Disclaimer: I am making no money from this. Harry Potter and all associated characters, events, places and thinhs are the property of JKR and her affiliates. Anything else is the product of my warped imagination and general irritation with the last book. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 1; Old Friends, Older Faces

He was standing on the steps of Gringotts Bank, a baseball cap covering his black hair and the oh-so-famous scar. His hands were shoved into black jeans, the product of a shopping trip a week earlier, just after he left the supposed safety of his relatives' house. A black T-shirt hung loose outside his jeans and a wand holster covered his left arm. It was slightly too big, but he's grow into it. A shape detached itself from the crowd in the street and a brown haired girl moved up the steps to him. She stopped just before him and looked him over. "Storm…" the name was breathed through suddenly dry lips.

"Swift." He held out his hand and pulled her into a not quite platonic embrace. It was the best he could manage, here in public and eleven years old.

"Happy Birthday!" she whispered into his shoulder.

"Thanks"

She pulled back, leaving a small kiss on his neck, as aware as he was of their somewhat unusual situation, "Have you seen Shade?"

"Ron, Hermione," the boy identified as Storm chided gently, "And no, I haven't seen him. What went wrong?"

"I don't know, Harry. I've checked the calculations a million times since waking up and they still say we should have landed another three years into the future, just after Christmas."

Another figure caught Harry's attention as he broke away from a crowd of red-heads and come over to join them. Hermione hugged him fiercely, giving him a kiss similar to the one she had given Harry, but all the boys could afford to do was clasp hands. Harry squeezed, hoping Hermione was blocking the view from the street. Ron, for who else could it be, turned to her and raised an eyebrow, silently asking what had happened, but he didn't move, content to hold hands as long as Hermione was blocking them from public view.

"As I was telling Harry, I don't know. The calculations are right. I don't understand."

"Maybe it's something we couldn't think of?" Harry said slowly.

"Like what?"

"That spell, it asks the Universe, Creation itself to alter time right?" at the two nods he continued, "Maybe the Universe decided we needed to start from here and not the tri-wizard competition."

Hermione frowned, "I suppose. It feels so weird though, being eleven again and…" she trailed off, but her look was enough.

Ron and Harry shifted uncomfortably, "Some boys… mature earlier then others and we are, technically forty one now, so maybe puberty will hit early this time?" Ron guessed.

"We can still sort you out, Mione, even if it's a while before you can return the favour."

"I suppose so…" Hermione trailed off as she looked around.

"RON, RON! WHERE HAS THAT BOY GOT TO NOW?"

Ron laughed, "I had better go. Happy Birthday, mate. See you on the train?"

Harry nodded, "Same carriage as usual. I'll get the rest of the gear."

With one more squeeze of his hand, Harry let him go. Hermione gave him another hug and then Ron disappeared off the steps and into the crowd.

"So where does that leave you?"

Hermione sighed, "I better find my parents too. Take care, Harry."

"I will, I'll see you on the train."

Hermione nodded and disappeared into the crowd as well. Harry sighed and went into the white building behind him. Now he just had to convince the goblins to do what he wanted. This time without Hermione's help.

It didn't take him long to be ushered into the office of the Head of Inheritance. Glascuck was exactly as Harry remembered him being, short, bald and mean looking. He would also, one day, preside over the goblin Blood Brother ritual between Harry and Griphook. Harry took his seat and waited. He had learnt a lot about Goblin culture during the war and now, thirty odd years into the past; it was only going to help.

Glascuck frowned, "How can I help you, Mr Potter."

"Harry."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My name. It's Harry."

Glascuck blinked once at the boy in front of him, "Yes Mr. Potter, I am aware of your name."

"I would like you to use it."

Glascuck leaned back in his chair and frowned again, "That is hardly appropriate, Mr Potter."

"Under goblin law, it is appropriate."

"Only if you are about to ask me a favour." The goblin snapped.

"I am."

"What?"

"I am about to ask you a favour, Glascuck. Therefore you are entitled to use my given name."

"What favour?" Glascuck asked, for the moment putting aside his confusion as to when and where an eleven year old human boy would have learnt goblin culture.

Harry absently rubbed his right hand. Once upon a time, 'I must not tell lies' had been carved into it and for some reason, he found himself missing the scar. "Under the 1654 Treaty, if the goblins feel that an heir's guardian in inappropriate, they can remove the child from the guardian and bring them directly under the authority of Gringotts Bank."

Glascuck hissed through razor-sharp teeth. That was an old law, put in place in a time of war and fear to give the great families a safety net. Harry Potter was from an old, old family. The laws could be applied to him, but no one has used that law in years, "Tell me why, Mr Potter, I should bring an outdated law back into play just so you can gave access to your family vaults?"

Harry looked and him, then looked at the ceiling, and then he turned his eyes to meet the goblin's, "You are Glascuck, son of Hutrack, son of Rambada of the Concilium Domina. You are the great grandson of the Domina dux Ducis herself." Harry's voice was quiet as he spoke words no human should know.

Glascuck's eyes widened at each sentence.

"My friends and I used a very old ritual to send ourselves back in time to try to change the horrific future that lies ahead of us at present. I need the goblins help to stop that future becoming fact once again."

The morning had passed. Gringotts, for the first time in living memory had closed its doors as debate raged. At the heart of the Goblin City, in the council chambers themselves, the Concilium Domina argues back and forth as they tried to decide what to do. Finally one of the goblins stood up and all the others quieted. The Domina looked around, her ancient eyes trailing over the other council members. At the centre of the hall, sitting on a chair, Harry watched and waited until her eyes met his.

"You have put us in a difficult situation… Harry."

She stepped down from her throne and moved gracefully towards him, "A difficult situation indeed. You know our customs well."

Harry smiled, showing no teeth. As a male, he had no rights in the council chambers and under goblin law he had precious few rights at all. For a male to speak without permission to a member of the Concilium Domina was still an instant death sentence.

"You may answer my questions. You claim to be from the future?"

"Yes."

"And you claim that your friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, are also from the future?"

"Yes."

"You wish to stop a war?"

"No," Harry sighed, "Nothing can stop this war if the Magical World is to have any kind of future. We want to make sure it doesn't go as badly for us at it did the first time."

"Who is your enemy?"

That was the one question he had so far managed to avoid answering, but asked outright by the Domina…

"Lord Voldemort."

A ripple of murmurs spread around the room as the goblins' eyes widened.

"He is dead."

"No, he's not. It's true that his body was destroyed, but his spirit resides on Earth and even now seeks a host. At present he seeks the Philosopher's Stone."

This statement caused even more murmurs.

"Is it safe?" The woman on front of him turned to look at another goblin, the only other male in the room besides Harry.

"It is safe, Domina." Was the response.

Harry tried not to wince as he remembered Ugatan, the Vir dux Ducis at the start of the war, men's leader. He was the only male allowed into the council rooms without invite and the only male with the authority to approach a member of the Concilium Domina. He was also an arrogant prick who had, among other things, been against allowing the blood brother bond between Harry and Griphook. Since Harry had every intention of having the bond redone, he knew he was going to clash repeatedly with Ugatan.

There was only one thing for it. He had to convince the Domina he was telling the truth, "This afternoon, Rebeus Hagrid will come here to collect the Philosophers Stone. Sometime after he leaves, Gringotts will be broken into."

There was pandemonium as the council members stood up and began yelling. The Domina simply looked at him, her eyes seeing something very different to what was on front on her. Turning to Ugatan, "Have the stone moved to the council vault. Contact Mr Flamel and tell him that we are upgrading the security measures around the stone and have moved it to a more secure location. If the bank is broken into… Mr Potter… we will grant your request."

Harry nodded. He had already pushed the boundaries by speaking out of turn. In the old timeline, the Domina had recognised his importance, but had never cared for him. In this timeline, he hoped he could change that for very personal reasons.

That night, he sat in his room at the Leaky Caldron, holding his Hogwart's letterr, and watching the clock tick closer to midnight. They had worked out exactly what they needed to do to change things and that had all been thrown away by coming back to early. Sirius… Dumbledore… Helen and Robert… Ginny… Fred… Bill and his unborn daughter… Hagrid… Flitwick…McGonagall… Rosmerta… Blaise… Lisa… the list of the death went on, a name each tick of the clock until midnight. They couldn't save them all, but this time, they might be able to save some of them. He watched as Hedwig soured through the open window and then slowly got up to close it. The owl carried no response, but that was hardly surprising. McGonagall wasn't the type to deviate from the norm, even for him.

He undressed and then climbed into bed, but not before setting up a silencing ward and a couple of charms on the door. The blanking potion on his wand wouldn't last much longer and he didn't want to go back to Knockturn Alley for another one. Closing his eyes, he went over the list for the next day once more in his head and then closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He was exhausted from having to deal with the goblins and then waiting for the break-in. Even so, it was a long time before sleep came.

Thank you for the review, Padfoot2304