Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Acknowledgements: Thank you to my editor Athena Hope, as well as my betas 3CP, Luq707, Regress, and Thanos for their work on this story.
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Here's the summary:
Marauders' Era Time Travel AU: A better prepared Harry never faces Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. Six years of fighting follow that costly choice. His inevitable defeat does not leave him dead and buried, but stranded in a strange world ruled by Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and their greater good.
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Harry Potter and the Conjoining of Paragons
By ACI100
Chapter 60: The Ghosts of Futures Past
April 26, 1944
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
6:12 PM
Motes of dust dislodged from the walls around him and glittered like grey gemstones in the light of a torch teetering inside its bracket. Between the shaking stones underfoot and the harsh coughs ripped free from him, Harry nearly lost his footing when skidding around the next corner.
"ALL INHABITANTS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY!"
It was the third time that magically-amplified voice had rung through the castle. Not Dippet's voice. It appeared the ministry really was in charge now. Joy.
Peeves whizzed by him and streaked down the corridor, cackling on his path towards the Great Hall. Not now, Peeves.
The Entrance Hall was thick with bodies. It was hard to move; the queue was rushed and panicked but progressed slower than ever.
"Stop that!" a booming voice said up ahead. Harry stared through a thin gap between students and saw two upper years wrenched apart by a boy whose head towered high above both of them.
Hagrid.
"Don't yer realize what's happenin'?" he asked. "Grindelwald's on our bleedin' heads and you lot o' fools are fightin' in the corridors."
Bless him. Regret seized Harry then; the self-hatred was a potent thing. The closest they had come to crossing paths was back during the Aragog fiasco.
Harry stiffened halfway through his next stride. Bloody hell.
A silver key clinked against his leg when he finally entered the Great Hall some ten minutes later. The four house tables were gone. Students, staff, and ministry officials were being gathered in varying groups by high-ranking aurors marked out by their gleaming badges.
The first thing he saw while looking for his friends was Peeves, drifting through the rows of students and straightening their robes. Some he paused in front of and whispered in their ears. Each of these laughed, or smiled, or visibly relaxed.
Well, I'll be fucking damned. Maybe there was something Peeves cared about; after all, the castle was his only home.
"Harry!" Emily was shaking with what must have been relief as he strode forward and into her waiting arms. "Where were you?"
"The chamber." Holding out the ring, he ignored the stabs of guilt the best he could. He clung to her with a desperation he thought unmatchable until he felt how hard she squeezed him back.
Their other friends clustered tightly around them. Harry met Charlus's eyes and they shared grim nods.
"ATTENTION!" It was the same voice as earlier. Harry glanced towards its sound and did a double take.
The former Professor Merrythought had her grey hair pulled up in a tight bun and her wand against her throat. Below her neck, red robes hugged her and a gold badge gleamed.
"She's an auror now," Emily whispered in his ear. "She used to be one but retired to teach. She must have taken it back up; that's a captain's badge she's wearing."
"A TEAM OF UNSPEAKABLES HAVE ASSESSED OUR SITUATION. THE WARDS WILL FALL BEFORE SUNDOWN. THERE IS NO CHOICE BUT TO FIGHT."
Varied reactions rang through the room. About half of Gryffindor whooped and cheered. Many of the younger students screamed and some burst into tears. Most just stood still and waited, their faces grim or worried.
"ANYONE AGED SEVENTEEN YEARS OR OLDER MAY STAY AND FIGHT IF THEY SO WISH. ANYONE BELOW MAJORITY WILL NOT BE ALLOWED TO JOIN OUR RESISTANCE AND ANYONE UNWILLING MAY GO WITH THEM."
The reaction was more unanimous this time — a chorus of boos roaring through the hall like rolling thunder.
That's going to make things harder than they need to be. Not that they could afford to be too diligent. I'll just have to sneak back. No one would care once the fighting started.
"Where will we go?" a younger student called from near the back. "Grindelwald has taken over; there's nowhere to run."
Oh, fuck. Harry looked down towards the floor; it was too much seeing all those young faces and imagining their slaughter.
"I KNOW OF A PLACE." He jumped. Emily had spoken with her own magically-amplified voice.
One of the aurors rushed closer and bent his head. "It's on the seventh floor," she whispered, "across from the tapestry of dancing trolls. Walk back and forth in front of the wall three times and imagine what you want. I'd recommend somewhere comfortable, but make sure you're imagining it being impossible to find. That should keep Grindelwald at bay until we've won."
"I forgot about that place," Harry muttered when the auror retreated.
Emily squeezed his hand. "I've done most of my studying of the ring there. I was hoping it would have books for me, but really, I just didn't want to spend my time in the chamber thinking about all this." She gestured around them and pulled him in close. "That's our place."
His heart just about broke; maintaining firm composure required almost all his will. It would be her place soon; the way it always should have been.
Merrythought explained that the younger students and anyone unwilling to fight would follow Professor Slughorn up to the seventh floor, to where they could be hidden.
Harry pressed a soft kiss to Emily's lips. Will it be the last one? No, he would steal at least one more. "I'll be back," he promised, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. "Have Charlus meet me in our usual place. It's time we have a talk."
A talk we should have had. Now was the first time he really regretted never telling her.
Clearing his mind once they reached the marble staircase, he turned to Dorea and Elena. "Ready?" The pair nodded and he disillusioned the three of them, taking both their hands and dragging them into the bathroom on the second floor.
None of them spoke while trudging down the dark tunnel leading to the chamber.
It was likely for the best. There were so many lasts; had he been given the chance to voice his inner thoughts, he was not sure what would have escaped him.
How did you do it? he thought, imagining his parents' faces. Why is dying so hard?
Small bits of stone were strewn across the chamber's floor, but he knew the roof would never fall.
Elena clung to him and sobbed. Dorea was shaking but fought her tears, her arms around him while she breathed long, deep breaths into the crook of his neck.
"Please be safe." A bitter laugh tore free of her. "It's so stupid, but you're going to do it no matter what I say, so… please, Harry, come back to us."
"P-p-please," Elena sobbed against his chest.
Harry wiped his mind clear for a second time; it was the only way he would ever be strong enough for this. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Dorea had just enough time to gasp before his wand snapped up and a bolt of red light took her in the chest.
She toppled back and Elena stumbled away from him. "Harry!"
"You wouldn't stay." It was he who cried now; great, hot tears that burned his eyes and carved blazing lines down his cheeks.
"I promised—"
"I saw it in your eyes. You want to be a duellist; you'd never just stay back and let me… let me."
"Harry?"
"Let me die." The shadows grew thick around them and a great cold seeped through the ancient walls.
A crimson-coloured flash tore through the darkness and Elena slumped beside her friend, too surprised and terrified to raise her wand in time.
"I'm sorry." His shoulders shook so badly that he slumped against the nearest pillar. "I love you… I love both of you. I couldn't… I can't see you die."
The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
The castle's bells rang loud and clear as another tremor shook the school. They're getting worse. It was no wonder the bells were being sounded and the defenders called to arms. The wards won't last much longer.
A great rattling rumbled through the stones around him. They can't have fallen already. Harry drew his wand but froze at what he saw.
Suits of armour clambered off their plinths, unsheathing long-forgotten swords. Each armoured footfall echoed through the corridors. He watched on in amazement as the herd of armoured suits marched towards the marble staircase. How the hell has that happened?
There was no time to ponder — not now, not when time was already so short.
"Finally." Charlus swept hair back from his eyes with a shaky hand when Harry entered their usual abandoned classroom. "You had me worried for a minute."
If only you knew how worried you should be. That was one secret he could not tell Charlus.
The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
"Any last-minute plans?" Charlus's hard voice wavered, but his face was still as stone.
"Just one." Harry's heartbeat thundered in his ears, but he forced himself to meet those hazel eyes. "I need your cloak."
Charlus took a small step back. "How do you—"
"Because it was once mine."
"You're barmy." Charlus's eyes were wide and frightened, his face a bloodless mask of puzzlement.
"No," he whispered, steeling all his nerves. "I'm Harry James Potter. Your grandson." Charlus just stared back at him. "I set you up with Dorea because, where I came from, you married her and had a son named James Potter. He married a green-eyed muggleborn named Lily Evans and they had one son."
"Harry, I—"
"The cloak has been passed down from father to son, generation through generation. It's a light silver that doesn't change colour or shine in any lighting and it feels more like water than cloth. There's a mark on the back of it, but I could never tell what it was. My eyesight used to be a lot worse than it is now and it was faded, but now I realize it's the Peverells' mark and the sign of the Deathly Hallows."
"How do you—"
"Your father looked exactly like you, but he was taller and had brown eyes. The hazel comes from your mother's side, but you never got her brown hair. Your grandfather was hunched over by the end and had knobbly knees that looked a right pain, but his hair never thinned." Charlus had resorted to gaping. "I saw them once, in an enchanted mirror that shows you your heart's greatest desire. Mine was the family I never had."
"But you just said—"
"That I was the son of James Potter and Lily Evans?" Charlus nodded dumbly. Harry closed his eyes. Merlin, this was hard. "I never knew them. I never knew what they looked like until I stared into that mirror."
"How?" Charlus's voice was fainter than a gentle summer breeze.
"I didn't lie about everything."
There was a contemplative silence in which Charlus appeared to partially reclaim his bearings. "They were murdered, weren't they? Just the way you said your parents were."
"Murdered by a dark lord who called himself Voldemort over a prophecy that said their child would be the one who vanquished him." Charlus was still and quiet. "Voldemort's real name was Tom Riddle."
"Riddle? You don't mean—"
"I obviously wasn't supposed to be here." He was just rambling now; once he had started, it was like he couldn't stop. "There were dementors and they attacked my godfather and one of my best friends." It choked him now for the first time for nearly two years. Saying it aloud was different; especially now with all that was happening. "I tried saving them, but I… I couldn't."
Charlus shifted on the balls of his feet as if intent on coming closer, but he rocked back and remained put.
"I tried using a time turner to go back a few hours, but it didn't work."
"Wait! A time turner? How the bloody—"
"When you're known as the one who defeated Voldemort, things tend to happen around you." Harry wrung his hands. "I… I lost it. When my plan failed, I… I just started turning the dial."
"Merlin…"
Harry laughed bitterly. "I don't know why I'm scared to die. I've done it once already. That killed me, but… not completely. It's complicated, but I ended up here. Things are different — and not just the year. Dumbledore beat Grindelwald in 1945 where I came from and Emily never existed."
Harry watched the gears turn behind his grandfather's eyes, watched the dawning shock slowly break across his face. "You mean—"
"I wanted to change things. I didn't want Emily growing up the way Tom did. I didn't want people killed and children living without parents. My plan was always to get rid of her somehow, but… things changed."
"Fucking right they did." Charlus shook his head. "How do you look at her? After what she did, I just don't get it."
"It wasn't her!" The words came out sharp and lashed across the room like a rough-hewn whip. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just… I met Tom Riddle and I met Voldemort. Emily's not like them — not anymore. Things are different here."
Something foreign lurked behind Charlus Potter's eyes. I wish I knew what it meant. "That's why you watched her so closely, isn't it? It's why you warned me about her when we first became friends."
"I've tried so hard to fix things." Harry's voice shook and nearly shattered. "I've helped Emily, but I fucked everything else up."
"What do you mean you fucked everything else up?"
Tell him. "Your father was never killed by Grindelwald where I came from. It's all my fault."
"Don't be—"
"I'm not being thick! Emily and I have the stone, Charlus, and Grindelwald knows."
His friend's eyes widened. "The Resurrection Stone? You have it?"
Recalling his recent chat with Dumbledore, Harry looked away. "Emily does, really, but Grindelwald thinks I do. He has for months; that's why he's been after me. I think it's because he knows the Potters are descended from the Peverells. I don't know what tipped him off about me, but I think he thought I was a Potter and went after your father hoping to get more information. I'm sorry."
"You're a fucking idiot, that's what you are." Harry cringed back, but strong arms wrapped around his back and squeezed him tight. "You have such a fucking hero complex," Charlus muttered. "Riddle was a fucking bloke where you came from and you think the only reason things are different is because you're here?"
It sounded foolish when put that way, but his presence had led Grindelwald to the Potters.
Harry never said that — he needed Charlus now, needed him worse than he had ever needed anyone. "You believe me?"
Charlus gave him a final squeeze, then stepped back. "Course I do," he said gruffly, wiping at his eyes. "I always knew there was something about you. I wouldn't have guessed it was bloody time travel or whatever you want to call it, but it explains some things." Charlus actually grinned. How is that even possible? "I always knew you were too dashing to be anything but a Potter."
Against all odds, Harry threw back his head and laughed, but it was short-lived.
Another shockwave shook the castle so violently that both boys staggered.
"It might not matter soon," he whispered, staring out the window. Dying shafts of sunlight slanted through the glass and spilled across the classroom's floor. Every scorch and dent they had made along those stones this past year was painted starkly by its light, a tapestry woven from struggle and from change.
Charlus reached into the pocket of his robes and drew out the cloak. For all the setting sunlight's glory, the cloak remained unchanged; the same sleek silver he remembered and had yearned for since his arrival here.
"I don't know what good it will do you," Charlus said while passing it to Harry. "I wasn't kidding, you know. You really can't cast spells under that cloak."
"It will do." Harry let the silk slide through his fingers. "It will have to."
There was another tremor — the loudest yet, so strong it felled both of them and shattered the legs on nearby desks.
The bells tolled again — a single, resonant sound that hung in the air like a looming death note.
"I guess that's it." Charlus took a deep breath and clasped him on the shoulder. "When this is all done, we'll be brothers. I'm the Lord Potter and I'll make bloody sure of it."
Harry's resolve stretched and strained. The fear came back up and the tragedy grew thicker than the putrid scent of death. Of all he had seen today, nothing had come so closer to breaking him.
I can't take it.
The last enemy to be destroyed is death.
"Thank you." The words rasped from him. "Tell her, won't you? Emily, I mean… just in case. You're the first one I've told."
"I'll tell all of them." Charlus clutched his arm. "If I don't make it, apologize to Dorea, yeah?"
Harry took a shaking breath. "Of course."
The pair stepped back and drew their wands. "And so it begins," said Charlus, gripping his so tight, his knuckles had gone chalk white.
Harry looked down at the cloak and ran it through his fingers one last time. And so it ends.
Author's Endnote:
There are many reasons I haven't written that last scene until now, but among them is the worry that it will fall flat.
There is a certain expectation when writing a fic like this that there will be that conversation with someone at some point.
I always find they fall a bit flat because of the necessary exposition and I fear the built-in expectations are too high for me to match.
I hope I did adequately despite my reservations — we are in the final stretch now.
Please read and review.
A heartfelt thank you is extended to my high-tier patron, Cup, for her unwavering support.
PS: The next chapter will be posted in exactly two weeks. It will be released here for readers on Wednesday, October 18th, 2023.
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