Harry,
Dad's got tickets for the Quidditch World Cup. You coming?
Harry snorted. Expect Ron Weasley to be blunt about nearly everything. There was only one more person in the wizarding world who was as blunt as Weasley- Victor Krum. However, at least Krum had a sensible head on his shoulders, and he wasn't a blundering betrayer like the one Weasley had turned out to be. he looked back at the contents of the letter.
Tickets at home. Hermione is also coming. Reply soon.
Ron.
Harry weighed his options. Normally interactions with Weasley was something he would keep in his 'would-not-touch-with-a-ten-foot-long-pole' part of his mind. But then again, going with the Weasleys had its advantages. Firstly, it would take him off the grid for viable suspects about what was to happen. The thought still gave him a tingling sense of excitement. Plausible denial and all that- being with the Weasleys would provide him a good alibi. Second and most importantly, it would give him a moment with Fleur. She was there at the Quidditch cup. Perhaps a better first impression this time? Thirdly and lastly, going alone was not an option, for that would raise many uncomfortable questions. He sighed. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't."
"HEDWIG!"
The beautiful snowy owl gracefully swerved and arced through the air and finally fluttered around him, choosing his left shoulder to perch. Writing an acknowledgement note, he looked up at his familiar friend. "Say Hedwig, up for a flight?"
Hedwig barked in anticipation and forwarded her right claw towards him. Harry laughed and tied the small note there. "Take it to Ron. Will you?" Hedwig hooted in acknowledgement and drifted upwards, her wings stretched out as she flew away towards the Weasley home.
The smile on Harry's face turned into a blank expression.
Time to complete a few things.
The Department of Mysteries,
Ministry of Magic, Great Britain.
"Director Croaker, you need to come here immediately." The disembodied voice originated from one of the small crystal balls in the director's office. The director-Wilbert Croaker, a man in his sixties with a short trimmed beard and bright intelligent pale blue eyes, stood up and touched the ball, muttering something incoherent and popping off to the location of the source. The director of the Department of Mysteries had served as an Unspeakable for nearly thirty years after which he had been promoted to the post of the Director. Of course, to the rest of the world, he was the face and the Boss of the DOM, but only he and his second-in-command knew that being the Director meant something else entirely. After all, the Department of Mysteries was an autonomous organization whose roots crossed many uncharted territories, much more than even the Minister himself knew about.
They were the connections between the different worlds. They were the relay centre between different timelines. They dealt with the ancient and lost streams of magic, something that would even put someone like Albus Dumbledore into befuddlement.
There was a reason after all, that the Department was known as the Department of Mysteries.
Croaker popped inside the Hall of prophecy, were one of his fellow Unspeakables in charge of the Chronos Division stood waiting for him. The Chronos Division, was could be understood from its name; dealt with things related to time and its effects on magic. The division dealt with active chronomantic magicks like Time-turners and the products of chronologic confluences- in simple terms, prophecies.
"Status?"
"B Omega." Came the direct answer. Croaker paled. B Omega was a situation that simply meant one single thing.
FUBAR. Fucked Up Beyond All Reason.
To be precise, it meant that something had actively interfered with the timeline, causing the breakdown of a chronologic confluence. In simple words, some kind of incident had suddenly made a recorded prophecy go blank.
It was simply unfathomable. Prophecies were incarnations of wild magic, and wild magic wanted to come true. To completely obliterate the path demonstrated by a prophecy spelt disaster. On a side note, it also meant something else.
Time Travel.
Someone had travelled back in time, causing an event that had somehow negated the effects of the prophecy, changing the timeline for good. As said earlier, a FUBAR situation.
"Which prophecy was this?"
"E 11."
Croaker hung his head, his glassy eyes shaking in anticipation. As he crossed the corridor and moved into the 'E' line, he hated his gut instincts. It was just as he expected.
"I am declaring this situation as an official secret. Nobody knows about this. Nobody."
The unspeakable Clemens, nodded gravely and asked, "What are your orders about the subject of the prophecy?"
Croaker weighed his options. "Has there been any chronomantic activities recently?"
The man nodded.
"And why wasn't this bought to my notice, earlier?"
"We lost the signal before we could trace the actual site. Sir."
"Hmm. What have you got?"
"There have been a total of four chronomantic disturbances in the recent time-" he summoned a file and read it out. "The first on May 7, 1992. Location- Hogwarts."
Croaker looked up in surprise. Hogwarts. "Continue."
"The second was on May 2, 1993. Location- Hogwarts."
The expressionless face was slowly turning into a scowl.
"The third, May 19, 1994. Location- Hogwarts."
"Is this some kind of joke? A chronomantic event occurring every year almost around the same time-period; and you say you have no data?" Croaker gnashed his teeth.
"With respect sir, the disturbances were less than two seconds, sir. As you well know, it takes us at least eight seconds to trace the origin with precision. However-" the man hesitated before continuing, "—the third event had a larger time period. Four point one nine seven seconds exactly. We were able to confine the trace to a much smaller are this time."
"What was it?"
"The Forbidden forest. More precisely, near the Black Lake."
Croaker rubbed his temples. Investigation at Hogwarts was a messy affair, at least until Dumbledore was there as Headmaster. The old man had a pathological need to dig into every secret he knew about.
"Anything else?"
"Yes sir. We conducted some private searches and received some very specific and odd information."
"As in?"
"May 7, 1992. Hogwarts. There was a small altercation between Harry Potter and Professor Quirinus Quirrel, believed to be possessed by the wraith of Dark Lord Voldemort."
"So he has returned back from Albania! What is the status of the operations Department on this?"
"The Operatives are ready, should you invoke a sting operation." Clemens answered. "The next event. May 2, 1993. There was some event involving Harry Potter, the mythical Chamber of Secrets and some 'heir-of-Slytherin'. The third one, May 19, 1994. Harry Potter was in the very place in presence of Sirius Black, Hermione Granger and a horde of a hundred Dementors."
"Get the girl's memories as quickly as you can. Who saved the boy from the Dementors?"
Clemens gulped. "The report says that Fiendfyre was effectively cast in the forest, burning the Dementors off completely. The essence of a corporal Patronus was also recorded."
Wilbert Croaker stood up. "Let me get this clear. The fourteen-year-old Harry Potter not only cast a corporeal Patronus but also summoned Fiendfyre successfully, against a hundred Dementors?"
"No sir."
"What do you mean?"
"The Fiendfyre was not summoned, sir. It was cast. Wielded expertly like no other. The Fiendfyre did not even harm a leaf out of his confined territory."
"HOW IS IT POSSIBLE?"
"I don't know sir."
Croaker rubbed his temples anxiously. First the chronomantic disturbances, then the Prophecy becoming cold, and now this... Something big was about to happen, and events were centered on Harry Potter.
"Where was the fourth event?"
"Little Hangleton. May 22, 1994. Events unknown, but a chronomantic portal was opened from a distant timestream."
This complicates matters.
"I want more eyes on Harry Potter. This is an officio command, and independent of ministerial orders. Cleared."
The Weasley Burrow,
Ottery St. Catchpole.
Ginny Weasley and the twins were busy de-gnoming the garden, when the familiar snowy owl flew into their property. Knowing what that meant, she rushed back into the house, along with the twins. Ever since the school had given over the previous term, there had been no news about Harry. The previous year too had a similar case, although that was because of the doings of one stubborn elf. This year though, Harry seemed to have vanished off from the train itself.
Hedwig swam into the rickety old wooden house and perched on the dining table, her front claws extended outward in front of Ron who was busy munching his lunch. His food left unfinished, he quickly reached Hedwig and retracted the parchment from her limb. It was a note from Harry.
Meet you on the day of the match.
Harry.
"At least he gave a reply!" Ron mused. Ginny snatched the letter from his hand and read the contents. "It does not say where he is. Reckon Dumbledore knows where he is?"
Ron shrugged.
"I guess I should inform Mum that Harry had replied back. She was waiting for the reply." Ginny replied, and strode off towards the kitchen.
"Right!" Ron grunted, before returning to his lunch. "The match is in two days anyway."
Two days later.
The Weasley family was engrossed in what seemed to be a noisy mess of picking up and packing some clutter; some bangs because of the twin's inventions; the shrieks and the castigating noises from the mother Weasley and of course the tongue lashing that came from the non-Weasley female in the house- specifically, Hermione Granger.
The packing was halfway ready, and Mr. Weasley was already having some last minute talks with Bill and Charlie Weasley who had returned home for the summer this year (the Quidditch World Cup being hosted in Britain might have been a significant reason for it) and were going to apparate directly to the campsite for the World cup. A near-silent pop was heard and Harry Potter stood on the Weasley grounds, a grin on his face. "Harry!" A chorus of voices resounded at the same time, each being of a different note. The elder Weasleys had a note of relief in theirs, while Bill and Charlie had a surprised tone to them. The remaining plus Hermione Granger had a tone that was a mix of indignation and happiness in them.
"The prodigal son returns." Fred began, while George complemented him, "too right my brother, the great Boy-who-lived returns to the mortal grounds."
"Oh stop it you too." He did not have any problems with the twins. If anything, they were the only ones who had stood on his side. Bill and Charlie had broken off connections with the family after Ron had betrayed him. Arthur had been killed in the fight along with Ginny and Percy. When the dark Lord Potter resurfaced, the twins were the first of many from the light side to join his forces. Molly had taken Ron's side, and refused to believe one word against his own son, resulting in that unfortunate battle between the dark lord Potter and Molly Weasley in which the woman had lost her life.
Harry shook himself off from his reveries and looked at all of them calmly. Years of practicing and learning arcane magic had taught him many new and amazing skills. Severus Snape might protest as much as he wanted, but Harry Potter had finally mastered the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency. One of the powers of Legilimency was a technique known as 'Perception Dilation'- a technique that allowed the practitioner to effectively magnify his thought-processing speed. In that technique, time appeared to slow down, and the practitioner could think, observe add deduce a lot more than usual.
This family had given him love. Then, this family had taken away everything he held dear. This family had saved him from the Dursleys when he was innocent and helpless. Again, this family made him suffer his greatest betrayal.
The dark lord Potter wanted to kill the betrayers. The boy in him wanted to embrace his friends. After all, they had done nothing. Yet.
Harry smiled. "It's nice to meet you all again."
"You have changed." Hermione's accusatory tone pierced the entire crowd. Harry looked sharply at her, and for the first time, Hermione felt somewhat... intimidated at the bright emerald glow in his eyes.
"Harry? Where are your glasses? Merlin, you have grown! Are the Dursleys taking good care of you?" The mother Weasley intervened.
"I am not staying at the Dursleys anymore Mrs. Weasley. I am staying in my Family manor. It is unplottable and everything and hence quite safe."
"Your family manor? You didn't tell me you had a family manor!" Hermione almost screeched. "I didn't know. I got to know it in the summer." Harry refuted back.
"Well I think we should at least check it out once, see if it is really safe and everything." Molly began, but Harry cut her off, "that won't be possible Mrs. Weasley. The wards will not allow anyone not of Potter blood to enter, and I do not really know how to tune the wards yet. I am hoping to study them during the year."
Molly wanted to refute back but Arthur placed his hand on her shoulder, the gesture clear and well received. "If you think so, harry. I cannot help but care about you."
Was it because of care that you fought me?
"Sure. Mrs. Weasley." Harry ended the discussion.
All this while he had kept a sharp eye at Ron. The youngest redhead boy's face had turned into a scowl as soon as the words 'family' and 'manor' had entered his ears. It was all over the same again.
"You have a manor? All to yourself?" If his face had not turned slightly green with envy, the question could have been considered as quite innocent.
"Yes Ron. I have a manor to live, and I live there all by myself. No parents, remember?" Harry answered with a sarcastic tone distinct in his voice. Mrs. Weasley broke the ice by clapping her hands loudly. "Well then, aren't we getting late? Let us just get to the world Cup grounds first."
Without further delay, the entire party (with exception of Bill and Charlie) took the road uphill that led them to the dusty old boot (Wizards and their common sense, Hermione commented) and with the very-familiar tug-at-the-navel feeling, Harry felt himself get twisted and pulled away as the portkey activated.
Harry felt himself stop spinning and found himself getting close to ground. As gained by years of portkeying in and out, the dark lord Potter did not have any problem handling the aftermath. The same could not be said for the rest. Ron, Hermione and Ginny had thrown up, while Fred and George looked a bit dizzy. Molly and Arthur were quite okay, though Molly looked a bit shaken. The other members of the group- Cedric Diggory and his dad Amos looked surprisingly comfortable. Harry looked at Cedric and felt sympathy- after all; Cedric was the first of many that died when Voldemort returned. His father Amos had died of a stroke a year later, the death of his only son had hit him hard.
This time Cedric will live.
They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.
"Morning Mr. Basil. How far from here?" Mr. Weasley asked the man holding the watch.
"Hang on, let me check. Yes, a quarter mile from here, straight west." The man took the boot away and dropped it into a large box, which was already filled with other muggle wastes, portkeys Harry presumed. The other man made a note of the family name, number of members, time of arrival and all such technicalities.
They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.
It was odd how he felt different emotions on seeing the same thing for the second time. His first time round, he was surprised and amazed at nearly almost anything. Now though, it was normal for him, having lived for decades in the magical world. They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bell pulls, or weather vanes. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.
"That one is the Malfoy tent." Mr. Weasley pointed subtly, at the one with the peacocks. Harry sniggered. The irony of Draco stalking across the Hogwarts halls dressed as a peacock came to his mind. "The other one must be the Scamanders. They care more about the birds and beasts, than about their own." He pointed at the one with the birdbath. They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.
I wonder where Fleur is. Perhaps a look around is in order.
"Mr. Weasley?"
"Yes, Harry?"
Adorning his best innocent expression, he posed, "I was wondering if I could go on for a walk. Feeling a bit... uncomfortable." Mr. Weasley scrunched his face for a moment and then softened. "Sure Harry, but don't make it too long. The match will begin in a few hours."
"Of course."
It is all the same once again. Everything is back to the beginning. All my enemies are back and despite everything, I still have not even met her. Fleur! What am I going to do without you? A part of me wants to apparate to your home and kiss you to oblivion, while the other...
Harry became oblivious to where he was walking as his thoughts muddled his mind. Thoughts that featured one single girl... her golden curls... her full pink lips... her melodious laughter... her...
STOMP!
"Oww!"
"Oooof!"
"Can't you see where you are walking, you-" the melodious voice stopped midway as she got up to face the green eyed individual before her, who was apparently locked in some kind of day dream. Fleur's face almost shifted into a scowl as she interpreted the young man's glassy look to the usual 'drooling' look she got from everyone. She was almost about to say something sarcastic when-
"I am sorry. I did not watch where I was going." Harry replied, breaking out of the trance he was in, on seeing his beloved after such a long time. Fleur looked at him with suspicion, her eyes narrowed at his different reply.
Okay, that was different. She thought.
"Fleur Delacour!" She answered, her hands still stiff on her sides as she observed the young man in front of her who was... apparently not susceptible to her allure. "And you are..."
"Harry. Harry Potter."
Way too different.
"Nice to meet you Harry Harry Potter." She replied with a smirk. Harry grinned back, "It is an old habit."
"The boy-who-lived, walking alone here in the empty field?" She urged, fascinated by the apparently-one-person-on-earth-beside-her-dad-that-could-resist-her-allure. "Running away from fans?" she suggested.
Harry grinned.
"Hmmm..." Fleur mused. "Well the tournament is about to begin. I should be there with my Papa." She nodded once and strode forward, only to stop midway and turn back, "You coming?"
Harry could only nod. "Of course."
Never in his life had he thought he would be bored of his mind while watching a Quidditch match. Sure, the fight between the two teams was quite exhilarating to watch, but decades into the future, the better series of the Firebolt- the Thunderbolt and the Fireblaze, two amazing new models released by the Firebolt company some two years after Voldemort's death. Those brooms were better than the Firebolt on a significant margin. The dark lord Potter employed many broom-flyers to attack enemy camps. It was the first time someone had tried aerial attacks on an army and the other army were at a loss. That was how the dark lord Potter had conquered the fight against the ICW.
Years of playing seeker and then training other broom flyers for his raids had given him an extremely sharp eye for spotting the snitch. Especially since his eyesight was corrected after, he had become free of the horcrux. The animagus form of a golden eagle had only bettered his already better eyesight. However now was not the time for nostalgia and Krum was diving down to catch the snitch, with Lynch hot on his trail.
Everyone was yelling and cheering Krum (and Lynch of course) and bets were being placed on how Krum was going to catch the snitch. Ron and the twins were yelling and cheering loudly when Harry uttered one single word, which made them look at him oddly.
"Feint."
Just as he described, Krum swerved his broom just an inch above the ground and pulled up. Lynch who was just behind him, failed to realize that he had been played and crashed into the ground. There was a collective groan from the sympathizers as they saw Lynch get crash into the dust. Harry's eyes however, were on only one place.
The box next to the Minister's box—the place were Sebastian Delacour and his family sat together. Another section of the mind was on the monitoring charm that he had placed on the disillusioned Barty Crouch Jr. who was hiding beneath the invisibility cloak in the box just below where he stood.
Can't let you go unmonitored, can I Crouch?
Just as he expected, after the game was over, Crouch Jr. disappeared and Harry sensed him go towards the edge of the grounds towards the forests.
This is the moment he casts the dark mark!
Careful that nobody saw him, Harry put on a notice-me-not charm over himself. It was ridiculously easy since it was too crowded with throngs of people scurrying out towards the tents. Sliding away from the Weasleys, he found himself a secluded area and put on his gray hooded robe. His wand still up in his holster; and disillusioned himself. Ever since the Hallows had merged with him, his body had changed drastically. He could now make himself invisible with nary but a thought. The invisibility properties of the cloak, he had guessed. He had worked behind creating a runic array that could work as a permanent silencing charm, and applied it to his dragon-hide boots. The process had required a great deal of magical influx since dragon-hide was magic-resistant.
He sped quickly towards Crouch Jr., the silencing charm working perfectly. It was one of the tricks of the trade, which allowed the mercenaries of the dark lord Potter's forces to outwit enemy troops. Now once again, he was beginning from scratch and part of him could not help but be exhilarated by it.
Barty Crouch Jr. loitered slowly, his mind half-conscious and half-infuriated, a wand in his hand as he slowly walked towards the edge of the grounds that led to the forest. A feeling of exhilaration passed through him as he raised his wand and waved it, hurling flames into the forest. Almost half a mile away, another bunch of people had shot out fire and was causing mayhem. The burning flames made him remember his glory days as he laughed out madly, yelling out into the air.
"MORSMORDRE!"
A black spell shot out of his wand and rose up towards the sky, casting the dark mark into the heavens. The greenish skull with the snake coming out of his mouth looked as eerie as the first time Harry had seen it.
Time for some fun.
"Hey Junior! Look here!"
Junior darted back in shock and turned towards the hooded figure in front of him. "How do you know my name? Crucio!" The sick red spell shot out from his wand towards Harry who simply dodged the spell.
"My turn!" Harry hissed and waved his wand, transfiguring Junior's wand into an adder, which hissed angrily. Crouch let out a yell and threw away the snake, only to find it re-transfigure itself back into the wand. Snarling at his opponent, he jumped towards the fallen wand but Harry was ready. Another flick and the wand transfigured into oil, making Junior slip and fall on the ground, bruised all over.
"Who are you?"
"Your Doom." Harry whispered, his voice modulated by the effect of a runic array carved on the collars of his robe. His wand raised to Junior's eyes, as he cast his first curse.
"Moitas Espadas!"
A dozen swords manifested in front of his wand, and shot towards the fallen body of Junior, impaling him. Four of the swords impaled him from behind while the rest dug into his frontal abdomen. One single sword impaled on his temple. Crouch was dead. The blood from his wounds flowing out, coloring the soil around with a nasty red color.
The first of many.
Harry whipped his wand and the swords vanished, leaving the wounds open. The oil on the ground had not yet transfigured back into the wand.
Let the Aurors figure it out.
He stopped for a moment. Feeling the anti-Apparation and anti-portkey wards placed all around the grounds, Harry let out another run, disillusioning himself with a thought.
He had reached near the tents. The fires were burning, and several people in complete death-eater regalia were laughing, casting flame and explosion curses everywhere as the rest of the crowd were running frenzy. It was almost funny watching a dozen people making thousands of others run like scared sheep.
Sheep... that is exactly what they are...
The death eaters were now distinctly visible. They were shouting and throwing out exploding curses now, and one of them let out a yell and cast a Cruciatus, causing a feminine shriek. A voice, which Harry would realize any moment, any day.
Fleur!
Fury raged inside him; his magic poised like a cobra ready to strike. His wand whipped out in his hand as he roared, "AUCTA VI CLYPEUM!" The golden band of magical energy that exploded out of his wand, and threw the death-eaters off by several wards. Harry walked towards the fallen girl, his face still under the hood as he watched her try to get up, but fail dismally as she convulsed in pain.
"Please..." she begged, and it broke Harry's heart seeing her so vulnerable. "Don't worry Miss Delacour, I am here to help." The runic array modulated his voice to become a bit more gruff than normal. The girl looked at her savior in shock and simply bobbed her head slowly. Harry turned towards the fallen death eaters who were now rising up and were ready to strike their opponent.
"Who are you, stranger? How dare you strike us?" one of them hissed in fury. Harry remembered the voice. Avery Senior. Harry had killed him personally in his other life, strangling his head with an iron coil.
"Peverell." Harry hissed and whipped his wand in Fleur's direction, as a high-powered dome shield manifested around her. Fleur widened her eyes at the impressive display of magic, as well as the person who had cast such an advanced spell so nonchalantly.
Three of the death-eaters sent Cruciatus curses hurling towards him. He whipped his wand and materialized several granite slabs towards them. The curses hit the boulders, breaking them into several smaller pieces, which rained on the death eaters, making them hide for cover. Several shields sprang up, the smaller chips hitting them, causing a lot of noise. He took the opportunity and sent out another set of powerful exploding curses. The death eaters started to take a defensive stance. The predators had just become prey.
Harry smirked.
Time for the kill.
"You bastard!" several of them yelled and shot out dark curses towards him. He weaved through them and cast a metal blue shield in front of them, shielding him from the incoming barge of spells. "Your dark lord will miss you...," he hissed cruelly.
"Sanguinis ad mortem!" he hissed.
A black light shone out of his wand shot out at the death eaters who were paralyzed at the unknown spell taking form. The black light formed an iron chain, which bound them together.
"Any final words, gentlemen?"
One of the death-eaters had used his portkey and vanished out, much to his consternation and the anguish of the others, who got themselves bound by the iron chain, which somehow stopped their portkeys from working. Harry turned towards Fleur who was still looking shocked at the turn of events.
"Miss Delacour, I will have to ask you to look away."
Fleur immediately complied and hid her eyes behind her hands.
Harry sneered, and hurled his wand forwards. The iron chain began erupting several iron spikes, crushing and impaling the bound death-eaters, killing them almost instantly. The iron spikes then vanished off, leaving the mutilated and wounded dead bodies, which fell unceremoniously on the ground. Fleur opened her eyes only to find the mutilated corpses of her attackers- their wounds open and the blood flowing out of them. The effects of the Cruciatus and the incident became too much for her, and she fell down unconscious.
Harry was about to try ennervate her when he heard sounds of the Aurors nearby. A voice chanting Fleur's name also became distinct.
Her father.
Time to vanish.
Turning himself invisible, he darted off towards the direction of the Weasley tent, and finding a secluded spot, he got off his hooded robe, placing them back into his pouch, and holding the small golden locket hanging in his neck.
One turn should do it.
The magic took effect as time rewound back. Harry could feel the time stream reflux and found himself back in time. One hour back in time.
Time for my alibi.
One hour back in Time...
"Everyone, gather in front of the tent!" Mr. Weasley bawled in desperation, "We need to apparate back home. Everyone gather here!"
"Harry? Where's Harry?" Hermione yelled out, "Harry's not here!"
"I'm here." She looked back to find her friend behind her, running towards her. "Sorry got swayed off by the crowd." He cast a confused look towards Mr. Weasley, "what's happening?"
"Someone attacked the grounds. Death eaters, I presume."
"Death eaters?" Harry asked with a tone of inquisitiveness predominant in his voice.
"You-know-who's minions!" Mr. Weasley stated and he nodded, discontinuing the conversation. Turing around, "How are we going to go back?"
"We will apparate!" Mr. Weasley explained with urgency. "Now everyone here? Right Bill and Charlie, take Ginny and your mum back. I will wait until you return."
"Dobby!" Harry intoned, and with a pop, the excited elf appeared amidst everyone. "Dobby can you take us all to the burrow?"
"Dobby can! Master Potter!"
"Good Dobby! Do it," Harry ordered, ignoring the indignant look on Hermione's face. Everyone held everyone else's hands, and Harry held Dobby's frail-looking hand while Arthur held another. With a rather audible pop, the entire party disappeared from the field.
Meanwhile...
Ronald Weasley cast some high-powered privacy wards around himself as he walked into the burning forest. The Death-eater party had really done a mess of things. The previous time he had been caught too unaware in the situation, what with him being an ignorant fourteen-year-old Gryffindor. Sometimes it even amazed him how far he had come in life. At one time, he was almost a nobody- a silly redhead whose only achievement was that he was best friends with Harry fucking Potter. Now though... He had seen the true reality. He had emerged out of the shell, and soon his plan would come to completion.
I was always the best of the seven.
The burning forest, the shouts, the running sheep deserting the grounds... everything was the same as previously happened. However, something was different. He had traversed almost the entire ground and had yet to find a single death eater firing curses all around.
Perhaps they left.
Lost in his thoughts, he reached almost the edge of the forest, musing about the potential changing of events due to his intervention, when something he felt something thin and cylindrical under his boots. Stepping back, he knelt down and cast a Lumos using the holly wand.
A wand?
He picked it up, and instantly, felt a long-lost connection.
My first wand, but how...
Then he noticed the red coloration of the ground before him. He touched the wet soil with his finger.
Blood.
Something has happened. Someone bled to death. Right here, on the spot, but who?
Whipping his wand in a semi-circular arc, he whispered. "Ostende hominem!" It was a forensic diagnostic charm, invented in the future which enabled the investigator to reveal a person's identity. A standard test for polyjuice during trials. A grayish mist manifested, which formed the words.
Bartemius Crouch Junior.
Fuck!
This was not supposed to happen. Barty Crouch Jr. was supposed to go as Moody's imposter for one complete year and then make arrangements for Harry Potter to be portkeyed for the Dark lord' resurrection. Now? Someone had killed Barty Junior. Ruthlessly.
It cannot be a death eater. It cannot be an Auror. It cannot be someone from the Light side. It cannot be Harry Potter- he is just fourteen now.
Who killed him?
"ARGHHH!" Ronald yelled in frustration. It seemed that returning in time had caused some unexpected effects; ones which he had not anticipated. That was it.
Or else.
Something else might have happened. The way of killing, it was just like one of those...
Ronald Weasley shuddered at the thought.
Could it be possible that... No, that could not have happened. Something else. Some other rational explanation must be there.
I will win. I will win. I will win. I will-
Ron pocketed his old wand inside his robe. A secondary wand if nothing else, he mused before apparating away.
### Okay that was it for the chapter. Hopefully the story has fleshed out a bit for my readers. Read and of course, review please.
