Live and Let Die
Summary:
It is planned to be a time travel story, but one, hopefully, different from any others you might have actually read. Well anyways, here is the summary.
Harry ends the war with Voldemort just before he turns 18 years of age. Many of those he knew and loved were either dead or left with critical injuries threatening their lives. His life is in chaos and he doesn't believe he should have lived while so many others perished, and almost wished the Voldemort had indeed been the one to finish him off, as there wasn't much to go back to.
Harry turns to the one person that he knew he could count on for advice, but his time was fading, Harry knew that his mentor wouldn't live much longer. The 'advice' he receives isn't what he was expecting, and if it were true he didn't have much time either.
At first he didn't believe what he was hearing, he thought after he defeated Voldemort he wouldn't have to worry about him any longer. He was wrong, he never imagined that he might half to face Voldemort again, and he had no choice but to go along with what Dumbledore said.
With his last ounce of magic Harry was sent back, farther back in time than he originally thought, and what is more he has to act the part he was given.
On the bright side, he gets to know his mother and father, and if anything else gets another chance at a childhood.
Harry Potter had become an eight year old boy with an eighteen year olds mind, at least for the time being. And with his knew identity he had to make sure his mother would be safe from anything Voldemort was planning, which was going to prove difficult with his original past fading quickly. He had become her elder brother, to watch over her and make sure the past did not change. The only problem would be letting go of his new family after he completed his task...
Disclaimer:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Prologue
Much of the world grows up believing that witchcraft is just a fable and nothing more. That any type of magic produced would have a trick to it or it not be real at all. If these people ever found out the truth there is no telling what would happen. However, there is a very important reason why wizards and witches keep their world secret from ordinary muggles.
This is the reason why the two communities live separated from each other, yet together in every way. Two worlds; one not knowing, or even suspecting, the other exists, and one trying to hide their secrets from the other each and every day. They would be the magical and the non-magical, the unordinary and the ordinary, the mysterious and the practical; all in all the normal and the freaks.
Looking across muggle England, Surrey to be exact, you would never expect and magical contributes hear. Yet on Number 4 Privet Drive there is just that and he, in the form of a seventeen year old boy, sat looking sadly out of his small window.
Harry Potter was considered one of the most famous wizards in the magical community, as he was believed to have defeated the most feared wizard of his time and escaped with only a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. This made all the more unbelievable by him being only an infant at the time. Now nearly sixteen years later he was still being praised, though some, if not most, clearly diminished. In his usual frame of mind, Harry would be happy about this but when the world had once again found out of the Dark Lords most unwelcome return, he was reduced to never speaking, not just to his teachers but his friends also. He was always thinking of that fateful night in which his only living relative, being his Godfather, the only person he ever considered a father died trying to save his life.
Now all letters that come to him, or each time he is stopped in the streets, by a fellow wizard or witch, ask, if not plead, for him to defeat the ever feared Voldemort once again. If only it were that simple, if he could just walk up to Voldemort and end it all. He would never again have to stare with hate into the cold face of the ever feared wizard out for Harry's own blood. If only.
No, nothing could ever be simple for Harry Potter, at least not until either himself or Voldemort are destroyed. A prophesy, made just before Harry was born, says just that, 'and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can while the other survives,' it was meant just for Harry and Voldemort, and when the time came Harry would either become murdered or become a murderer. This was the sole reason Harry could never have a simple life, being the savoir, and the only hope, of the wizarding world could have that effect on a person.
At this particular moment, Harry stood at his bedroom window watching the clouds roll in quickly. Lightning could be seen in the distance and the loud rumble of thunder following closely behind. It's funny how the weather can depict your very thoughts, or feelings, at a certain moment, however, Harry couldn't quite decide if he wanted the storm there or not.
Harry was not in the mood to really focus on anything and like every other day felt like laying face down on his bed wondering when his life went wrong. Though, he knew the answer, it was just that every person he seemed to get close to got injured or worse. That was probably the biggest reason he lost touch with all the people who cared about him, even if he didn't know it now.
His gaze wandered to his waste basket in the corner of his room, crumpled parchment was filled to the rim and littered around the frame. All of them letters he got through the summer, from his friends mostly. He had read all of them of course, he never did he take the time to write back, and he was getting less and less letters. In fact, these letters, in their own way, said the same things each time; 'move on.' This Harry didn't like, not in the slightest.
He did get invited back to the last place he ever wanted to see again. His reaction wasn't so pleasant. It was safe to say they weren't going to ask again.
Now, with only one week left until Harry was to go back for his final year at Hogwarts, Harry was thinking what was going to happen.
Last year he shut himself off from the world, not letting anyone see what was going on, not letting anyone see how he was dealing with what had happened the previous summer. Seeing him face to face you would know what that did to him, he didn't look the same, not in the slightest. His emerald green eyes didn't show the same light they had through the years. His face looked sullen and black circles were growing dark under his eyes from lack of food and sleep. You almost wouldn't recognize him, his shoulders sagged and he was never seen smiling, it was like his life was slowly seeping from him, day by day.
Harry slowly sat up in his bed squinting his eyes out into the dark sky, he was sure he saw something flicker as the lightning fell and it was coming towards his very window.
His legs felt weak as he stood slowly. He had been lying down and sleeping so much that the lack of energy made him slightly shaky. He crossed the room to his window and watched the shape struggle as it tried to descend toward his window. It seemed to be fighting against the wind and rain as lightning struck again. The night sky lit up and revealed the form as an owl with a small note in its beak.
Harry unlocked his window before throwing it open. He was assaulted with several water droplets the moment the window was opened, but he ignored it and kept his eyes trained on the owl. He wiped his glasses in a frustrated manner as the water blurred his vision. He squinted through the ripples of water he was forced to see through and leapt out of the way as the soaked owl fell through the window before smashing into the floor.
He closed the window before turning his wide eyes toward the owl. He slowly knelt as he removed his glasses and wiped them on his t-shirt. He slid them back on his nose and looked the owl over. It was not dead as it first appeared, but it was definitely not conscious at the moment. The letter that had been held tightly within it beak had dropped with the landing and was resting three feet away.
Harry crawled toward the letter and looked it over. There was no return address and it was not in the security of an envelope. He furrowed his eyebrows together and let his eyes sweep over the message.
It has started...
That was all it said.
Harry stared at the lettering glaring up at him in ebony ink. He lifted his hand to the letters and traced over them when he heard a soft 'coo!' behind him. He turned around and stared at the brown barn owl that quivering slightly on his bedroom floor. He glanced back at his the letter, but up in her cage, Hedwig gave an indignant hoot as though telling him to help the poor creature.
He stood and set the mysterious piece of damp parchment upon his bed. He took Hedwig's water bowl from her cage and kneeled beside the barn owl. The owl blinked sleepily up at him before tilting its head slightly and placing its beak within the bowl. It slurped up several gulps of water before resting its head back down on the floor.
Harry replaced the bowl in Hedwig's cage as he said, in a low voice, to the visiting owl, "You can rest here for a while."
As the words left his lips he heard the faint fluttering of feathers and turned to see the barn owl flapping its right wing around slightly as it shakily stood on its claws. Harry simply stared as the owl inclined its head slightly as if giving a small nod of thanks and turned its gaze toward the window in a pointed manner. Harry got the message and hesitantly opened the window back up.
He did not even have the chance to turn and looked at the owl before it was flying off into the night again. Harry slowly closed the window once more, his gaze watching as the night swallowed the owl's outline whole. He frowned in thought and his eyes were drawn back toward the curious parchment. Harry lifted the parchment once more in his hands.
It has started… it read. Yet, Harry knew not of what it was speaking of.
He crossed to his bureau and opened the draw to gaze upon his mirror. He looked at his reflection staring back at him. He looking into his own eyes—his mother's eyes—and tried to find answers he did not know the answers to. His eyes, he realized, were green just like the Killing Curse. The Killing Curse that killed his mother. His mother's eyes.
His squeezed his eyes shut unable to look upon them anymore just as thunder sounded, echoing like a gunshot lost in the cries of war. War.
It has started… the letter had read.
Harry opened his eyes again and looked out his window as the rain pelted down. He swallowed. It has started… The final stage of the war had begun.
