Chapter 1: Genesis

Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

POV: Layla Trask

I try to wrap my mind around everything that Otto has just told me, but I've never been the brightest candle in the hall, so after I begin to feel a headache come on I stop trying and instead take a sip of my tea. It's cold. Otto has been speaking for an awfully long time and he had me so fascinated I forgot to drink it.

"Caloro," I mutter, tapping my drink with my wand. It starts steaming again and I take a sip. Then I look up. Otto is watching, looking amused. I glare at him. I'm doing well for a one-hundred-and-three-year-old woman – I still almost look good. I know I looked good in my youth, at least, when I wasn't scaring the pants off people with hexes and glares that promised them. But Otto's overly used to it now, and just keeps grinning with that goofy one-hundred-and-two-year-old grin. I sigh and sit back in my chair. "Okay," I say, "I'll try and say it all back to you. You want to use an incredibly dangerous piece of experimental magic technology that you've been developing for the past 50 years to go back to when we were eleven, without our memories, to fix up a war we already won."

Otto sighs and gives me the same old eye roll he always has. "Summed up in one sentence and there are still mistakes."

I glare again. "You tell me where I went wrong, then, and I'll drink this before you make me forget again. I'm an old woman and this is getting on my nerves."

Otto chuckles. "Okay, old woman, I will."

"Problem number one. It isn't incredibly dangerous. I've tested out similar things for hopping forwards in time on rabbits and they all came out in one piece and with their sanity intact." I scoff a little at this; he's talking small fuzzy animals, and I'm not even fully sure if they have brains or not. It's not like we were ever taught biology at school. If they do have brains, they must be small, because those things munch… interesting objects.

"Problem number two. You won't lose all your memories, only most of them. I did some muggle-style tests on the rabbits, and the last thing you look at while the spell begins to operate remains imprinted implicitly in your mind." Great, we only lose all but one of our memories. Perfect. That's so much better.

"Problem number three. We didn't win the war, he did."

I sigh and put up my hand to stop him – this is the bit I couldn't get my head around before. "Back up a little. I still don't get it. I know you said he was manipulating things—"

"Not things," Otto says. "Everything. He sat in the back seat manipulating the whole stage so things would go his way. I know the war turned out in our favour, but only because that was convenient for him. He just didn't want old Death-by-Mushrooms to get in the way of his power. Think about it, he lived to 203 – 203, Layla, that's not supposed to happen, even for one of us!"

I nod, "Yes, I understand that, but I still don't get why you're so worked up about it. You want us to try our lives all over again with no memories? We could make it worse!"

Otto sighs a tired, century-old sigh. "Yes, we could. But I think we have to risk that. We came out of the war on the winning side, but what was the cost? We lost over ninety people in the final battle alone, and I've spent twenty years researching this, Layla, over 80% of our losses were preventable, especially in the endgame! Think of it! 80% of 90, that's a full 72 people! Alive! And don't even get me started on how many relationships have broken down after the war, all those lives, Layla! All those lives that were screwed over for years, decades even, all for the sake of some power! Look what happened, afterwards! Our world didn't get better, it got worse. So, so many problems, especially in such a small population, manipulating everyone you meet, it created such a huge scar on all of us… Think of it, Layla. If for no-one, we have to do it for Sterling."

I groan – I knew he would bring this up. He knows I wish Sterling was still here with us, even after this long. "I know, Otto, I just don't want us to screw up. Think of how we were before, Otto, we were stumbling around like a bunch of nutcases."

For some reason, Otto perks up. "We were a bunch of nutcases. You, Sterling and I, running around and leaving Speckle Spells outside the Slytherin common room. Those were the days…"

He gazes off into the distance for a moment, then jerks himself out of his memories. "But we shouldn't do that again."

I laugh at his seriousness. "Oh, come off it, Otto, you were the most excited about it of all of us."

Otto shakes his head. "Not the jokes, Merlin no, we can do those over and over again. I was talking about the Slytherin bit."

I frown; he's gone and done the Ravenclaw thing again and forgotten I'm dull as two red bricks. "Why?"

Otto sits back in satisfaction. "Remember Nyssa?"

I nod. "But she attended Durmstrang – we only even met her in our fifties. We can't really play the long game if we don't have any memories."

Otto nods. "No, that wouldn't be practical. But we already know how Slytherin house was manipulated specifically to cause tensions that would degrade his political opponents. Ironic, considering they are the house of manipulation. What if we could stop that? That's half of the problem solved already; they were only so vulnerable due to their isolation…"

I finish my tea. "So, you're telling me… you want to alter the past so that Nyssa attends with us? Otto, you're talking crazy…"

Otto laughs, a wheezy, cracked sound. It hurts a little, because it should be from age, but he's been wheezy since he was 17, all because of a curse he caught with his throat. "I have talked crazy for the last century, and I'm not stopping because of by age, Layla Trask. Come on. Imagine us, but with a Slytherin influence. Plus, her characteristics are rare…"

I had forgotten about that.

"…Slytherin primarily but Gryffindor secondary? It's near unheard of! When the Hat decides between the two houses, it's usually trying to figure out whether the qualities are OF Slytherin or Gryffindor, not tossing up between two equal qualities… I mean, think of it, they'll both kill you over a cup of tea, they just go about it in slightly different ways, you can't have assassins without the bravery to do it without getting caught, you can't fight without withholding some kind of information…"

I have no clue what he means by that, but I'm used to it. Sort of.

"…if we even save 1 life, fix 1 home, it's worth it, Layla."

"Sounds like Sterling had more influence on you than you'd care to admit," I say quietly, and he shrugs sheepishly. "Okay, fine, but you'd better not screw this up, Otto Apted."

Otto beams and stands as quickly as an old, worn-out man can. "Thanks, Layla. I knew I could count on you." He leads me over to his contraption. Now that I know what it does, I look at it more carefully. It's made of pine wood, polished and glowing softly, emitting a soft hum with knobs and figures on it. He takes all but four of the figures off the table, then taps the board with his wand. "Tempe volat," he whispers, and a shower of sparks falls across the entire surface in orange and white. Then, he taps each figure. "Otto Apted. Layla Trask. Sterling Nash. Nyssa Argyris." Each tap sends out another shower of white sparks. Finally, he begins to wind a knob, counting as he does so. When he reaches ninety-two, he stops. "Okay. It's nearly ready. Now, when I cast the spell, you have to repeat whatever you want to remember over and over in your mind, or else you'll forget and we'll fail all over again. Sterling and Nyssa are both – both dead, so we'll be relying on each other's implicit memories to tell us what to do. Okay?" I nod and he places his wand-tip to the table. "I'm going to repeat 'Second try at life,' to myself. You?"

I think, before settling on something I know will perfectly match my juvenile paranoias. "He's manipulating you. Don't trust the old one," I say.

Otto nods and takes a deep breath. "Okay. O-kay."

I take a final look around the room. "Good luck us, I guess."

Otto smiles. "Yeah. Good luck us." And with that, he raises his wand and speaks the incantation. "Et accipit nos retro."

A shower of colour descends over the wood and almost immediately I feel ill – and in the shock of it I only just manage to remember what I'm doing – He's manipulating you. Don't trust the old one.

The room is swimming, now, in a blur of shapes and fading lights – He's manipulating you. Don't trust the old one.

I feel my feet leave the floor and time begin to reel backwards – He's manipulating you. Don't trust the old one.

My memories are starting to fade away – He's manipulating you. Don't trust the old one.

Why am I saying this again – He's manipulating you. Don't trust the old one.

I – I can't remember…

What's happening?

Everything is dark, I can feel the wind, I go to call out a name only to find out I've forgotten it…

He's manipulating you. Don't trust the old one.