AN: Tried to update before finals, then got sick. Then my computer died a loud, screeching death. Yeah. There went that idea. (I am so glad the important stuff was backed up. I didn't know computers could make noises like that.)

The story rating has been raised, due to a bit of violence in this chapter. Don't think it's too bad but, well, just to be safe.


There was an air of tension about Diagon Alley today.

It was not as prominent as in Harry's time, particularly when compared to the last two years, but it was there. The people moved with a hurried sense of purpose, few stopping to chat or window shop as was the norm. Nervous energy snapped in the air, making Harry feel jittery.

But there was something missing, something he usually associated with an impending attack. He couldn't quite place it. Something was just… off.

A woman jostled past him. Harry nearly lost his hold on the cage he carried.

Tom's Hogwarts letter had come at breakfast the day before. At first the boy seemed startled to see an owl; it was the first they'd gotten at the house. Then his eyes lit on the Hogwarts seal and he lunged, tearing the letter from the bird roughly. Harry gave the disgruntled owl the largest piece of bacon on Tom's plate as recompense.

Naturally, Tom was eager to pick up his school supplies as soon as possible. Harry agreed to go the next day: the day before his birthday. He'd buy himself an owl- he'd begun to think it would be a good idea to get one before the new school year started, just in case he needed to be in contact- and make sure they got ice cream and a good lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and call it birthday celebration enough.

He'd not been expecting the crowd. Apparently, the day after the Hogwarts letters went out was the most popular day for supply shopping. Harry didn't know if this was another thing that had changed over the years or simply something he'd been oblivious of in his own time.

"What are you going to name it?"

"Him." Harry corrected, glancing down at the handsome Northern Hawk Owl, making sure he hadn't been overly jostled by the bump.

"What are you going to name him?"

"I don't know yet. What's left on the list?"

"Books. If you're not going to name it I get to."

"No, I'm naming him." Harry frowned. "The bookstore will be even more crowded than the alley." He didn't want to deal with an owl in a crowded shop. The broom had been annoying enough when the place was practically empty.

"Guess I should name you so I can let you head home, then," Harry told the owl absently. He thought for a moment, staring at the dark brown feathers, lighter patterns spread across the wings, chest and face, and the large amber eyes. He smiled nostalgically. "Wolf."

"Wolf." Tom sounded dubious.

"Mm-hm."

"You're naming an owl Wolf."

"Yes. Werewolves have amber eyes, like his." And Harry thought he'd get even more odd looks if he named the owl Moony.

"His eyes are yellow."

"They're close enough. Right, Wolf, let's give you a trial run," Harry held up the cage so he could meet the owl's bright gaze. "We live on the Potter Grounds outside Godric's Hollow Village. Head on home and make yourself at comfortable in the owlery above the smaller house."

The owl hooted. Harry took that as agreement. He opened the cage door, and the newly christened Wolf fluttered out, disappearing quickly over the shop roofs.

A camera flash went off. Harry flinched on reflex.

He spotted the culprits across the street in front of the ice cream parlor, a small group of kids just under Hogwarts age, giggling loudly as they played with what was undoubtedly a brand new camera.

Harry looked away again, steadfastly ignoring the pang in his chest.

Tom cast him the sideways glance that Harry was beginning to recognize as the one he used when he wasn't sure what to make of the way Harry was acting.

Harry's photos were back on the mantle, this time under more than one protection designed to keep one person in particular from getting his hands on them again. The tear lines were still visible, despite Harry's best efforts to repair them, and the picture's occupants moved jerkily around the lines, but at least they hadn't disappeared entirely as Harry had half feared they would.

He shifted the cage to his other hand, scanning the crowd and irritably shifting his weight so he could flex his knee.

If he'd known it would be this crowded, he'd have waited to come until the middle of the week, never mind gifting himself with a birthday outing.

"Your knee again?" Tom asked casually, not looking at him. The old injury was a somewhat touchy subject, and Harry's unpredictable temper had not improved over the past week.

He was growing increasingly worried and therefore trying all the harder to convince himself that there was nothing wrong.

He knew Horcruxes were not meant to be cast into something that already had a soul, but had no idea what a Horcrux would do to something living. For all he knew, Nagini had not been nearly as nasty before Voldemort turned her into a Horcrux. He never spent too long thinking about it, as it was a moot point; he had no way to access the few books that existed on the subject.

But it was entirely possible that there was another explanation. His change in appearance could have been spell backlash. The trip through time could be responsible for the headaches and setback on his knee injury as well.

Until there was no other choice, he would keep the worries to himself.

He couldn't go to Dumbledore with his concerns. The man knew none of his history. He would hear the word Horcrux and that would be the end of Harry's peaceful life of anonymity. Besides, Dumbledore had Grindelwald to worry about. Harry could take care of his own problems without adding to the Professor's own.

And when said problems refused to be dealt with, he could do a damn good job of ignoring them.


The stop at Flourish and Blotts was fortunately quite quick, as this time they did not have to buy a small library. Harry caught Tom lingering in the history section and pulled him along before he could select anything other than the required textbook.

Tom had spent two days unsuccessfully attempting to break through the enchantments keeping him out of the books at home. When that failed, he tried to sneak out of the house via the floo in order to find books someplace else. Unfortunately for Tom, Ron's chess piece began screaming obscenities at the top of its lungs when he tried to open the floo bag without permission.

After that, a pair of enchanted candlesticks from Tom's collection of trophies were stuck to the bathroom counter.

Tom absolutely hated seeing his things around the house and being unable to move them. He never said as much, but Harry didn't miss the way his fingers twitched every time he saw them. Consequently it was Harry's new favorite punishment.

When Tom finally ran out of ideas to get around the lockdown, he overturned the library table in a fit of temper. The yo-yo stayed firmly stuck to it.

Tom cracked open the book on etiquette and had it finished less than a day later.

To the boy's consternation, when Harry released the library and Tom's school books, Pureblood Histories remained unmovable. It was counted among the 'trophies', none of which Tom had won back yet. The implication that those could be gotten back with a bit of help around the house sparked another explosive fight that resulted in Harry storming up to his room before he really lost his temper and did something he regretted.

Quite obviously, Tom had yet to read that particular book. Harry wasn't about to let him cheat by looking for something similar here.


They were just leaving the bookstore when a pair of explosions some distance down the alley rocked the ground. Harry whirled around, wand dropping into his hand as screams replaced the usual background chatter. The crowd became a stampeding mass of panic as people pushed and shoved to get away from the disturbance. Harry grabbed Tom by the upper arm and pulled them up against the nearest building, looking intently up and down the street.

They were in a bad spot. The explosions had come from in front of them, in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, blocking them from the only physical exit and apparition point on the alley. He didn't know which shops, if any, had working floo's. Knockturn Alley was at their backs. The next attack could come from anywhere.

Another explosion went off further up the street, followed closely by one behind them. Harry pulled Tom down with him as part of a crate flew over their heads and smashed to pieces against the side of a building.

"Come on," Harry tugged Tom with him along the shop front. The streets were rapidly clearing as people took refuge, but there were still plenty of people about to provide target practice for their attackers.

Tom lagged, neck twisting this way and that. He looked more excited than afraid. Harry's grip tightened on his arm.

A ball of purple magical fire streaked towards them. It impacted with the storefront immediately behind them and exploded, sending glass and brick flying.

Harry jerked himself and Tom to the nearest cover, a slight gap between two stores. It was too narrow to really be an alley but to wide to be called anything else. Shrapnel tore at Harry's back and legs as he pushed Tom ahead of him into the gap.

One other man was already there, a balding wizard whose jaw was set determinedly, wand clenched in trembling hands. He was obviously terrified, but at least he had enough of his wits about him to have taken decent cover.

Harry pushed Tom a bit farther down the alley and joined the other man at its mouth. He rotated his shoulders, wincing. His back stung but the cuts were minor; they'd avoided the worst of the explosion.

"Watch the rooftops; they might try to attack from above," he instructed. More directions came to mind, directions he'd said and heard so many times that they rolled through his mind with all the rote ease of a pre-game Quidditch pep talk.

But there was no time to give them; the street had gone eerily silent, save the wails of a few frightened children. The first wave was done. Harry settled himself into position for the second.

It came bare seconds later.

The first spell tore in from the left. It hit a woman who'd been hiding behind the inadequate shelter of a peddler's cart. The little boy she'd been standing over screamed for his Mummy, frantically shaking the unresponsive woman's shoulders.

Harry's jaw locked.

Fury roared through his veins, fury he channeled into his magic; this was no place for anger to be clouding his judgment.

A quartet of wizards in slate grey robes appeared from between two stores on the tail end of the curse, hoods pulled forward far enough to obscure their faces. They stayed low, sticking to available cover, firing curses at everything that moved and occasionally at things that didn't.

The leading wizard ducked a blue curse fired from behind Harry, some distance further up the street. Harry took the opportunity to fire a volley of hexes. Only one hit. The man jerked backward, clawing at his face as blisters spread rapidly over his visible skin.

His partner moved forward, allowing the injured man to pull back to better cover, and was immediately attacked by Harry. The man sharing his cover finally opened fire with a tripping jinx, and streaks of light again sailed from further up the street.

The man dodged the first few spells and blocked the next two before returning fire. Harry jerked back as a jet of light nearly grazed his cheek. The man beside Harry screamed, his wand clattering to the ground. He clutched his limp wrist to his chest. It looked as though every bone in his wand hand had been crushed.

"Tom! Help him back!" Harry snapped, not daring to take his attention off the wizard he was rapidly exchanging spells with. A piece of the wall above his head exploded. Rubble rained down on his head. Harry ducked.

Harry's opponent finally fell back with a cry, clutching at his abdomen. Harry hadn't hit him. He could only assume it was the unknown ally behind him.

Tom slipped up beside him, taking the injured wizard's spot just behind the building corner. "He fainted," the boy said, disgust coloring his voice. Harry shot him a sharp look.

A curse from above hit the ground between them, sending shrapnel pelting against their legs.

Harry snarled and whirled back around, Seeker's eyes catching the flash of a dark cloak on a roof caddy corner to their cover.

"Protego!" the shield deflected the next curse with time to spare.

The little boy just down the street was still wailing over his mother's body.

More figures in grey robes flooded the street. The defenders were scattered, panicked, and mostly unfamiliar with actual life and death combat. The attackers were few in number but organized. They moved forward with little to no opposition.

They would be on the child in moments.

"Tom! Cover me!" Harry snapped. He stepped forward, out of the cover of the alley. "Accio!" The boy sailed strait to his arms, his frightened wailing cutting off abruptly at the shock of being suddenly tugged off his feet.

Harry spun back into the alley, a curse impacting with the corner of the building where his head had been moments before. He jogged backwards a few steps and set the child down where he wouldn't be stepped on, then spun back around to help Tom.

The rescue, quick as it had been, cost him. He'd obviously been seen; grey robes converged on their location with a vengeance. Tom dodged side to side, sending back a rain of retaliatory curses but never once raising a shield.

Against real opponents, he only lasted seconds.

A bright flare of light made them both cringe. Tom flinched backwards.

Harry heard the incantation for the bone shattering curse an instant too late.

Tom gasped quietly and stumbled into the wall.

He clutched at his shoulder, face pale. He started to fall and leaned against the side of the building, bracing himself. His foot slipped and bumped his wand, fallen from slack fingers, out of his reach.

His foot slipped again and this time Tom slid down the wall to the ground, huddling there, blinking rapidly.

"Move back!" Harry snapped at him, but could do little to make him obey as light again flashed in his peripheral vision. A shield went up in a flash. He lowered it again as soon as the curse bounced off it, moving to stand in front of Tom despite the fact that it put him almost completely out of the alleys cover.

The curse had come from the same man that hurt Tom. Harry snarled.

The man wasn't the only one throwing hexes in Harry's direction, but that mattered little. By the time his opponent had blocked his third curse Harry's fury-fuelled magic fairly crackled across his skin.

His fourth curse ripped straight through the hasty shield that tried to stop it, tearing deeply into the grey-clad wizard's chest.

The man staggered back, stunned. One disbelieving hand went to his chest, where a red stain spread steadily across the slate grey robes. He slumped to the ground and lay still.

An anguished cry tore from the throat of one of the attackers and Harry became aware of his surroundings again.

His knee throbbed painfully. He'd moved forward, completely out of the alley's cover.

At some point the cover fire from further up the street had cut off as the person or people there were forced to deal with hostiles coming from the other direction.

An explosion to his side made his ears ring. Harry threw up a shield blindly, knowing his opponent would not pass up the opportunity caused by his disorientation.

Curses rebounded off the shield, followed closely by a bludgeoning hex from the side that threw Harry off his feet. He was back up in an instant, staggering slightly as his knee threatened to buckle.

Two hexes came from opposite directions and Harry threw himself backwards, stumbling again. He couldn't quite remove himself from the path of the second one. Fire seared up his bad leg.

Harry barely kept his feet.

The sounds of fighting up the street suddenly increased. Harry caught a glimpse of a red beard and flamboyant robes. Dumbledore. Help was almost here.

Another curse, screamed with same tone as the voice that had yelled in denial of the last wizard's death. With Harry's luck, he had likely been a close friend of the dead wizard and was now hell-bent on retribution.

Harry overbalanced on the dodge, twisting as he fell to avoid yet another hex. His elbow scraped painfully across the ground. Harry didn't slow, flipping himself over, a shield ready but this time unnecessary. His opponent's attention was on something else.

The man's eyes narrowed in calculated cruelty and Harry realized too late that he'd moved from his protective position in front of Tom.

Harry's heart stopped.

No. No, not again, not again, he wouldn't lose the one thing he had here!

The boy Harry had been, the teenager who couldn't let anyone die if he was at all capable of saving them, took action once again. He threw himself forward. The green light of the killing curse streaked towards him.

A high pitched scream

A strangled shout of denial tore itself from Tom's lips. The boy lurched, arm dragging limply. Too slow.

It isn't the same thing, Harry

I don't see how it's any different, Mione

Green was coming, filling his vision. He gathered himself, mind reacting to the threat his body well knew by now.

If you cark it, mate, I'm going to

Sorry, Ron

His scar seared and he suddenly knew what he'd been missing earlier. Pain. A headache, to warn him of Voldemort's mood. There was no Voldemort here to warn him. No Voldemort to kill him. Harry wanted to laugh, but the green light was there and hitting him, dropping him to the ground as his scar screamed with the pain of it.

He though he heard Tom, frantically calling his name over and over, and maybe a flash of red hair as Dumbledore's voice shouted a spell, but he couldn't be sure because something in his head was ripping, and tearing, and it hurt, and he was fading into blissful, painless darkness.


End Chapter

Not as polished as I'd like it to be, but I figure you've waited long enough. Next chapter shouldn't be so long in coming.