DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognize from the Harry Potter Universe, I'm just borrowing it for the time being and having fun with it.
Prologue: New Beginnings, Forgotten Endings
If one were to look at him they would see a man of later years, though not old. He stood on a balcony over looking a small garden, overgrown with wild. His dark blue-green eyes held the knowledge and pain of a very long life. If one was listening to the whispered voice they would hear, "It's time," in a sad, lost, weary voice. As he turned from the garden his ebony hair fluttered adding accent to his billowing robes.
Walking through the grand manor the dark haired wizard brandished his wand with near impatience. The furniture shrank and skittered to a vault in the basement. Soon the manor was bereft of all signs of life. Exiting the house the wizard raised his wand and muttered a word in a language not heard in centuries. The wand became a staff, a foot taller than he. He continued in that strange language and the wind rose around him and the manor. The words gained a songlike quality as the manor and the surrounding grounds glowed a light blue. The manor vanished from sight.
"Our home will be waiting for our descendent," he whispered and in a moment he was gone, seemingly sucked into the earth.
In a place many day's journey from the manor, there stood a beautiful sturdy castle. It was only a few centuries old and called to the part of humanity that craved enchantment. To those who called it home it was simply Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In this warded place the ground near the edge of the forest seemed to open up. A moment the wound in the ground was gone and a dark haired, black robed man stood gazing with longing and love at the castle.
"Hello old girl," he said quietly, directing his tone toward the towering building. He felt the sentience of the castle acknowledge him and smiled. "I'm here to say good-bye," he told the castle before heading out into the forest to a place no mortal knew of.
The mausoleum rose in a clearing about half a kilometer from the edge of the forest. Its marble walls gleamed in the soft moonlight filtering through wispy clouds. He walked to the door and conjured a bouquet of flowers; roses, lilies, and baby's breath. "Hello my friends," he said as he placed the bouquet on the step. "I'll be joining you within a day or two; I know she'll let me rest beside my wife and best friends. I hope you'll forgive me when I get to whatever afterlife there is, after all Gwendolyn, my love you charged me with waiting until our prophesied descendent was born, but I can't stay that long, I can't wait four hundred years for his birth without you by my side, I'm sorry." He wiped a tear from his eye as he turned and vanished in a burst of fire.
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The sun glittered down on the marble walls, causing an unforgiving white glare to blind those gathered around it. The ones moving about, resealing the mausoleum, looked nearly human, but if you knew what to look for it was clear they were not human. A woman walked into the clearing. She was wearing a long flowing silver-blue dress that flowed like water and in the bright sunshine it was hard to see where her silver tresses ended and her silver cloak began.
"Lady Guardian," said one of the non-humans, "we have resealed the tomb. The Protector is safely ensconced with his friends for the rest of eternity."
"That is good to know," she said as she approached the marble doors. She raised a finger and his name appeared beside his wife's. She smiled softly, sadly and said, "I shall train him well in your stead." She then turned to her friends, companions, and advisors, "let us return."
For one moment the clearing seemed to be on fire and the next it was empty, save for the stoic monument carved in marble. Were anyone capable of finding this hidden clearing they would be amazed to read the names carved on the door. The door when closed created the Hogwarts crest, and in each quadrant of the crest were two names, a founder's and their spouse's.
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The castle was normally a quiet place, a place of calm meditation and observation. The ruler, if you could call her that, of the castle was currently observing the muggle invention of television. The Lady had become entranced with muggle ingenuity over the centuries and had lost track of time as she was soon to find out. Just as she turned off the device a shrill alarm went off in the castle. Her amber eyes widened in shock, for she hadn't heard that sound in millennia.
Fire burst around her, bringing her to another room. The room was filled with a number of reflective surfaces. One surface was outlined in a dark murky red and as she moved to peer into it she cursed her own stupidity. She had failed in locating and training the new Protector. Cursing softly in an ancient language she transfigured her clothing and prepared to step through to the young Protector, there was still a chance to make things right.
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The dark haired, be-speckled teen sat in his room, holding a kitchen knife in one hand. The house at number four Privet Dr was still as it was the dark of the night. Harry looked at the sharp edge of the blade, he had taken it out of the trash three days ago, Vernon had broken the handle off, but the blade was still perfectly useful. Harry wiped the tears away with his free hand.
In the three weeks since the disastrous ending of his fifth year, Harry had decided he couldn't continue. He couldn't fight Voldemort and fulfill the prophesy. He realized that Dumbledore, while acting for his piece of mind, had made certain Harry would fail, simply by not preparing him. Harry knew this was the coward's way and only hoped his mom would forgive him when he reached the other side.
The blade began to sink into the flesh of his right wrist. The blood was strangely beautiful and hypnotic to watch. So enthralled was he with his own blood, not noticing the pain, he missed the flash of reddish light near his door. "This is not the way it was supposed to be," said a soft female voice from his doorway.
Harry's head whipped up. For a moment his vision wavered but then he clearly saw her. She seemed young, yet her hair was pure silver. She wasn't tall yet Harry could feel a powerful presence. She was wearing a dark violet dress and as she stepped forward he saw matching slippers on her feet. "Who are you?" he asked fearfully while holding the blade awkwardly in his left hand.
"I am the Guardian, but you may call me Serenity. I am here because I cannot allow you to die for my mistakes."
"What are you talking about?"
"Let me heal your wrist and I will answer all your questions."
Harry wasn't sure why, but he instinctively trusted this woman. He nodded, feeling his strength flow out of his sore, bleeding wrist. He noticed the pool of blood as she kneeled beside him; it was bigger than he thought it should be. He flinched when she took his right hand into hers, but as warmth spread from her hand into his and the pain lessened he relaxed. After almost a minute she released his hand and looked into his eyes. "You are now healed. Why not sit comfortably so we can talk?" she asked as she stood and conjured two comfortable chairs. That's when Harry noticed she did not have a wand.
"How? What? Why?" Harry stuttered in surprise as she sat down in a chair.
"Sit and I will answer everything I can."
Harry nodded and pulled himself into a chair. "You said you can't let me die for your mistake, what did you mean?" Harry eventually asked after he composed himself from his shock.
"Have you ever heard of the Guardian or Protectors?" After Harry shook his head she sighed and said, "Then I shall explain. This realm is one of many, a near infinite amount. Each realm has one Guardian and anywhere between one and five Protectors. The Guardian's responsibility is to ensure that beings from the other realms don't come into his or her realm and cause trouble. The Protectors are responsible for keeping the denizens of the realm from causing a disruption to the overall balance of the realm and to keep havoc to a minimum.
"Normally when a Protector is born, he or she is watched over and around the age of five taken to train by one of the current Protectors. Now this is where we run into my mistake. If for some reason there is not a Protector around the responsibility for training the new Protector falls to the Guardian. There is currently no Protector and I didn't realize you had been born. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."
Harry looked at her with unseeing eyes, wondering if he understood her correctly. "Are you saying I'm supposed to be a Protector?"
"Yes you are."
"Why the hell did I let you save me? This is ridiculous; I don't need or want anymore responsibility. I lost the only father figure I've ever had and I refuse to join another useless crusade."
"Would it help if I offered you a chance to do it again, but this time to do it right?"
"What do you mean?"
"I can turn back time, by up to a century. It's a talent that a Guardian can use to undue a horrible error. Normally I would be the only one to remember anything, but if I specifically brought your consciousness with me, you would be able to remember as well. We could go back to when you were six and then I could take you away from this awful place and begin your training. You could prevent the death of your father figure."
Harry's mind was racing at a mile a minute. "If you can go back that far, than you could go all the way back and save my parents as well."
"No I cannot. As much as this may be hard to understand, that aspect of history must play out as it did. If I interfered with that…" she trailed off.
Harry wanted to be furious at her, but found he couldn't be. He felt the truth of her words and knew a truly awful fate would await them if she stopped his parents' death. "Is it possible to go all the way back to before their deaths, but not interfere… and allow me a better memory of them?"
"That could be done."
"Alright, I accept, so what happens now?"
"Now we prepare to travel back in time."