly bustled past her and gathered Percy into a comforting hug.
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Sirius Black slumped in his chair, a half-full glass of firewhiskey in his hand as he waited. The fireplace flared as his closest friend Remus Lupin emerged, looking furious.
"I heard about Wormtail." The Werewolf almost snapped. "About what he did… where's Harry?"
"No-one knows." Sirius mumbled. "Dumbledore lost him. Tried to leave him with Petunia!"
Remus winced.
"Left him on the doorstep in a basket and someone just snatched him away. No-one knows where he…"
Sirius looked up in shock as a ghostly stag trotted in through the wall. The stag seemed to look round, then it opened its mouth.
"Lord Black, your godson is safe, but there are many who seek to kill him to avenge their Master or take him for their own uses. An owl is already on its way with pictures to show he is healthy and you have my word that he will remain so.
"I have placed him under a fidelius for now but I will release it just before he is due to receive his Hogwarts Letter. You may wish to make certain that your skills are honed, I am certain that you could get a job as the Defense Against The Dark Arts professor.
"Incidentally, the birth-name of the Dark One was Tom Marvolo Riddle. Destroy his plaque and the curse will be gone."
The stag had started to fade as it spoke and as the final sentence finished, the stag vanished from view. For a long moment, the two men stared at each other, then Remus pulled out his wand and caused the name to write itself in the air before he started to switch the letters round.
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
V TOM MAROLO RIDDLE
VO TM MAROLO RIDDLE
VOL TM MAROO RIDDLE
VOLD TM MAROO RIDLE
VOLDE TM MAROO RIDL
VOLDEM T MAROO RIDL
VOLDEMO T MARO RIDL
VOLDEMORT MAO RIDL
"He called himself a Lord." Sirius noted, frowning intently.
VOLDEMORT MAO RIDL
L VOLDEMORT MAO RID
LO VOLDEMORT MA RID
LOR VOLDEMORT MA ID
LORD VOLDEMORT MA I
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
"Son of a…" Remus shook his head as he moved the final three letters into position.
"There is no way that it is a coincidence." Sirius growled. "Remus, we need to find out about… Tom Riddle."
