The sun was rising, Harry noticed as he nudged the gate shut behind him before limping up the pathway to his small house in Falmouth. Gently kicking the front door shut, Harry leant against it for a long moment before pushing off it, making his way further inside. Peeling off his robes, he grabbed two small vials from one of the many pockets before tossing them over the back of a chair in the kitchen. Pulling the stoppers out, he downed the contents of both in quick succession before chasing them down with a glass of water that did absolutely nothing to get rid of the foul taste they left on his tongue.
It had been a very long 73 hours since Harry had last woken up over three days ago. But when the Department Head summons you and sends you on an urgent mission with the Aurors you don't say no even if you've just been teaching NEWT Defence all day. The resulting mission had involved a four-and-a-half-hour trek through a forest and most of the way up a mountain, before thirty- something hours of de-hexing, de-cursing, de-warding and all round breaking into one of the most heavily secured shacks Harry has ever broken into. And then, after a quick visit to Mungo's for the cursed wound that wouldn't close up let alone heal over and to his desk to write up a quick preliminary report, Harry, despite wanting to have been asleep over ten hours ago, had let Hilliard and Rivens shanghai him into another of their experiments. In the end it had been the experiment and not the mission that had left Harry with a limp, but since it was just a bruise he had decided to let it heal naturally.
Bypassing the first open door showing his welcomingly empty bed, Harry kept walking another few feet to the room next to his own. Slipping silently inside, Harry let himself stare at his peacefully sleeping son. Sitting down near the head of the bed, Harry rested a hand on the mess of violently purple hair.
"Dad?" came a pillow muffled mumble.
"Just me, Ted. Go back to sleep," Harry murmured, settling back against the headboard as Teddy curled a fist into his shirt, shifting closer to the wall.
Toeing off his boots, Harry swung his legs up onto the bed, sliding down until his head was level with Teddy's on the pillow. The boy automatically moved, seeking him out as he burrowed his face into Harry's chest and Harry turned onto his side, wrapping his arms around his son.
Within moments Harry felt Teddy's body relax into sleep. Pressing a kiss to the hair that was slowly darkening, Harry shut his eyes, whispering, "Love you, kiddo," before he fell asleep as well, unconsciously curling himself around Teddy protectively.
When Harry woke up feeling more refreshed than he should, he knew immediately that something was wrong.
For one thing he was cold and for another he was alone in the bed.
The fact that he was alone could probably be put down to the fact that Teddy had just gotten up and was somewhere in the house entertaining himself, but the coldness wasn't just from the absence of the boy's small body curled up to his own or the simple warming charms that Harry and
Andromeda placed over Teddy's room during the coldest months of the year. It was a chilling emptiness that extended even past the extensive plethora of protective wards that safeguarded the property.
Furthermore, the bed he was in was much harder than the ridiculously squishy mattress that Teddy spent more time bouncing on than he did sleeping. It was harder than even Harry's own bed, and significantly lumpier.
Also, the room was dark, much darker than Teddy's should have been even if Harry had slept the entire day away.
But the most distressing thing was that he felt different in a way that he could not explain. Not bothering to find his wand, and fairly certain that it was still in his robes in the kitchen, Harry just muttered, "Lumos."
A small ball of light appeared, lighting up the entire room and Harry's heart stilled in his chest, because instead of Teddy's room he was presented with a sight he hadn't seen in not nearly enough years.
His old bedroom at the Dursley's was a place, along with the rest of the house of his formative years, he had sworn he would never return to, and yet somehow here he was; in the Smallest Bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive. Or at least in a very good imitation of it.
Looking down at himself, it took Harry a moment to really comprehend what he was seeing. His body was small. Not child sized tiny, but definitely smaller than it should be. Whether it was because of his own genes or something carried over from a childhood of neglect, Harry hadn't, despite Mrs Weasley's fussing, ever really grown much after his sixth year at Hogwarts. And right now he was definitely smaller, and scrawnier than that.
Number 4 Privet Drive and he was almost fifteen, if the long scar down the inside of his left arm but an unblemished back of his right hand were anything to go by.
A part of his mind registered the immense amount of effort someone had gone through to make sure every detail was accurate for his bedroom in 1995. Not that Harry remembered exactly what his bedroom had looked like the summer he turned 15, but nothing looked or felt glaringly wrong. Nevertheless, Harry wasn't able to do anything to check because the door swung open and his Uncle Vernon walked in. Multiple theories raced through his mind as to how an age appropriate Vernon Dursley could be there. Polyjuice and then a de-aging potion, a willing or unwilling metamorphmagus, the real Vernon under Imperious and given a de-aging potion.
"We –that is to say, your aunt, Dudley and I– are going out," he said.
That changed things because while it was common knowledge in the wizarding world that he'd grown up with his aunt and uncle, not many people knew he had a cousin, let alone Dudley's name, and all but a few were people whom he considered family. And certainly none of them would be cruel enough to do something like this to him no matter the reason.
"Okay," Harry said slowly when it appeared that 'Vernon' was waiting for an answer. "You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions."
"Okay."
"You are not to steal food from the fridge."
"Okay."
"I am going to lock your door."
"Okay," Harry repeated for a third time, feeling completely unnerved by the conversation for a reason he just could not discern.
By now every single theory he had was impossible. Because it wouldn't be that hard to figure out which room at the Dursley's had been his and then fill it with the appropriate items. Likewise, it could be possible for a determined person to figure out he had a cousin and what said cousin's name was. It even stood to reason that such a person who would go so far would also be able to replicate an age appropriate Vernon who could act like Vernon; even despite the fact that the general wizarding public thought Harry had a good relationship with his muggle relatives.
But it was downright impossible for someone to make a non-Dursley talk to Harry with just the right amount of loathing, contempt and suspicion that only the people he, regrettably, called his only blood family had for his very presence.
Having already turned away, a thud and click, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock, alerted Harry to the fact that Uncle Vernon had left his room. Heavy footsteps got fainter, and then the slamming of car doors and the engine rumbling indicated that the Dursley's had left.
A more thorough self-examination showed that his body was more or less correct for the summer before his fifth year, right down to the bruises he'd gotten from Vernon and Dudley the night of the Dementor attack.
And that left time travel, which wasn't impossible; after all he'd travelled back in time once before. But this wasn't like any form of time travel that Harry had heard of. Time travel –time travel as he knew it– involved the actual physical body going back in time, which was why the act of time travelling was so carefully regulated by the Department of Mysteries, because, amongst all the other complications that could arise from time travel, there was the very real possibility of running into one's own self. And Hermione couldn't have put it better when she said that bad things happen to people who meddle with time; Harry really hoped he hadn't just found himself in one of those situations.
He couldn't sense the presence of a potion in his system, nor the effects of an obliviate –or some other mind-altering spell or potion–, but that didn't mean it wasn't there, it just meant he was unable to detect it.
What Harry didn't expect to find was the tattoo that sat over the scar on his left forearm stating his status as an Unspeakable Field Agent and Researcher, his rank and codename. Sliding his right thumb down over the tattoo, it slowly faded into his skin and all that remained was an oddly shaped mark that would look like a weird but ultimately unremarkable skin deformity to anyone who didn't know what they were looking at.
Curious, Harry decided after a moment, but definitely not unwelcome. The tattoo wasn't normal, even by Wizarding standards. Unspeakable tattoos were tied to the witch or wizard's magic, there were multiple reasons for this, but the main one was that it made it near impossible to impersonate an Unspeakable. The closest you could get was with twins, but even identical twins have slight differences in their magical signature.
It also meant that it wasn't just his memories that had 'travelled', like he'd first begun to theorise. This was more than that. Closing his eyes, Harry turned his magic inwards and was relieved to find his occlumency shields where they should be and as strong as ever.
It wasn't the only thing he found, though. Or rather it was the only thing he found. There was no link to Voldemort.
So, either someone had really done their research on him and was trying to torture him or Harry had somehow managed to be transported –memories, magic, soul and all– into his fifteen-year-old self. Great.
The good part was that either way it would eventually come out. The further the charade went, the more people and places he interacted with, the harder it would be to keep up the illusion. Which only left the problem of what to do if it turned out he really was in 1995 and physically fifteen again.
Because if he really was in 1995 then the fact that there was no trace of Voldemort in his head meant that things had already been changed. Could he stay here for as long as it took to find a way back without changing things? Saving people. Could he really stay here and not take the opportunity to ensure dealing with Voldemort was both easier and happened with less casualties?
There was a crash in the kitchen and all of a sudden Harry remembered why that conversation with his Uncle Vernon had made Harry's time honed instincts for trouble ringing like crazy.
Silently putting out the small light he'd conjured, Harry grabbed his wand from where it was lying on the bedside table. With his other hand he sent out a wandless charm to unlock the door. Pushing it open, Harry kept his wand ready at his side as he edged out of the room and to the top of the stairs, making sure to stay in the shadows.
"Good to see you being cautious, boy," Moody's gruff voice said.
"Mad-Eye," Harry breathed, unable to not remember the last time he'd heard that voice was in this very house, which he was strongly beginning to believe was indeed the real Number 4 Privet Drive and not a very good fake.
"So they call me," he growled. "Get down here, we want to see you properly."
Harry didn't move. "Where'd Barty Crouch Jr keep you during the school year you were meant to be teaching?"
Moody let out a barking laugh of approval. "My own damn trunk," he answered over the disapproving grumbles of everyone else standing around him. "Excellent thinking, Potter. Making sure it's really me."
Before he could say anything more Tonks cut into the conversation, amused. "Why are we all standing in the dark? Lumos," she continued and the hallway lit up.
Harry couldn't contain his flinch at seeing her hair that shade of violet she'd always preferred, the same shade of violet that Teddy had been wearing when he'd fallen asleep all tucked up against Harry's side.
Harry looked down enough that they couldn't see the grief on his face as he realised that if he couldn't find a way back then Teddy –his Teddy– was very likely gone forever.
He looked up again when he heard Remus saying his name, vaguely aware that they had been talking about him. "A stag," he said, answering the question about his Patronus, though it had been many years since it had taken Prongs' form.
Harry didn't pay much attention to Remus as he introduced the various Order members, every last one of them looking so out of place in the Dursleys' very muggle home. The time passed quickly as they all bickered and nosed around the Dursleys' house until the signal for them to leave happened and Moody tapped his wand to the top of Harry's head, casting a Disillusionment Charm on him.
Before he knew it, he was kicking off from the ground and soaring into the sky. The hour-long flight, though thankfully not through Greenland, gave Harry enough time to figure out what to do.
If –and it was very big if. If he couldn't get back, then the heart of his plan, at least the first part, lay in the Ministry. He could potentially save Sirius and Mr Weasley and deal with one of the Order's priorities in one move. If he was lucky he could also deal with Fudge and Umbridge and prevent the students of Hogwarts being tortured. Unfortunately, he didn't have any proof, except for his memories and Unspeakable tattoo, as to who he was and he wouldn't put it past Moody to not believe even that. After all, Voldemort was a master of the mental arts.
Silently accepting the slip of paper from the ex-Auror, Harry read it and pretended to be surprised to mask the fact that he could already see Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He made a mental note to figure out how that worked, whether it was because he already knew the secret, or because when Dumbledore had died he had become one of the secret keepers, or if it was because he had become Lord Black after Sirius' death.
Thankfully years of having Teddy run at him had conditioned him into not attacking when someone ran at him for a hug, just as Hermione did when he opened the door to the bedroom he and Ron had used before and during their fifth year.
When Fred and George finally joined them, he couldn't help but smile at the pair. George had never really recovered from losing his twin and it was ridiculously good to see them together again. Ginny was also a wonderful sight to see. They never had gotten back together after the war, both had been able to recognise that getting into a relationship while still so fragile from the war wouldn't be a good thing and by the time they were healed enough to think about that sort of thing again their feelings for each other had changed and they had been content with being close friends.
As if sensing something was wrong with him Hedwig had settled herself on his shoulder and refused to be moved, not that Harry was complaining, she had been his first friend and he had missed her as much as any of the other friends he'd lost during the war.
It took longer than Harry remembered for the Order meeting to end, but eventually it did and Harry hung back behind the others, watching as most of the Order members filed out of the house, smiling when Tonks tripped over the umbrella stand. He wondered why no one had bothered to remove the mild hex placed on it to make her trip over the ugly thing every time she went past it.
Turning away from the now closed front door, he saw Sirius with his back to the portrait of Walburga Black. "Hello, Harry," he said, smiling warmly. "I see you've met my mother."
In that moment he didn't care what the others thought of him –he didn't even care if this wasn't real–, all he could think of was how much Sirius had given and done for him and how he'd never realised it until the man was dead because of him.
Jumping down the last few stairs, Harry propelled himself across the room and into Sirius, wrapping his arms around the man's waist. For a moment Sirius' body stiffened, but then he relaxed and returned the hug, his head coming down to rest on top of Harry's.
"I missed you," Harry whispered for lack of being able to say what he truly wanted to.
Sirius' arms tightened around him and if he noticed Harry's tears soaking into his shirt then he didn't mention it.
Pulling away, Harry noticed that they were alone in the hall.
"You okay?" Sirius asked in a low voice, hand on Harry's shoulder as he led them into the kitchen. "Yeah," Harry lied, sniffing as he wiped at his eyes. "I'm fine."
Dinner was as lively an affair as Harry remembered it being and the further it progressed the more Harry became sure that he was indeed, somehow, in the past and not dead or drugged or cursed or just plain crazy like Malfoy always said he would one day be.
A great deal of his certainty was down to the fact that, while impersonating Vernon was plausible with a great deal of work, recreating Number 12 along with age appropriate people, some dead and some alive and having them all act as they should, should be pretty much impossible. It certainly wasn't too hard for Harry to slip in questions here and there to test everyone, and the more he asked the more certain he became.
The conversation after dinner was hilarious at best and uncomfortable at worst, because it was so easy to see how badly Sirius and even Remus, Bill and, to a slightly lesser extent, Mr Weasley wanted to be as straight as possible with the group of teenagers but couldn't because of Mrs Weasley.
The moment Ron was asleep after Fred and George had popped out of their room, Harry slid out of his bed and crept out the door, locking it again behind him before silencing his footsteps as to not make any noise as he climbed higher up through the house until he reached Buckbeak's room.
Bowing while still in the open doorway, Harry waited for Buckbeak to bow back before he fully entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Slowly approaching the Hippogriff, Harry reached out to scratch at the short feathers on his head. Buckbeak gently butted his head against Harry's chest before lowering it to the ground. Harry followed suit and sank to the floor, leaning against the warm body, and the moment he did so Buckbeak shifted to lay his head in Harry's lap.
Reminded all too much of Teddy, Harry petted the Hippogriff's head, not noticing the tears streaming down his cheeks.
Harry woke up surrounded by warmth to a hand gently shaking his shoulder.
"Andy? iz'at you?" he mumbled, thinking that Andromeda was shaking him awake, all but outright laughing at him for falling asleep in Teddy's bed again. But then he realised that the voice calling his name was definitely male and much too deep to be Teddy's.
Within seconds Harry was on his feet with his wand pointed at the nose of the person and a curse ready at his lips.
"Harry?" asked the voice, cautiously.
Harry blinked and took a moment to really look at the person in front of him, stowing his wand away in his pocket when he realised it was just George. Granted it had been easier to tell them apart when one was missing an ear, but Harry had almost always just been able to tell which twin he was dealing with, or which twin was which when he was dealing with both at once, as one generally did when it came to the Weasley twins.
"Sorry," Harry apologised sheepishly. "You surprised me."
George immediately laughed and waved his embarrassment off as if it could happen to anyone; it was one of the things Harry had always appreciated about the twins.
Giving Buckbeak one last pat, Harry followed George out of the room listening as the redhead caught him up on what he'd missed while asleep.
Apparently, he'd slept through breakfast and Mrs Weasley had threatened everyone into not waking him up, "Not that any of us were going to," George reassured him.
Lunch was a significantly more sedate affair with Tonks, Mr Weasley and Bill all at work and Remus out doing whatever it was he did when not at Number 12.
Convincing Mr Weasley that they should leave for the Ministry earlier than planned was surprisingly easy. The only ones awake to see them off were Mrs Weasley, Sirius, Remus and a half-asleep Tonks, who's blonde curly hair –Harry had a feeling she'd been out undercover, judging by the male cut muggle suit hanging of her frame– was soaking in her bowl of cereal.
Harry nodded along as Mr Weasley gave him tips for the hearing as they walked to the Ministry. Pretending to be fascinated by the Ministry, Harry used the opportunity to take in as much as possible, too much had changed after the war to rely on that information alone in case things went south.
Once they got to Mr Weasley's office Harry took a seat, the silence only broken less than a half hour later when Harry stood up to ask where the toilet was. Smiling knowingly, Mr Weasley got up to point him in the right direction before returning to his work.
Walking in the right direction as far as he needed to be out of sight in case Mr Weasley was watching him, Harry took the first opportunity to duck around an office and headed straight back for the Auror section of the DLME's floor and, more specifically, Amelia Bones' office.
Approaching the desk that sat outside the office, Harry waited for the tiny witch to look up.
"Harry Potter, here to see Madam Bones for a Disciplinary Hearing," he stated when she raised an eyebrow at him.
Checking one of the larger books on her desk, she nodded him towards the small row of chairs that sat against a wall. Sitting on the one furthest from sight, Harry flipped through the Quibbler Kingsley had slipped him, half his mind on everything else going on around him as he fondly reread the first edition he'd ever read of the odd magazine.
"Madam Bones will see you now," the witch said, holding open the door to Bones' office. "Thank you," Harry said softly as he entered the room, the door shutting behind him.
"Mr Potter," Madam Bones said, and he couldn't help but stand to attention as she eyed him sternly.
"Madam Bones."
"Take a seat, Mr Potter. Now then," she said, looking up from the scroll of parchment she'd been reading. "As I understand your hearing is not for another four hours and it certainly isn't with me."
From what he could tell she wasn't lying, which either meant Fudge had ambushed her as well as himself and Dumbledore, or she was lying and he just couldn't read her that well. The few words
he had exchanged about his Patronus during his hearing had been the only interaction he'd ever had with the elderly witch, but he'd heard stories from not just Susan but also Kingsley and some of the older Aurors he'd worked with who'd survived the war and they'd all held her in high regards as being fair and just her entire career in the DMLE.
"I was hoping to offer my memories as evidence," Harry said, getting straight to the point.
If Madam Bones was surprised she didn't let it show. "That is a rather extreme measure to go to Mr Potter, this is after all only a simple hearing for underage magic."
"I know," Harry said, swallowing thickly, her accepting to view his memories was something he was counting on for several other things to work out. "But I feel that this is something you should see."
Madam Bones stared at him, and Harry maintained the eye contact until she broke it. "Very well, Mr Potter."
"Do you require assistance in removing the memory?" she asked as she opened what looked like a drawer to reveal a Pensieve set into the wall.
Harry shook his head as he pulled his wand from his pocket and held it to his temple.
Closing his eyes, Harry focused on the memories he wanted to show her. The entire affair in the Shrieking Shack, from the moment he touched the Triwizard Cup until Dumbledore led him up to his office, the Dementor attack barely two week ago and then further than that. Five minutes worth of detention with Umbridge, Umbridge's confession of sending the Dementors and her near use of an Unforgivable. The memories came out as one long wispy ribbon of silver and he placed it in the Pensieve, stepping back when he was done.
As much as he wanted to make his point, he refused to let anyone see the destruction Voldemort managed to bring to the wizarding world, especially that of Hogwarts.
When he turned away, Madam Bones was looking at him in surprise. "Professor Dumbledore wanted to view Voldemort's rebirth, he walked me through the process," Harry lied. To her credit she didn't flinch at his use of Voldemort's name.
Accepting his explanation, she leant over the Pensieve and was quickly sucked into the memories. Harry set his wand down on her desk and sat back down in the chair after removing his blazer. Rolling up his left sleeve, Harry made it so that his Unspeakable tattoo was showing again, before covering it back up again with his sleeve. Picking up the Quibbler again, he continued skimming over the wide variety of articles it offered.
It was almost an hour before Madam Bones finished viewing the memories and she stumbled upon coming out of the Pensieve.
Walking over to the small table that sat in the corner of the room, he poured a glass of water and set it on the desk next to her hand. "I apologise for the deception, Madam Bones," he said. "I admit I have not been entirely honest in my intentions, but I swear I mean you no harm. In any case my wand is on your desk."
He sat back down as a show of non-aggression. Not that it really mattered to him if she did attack, he was only slightly less dangerous sitting down and unarmed than he was standing and armed, but it was the symbolic gesture that mattered.
"As far as I am aware Dolores Umbridge has never held the position of a Professor at Hogwarts
School," Madam Bones eventually stated. "Explain."
"Everything will make more sense if you take a look at my left arm, Madam Bones," Harry said, already moving to roll up his sleeve.
Standing up, he offered her his arm over the desk. He didn't flinch when her hand shot out to grasp his wrist, the tip of her wand digging into his arm as she verified the tattoo.
"The Department of Mysteries, and for that matter the Ministry of Magic, do not employ underage wizards."
"No, we don't," Harry agreed.
"Damn Unspeakables," Madam Bones muttered before imperturbably coming to a conclusion. "Very well, evidently you have no intention of making this about underage magic, why are you here Mr Potter."
"Voldemort. I'm here and now and from the looks of things I'm not going anywhere so I may as well do something with it. The Ministry is corrupt, you don't need me telling you that, but when I come from it got so bad that the Minister was quite literally Voldemort's puppet. People died, Madam Bones. A great deal of them good people, innocent people, children. I have a...duty of care, you could say to prevent this. But there are some things I just can't do myself."
"Like the Ministry," Madam Bones said, catching on very quickly. "What do you want from me? And why me?"
"Susan speaks highly of you, so does Kingsley. You aren't swayed by power or money," Harry said, answering her second question first. "As for what I want. Sirius, if I can get you Pettigrew can you ensure Sirius gets his freedom? Also, Death Eaters, when they are caught can you make sure they will pay for their crimes. And Umbridge, I know she hasn't technically assaulted the students of Hogwarts, but can you keep the Ministry from appointing her as Defence Professor, at least just until I can convince Dumbledore that I am who I say I am."
Madam Bones sat back in her chair, for a long moment Harry was terrified she was going to arrest him or send him to St Mungo's, but then she gave him a small hint of a smile and shook her head. "Consider yourself cleared of all charges, Mr Potter," she said. "As for your other business, I presume you know where Sirius Black is now?" When Harry nodded she thought for a moment before continuing, "It won't be a good idea to have him come into the Ministry, will he be amenable to meeting at a secure location of his choosing?"
Harry nodded again, wondering how he could convince the Order to induct Madam Bones into their ranks.
"You get me the Death Eaters and I will ensure they are prosecuted to the full extent of the law," Madam Bones continued, a great deal more viciously and Harry was reminded of the fact that most of her family had been murdered in the first war. "As for Umbridge and Fudge–," Harry was surprised to hear her include Fudge in the plans, "–they will take some careful dealing with. Do you mind if I keep the memories?"
"Not at all," Harry said, they were only a copy anyway.
"Go," Madam Bones said, nodding at her door. "And try not to cause too much mayhem if at all possible, Mr Potter."
"I make no promises, Madam," Harry grinned. "Do you mind if I?" he gestured towards the
fireplace. "I have other business at the Ministry and I'd rather not anyone see me leaving your office just yet."
"Yes, I dare say your hearing will take some careful deliberation," Madam Bones said slyly, causing a stab of anger to course through him. How much had the Ministry and the world lost with her murder?
Picking up his wand from her desk, he quickly transfigured his blazer into an Unspeakable Robe before slipping it on, layering it with charms to make sure it stayed on and concealed his identity, but to also dissuade anyone from paying too much attention to him.
"Ministry of Magic, Atrium," Harry said, throwing the floo powder in the fireplace and stepping in.
Only stumbling slightly as he fell out of the fireplace, Harry caught himself and headed for the elevators.
Not even five minutes later Harry successfully was slipping the glass sphere into his pocket when a voice behind him said, "Bit early for work, aren't we, Potter?"
"Buggering hell," Harry muttered before spinning on his heel to face the Head Unspeakable. "Hullo, Pen," he greeted her brightly. "How's Nick?"
"My office," she said before clicking lightly away.
Later that day Harry caught Tonks on her way back to the Order meeting that was soon to start.
"Wotcher Harry," she grinned.
Harry shrugged it off. "You got a minute," he asked.
She peered further into the house at where various members of the Order were talking loudly about things that were definitely nothing Order related. "Sure, what's up?"
Pulling her slightly to the side, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small handful of Galleons and Sickles. "I need you to buy me as many thick woollen socks as possible," he said, pouring the coins into a confused Tonks' hands.
"Socks." Tonks echoed.
"As many as you can," Harry confirmed. "In the most outrageous colours and patterns that you can find."
"It's for a prank," he gave as an explanation when she continued to stare at him. "Alright then," Tonks eventually said, tipping the coins into a pocket.
A couple nights later Harry found himself being slipped a shrunken package under the dinner table. As he tucked it into a pocket he hoped Hedwig would be up for a flight that night.
Sitting in the largest –and safest– sitting room late the next morning, Harry made a comment about maybe considering a self-defence inclined line of products. Aside from the kitchen, it was the room they ended up in the most. An interesting cross between library and living room, it was large enough for them all with enough furniture for them to split away into smaller groups as they desired.
The twins gaped at him before grinning and they bent further over the parchment, both of them scribbling down ideas. True, the twins hadn't thought of expanding from just jokes and pranks so early in their career, but Harry felt that as long he wasn't out right giving them how to make each individual item then the occasional nudge in the right direction certainly couldn't hurt.
There was a commotion downstairs and everyone, even Ron and Remus who hadn't budged an inch except for their lips to give a chess piece an order, stared at the open door as if it would give them any answers.
Harry smiled grimly to himself, it seemed that Dumbledore had gotten his present. There wasn't an Order meeting scheduled and –apart from the usual occupants– only Tonks, who was sitting with Hermione discussing something in low tones, and Moody, who was downstairs, were around.
They were all still looking when Dumbledore appeared in the doorway looking harried, his normally calm eyes blazing with something like fear. Under his arm was the box Harry had owled to him the night before once everyone was asleep. Inside it, safely nestled away in dozens of pairs of socks, was the prophecy he'd retrieved from the Department of Mysteries.
"I'm not being possessed by Voldemort," Harry said calmly in the dead silence. He was unable to stop his eyes from flicking to Dumbledore's hand, remembering how dead it had looked for the last year of the man's life.
Sirius and the Weasleys all erupted at the statement, but Harry ignored them as he got to his feet. Rolling up his sleeve as he crossed the room, he presented his left arm to Dumbledore. "You can test it," he said, "if you want."
Moody, who had come in behind Dumbledore, took a look for himself and swore. "Who are you? What have you done with Potter," he demanded, evidently recognising what he could see of the tattoo for what it was. His second question garnered many yells and demands from the others in the room, but they remained unanswered and eventually fell silent again.
Around them Snape, McGonagall and Mrs Weasley who had also entered the room looked on in curiosity with everyone else as Dumbledore set down the box so that he could press the tip of his wand to Harry's arm. Frowning Dumbledore tapped his glasses with his wand before returning his wand tip to the tattoo, muttering softly as he did so. Finally, he looked up and, for the first time since entering the room, Dumbledore looked Harry in the eye. Remembering how persistently Dumbledore had ignored him in his fifth year, Harry, pleased at the change, didn't break the contact.
"How long have you been an Unspeakable, Harry?" Dumbledore's softly spoken question silenced the room.
"About six years."
Dumbledore nodded as if expecting it. "And when, if I may, did you become an Unspeakable, Harry?"
"July of 2001."
"But that's impossible," Hermione burst out from where she and Tonks were sitting.
"One would certainly think so, Miss Granger," Dumbledore agreed. "But stranger things have been known to have happened. How did you get here, my boy?"
"I have no idea," Harry said honestly. "One minute I was going to sleep with my–" Harry faltered
for a second, closing his eyes and breathing deeply before continuing, "–one minute I was going to sleep and the next thing I knew I was waking up in my old bedroom at the Dursleys'."
"I think you better tell us everything," Dumbledore requested.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Albus?" Remus asked, frowning in thought. "If he really is from the future we don't want to go around playing with that."
"Ignoring the Grandfather Paradox there are two prevailing theories for time travel," Harry said before anyone else could speak, unconsciously lecturing as if to his DADA students. "The most basic is that everything you do has already been done, meaning that nothing changes. Hermione and I proved that back in our third year. Doesn't quite work in this case. The other is that time starts being rewritten the moment you go back in time, meaning even if you try to change nothing, the timeline is changed by your very presence itself. In the case of the second theory it's unknown whether or not this occurs by the universe splitting into two at that exact moment where you arrive in the past. One universe where you don't travel back and nothing happens and a second, new universe where you do."
"In any case everything we know about time travel can't be relied upon because it's based around the person's physical body going back, hence the Grandfather Paradox and just about every other thing that can go wrong with time travel. Only my mind and magic has travelled back, taking over that of my younger self. Besides, my bosses are fairly certain I'm here to stay and a guess from them is pretty much fact from anyone else," Harry added.
Harry looked around to see everyone staring at him with a variety of expressions. "What?"
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Dumbledore chuckled, that damned twinkle in his eye. "Is it safe to assume that Voldemort has been defeated in your time?"
"Yes."
The two reactions to that were elation and demands to know how.
"Luck," was all Harry answered. "Luck and a bizarre amount of fortunate coincidences and just be glad Voldemort's not just egotistical but also predictable."
Harry didn't bother listening as various Order members gave their reports. Instead he sat between Sirius and Remus occasionally scribbling on a piece of parchment. He could feel the eyes of most of the people in the room on him but wasn't bothered by them. It wasn't surprising that they were all curious about why he was in the room when Dumbledore had, up until then, been so adamant about only those of age and finished at Hogwarts allowed to be a part of the Order.
"Thank you, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said once Charlie sat back down. "I'm sure many of you will be most relieved to hear that guarding duty will no longer be required."
Everyone in the room that hadn't been in Number 12 two days earlier when Harry had revealed himself to be from the future looked more than relieved and Tonks, even though she had been there, gave a whoop.
"Now," Dumbledore continued. "I believe you all recognise our new member."
"Yeah, yeah, Prof," Bill said in amusement. "We know who he is. A better question is what's he doing here. I didn't think we were recruiting underage kids now."
Harry couldn't be bothered being offended as he contemplated how to get the Hufflepuff's cup from Bellatrix's vault, preferably without having to break into Gringotts all over again.
"Ah, yes. Harry here is from the future." Dumbledore said with none of his usual elusiveness.
Dumbledore quickly and efficiently brought order back to the room that had quickly exploded with disbelief. "I believe Harry and he has no reason to lie about this. What's more, the information he has will be extremely useful in restoring order to the world."
"How?" Kingsley asked. "How did you come back? And why to now?"
Harry set down the quill. "Ah, I'm afraid that is one thing I can't answer."
Snape snorted, muttering, "typical."
Harry continued over Snape, "Because I don't know how it happened, but this is the last damn time I help Rivens with one of his bloody experiments," muttering that last part about Rivens grouchily.
Which was, admittedly, unfair of him. There was no way of saying for certain that it was whatever the pair were experimenting that had led him to being flung into 1995. But, Harry himself hadn't actually worked on time magics in a couple years now and nothing weird had happened while assisting the Aurors, so he was perfectly happy to pin the blame on his two co-workers until a better explanation was discovered, if one ever was.
"Rivens?" Tonks cut in before anyone could say anything. "Lucas Rivens. Blond guy, no left pinkie and a really twisted sense of humour?"
Her short description was surprisingly accurate, and Harry bobbed his head. "Yeah, sounds like him."
Tonks leant back in her chair. "Huh," she breathed, her hair fading into a pale green. "No bloody wonder we never figured out what the hell he was doing with his life."
"You're saying you accidentally came back in time," Kingsley asked.
"Yep," Harry responded cheerfully.
Bill started laughing. "From what my brothers have told me that shouldn't be surprising."
"The important thing," Dumbledore said, drawing everyone's attention back to him, "Is that Harry and I agree it would be remiss of us to not use his knowledge to deal with Voldemort. Harry?"
As they'd agreed beforehand, Harry stood, tossing the quill down on the table. "Basics first. Anyone know about horcruxes?"
While Dumbledore had argued in favour of not telling anyone, Harry had finally worn the man down and they had compromised to only telling those needed or absolutely trusted. This meant it had boiled down to pretty much the four oldest Weasleys, McGonagall, Snape, Mad-eye, Kingsley, Tonks, Sirius and Remus.
Bill, Sirius and Remus all flinched; Sirius swearing, "he didn't."
Dumbledore, though he'd known since the afternoon he'd received Harry's present, looked impossibly saddened. As much as Harry hadn't wanted to get into it more times than was necessary, he'd needed to tell Dumbledore some of the bare basics in order to get the man to let
him take a trip to Hogwarts before this meeting happened.
"And for those of us that don't know, Mr Potter?" McGonagall asked.
"It's the worst kind of magic, Professor," Bill said hoarsely, his face white.
Harry tilted his head in his direction. "Bill's not wrong. A horcrux is essentially a vessel one stores part of their soul in."
"You can have parts of a soul?" Tonks blurted out.
"Yeah," Harry answered Tonks, adding wryly, "but it's really not that great for your mental stability. Horcruxes are very hard to destroy, and even harder to create and with one a person becomes some measure of immortal. To kill the person you have to destroy the horcrux first. Or in Tom's case, all six. The good news is one has already been dealt with and another three should be easy enough to find. The last two may be a bit more complicated."
"Where do we start?"
Harry turned to the side, to face his godfather, "Sirius, could you call Kreature, please," he requested.
Before Sirius could open his mouth, the House-elf in question appeared in the room with a soft pop. "Master, called," he croaked.
Huh, Harry thought, must be because of his inheritance after Sirius died, after all. "That's impossible," Sirius snarled at Kreature. "What do you mean you little–"
"That's enough, Sirius," Harry interrupted, moving away from the table to crouch down in front of the House-Elf. "Kreature, what do you mean?"
"You is Master, Master. Magic says you is."
"Okay." Harry blinked, before shaking his head, weirder things had happened and he probably should have seen this coming. "Kreature, could you tell everyone here the story of this locket and how it came to be in this house?" he requested, pulling Slytherin's locket from his pocket.
"You has Master Regulus' locket," Kreature snarled, lunging to grab it from Harry.
"I do," Harry said, letting Kreature snatch it from his grasp. "And if you tell everyone here what you know about it, I'll help you destroy it."
"You will?" Kreature demanded suspiciously. "I give you my word, Kreature."
Clutching the locket to his chest, Kreature told the tale just like he once had to Harry, Hermione and Ron. By the end Sirius was hunched over, face hidden in his hands and his shoulders shaking.
"Destroy it now, Master?" Kreature said neutrally.
Harry looked over to Dumbledore who slid a small box across the table to Harry.
"Lesson one in destroying a horcrux," he said, opening the box to reveal one of the many large fangs he and Dumbledore had retrieved the previous day. "Basilisk venom works wonders."
"Go ahead, Kreature," Harry said, offering the box to Kreature. "You just need to stab it." "Any questions?" Harry asked cheekily, tossing the still smoking locket onto the table.
The meeting was a turning point in more ways than one.
The most noticeable was how quickly their cleaning of the Black family house went now that Kreature was all too willing to do anything for Harry, his new favourite Master.
But it was not just Grimmauld Place that looked better, the overall mood of the house's inhabitants and visitors became far lighter now that they had a definite idea of how to defeat Voldemort.
Yet, for all that things changed, they still remained the same. The four youngest Weasleys and Hermione took the fact that the Harry they knew had been replaced by a version that was eleven years older rather seamlessly and treated him just the same. Sirius and Remus took the change just as easily, though in the end they took to treating him less like a child they had to protect and more like a younger brother that they still wanted to protect but also knew they couldn't control as they would a child.
Harry even managed to kick start his friendship with Bill; this time over how to get Hufflepuff's cup form Bellatrix's vault without breaking in and out of the bank instead of over Harry's interest in Bill's job as a curse breaker and Bill finally having a younger sibling to take under his wing. Though that happened as well.
In the end though, the hours Bill, Harry and whoever else was around to offer help spent trying to find a loophole were wasted when Amelia Bones set off an explosion in the Ministry by granting Sirius a trial and finding him innocent.
Sirius' first act, after gaining legal custody of Harry –the world outside the Order still believing him to be a fifteen-year-old–, is to use his power as Head of the Black family to dissolve Bellatrix's marriage to Lestrange and take charge of her assets, including her vault at Gringotts. Luckily for them Bellatrix had used her personal vault and not her husband's, allowing for Sirius to just walk into Gringotts and request access. The moment they had the cup, Sirius disowned the cousin that once killed him.
Ravenclaw's diadem and the Gaunt ring were just as easily found and dealt with. And this time there was not a single casualty.
"You said six, Mr Potter."
Harry stopped mid-sentence to squint in confusion at Professor McGonagall. "Sorry, what?"
"You've been saying he made six horcruxes, but just now you said seven," she clarified. "Is there going to be another one created?"
Which was actually quite a concerning thought. And around the room the Order members were all looking equally worried.
It wasn't so much an official meeting as it was a celebration now that there was just Nagini and Voldemort himself left, and Harry and Dumbledore already had their plans for the pair, which was the only reason Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins were there as well.
"Ah, no, Professor," Harry shook his head. "I misspoke. Nagini was the last one he made." And he
wasn't technically lying. Using the death of Bertha Jorkins in 1994, Nagini really was the last horcrux Voldemort had made. Harry had been made into one that night in 1981, some thirteen years earlier.
It was Ron that caught his lie and called him out on it. Harry loves Ron, absolutely adores him. And knows Ron's attention to detail was just one more reason that at the age of only 25 he was already being groomed by the Head Auror so that one day he would take her place, but damn if he could be just a little bit more of the oblivious child just this once. If only for Harry's sanity.
Under everyone's scrutiny Harry folded like wet parchment.
"Fine, yes, I did lie. In my time, in this time too, Tom ultimately had seven horcruxes that had to be destroyed before he could die. The diary, which I destroyed my second year. The ring which Albus got the summer after my fifth year. The locket which Ron destroyed. Hermione got the cup when she and Ron broke into the Chamber during the battle. Crabbe's Fiendfyre got the diadem and Neville killed Nagini. And Tom got me," Harry said, very deliberately not looking at anyone.
Bill was the one that caught on quickest, "Merlin, Harry, you're saying..."
Harry nodded. "That Halloween, after he killed my mum, when he tried to kill me, a part of his soul split from the rest and latched on to the only other living thing in the area. Me. We –Hermione,
Ron and I– we don't think he intended to create one that night, but his soul was already so mangled that when he killed my mother, things went... a little sideways. "
"Why aren't you dead?" Snape demanded. Harry was fairly certain only he and maybe Dumbledore saw the man's horror.
"Who cares why," Sirius snarled.
"Our theory," Harry said quickly, before a fight could break out. "Our theory is that when he used my blood in the ritual to resurrect himself, he inadvertently became... not quite a horcrux, but something of an anchor for me. It meant that when I let him kill me I remained tethered to this plane of existence. That part of Tom's soul died but I was able to go back."
"It wasn't all bad," Harry mused quietly some time later. Most of the others had left after Harry had explained some more of the theory he, Hermione and Ron had cobbled together and then some of his friends in the DoM had added to.
"What was that?" Sirius asked, turning away from Bill to look at Harry, who'd been talking with the other teenagers in the room.
Harry hesitated before answering. After his confession Sirius had spent quite some time with his hand wrapped around Harry's arm tight enough to bruise before they'd managed to convince him to let go. But that hadn't stopped him hovering at Harry's side for the better part of the night. It had taken Harry letting Dumbledore search his mind with legilimency before everyone had believed Harry that he no longer housed a part of Tom's soul.
"Dying like that," Harry said. "There were some benefits."
"I don't bloody well see how," Ginny scowled before quickly scanning the room, for her mother Harry assumed. But Molly Weasley had gone to bed early.
Harry sighed and let himself lean a little bit more heavily into his godfather's side. "When my mum died she created a protection for me, one that stopped Tom from being able to touch me until he took my blood. When I let Tom kill me it did more than kill the soul piece. Just like my mum
died for me, I died for everyone there fighting for the light. No one ever noticed it, but not a single person or creature who was fighting against Tom was even scratched by the other side."
Waiting for the next Death Eater meeting and executing their plan was highly anti-climactic.
Kreature and Dobby were far too enthusiastic in helping them drug everyone not Voldemort and his snake, leaving the selected members of the Order to sweep in and take care of everything. Remus and Sirius took care of Nagini while Harry and Dumbledore distracted Voldemort long enough for them to decapitate the snake with the Sword of Gryffindor. Once that was done, Harry killed Voldemort.
The entire Order reconvened one last time at Number 12 for another celebration.
Snape was not there and Dumbledore arrived late. The reason behind both was that in the few days since Voldemort's death, Snape had quit and promptly disappeared from all of Britain. Which meant with less than two weeks to go before the term started Dumbledore still had to find a DADA professor and now also had to find one for potions.
Harry had already decided to keep up the charade of being a teenager, but he couldn't help but feel like the next three years were going to be quite boring without an evil DADA teacher or Voldemort's yearly plans to foil on top of regular school work. Even after the war had ended and the world had been rebuilt, Harry had kept busy by juggling raising Teddy with Andromeda and being the DADA professor before being recruited by the Department of Mysteries and his teaching career had turned into him giving the regular guest lecture.
Which led him to proposing the last of his, arguably crazy, plans to prevent his version of the future playing out.
"I hardly see how that is a viable solution, Mr Potter," McGonagall said, pinning him with a stern glare when he suggested he take over the position of Defence Professor.
"Well, not me as Harry Potter, Professor," he rectified. "I was thinking, if of course Mrs Weasley is alright with it, that perhaps James Prewett, her long-lost and up until now unknown nephew who has only now managed to track down his aunt, takes up the position," Harry said, smiling in a way that made it known he knew exactly how ridiculous an idea it was but that he would do it anyway.
"Oh, Harry, you've been family for years now. But you'd have to be Fabian's boy. Gideon wasn't one for the ladies, dear." Molly said, tearing up as she wrapped him in a hug.
"Also, with Rita's lovely help reporting on Voldemort's death and who had a part in it, I'm sure no one would object to Remus and Sirius becoming the Potions and History Professors," he tacked on, peering over Molly's shoulder, because why not go all in with the ridiculousness.
It's not like it was even a lie. At Harry's suggestion, Hermione had brought out Rita Skeeter from her confinements and agreed to let her go if she agreed to certain conditions. One of those conditions had been to write a series of articles on Voldemort. Favour for Harry, Dumbledore and the Order had only been higher in a future that would never happen.
"And how, may I ask, do you intend to both teach and be a student?" McGonagall asked before Dumbledore could say anything, though Harry could see the old man was giving the idea serious consideration..
"Time Turner." Harry shrugged, as if it was obvious.
"How..." "Unspeakable."