Aragog's Hollow - The Forbidden Forest

Early hours of May 2nd, 1998

"...but why on Earth should that mean that it is not real?"

The bright mist had engulfed the ancient man.

Expecting to wake in the Hollow of Aragog, the mist faded to reveal,

Himself, black robe billowing behind him, fists clenched. His focus was on the Shard of Tom under the benches as he paced forward the 15 or so meters, stopping his feet a mere fraction before the fowl thing. Having closed the difference, Harry had a clearer image of the man, not a meter distance now.

Older and more scared, a full beard with silver streaks on either side of his chin, wearing a black robe trimmed with silver rune shapes, and a three-piece suit a Malfoy would envy. However, two things remained the same: those eyes and that hair. Bright emerald-green and a mop-mess of jet-black, though his hair looked at least 6cm longer than his own had ever been, or so it would seem.

None of those details mattered once he'd seen the glint from the third finger of his older selfs' left hand. A ring, no less the exact ring he'd found inside the Snitch and put on moments before stepping into the clearing. Reminiscent of the Oxford ring found snooping the Dursley's house a few summers back, the Stone with the Hollow symbol prominently displayed had been set in silver, likely Goblin. Interweaving Runes round their way along the end of the Stone. Further down either side of the ring in minute detail, a Dragon and a Phoenix. Reexamining his own, he could now clearly see a faint glow emanating from every line.

He quickly returned his attention to his older self when he caught sight of his left-hand raising. A slight two-finger flick of the wrist and the benches over the Shard faded into nothing as if it was smoke floating before his face. It was here where Harry again found his voice.

"Ex..." he began.

With a glance over his left shoulder to make eye contact, the older man cut him off,

"I'll be with you momentarily. The Old Man took longer than I remembered, and while time is about 1:60 here, we only had roughly 2.5 seconds, to begin with, and he took an hour before he left, so you'll forgive me if I take care of business first. You'll get your explanation."

Returning his focus to the Shard, hand still hovering above the putrid pile of gore, the thing rose just under the outstretched hand, leaving not a trace on the white floor below. With his right hand waved, a sphere encased it. Semi-translucent with swirls of blue mist and smoke helped to hide the struggle the Shard was finally putting on. Whatever danger it would have faced during the next journey would pale to the fate that would come in its place.

Palming the misty sphere, he takes a single step forward as a train pulls in from nowhere. His second step accompanied a sudden squeal of metal-on-metal and a carriage door flying open, directly in front of the older Potter. There, standing hunched over; wings, horns, red eyes, claws, scales, tail, nearly 2 meters tall. There was nothing else the young Harry could think it was, a Demon. An actual demon from Hell.

Never leaving the train carriage, the demon held out its' clawed right hand, excepting the sphere dropped there. As quickly as it had arrived, the door slammed shut, the train pulled off and was gone.

Turning back, his elder self traversed the few steps, returning to the previous spot next to Harry. "Alright, a longer explanation can wait in due course hence the abbreviated version I'm about to give. Clear?" A nod from Harry has him continue. "Yes, I'm you, in about 50 years from a future that no longer exists. Forty years ago, five separate Dark Lords on five continents came to power. Africa, Asia, North and South America, and Oceania. All fell within those first six months. The Statute of Secrecy, broken."

"War. True Wizarding War. That's what came. Not the Hit-and-Run war that's about to end. After years of fighting, the only thing we could do to stay alive had been to hide. Svalbard, the no-longer-secret location of Durmstrang Institute, became the last refuge from the Final War. There, a plan had begun to form. With me so far?" Another curt nod from Harry.

"Excellent. Alongside Highmaster Krum and Headmistress Delacour," The names surprising the younger of the two, causing his brow to rise. "the little ritual that brought the ring to you was successful, no doubt destroying the Triwizard Cup in the process." Holding the gaze of his younger self, he paused before continuing, "Stopping the war is not possible. It's going to happen, like it or not." For the first time, Harry interjected him.

"Then what are you doing here if not to stop it from happening?" he sputtered. "An object that traverses back through time must also again travel forward. Any clue who said that?" A shaking head confirms what he already knew. "I did," he chuckled. "right before Fleur ripped out my gestalt at which I assume Krum killed me as planned." A jaw had dropped. "WHA..." Harry began, only to be interrupted again by the older of the two.

"A person's gestalt is how a magical portrait can function. The death of the individual is the trigger for its awakening. Think of me as a portrait of a possible future you housed within the ring," Clarity dawning Harry's face. "I see you've caught on. A soul can only travel so far from its home before it crumbles. I was able to jump back before coming forward to here."

Interjecting, Harry asked, "You went further back? How far? To where?" His reply confused the young man. "December 21st, 1912, at 12:21:12. Location: Gobekli Tepe, Turkey." The pinched brow of confusion was to be expected, as was his response. "Glow. Becky. What?" The elder chuckled again. "Think Stonehenge times twenty and double the age." A nod.

"One Henge, in particular, was used by the Dark Lords, led by the Lord of Asia, to eradicate all Mundane Life. A foul twisting of the site's original purpose, yet it worked. Every non-magical soul ripped from their physical forms, sucked into a summoning circle that crackled and hissed before a maw from Hell spewed forth horde after horde of nightmares. A blanket of black covered what remained of Mother Gaia." Fear flashed in both faces like a mirror.

"You said "a future that no longer exists" is that why?" asked the younger. "Yes and no." came the reply. "It would be true to say that it's why it is for me but, no. It's gone because things have already changed too much for it to remain." It dawned on him. "The Henge stop." The elder nodded. "If everything went as planned, the Henge should have triggered just over four months ago. December 21st, 1997 at 12:21:12 to be exact." Instantly, fury started to erupt from the younger, yet the hand placed on his shoulder calmed him just as quickly.

"Relax, the Henge was set to do what it had have been constructed to do, only earlier." Patting the shoulder before removing his hand. "Which was?" asked Harry. "I'll give you a clue. Filch and Figg can now use a wand." Shock, confusion, surprise, worry. All crossed his seventeen-year-old face. A third chuckle came from the elder. "I don't get it. You powered up everyone with magic?" The response made him sit on the bench that quickly reformed from the mist. "Close. The Leylines have been, for lack of a better word, readjusted, causing a flux throughout the world. Magic has spread like never before, well, at least not for nearly twelve thousand years."

A long low whistle was the only response Harry could muster up before, "So what's our plan?" escaped his lips, a shit-eating grin spread across the elder's face. Seeing his look, he knew. "First things first. Snake-face. Not to worry, the hard part is over. Now comes one of the greatest shows to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts. Together, we'll remind them all: We are Lord Black after all." Again, a mirror of the two faces. A look any Marauder, past or present, would shy in worry too.