A Matter of Time

by Dementis Scriptor

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Dealing with loss is never easy, especially when half the world sees you as a savior, half as a Dark Lord in the making, and half as the man who took away their chance at world domination. Yes, that made three halves. Go figure.

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Oh yeah, I'm not making any money, either. Sad, isn't it?

Chapter One: Future Imperfect

"We would like to live as we once lived, but history will not permit it." -John F. Kennedy

It all seemed so familiar.

Small, silver instruments whirred and sputtered on a table, some emitting puffs of smoke or flashes of light at irregular intervals. A gleaming, jewel-encrusted sword hung in a glass case on the wall. Hundreds of books, some of which couldn't be found anywhere else in the world, sat neatly on carved wooden shelves. A glittering perch stood to one side, occupied by a flaming crimson bird the size of a swan. And behind a claw-footed desk, polished to a point that could only be attained by an overzealous house-elf, sat an old man with piercing blue eyes, a crooked nose, and snow white hair long enough to join his equally white beard as it was tucked into his belt.

It all seemed so familiar, but he had learned the hard way that things were very rarely what they seemed.

It had been three months since the final defeat of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and in that time he had rarely been seen in public. Those few times he had ventured out, he had done so only after extensive changes in his appearance. It could be (and had been) said that he was anti-social. He agreed that he probably was. Having the world look on as you lost control at your best friends' funeral would do that to a person.

Most of the world saw Harry Potter as a sort of fallen hero. He had killed the dark lord, and almost single-handedly established the peace in which they now lived; on the other hand, he refused to be honored, refused to participate in any of the celebrations that followed Voldemort's defeat, and generally served as a reminder of a war the world would rather forget.

Whatever the world felt about him, however, Harry was sure it couldn't compare to how he felt about the world. Never had he imagined a society that could grow so complacent so quickly. Not a week after Voldemort had fallen, the Daily Prophet had run an article in which Centaurs and Werewolves, both of whom had been considered valuable allies just a week before, were publicly ridiculed. In just under three days, they had gone from being heroes back to being "filthy disgusting half-breeds", as the article so eloquently described them.

Harry decided that it was probably a side effect of the sincere wish to forget that the past few years ever happened. While Harry couldn't exactly blame them for wanting to forget, he didn't really think doing so would be for the best. It reminded him of a muggle saying he had once heard: "Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it." He had seen the horrors of war first hand, and as much as he might like to forget, he was not willing to allow the lessons learned to go unheeded. Time after time Dark Wizards rose, and time after time they were forgotten as soon as possible. This, he felt, was one of the Wizarding World's greatest failings. Instead of learning from the past, they were content to ignore it.

This was demonstrated nowhere more prominently than in the case of one Professor Binns. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, widely acknowledged as the best institution for magical education in the world, employed a History of Magic teacher who had not varied his curriculum in over eighty years. The average O.W.L. scores for Professor Binns' students was a D (Dreadful), and dangerously close to dropping to a T (Terrible). In fact, only a single O (Outstanding) and three E (Exceeds Expectations)'s had been recorded in the last fifty years. In any other subject, this would have been completely unacceptable. The fact that it was largely ignored just demonstrated how little the Wizarding World cared about past events.

But while the rest of the world might be happy to ignore history, Harry was simply not willing to let it all just fade away. This fundamental difference prompted his near total isolation from the world. He refused to become part of a society that seemed to live by the words "Ignorance is Bliss".

It was this, more than anything that brought Harry to the office of a man he had not seen since the funeral, two days before the fall of Voldemort. He supposed it shouldn't have come as a shock when the fiery messenger appeared in his home this morning, bearing a letter from the one man who could probably understand his current feelings towards the world: Albus Dumbledore, the now 158 year old Headmaster of Hogwarts.

He had never expected that that simple letter would lead him to arrive at Hogwarts less than an hour later. Exactly why he was here, Harry still wasn't sure, but according to the letter Dumbledore had a proposition for him. This was nothing new, as in the last few months he had received no less than three dozen offers from various institutions around the world, mostly to come and lecture, but some had even asked him to teach classes on a permanent basis. What really caught his attention was that Dumbledore didn't seem to want to employ him. Instead, he had hinted at something that sounded very much like a vacation. His exact words were something along the lines of "An opportunity to leave behind your reputation and focus your attention on things slightly less important than the fate of the world."

Leave behind his reputation, huh? He figured that either Dumbledore wanted him to go work with muggles for some reason, or he would be doing something in disguise. Neither was particularly appealing to him, but both sounded better than the life he'd been living these past months.

So that was how Harry found himself standing in front of the familiar hardwood desk, secure in the knowledge that he had absolutely no obligation to accept any proposal the old man might make. A few months ago this thought might have brought a grin to his face, but today he barely even acknowledged it.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore spoke, "I didn't expect you so soon." Despite the jovial tone he used, Harry could hear an underlying weariness that betrayed the old man's exhaustion. It was yet another reminder of how much things had changed, despite all the attempts to pretend otherwise. Harry raised an eyebrow in response, silently daring Dumbledore to try and offer him a lemon drop.

Dumbledore, though old, was far from stupid, and wisely kept his lemon drops to himself.

"I would assume," the Headmaster spoke after a moment's silence, "that you are here in regard to the missive I sent you earlier." It wasn't really a question, and it obviously didn't require an answer, so Harry didn't provide one. He let a slight look of annoyance show on his face, hoping it would prompt Dumbledore to explain the reason for their meeting. It did.

"Very well, I'll get straight to the point. What I'm about to say may come as a shock to you." Harry (stupidly, he later reflected) doubted it. Dumbledore sighed, and continued. "Nearly three decades ago, shortly after I became headmaster, a young man showed up at the castle gates seeking employment. He had little background in teaching, or anything else for that matter, however his skill in certain subjects could not be denied. After careful consideration, he received the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor on a probationary basis. His name was Evan Esare, and he taught here successfully for more than ten years."

Harry blinked.

"That's nice," said Harry slowly. "But what does this have to do with me. Or anything, for that matter?" he asked, failing to see any relevance at all.

"Everything, Harry. This has to do with everything." Here Dumbledore paused, seemingly to organize his thoughts. After a moment he continued.

"After his career as a professor, Evan vanished entirely. I sought him out many times over the years, for many reasons, not the least of which being requests for his return. Since his departure, no one who has taken up his position has lasted for more than a year, and constantly searching for replacements gets quite tiring after a while. Why, I remember one year when I had to…"

Harry cleared his throat, a little louder than necessary, in the hopes of setting Dumbledore back on track.

"…but of course, this isn't the time for that. Anyway, I never found any trace of him, anywhere. It was as though he'd never even existed." Here, Dumbledore drew a deep breath before continuing. "As it turns out, that statement was almost correct. You see, Harry, it wasn't that he never existed; it was that he did not exist yet."

Dumbledore paused, allowing Harry the time to blink somewhat dumbly at that statement, and then continued.

"Two days ago, I was in Diagon Alley meeting with Mr. Ollivander when I caught sight of a young man who looked remarkably like Evan Esare had when I first met him."

A flash of intuition hit Harry suddenly, and pieces began to fall into place. Harry got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, though he remained outwardly calm.

"He apparated away before I could talk to him, but not before Mr. Ollivander got a look at his wand. As I'm sure you know, Mr. Ollivander remembers every wand he has ever sold. He was able to recognize the wand and identify its owner." The twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eyes, and though Harry was sure he knew what the old man was going to say, he was still completely unprepared for it.

"Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches," said Dumbledore, the twinkling in his eyes brightening to a point not seen since the Weasley twins had grown beards to match his own. "It is good to see you again…Professor Esare."

Two hours, and half a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky later, Harry was engaged in a rather heated debate with the newly dubbed "Mentally Deficient Three Time Quinquagenarian Whose Insanity Is Matched Only By His Senility".

"Let us assume, just for a moment, that you're right, and I'm supposed to teach classes thirty years ago," he began, intent on making the old man see reason. "How, exactly, do you plan on getting me there?"

"I don't," said Dumbledore, looking far more amused than was to Harry's liking. "You will get yourself there."

Harry nearly laughed in disbelief, but settled for raising his eyebrows incredulously.

"And just how am I to do that? You know as well as I do that there is no spell capable of transporting a person back that far."

He was less than reassured when that damnable twinkle brightened again. Dumbledore seemed to purposely wait a few seconds to increase the impact of his answer.

"Extorqueo Tempus."

As effectively as a silencing charm, those two words brought all sound in the room to a halt. For a moment, Harry just stared at the Headmaster, at a loss for words.

"I see you have heard of it," said Dumbledore.

"You can't be serious," Harry spoke in a hoarse whisper, having visibly paled.

"On the contrary, I am quite serious," Dumbledore replied.

Harry quickly downed another shot of Firewhisky.

"Do you know what that spell does?" It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing he could think to ask.

"Extorqueo Tempus, more commonly known as the Time Twister spell," said Dumbledore, clearly demonstrating that he had read the entry in a book no more than a few hours ago. "It forcibly removes the caster from his or her original time, and essentially 'sets them adrift' on the oceans of eternity. Theoretically, they will 'run aground' in another time. However, this has never been proven, since no one to cast the spell has ever been seen or heard from again."

"And you expect me to cast this spell?" Harry asked, not quite believing it. "Are you mad?! You said it yourself; the spell basically cuts you loose. There's no way to know where or when I would end up. For that matter, we don't know for sure that I'd end up anywhere!" He decided, as he was pouring yet another shot of Ogden's, that he must be having a very strange dream. Even Dumbledore couldn't come up with something like this. Could he?

He could.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it. We do know," said Dumbledore happily. "You will end up here, at Hogwarts, in the year 1970. We know this because it has already happened, and thus will happen again."

Harry closed his eyes for a long moment, sorely tempted to start muttering to himself, but resisting the urge. He was already displaying far more emotion than he was comfortable with. There were just so many problems with this plan…he didn't even know where to begin.

"Ignoring, for the moment, the fact that my getting there at all is far from certain, wouldn't I risk changing the past?" That was as good a place as any.

Unfortunately, the old man was prepared for the question.

"It has already happened, Harry," the headmaster explained. "You must be there, because you already have been there. The only way you would change the past is by not going."

Briefly, Harry contemplated putting his head through the nearest wall. This was immediately followed by him contemplating putting Dumbledore's head through the nearest wall. He decided against doing either, however. It would take the house-elves ages to clean up.

"Are you familiar with something called the Grandfather Paradox?" he asked instead.

Dumbledore frowned, deep in thought. "I believe," he began slowly, "that it is a muggle theory, correct?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. It goes something like this: Suppose you traveled back in time and killed your grandfather. He never met your grandmother, so they never had your father. Since your father never existed, he never met your mother, and they never had you."

Dumbledore looked interested. "Yes, that could be a problem."

"More than you know," Harry replied, pouring more Firewhisky. "Because you never existed, you never traveled back in time, and so you never killed your grandfather. He lived, he met your grandmother, they had your father, your father met your mother, they had you, and you grew up to travel back in time and kill your grandfather." He took a sip of the amber liquid. "Do you see the paradox?"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, it really is quite intriguing. But I fail to see how it is relevant."

"You fail to see…of course it's relevant!" said Harry, feeling the closest thing to anger he could without accidentally blowing something up. "We're talking about altering the past!"

"No, we're not," said Dumbledore. "We're talking about fulfilling it. You have already been there. Whatever you will do, you have already done. You have only to do it again."

Harry hated to admit it, but the old man had a point. Still, he wasn't willing to give in just yet. The days when Dumbledore could control his life were long over. He ignored the fact that his reaction most closely resembled a child crossing his arms and loudly declaring "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Do you have any idea just how many things can go wrong with this half-baked scheme of yours?" he asked, almost crossing his arms but consciously resisting the urge.

"Of course. But as I said, we already know that it will work," said Dumbledore. "You were here thirty years ago. That will not change. If it did, we would not be having this conversation. In addition to that, if I understand the theory correctly, if you do not go back, after having already gone back, we will have created a paradox of our own."

Damn the old man and his logic.

After a brief mental debate with himself, Harry decided to concede the point and move on to the next in a long line of problems. "Okay. All that means it that at some point I will go back to 1970. As you said, the fact that we are having this conversation proves that, no matter what I decide now, at some point I will go back. How do you know I went back from here?" Harry blinked. "I mean, from now. Why not next year? Or in five years? What makes you so sure it's not the result of some accident I'll have some time next year?"

Dumbledore blinked, slowly. Then he gave a small chuckle and shook his head slightly. "You've changed, Harry," he said softly. "You're no longer the boy you once were, always willing to take on something new and exciting…" he trailed off.

"You are quite correct in your assessment," Dumbledore said after an awkward silence, neatly bringing the conversation back on track. "We know only that it will happen. When it will happen is another matter entirely. But whenever it does happen, it will be when it has happened before. If not, then it would not happen at all."

Now, Harry considered himself to be a person of above average intelligence. When he really put his mind to something, he was capable of working through problems that would leave most people standing around scratching their heads. This, combined with his aversion towards showing emotion or weakness of any kind, was the only thing that kept him from blinking stupidly and responding to the old man's statement with a heartfelt "Huh?" As it was, he could feel a headache coming on fast. He downed the rest of the Firewhisky in his glass in an attempt to ward it off.

"Right…" said Harry. "But that doesn't tell me anything useful."

"Ah, but it does," said Dumbledore happily. "It tells us that we are done here."

Harry blinked at the apparent non-sequitur. "I'm sorry?"

Dumbledore looked surprised. "For what?" he asked.

Harry very nearly rolled his eyes. He was sure that that joke was older than the man who had just uttered it.

"I mean, how are we done here?" he clarified, never doubting that it was unnecessary.

"Ah. Well, I've told you everything I can," said Dumbledore. "The rest is up to you."

For a moment, Harry had a strong desire to argue some more. Then, the still sober part of his mind realized that it would be pointless. With a heavy sigh, he nodded at the headmaster. He looked down at the empty shot glass in his hand, and with a slight flick of his wrist it was sparkling clean again. Carelessly, he tossed it over his shoulder. It arced high in the air, and vanished with a pop about six inches from the ground.

The sun was setting over the lake, a beautiful array of reds and pinks overtaking the normal blue of the sky. The meeting with Dumbledore had ended about an hour ago, and after saying their goodbyes Harry had come straight to his favorite spot on the far side of the lake. Hardly anyone knew about it, and those who did knew enough to leave him alone. It was where he had always come to think when he wanted to be alone, and now it was serving that purpose once again.

The bottle from Dumbledore's office was open beside him, less than an inch of liquid remaining in the bottom. He took a sip directly from the bottle, and then sighed heavily.

There wasn't really much to think about. He knew that Dumbledore was absolutely right. If he had been to the past, then he would be again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. At least, not without causing a nasty temporal paradox. No, he had to go. Damn it all, but he had to go. His earlier thoughts about not having any obligations to do anything Dumbledore proposed now came back to haunt him.

Nothing was ever easy for him. Here he was, barely eighteen years old, and he had already defeated a Dark Lord. Actually, Voldemort was only the latest of a long list of dangers he had faced, right after Dudley, a Basilisk, a swarm of Dementors, a Dragon, and Umbridge, the Evil Toad-Woman. There were others, of course, but they were the ones that stood out the most.

No, it was never easy. But maybe this wouldn't be too bad. Nobody would know who he was in 1970, and that was a drastic improvement right there. He'd have to be in disguise, and get used to a new name, but that was doable. And, possibly the strangest part of the whole thing, he would get to see his parents grow up. Dumbledore probably didn't think he'd realize the significance of that time period, but he did. It would be an interesting experience, to say the least.

He drained the rest of the Firewhisky in one gulp. With a sigh, he put one hand on either end of the bottle and pressed them together. The bottle offered no resistance as his hands met, and when he moved them apart a moment later, no sign of the bottle remained.

Yes, he would go. Not that he had much choice. He would go, and he would make the best of it. But one thing was for sure.

He was going to need more Firewhisky.

A/N: Well, that's chapter one. It's not exactly the way I wanted it, but hopefully it gets the job done. If all the talk of time travel confuses you, don't worry about it. It's not worth the migraine. It makes sense in my head, but that doesn't mean it will in anyone else's.

I don't have a beta, so any errors are solely my fault. If anything is wrong or doesn't make sense, let me know and I'll try to fix it. Most of this chapter was written when I was half asleep (not that I'm ever completely awake) so go easy on me.

Thank You to my first three reviewers: Lucy Grey, Lil Miss Potter,and scotgirl. I only wish my COMP 100 teacher was more like you.