Possibilities
Harry paced. His mind was reeling. How could they still be alive? How is it that those that murdered and killed were still apart of the living and yet those that had fought so bravely were dead? Harry clenched his fists and continued pacing.
Plans raced through his mind. He had to find them. He had to hunt them down and destroy them. But how? Where to start? He sat down upon a chair and looked out the tall windows. Late afternoon sunlight puddle upon the floors, a cheery warm glow that looked so inviting. Harry shook his head. There must be a way to find them.
Harry dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes. He had nowhere to start. He had nowhere to begin, beyond the scanty information that the Malfoys were spotted in Spain. It wasn't much to go by. He sighed suddenly. He needed help. He needed people who knew things, people that knew the places where people on the run would hide.
He could ask the Ministry. Ask them to send people to hunt for the murderers, help him in hunting them down. Harry nodded to himself. He would do that. He stood up and suddenly felt a flare of pain shoot up his leg.
He gritted his teeth and hissed with pain. It was sharp and quick, but it left him shaking and cold sweat running down his back. There was always pain, always the twinges of muscles that didn't heal right, nerves that were torn and barely healing, and the ruin flesh that covered a ruined soul.
Self pity. Harry snorted. He was really full of it all that time. Maybe Ginny was right, maybe it was time to put all the killing, all the hate, and all the need for revenge behind him. He looked down at his leg. He didn't know how it got ruined, how the flesh on his body got fried, how he came away from the last battle barely clinging to life. Ginny was tight lipped about the thing and he hadn't really wanted to know.
I am a wreck. Harry thought. He looked at his scarred hands, the tissue red and shiny. I can barely walk, I can barely hobble up a flight of stairs, and every moment pain burns within me. What would I do if I caught up with them? Nothing.
I'm worst than useless, Harry thought. I can't do anything, I can barely move. I can't even catch those that killed everyone and everything I've loved. Anger burned in him, anger at what he was and what had happened. He clutched his cane in his hands.
Damn them. Damn them all. He angrily threw his cane across the room; it stuck a wardrobe and bounced off, clattering against the bare stone floors. Harry regretted throwing the cane at once, now he would have to hobble to get it. He looked at it and spotted that the wardrobe had opened. He felt his heart stop for a moment.
Dumbledore's office was his sanctuary. It was the place he could hide out and feel the old presence of his mentor, of the man who had always been at his side and who always had kind and wise words to say. He hadn't touched anything in his office since he fist came here. Everything was where it lay on the terrible day. Nothing was touched.
He felt a bit of shame and fear at his anger. He had disturbed the shrine he had erected for the man he once admired. He got to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain and the flash of vertigo and limped to the wardrobe. His hands lightly touched the deep amber wood and for a moment he hesitated.
Then he pulled it opened.
There was a rack of brightly colored robes, they were neatly hung and arranged by color. Harry lightly touched the fabric and jerked his hands back. He shouldn't be touching them. They weren't his. He looked about, feeling like a sneak, a pervert digging through another person's clothing.
As he closed the doors he spotted something. It sat upon a shelf, surrounded by several other small objects, but it caught his eye and it drew his gaze. He gasped with surprise and reached out tentatively toward it.
This changed everything. This brought a whole new world of possibilities.
XXX
Harry ran the fine chain through his fingers, it was cool and smooth to the touch. The small object at its end flashed momentarily in the bright morning sunlight. It dazzled his eyes and he blinked back the sudden tears.
"Hermione." He whispered softly, laying the small object onto his palm. It was so light and so small, yet it opened a whole new door of possibility. A chance at redemption.
He felt the flood of memories. A bushy brown hair girl, a know it all and a stickler for the rules, but also so strong, brave, loyal, and intelligent. He clenched his eyes close, fighting back the momentary wave of emotion and pain that seemed almost to overwhelm him. He pushed it back and shook his head.
The pain was there, the lost, and the guilt that never could be expunged. The desire for revenge, the anger and rage that burned like fire inside of him. He wanted those that hurt him dead, he wanted them destroyed. But in his hands he held something to undo it all.
This changed everything. This small piece of glass, metal, and sand. It changed everything and ripped anew the pain and the hurt. Everything could be fixed. He thought, lifting up the chain.
The small hourglass winked in the morning light. All he had to do was turn it. Turn it and he could change everything. The death, the destruction, they could all be swept away like a bad dream. Everything would be set to right.
His hands shook as he pulled the chain over his neck. A surge of excitement, fear, and anticipation filled him as he lifted the small hourglass.
"Everything can be made better." He whispered. He didn't have to hunt down the murderers now, he could go back in time. Warn the others. Make them see the horrors that were awaiting them. He didn't have to have a strong body for that. All he had to do was make them see and make them understand.
They didn't have to die. They didn't have to be killed. He could go back and warn them all. change the past. It would save a lot of death and a lot of grief. Dumbledore would be alive, Ron, Hermione. Everyone would not have had to die.
"Everything will be set to rights."
"It won't work, you know." A voice spoke.
Harry started, jerking back in his chair and coming face to face with himself.
Harry gaped. The duplicate grabbed a chair and sat heavily in it. He ran his hand through his hair, Harry copied the act unconsciously. Did he really look like that? Harry thought, staring. He knew it was a stupid thought, but he couldn't help himself. He was staring at himself.
His hair was long and shoulder length, roughly tied back with a piece of string. The left side of his face was still healing, the skin red and shiny with newly forming scar tissue. The hands that extended from the tattered black robes were also red and shiny with newly healed flesh. But Harry knew that wasn't all the damage his body had taken, the duplicate leaned slightly to his right, his left leg sticking out and stiff. He gripped a heavy wooden cane in his hands. Beneath the robes was a road map of scars that criss crossed his body and no ocean of phoenix tears could ever heal that. His own green eyes stared back at him; he could see the pain and the hurt in them. They burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. Was this really himself?
Harry shook his head, unwilling to look at himself. He was no long the cheerful kid he once had been. His body reflected that, batter, scarred, and broken. A wreck of a body for a wreck of a life.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, clenching the hourglass in his hands.
"Time isn't easy to bend to our will. You can try, I won't stop you. In fact I encourage you." The duplicate said, ignoring his words. He sighed and rubbed his face. "If you'll excuse me, I'm off to take a shower and then I have to have a couple or three words with a girl." The duplicate nodded at him and stood up. "Trust me, it's a learning experience."
He began walking to the door. Harry watched him leave. Did he really go back in time? Was he really unable to change anything? He heard the labored footsteps and the clunking of the cane echo down the stairs.
He had to try. He couldn't give up. He had to try.
Harry turned the hourglass over. An hour a turn, an hour at a time. He began turning it faster and faster and faster. The world began to change around him.
Harry paced. His mind was reeling. How could they still be alive? How is it that those that murdered and killed were still apart of the living and yet those that had fought so bravely were dead? Harry clenched his fists and continued pacing.
Plans raced through his mind. He had to find them. He had to hunt them down and destroy them. But how? Where to start? He sat down upon a chair and looked out the tall windows. Late afternoon sunlight puddle upon the floors, a cheery warm glow that looked so inviting. Harry shook his head. There must be a way to find them.
Harry dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes. He had nowhere to start. He had nowhere to begin, beyond the scanty information that the Malfoys were spotted in Spain. It wasn't much to go by. He sighed suddenly. He needed help. He needed people who knew things, people that knew the places where people on the run would hide.
He could ask the Ministry. Ask them to send people to hunt for the murderers, help him in hunting them down. Harry nodded to himself. He would do that. He stood up and suddenly felt a flare of pain shoot up his leg.
He gritted his teeth and hissed with pain. It was sharp and quick, but it left him shaking and cold sweat running down his back. There was always pain, always the twinges of muscles that didn't heal right, nerves that were torn and barely healing, and the ruin flesh that covered a ruined soul.
Self pity. Harry snorted. He was really full of it all that time. Maybe Ginny was right, maybe it was time to put all the killing, all the hate, and all the need for revenge behind him. He looked down at his leg. He didn't know how it got ruined, how the flesh on his body got fried, how he came away from the last battle barely clinging to life. Ginny was tight lipped about the thing and he hadn't really wanted to know.
I am a wreck. Harry thought. He looked at his scarred hands, the tissue red and shiny. I can barely walk, I can barely hobble up a flight of stairs, and every moment pain burns within me. What would I do if I caught up with them? Nothing.
I'm worst than useless, Harry thought. I can't do anything, I can barely move. I can't even catch those that killed everyone and everything I've loved. Anger burned in him, anger at what he was and what had happened. He clutched his cane in his hands.
Damn them. Damn them all. He angrily threw his cane across the room; it stuck a wardrobe and bounced off, clattering against the bare stone floors. Harry regretted throwing the cane at once, now he would have to hobble to get it. He looked at it and spotted that the wardrobe had opened. He felt his heart stop for a moment.
Dumbledore's office was his sanctuary. It was the place he could hide out and feel the old presence of his mentor, of the man who had always been at his side and who always had kind and wise words to say. He hadn't touched anything in his office since he fist came here. Everything was where it lay on the terrible day. Nothing was touched.
He felt a bit of shame and fear at his anger. He had disturbed the shrine he had erected for the man he once admired. He got to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain and the flash of vertigo and limped to the wardrobe. His hands lightly touched the deep amber wood and for a moment he hesitated.
Then he pulled it opened.
There was a rack of brightly colored robes, they were neatly hung and arranged by color. Harry lightly touched the fabric and jerked his hands back. He shouldn't be touching them. They weren't his. He looked about, feeling like a sneak, a pervert digging through another person's clothing.
As he closed the doors he spotted something. It sat upon a shelf, surrounded by several other small objects, but it caught his eye and it drew his gaze. He gasped with surprise and reached out tentatively toward it.
This changed everything. This brought a whole new world of possibilities.
XXX
Harry ran the fine chain through his fingers, it was cool and smooth to the touch. The small object at its end flashed momentarily in the bright morning sunlight. It dazzled his eyes and he blinked back the sudden tears.
"Hermione." He whispered softly, laying the small object onto his palm. It was so light and so small, yet it opened a whole new door of possibility. A chance at redemption.
He felt the flood of memories. A bushy brown hair girl, a know it all and a stickler for the rules, but also so strong, brave, loyal, and intelligent. He clenched his eyes close, fighting back the momentary wave of emotion and pain that seemed almost to overwhelm him. He pushed it back and shook his head.
The pain was there, the lost, and the guilt that never could be expunged. The desire for revenge, the anger and rage that burned like fire inside of him. He wanted those that hurt him dead, he wanted them destroyed. But in his hands he held something to undo it all.
This changed everything. This small piece of glass, metal, and sand. It changed everything and ripped anew the pain and the hurt. Everything could be fixed. He thought, lifting up the chain.
The small hourglass winked in the morning light. All he had to do was turn it. Turn it and he could change everything. The death, the destruction, they could all be swept away like a bad dream. Everything would be set to right.
His hands shook as he pulled the chain over his neck. A surge of excitement, fear, and anticipation filled him as he lifted the small hourglass.
"Everything can be made better." He whispered. He didn't have to hunt down the murderers now, he could go back in time. Warn the others. Make them see the horrors that were awaiting them. He didn't have to have a strong body for that. All he had to do was make them see and make them understand.
They didn't have to die. They didn't have to be killed. He could go back and warn them all. change the past. It would save a lot of death and a lot of grief. Dumbledore would be alive, Ron, Hermione. Everyone would not have had to die.
"Everything will be set to rights."
"It won't work, you know." A voice spoke.
Harry started, jerking back in his chair and coming face to face with himself.
Harry gaped. The duplicate grabbed a chair and sat heavily in it. He ran his hand through his hair, Harry copied the act unconsciously. Did he really look like that? Harry thought, staring. He knew it was a stupid thought, but he couldn't help himself. He was staring at himself.
His hair was long and shoulder length, roughly tied back with a piece of string. The left side of his face was still healing, the skin red and shiny with newly forming scar tissue. The hands that extended from the tattered black robes were also red and shiny with newly healed flesh. But Harry knew that wasn't all the damage his body had taken, the duplicate leaned slightly to his right, his left leg sticking out and stiff. He gripped a heavy wooden cane in his hands. Beneath the robes was a road map of scars that criss crossed his body and no ocean of phoenix tears could ever heal that. His own green eyes stared back at him; he could see the pain and the hurt in them. They burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. Was this really himself?
Harry shook his head, unwilling to look at himself. He was no long the cheerful kid he once had been. His body reflected that, batter, scarred, and broken. A wreck of a body for a wreck of a life.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, clenching the hourglass in his hands.
"Time isn't easy to bend to our will. You can try, I won't stop you. In fact I encourage you." The duplicate said, ignoring his words. He sighed and rubbed his face. "If you'll excuse me, I'm off to take a shower and then I have to have a couple or three words with a girl." The duplicate nodded at him and stood up. "Trust me, it's a learning experience."
He began walking to the door. Harry watched him leave. Did he really go back in time? Was he really unable to change anything? He heard the labored footsteps and the clunking of the cane echo down the stairs.
He had to try. He couldn't give up. He had to try.
Harry turned the hourglass over. An hour a turn, an hour at a time. He began turning it faster and faster and faster. The world began to change around him.