I wrote this because I really needed some good, canon compliant time travel.
The day began like it had for the past thirteen years. Harry and Ginny Potter woke, dressed, breakfasted, dropped off a child ( Lily this time) at her Muggle primary, and went to work. Ginny, to interview the new Seeker for the HolyHead Harpies and Harry for a routine check on long-term Death Eater prisoners.
As Harry arrived at the Ministry, he was amused to see his favourite sight: the bickering Weasleys. He laughed and clasped his best friends by their shoulders.
"It's your love language isn't it?" This earned him a well placed glare from Hermione Granger –Weasley, and a chuckle from her husband, Ron.
"She's having one of her mental turns, mate", said Ron with a wink. He kissed the frown on his wife's face and Apparated away to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. After considering a career as an Auror, Ron felt that he had had enough Dark Wizard fighting for a lifetime, and so went in to business with George. This had been a grace all of itself, as George had not been able to fully participate in life for about a year after Fred's death. Together, he and Ron had built Wheezes into a multi-chain concern, with branches all over the United Kingdom, and even one in France.
After Ron left, Harry turned an inquiring eyebrow towards Hermione. "Oh it's not important, he wants to teach Hugo how to fly, but I really think he's too young."
"He's six , Hermione."
"And he's petrified when he gets on the broom. Rose was a natural on a broom. Hugo needs more time. If his father wasn't so Quidditch mad…."
"Hermione, there's no getting away from it. Ginny has to whack me on the head each time I dream of James as star Chaser for the Chudley Cannons."
"Well, I'll thank you for keeping your ideas from Ron until we've made up our minds. We don't need a rerun of the Dominic incident."
Harry laughed to remember how Bill, spurred on by his brothers and brother in law, had shown his son the Wronski Feint, at the tender age of ten. The boy had crashed spectacularly, and Fleur had almost singed Bill's eyebrows off in her rage.
"Your row is safe with me. Also, why are you following me?" Harry asked as they entered his office.
"I'm going with you today. Hello, Demelza.", Hermione nodded at the waiting witch from the Department of Magical Transportation.
"Here's the special Portkey for The Holding. It's timed to bring you back in three hours.", said Demelza briskly. She handed an old shoe to Harry and sped out of the office.
"Still not over that rejection during our sixth year, then?", said Hermione with a sigh.
Harry silently handed over the shoe. He was continually embarrassed by the events of his sixth year at Hogwarts.
A tug on their navels later, the Auror and the Lawyer found themselves on the smoothly manicured lawn of a large Edwardian manor. Inmates in clean, pale blue robes followed a course of Tai-Chi with an instructor, and others sat in a circle round an old wizard in deep blue robes, reading together. After the war, Azkaban was restructured and became the prison for hardened criminals, those convicted of the most brutal crimes. The Holding was given over to minor criminals, those who were ready for rehabilitation, and miscreants of junior or very senior age.
Nodding at the Tai-Chi instructor, Harry gestured for Hermione to accompany him up the garden path.
"So you have not yet told me why you've come with me today."
"Marbella Walser has filed another petition on behalf of her son, Cepheus."
"Doesn't she do that every year? She's half-Black and I had to give her access to some of the Black vaults for the case she made last year."
"Yes, she's found some other arcanae of juvenile law that might press his case."
"He's thirty-seven now."
"But he was sixteen and five months when he took the mark. Sixteen and six months when he assisted Dolohov in the rape and murder of a Muggle girl. Seventeen and three months when the war ended."
"So he was of age at prosecution."
"But not at the time of the crime. It is a little complicated. A long sentence at The Holding was the best compromise as far as we were concerned, or he would be in Azkaban on life. Marbella is using the case of Draco as her ammunition."
"Draco was repentant. He showed remorse. He had to spend a year in Azkaban and has his wand checked every year. But you work on minority rights, why have you been brought in?"
"I am known as a champion of the underdog. Addington has said that if I interview Cepheus and can see a way to take the case, then he will open up proceedings."
"Hermione Granger, the litmus test for mercy."
"Shut up, Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Campaigned-For-Clemency-for-Narcissa."
They had, by now, reached the long corridor that contained a series of interrogation rooms. Hermione showed her badge to the security wizard and slipped into the first room. Harry, after a quick check in with the wizard- they'd been Auror trainees together- opened the door into the second room.
It contained a thinner and greyer Lucius Malfoy. Ten years in Azkaban and nine years in The Holding had still not taken away that wizard's hauteur. Malfoy looked at Harry as if he was something the cat wouldn't even drag in.
"I wouldn't look at me like that, Malfoy. Glad tidings of great joy I bring."
"What could that possibly be, Potter? The last time an Auror gave me good news I was brought here. I spent the entirety of this week planting beans. Without a wand."
"They say it'll put hairs on your chest." Harry smiled and put a sheet of parchment on the table. He sat down and conjured a small, long, box.
"Well, Lucius, old boy. You've been such a marvelous prisoner these last few years, and the case file on you in the last war has actually been unable to pinpoint any actual murders. it is a large case file, but it would seem, after expert and relentless examination, that there were times when your heart really wasn't in it. Oh you are guilty of treason, trespass, kidnapping and of serious psychological harm, but no actual death. Neither did you seem to kill anyone in the first war. It's very curious. Did you not completely agree with your Master, or was killing the unworthy too dirty a task?"
"Stop playing with me, Potter. Why are you here?"
"After due consideration, and agreement with your family, we have decided to release you. You are released on the following conditions: that you will leave the country within three months, that you will submit to having your wand checked every six months that you will have no direct access to monetary funds, and that you agree to have a tracking charm placed on you that will be monitored by the British Auror's office."
Malfoy made a dismissive noise.
"Is that assent, Malfoy?"
Malfoy inclined his head.
With a wave of his wand, Harry raised the parchment up to stand between the two of them. From one of the boxes, he summoned a quill. Malfoy signed the contract.
Twenty minutes later, Malfoy, now dressed in old black robes, was escorted out of the building by Harry and Hermione. His wrists were still adorned in the brass bracelets that restricted his magic. Harry looked at him with compassion. "We'll have those off once we get to the Ministry. An official will be on hand with your wand…and your son."
Malfoy did not react.
Harry activated the Portkey, taking the three of them back to the Ministry. Waiting there, silent and apprehensive, and closely watched over by two Aurors, was Draco Malfoy. His face visibly tightened at the sight of the new arrivals and only nodded his head at Harry and Hermione before saying, curtly, "Father."
Malfoy senior barely glanced at him. He looked at Harry expectantly. Smythe and Whippet, the two Aurors waited for Harry's signal before conjuring a table, a sheaf of parchments and a long thin box.
"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you are now released into society, barring conditions laid out in subsection B of the Bones ordinance. I, Harry James Potter, Senior Auror, release you into the custody of your son Draco Orion Malfoy, who has signed as your guarantor. Please place your hands palm down upon the table."
Moving his wand in a complex geometric pattern, Harry silently intoned the incantation that would remove the brass bracelets. A click sounded, and Malfoy raised his hands up, rubbing his wrists slowly. He looked a little close to tears. Smythe moved forward, had Draco sign a series of parchments, and then handed Malfoy his wand.
The thick black wood emitted a series of celebratory sparks when it came into contact with its owner.
"We are expected at the Manor, Father, we should leave. Potter, Granger.", said Draco.
"I hope you enjoyed our stay at Chez Holding.", said Harry, more to annoy Draco than Lucius.
"Years of imprisonment are wonderful for academic study. So many things that one can learn. So many ancient practices."
Harry raised his eyebrows at such a long speech from the newly released prisoner. Hermione looked wary. "Smythe, Whippet, escort them out, quickly."
The Malfoys made to leave and Harry breathed a quick sign of relief. Then, suddenly, and without warning, Malfoy senior whipped around, his wand emitting a dense, grey smoke, his eyes flashing fire. Whippet, Smythe and Draco both fell down, coughing, and Harry felt himself, unwillingly, trapped within the smoke.
He felt dizzy and disoriented. He felt his wand rising to connect with the cloud, Hermione grabbing him in concern, and heard the words "…et convertam convertam: ad ultimum."
…
Harry opened his eyes and immediately fell over. A wave of laughter greeted him.
"Harry, mate, is Ron's breath so bad? Has ickle Ronniekins not brushed his teeth? No wonder he can't get a girl."
"I think we might have a cure for that, whaddaya say Gred?"
"I've got six cures right here in my pocket, Forge. Come here, Ronnie boy."
"Piss off, both of you."
Harry stood up, staring in amazement…at his fifteen year old best friend. He looked down, at his sneakers and jeans, and up again at the seventeen year old twins. Both of them.
"Oh my God."
"You would think I am a God, mate, it's the Weasley handsome-ness that makes you think so.", laughed Fred, throwing a chocolate frog at Ron.
"Sorry, chaps. Think I lost myself there for a minute. Where are we?"
"In Sirius' mental house. You just passed your hearing at the Ministry?"
The hearing. Grimmauld Place. Sirius. Harry's head started to spin.
"If you lot are ready, so's dinner. Come on, then, conquering hero.", said a quiet, laughing voice. Harry could barely allow himself to look but, with tears in his eyes, he turned to see his godfather.
"All right, Harry? I know, it's been a stressful day, but I've got a case of butterbeer with your name on it."
"I'm fine, fine. Let's go down."
To a Ginny who doesn't quite love me yet, to Remus and Tonks, alive.
They descended the staircase, with the twins singing "He got off, yeah he got off, yeah, Harry Potter, he got off" to the tune of La Cucaracha.
As they entered the room, Harry felt a quick twinge of irritation, one he hadn't felt in nineteen years. And I'm still a dirty bloody Horcrux. Why has Malfoy sent me here? Unless… this was the year he was the most powerful Death Eater. Is he back too? Oh Merlin.
He raised his eyes to look at all assembled, only to meet Hermione's furious, tear stained glare. A few seconds were all it took for Harry to realise that Hermione was also a "returnee." She was mouthing something. Harry ignored it and turned to Sirius, giving him a quick, fierce hug.
"I'm happy for you too, mate."
"After the party, Sirius, I need to do something. Hermione and I need to talk to you, and Dumbledore and Lupin."
"Course, we'll put in a firecall."
"No, we need to go to Hogwarts. I'm not who you think I am."