I've decided to begin a new HP/SS time travel story, since I'm just not in
the mood to write my other two stories at the moment. I hope you guys
enjoy.
Summary: HP/SS. During the final battle, Harry manages to defeat the Dark Lord with a difficult soul-taking spell. However, Voldemort refuses to be leave without destruction. With his dying breath, he casts a spell on the Boy-Who-Lived to transport him back to the time of the Marauders. And Harry Potter in his parents' time, posing as a transfer student, is bound to bring trouble.
Anyways, I present you with:
Every Heart
Chapter 1 – The Spell
By Firestar
Harry Potter stood, straight-back and unflinching as he stared into Voldemort's crimson, reptilian eyes. His wand was pointed straight at the man, his hand firm and his eyes cold. The warm, jade-green flames were gone, replaced by a chilling emerald ice.
Not that anyone was watching. Curses and hexes flew around the famous Boy-Who-Lived as cloaked figures dueled against each other. Order Members and students alike fought side by side against the Death Eaters.
"So, it comes to this again," Voldemort said, an undertone of humor in his voice. "Prepared to die, Potter?"
Harry didn't answer; he had to concentrate on fighting rather than waste his breath in replying to the meaningless insults. Instead, he just shot a harsh glare in the direction of the so-called 'Dark Lord.'
Voldemort just laughed. "Look around you, Harry," he said, a cruel sneer plastered on his face. "Isn't it just beautiful? An ocean of blood and tears... An ocean of pain. Can you hear the excitement calling to you?"
Harry felt his throat clench with disgust at the words. How dare Voldemort think of death and pain as "beautiful"? How dare he let go the lives of so many without a second thought?
"Child? Join me." Voldemort's voice, meant to be calm and soothing, only made Harry want to cringe away in disgust. He resisted, however, not wanting to show any weakness. His eyes suddenly focused on a familiar figure. Even as the once billowing robes dripped and clotted with blood, the man stood tall and proud, shooting curses and hexes in all directions. A discarded Death Eater mask, covered with blood and filth, lay at the man's feet as he continued fighting.
His eyes then turned to the blond-haired boy standing on the far side of the field. Grime and filth covered his usually neatly gelled hair, but those grey-blue orbs blazed with an inner fire. Harry inwardly smiled. Draco had turned away from the Dark during his sixth year, and eventually the Slytherin had come to be a valued friend. The Boy-Who-Lived watched as the other fought on, sending waves of curses at the blond man in front of him. Draco's father.
Harry's voice was cold and indifferent when he replied to Voldemort's earlier question.
"No."
There was a sense of finality and determination in the single word.
"No?" Voldemort laughed, a high cruel laugh. The hair on the back of Harry's neck rose slightly at the sound. "No one says 'No' to Lord Voldemort!"
Harry smirked slightly. "I believe I just did, Tom."
Voldemort instantly stopped laughing. "My name is not Tom," he spat out. "You'll pay for that one, Potter."
"Oh really?" Harry asked as casually as possible. "How much do I owe you?"
Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the words of disrespect. "You weak- minded fool," he said, his voice cruel. "You shall meet the same end as your parents today, Potter. Immobilius!"
The spell took him by surprise as Harry mentally cursed himself. He should have been ready, should have been on his guard...
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort cried, taking advantage of Harry's
momentary weakness.
The Gryffindor watched as the light slowly headed towards him. He tried to lift his foot, every impulse screaming at his body to move, but he was frozen to the spot. The emerald green beam came closer, closer...
Suddenly, someone threw themselves bodily at the Dark Lord, knocking Voldemort's aim askew. The Unforgivable barely missed his shoulder.
Harry looked up numbly at the person who had just saved his
life, and it took him a moment to realize who it was. Snape.
The irony of it made him want to laugh. To think that he would be saved by the man who considered him the bane of his existence. The man who had insulted and belittled him, over and yet again during every day of the last seven years of his life.
Yet it wasn't hate he saw when he looked up at the man who had loathed him for so long. Deep inside, hidden beneath an inner mask, a concealed warmth would be seen on the man's pale face, and the expression in those obsidian eyes could almost be mistaken for affection.
Subconsciously, Harry smiled. His heart seemed to suddenly lighten at the action, almost as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Which in a way, it had. He now had a reason, a goal.
Even in his first year, Harry had always known that he would eventually have to fight Voldemort. Fight him and win, for the sake of the wizarding world. Before, he had feasted on revenge: revenge for his parents, Sirius, and all of the many who had died for the sake of the war. His motivation had been based on hate, and the need to avenge those who had sacrificed so much.
Now though, he had a new reason. He would fight and he would win, not for revenge, but for those he loved: Ron, Hermione, Remus, Sirius, his parents, Dumbledore... hell, even Snape for being there, even if it was as the snarky potions professor.
"Perdere anima!" He cried, yelling out the words of the soul taking spell that he had learned almost months ago. As the lavender bean erupted from his wand, Harry discovered that he felt, not hatred, but love: a love for everything else around him.
Harry fell to his knees, his energy suddenly gone, as the spell finally hit the man who had haunted his life for so long. He watched, almost detachedly, as Voldemort's eyes widened. Before the Dark Lord fell, the man raised his wand and uttered a single spell.
"Tempus Saltus!"
Then, the world went black.
Summary: HP/SS. During the final battle, Harry manages to defeat the Dark Lord with a difficult soul-taking spell. However, Voldemort refuses to be leave without destruction. With his dying breath, he casts a spell on the Boy-Who-Lived to transport him back to the time of the Marauders. And Harry Potter in his parents' time, posing as a transfer student, is bound to bring trouble.
Anyways, I present you with:
Every Heart
Chapter 1 – The Spell
By Firestar
Harry Potter stood, straight-back and unflinching as he stared into Voldemort's crimson, reptilian eyes. His wand was pointed straight at the man, his hand firm and his eyes cold. The warm, jade-green flames were gone, replaced by a chilling emerald ice.
Not that anyone was watching. Curses and hexes flew around the famous Boy-Who-Lived as cloaked figures dueled against each other. Order Members and students alike fought side by side against the Death Eaters.
"So, it comes to this again," Voldemort said, an undertone of humor in his voice. "Prepared to die, Potter?"
Harry didn't answer; he had to concentrate on fighting rather than waste his breath in replying to the meaningless insults. Instead, he just shot a harsh glare in the direction of the so-called 'Dark Lord.'
Voldemort just laughed. "Look around you, Harry," he said, a cruel sneer plastered on his face. "Isn't it just beautiful? An ocean of blood and tears... An ocean of pain. Can you hear the excitement calling to you?"
Harry felt his throat clench with disgust at the words. How dare Voldemort think of death and pain as "beautiful"? How dare he let go the lives of so many without a second thought?
"Child? Join me." Voldemort's voice, meant to be calm and soothing, only made Harry want to cringe away in disgust. He resisted, however, not wanting to show any weakness. His eyes suddenly focused on a familiar figure. Even as the once billowing robes dripped and clotted with blood, the man stood tall and proud, shooting curses and hexes in all directions. A discarded Death Eater mask, covered with blood and filth, lay at the man's feet as he continued fighting.
His eyes then turned to the blond-haired boy standing on the far side of the field. Grime and filth covered his usually neatly gelled hair, but those grey-blue orbs blazed with an inner fire. Harry inwardly smiled. Draco had turned away from the Dark during his sixth year, and eventually the Slytherin had come to be a valued friend. The Boy-Who-Lived watched as the other fought on, sending waves of curses at the blond man in front of him. Draco's father.
Harry's voice was cold and indifferent when he replied to Voldemort's earlier question.
"No."
There was a sense of finality and determination in the single word.
"No?" Voldemort laughed, a high cruel laugh. The hair on the back of Harry's neck rose slightly at the sound. "No one says 'No' to Lord Voldemort!"
Harry smirked slightly. "I believe I just did, Tom."
Voldemort instantly stopped laughing. "My name is not Tom," he spat out. "You'll pay for that one, Potter."
"Oh really?" Harry asked as casually as possible. "How much do I owe you?"
Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the words of disrespect. "You weak- minded fool," he said, his voice cruel. "You shall meet the same end as your parents today, Potter. Immobilius!"
The spell took him by surprise as Harry mentally cursed himself. He should have been ready, should have been on his guard...
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort cried, taking advantage of Harry's
momentary weakness.
The Gryffindor watched as the light slowly headed towards him. He tried to lift his foot, every impulse screaming at his body to move, but he was frozen to the spot. The emerald green beam came closer, closer...
Suddenly, someone threw themselves bodily at the Dark Lord, knocking Voldemort's aim askew. The Unforgivable barely missed his shoulder.
Harry looked up numbly at the person who had just saved his
life, and it took him a moment to realize who it was. Snape.
The irony of it made him want to laugh. To think that he would be saved by the man who considered him the bane of his existence. The man who had insulted and belittled him, over and yet again during every day of the last seven years of his life.
Yet it wasn't hate he saw when he looked up at the man who had loathed him for so long. Deep inside, hidden beneath an inner mask, a concealed warmth would be seen on the man's pale face, and the expression in those obsidian eyes could almost be mistaken for affection.
Subconsciously, Harry smiled. His heart seemed to suddenly lighten at the action, almost as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Which in a way, it had. He now had a reason, a goal.
Even in his first year, Harry had always known that he would eventually have to fight Voldemort. Fight him and win, for the sake of the wizarding world. Before, he had feasted on revenge: revenge for his parents, Sirius, and all of the many who had died for the sake of the war. His motivation had been based on hate, and the need to avenge those who had sacrificed so much.
Now though, he had a new reason. He would fight and he would win, not for revenge, but for those he loved: Ron, Hermione, Remus, Sirius, his parents, Dumbledore... hell, even Snape for being there, even if it was as the snarky potions professor.
"Perdere anima!" He cried, yelling out the words of the soul taking spell that he had learned almost months ago. As the lavender bean erupted from his wand, Harry discovered that he felt, not hatred, but love: a love for everything else around him.
Harry fell to his knees, his energy suddenly gone, as the spell finally hit the man who had haunted his life for so long. He watched, almost detachedly, as Voldemort's eyes widened. Before the Dark Lord fell, the man raised his wand and uttered a single spell.
"Tempus Saltus!"
Then, the world went black.