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Thanks to Cal the Wandcrafter for doing the beta-read thing!
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Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, preparing to depart from his temporary lodging, when an owl alighted gracefully on a nearby tree branch. The creature hooted cheerfully, bearing a letter tied to its leg. Harry reached out to retrieve the missive, but the owl seemed irked by his attempt to take it manually. Chuckling at the bird's audacity, Harry released the letter, which remained suspended in the air. It appeared the owl was instructed to await Harry's response.
Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Harry waved his hand to inspect the contents of the letter for any magical or potion-based threats. While such dangers could incapacitate him, they wouldn't prove fatal. Harry remained cautious; reviving himself was a hassle, especially when witnesses were involved. Erasing their memories became necessary, adding to his annoyance. Despite these considerations, Harry found humour in the situation, even teasing the impatient owl.
"Patience, my feathered friend. I was just about to grab it," he said, offering the owl treats and water. Teasing the bird further, Harry deliberately opened the letter slowly, eliciting further annoyance from the owl.
Raising an eyebrow at the letter's contents, Harry pondered the request. How did the sender know his location? It dawned on him that he had neglected to cast an anti-detection ward when crossing the border. Fascinating. It had been a while since he received such a mission. Turning to the owl, Harry sought its opinion, though he knew it didn't matter.
"Should I accept?" he asked, met with an annoyed hoot from the bird, urging him to hurry.
"Looks like I will. I've got time to spare until I reach town," he declared, grinning at the owl before swiftly penning a response.
"Take this to your owner, and fly safely," he instructed, tying the letter to the owl's leg.
Without delay, the owl took flight, leaving Harry with a small smile.
"Here's to an interesting mission," he mused.
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Britain, the land where he had entered the world centuries ago, held little significance to him now. The exact date of his birth had faded from memory, rendered irrelevant by his acceptance of his role as the Master of Death, a title he had embraced after the passing of his wife. It was a choice he made, one he didn't entirely regret, or so he believed. Oddly enough, even as the muggle world had burned to ash over and over, the magic world seemed to stay stuck as it was, constantly returning to how he vaguely remembered it after each war, after each dark lord, after each plague and famine. It was oddly refreshing to see the distant echoes of his past, as if the nostalgic remnants of a better time.
Godric Hollow Cemetery beckoned as his first destination. Among the tombstones lay one inscribed with a name that had filled his days and haunted his nights for decades. Her memory was his anchor, tethering him to sanity across the expanse of time since her departure.
Beside her name lay his own, etched in stone. A bitter smile graced his lips as he recalled the elaborate ruse of his demise, orchestrated to grant him peace. A peaceful passing together, it was written, though in truth, he had charmed an imposter to mimic his likeness. He prayed silently for forgiveness from his descendants for the deceit, knowing that outliving them all would bring only sorrow.
In the recesses of his heart, he longed to join her in the realm beyond. Yet until the cosmic arbiter of all things deemed his earthly duties fulfilled, he remained bound to this world. Harry would bide his time, waiting patiently for the day they would reunite.
"Be patient, my love. Our reunion draws nearer with each passing day. I trust you haven't grown weary of waiting," he murmured, his hand caressing the cold surface of the tombstone.
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His next destination led him to the source of clues regarding the mission at hand. He thought back to the letter he had received, and his task at hand
A man had sought Harry's expertise in tracking down a stolen heirloom, pilfered by burglars who had raided his home months prior. This cherished object had been treasured by the man's family for generations, safeguarded until the intrusion of thieving miscreants.
The robbery had been carried out by a nanny and some of the house staff, entrusted with the care of one of the family's youngest members, who had decided to make off with a box of heirloom jewellery.
Justice had been served upon the nanny and her cohorts, sentenced to life within the unyielding confines of Gellert Grindelwald's prison, still standing strong after all these years. While most of their stolen possessions had been reclaimed, including a few galleons of little concern, the heirloom remained elusive and highly coveted. Was it cruel? Probably. But by this time, he had stopped caring quite as much about what the rich and powerful decided to do to those who had wronged them. That was for another Harry, centuries in the past.
Harry gleaned information from one of the continent's largest black markets, learning that the stolen item had been sold to a healer in Britain. However, his pursuit led him to discover that the healer had, in turn, parted with it to an antique establishment nestled within Diagon Alley, driven by pressing financial need.
Thus, his journey brought him to Britain, determined to reclaim the stolen heirloom and bring closure to the quest laid before him.
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As Harry swung open the shop door, the chime of a bell echoed through the premises, signalling his arrival to the shopkeeper. Surveying the array of antique objects that filled the space, Harry detected a medley of magical energies permeating the air, ranging from benign to potentially perilous. Without direct contact, discerning the source of each enchantment proved elusive.
Moments later, the shopkeeper descended the stairs in haste, reciting his scripted greeting as if rehearsed. "Welcome to Jikan antique shop! We offer a diverse array of antiques, from the innocuous to the subtly... dangerous," he rattled off, his breath slightly laboured. "How may I assist you, sir?"
Contemplating whether to be forthright or to play for time, Harry opted for directness. "Have any new antiques arrived recently? Specifically, a necklace with an insignia-shaped pendant?" he inquired.
The shopkeeper pondered briefly before responding, "Ah, yes, there was one... rather unremarkable piece, I must say. Couldn't even charm it to restore its luster. I believe it's among the items slated for disposal at month's end." His expression betrayed surprise at the customer's interest.
Feigning gratitude and fabricating a tale of sentimental attachment, Harry smoothly misled the shopkeeper. "That 'unremarkable' item happens to be a cherished memento left by my father, stolen during a recent burglary. I would be immensely grateful if you still have it. Rest assured, I'll compensate you generously for safeguarding it." The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly.
Despite his initial scepticism, the shopkeeper relented, disappearing briefly to retrieve a box containing various odds and ends. "I'm uncertain which item the seller had brought in, but feel free to peruse these without charge," he offered, gesturing towards the box.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the discrepancy between the free offer and the initial purchase, but the shopkeeper shrugged it off as a gesture of goodwill. As Harry sifted through the contents, he soon located the necklace he sought, its pendant bearing the engraved words 'Tempus est titulus quanti occasio est,' as described by the seller.
"Found it!" Harry exclaimed, preparing to secure the necklace in a specially prepared bag. However, as he turned the pendant over, his eyes caught sight of tiny engraved script, prompting him to mutter a reflexive incantation, "Reficere."
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Harry stood momentarily bewildered, his surroundings a blur of familiarity and confusion as he found himself in an empty corridor, unable to recall how he had arrived there from the antique shop in Diagon Alley. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice he hadn't heard in years, one filled with concern and unmistakable familiarity.
"Harry! Are you all right?" The voice belonged to Hermione, her bushy brunette hair and concerned brown eyes instantly recognizable to him.
"Hermione," Harry managed to utter her name, a wave of memories flooding back as he recognized his long-lost friend. "I'm fine," he reassured her with a faint smile.
"Are you sure?" Hermione pressed, her concern palpable.
"Yes, I'm sure."
Curiosity piqued, Hermione's gaze fell upon the object in Harry's hand. Harry glanced down, realising he still held the heirloom necklace he had found moments ago. How had it come to be in his possession?
"I found it... um, there. Perhaps someone dropped it," Harry offered, though he couldn't shake the feeling of unease at the necklace's sudden appearance in his hand.
"May I see it?" Hermione inquired, reaching out. Harry hesitated momentarily before pocketing the necklace, citing his intention to locate its rightful owner.
"You could simply give it to McGonagall," Hermione suggested, disappointed at being denied a closer inspection of the necklace.
"I'd rather find out on my own," Harry insisted, refusing to relinquish the necklace to Hermione's scrutiny.
"You're always so stubborn!" Hermione huffed in exasperation, though Harry couldn't help but chuckle at her familiar reaction.
"You can help me, if you'd like," Harry offered, his spirits lifting at the prospect of Hermione's assistance.
Hermione's eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
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"Daphne, calm down... let's just go to Professor Snape! I'm sure he'll help you look for it," urged Tracey, observing Daphne's frantic search through her trunk.
"You don't understand how valuable that thing is, Tracey!" Daphne snapped, her frustration evident in her tone.
"Maybe you could try summoning it with a spell?" Tracey suggested, trying to offer a solution amidst her friend's distress.
Daphne let out a bitter laugh. "I wish! But unfortunately, I can't..." Tears welled up in her eyes, her anguish palpable.
"Oh, Daphne!" Tracey enveloped her friend in a comforting embrace as Daphne began to sob. "I'm sure you'll find it again," she reassured her gently.
"But what if I can't? It's a family heirloom, passed down through generations. As the next in line, it's my responsibility to safeguard it," Daphne lamented, wiping away her tears with frustration.
"We'll search for it together, Daphne. I promise we'll find it," Tracey pledged, offering her support and determination to aid her friend in her time of need.
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Harry found himself lost in thought, gazing out the window during his Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Reality seemed to blur with uncertainty as he grappled with the surreal nature of his current situation. Engaged in banter and jest with his friends, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was amiss. Was this real? Or perhaps some bizarre twist of fate?
As he sat in the classroom, the weight of his mission pressing upon him, Harry's mind drifted back to the necklace he had found and the fruitless search for its owner. Over 24 hours had passed, yet the mystery remained unsolved. If this were indeed reality, he couldn't recall ever experiencing this moment before. Yearning to return to his own time, he treaded carefully, wary of altering the delicate threads of history. Despite the temptation to tamper with fate, he restrained himself, mindful of the consequences.
"Turn to page 165!" Professor Snape's voice cut through Harry's reverie as he entered the classroom, clad in his signature black attire. Harry's eyes lit up at the sight of his former teacher, a surge of nostalgia washing over him. Despite the complexities of their relationship and Snape's role as a double agent, Harry couldn't deny a certain appreciation for the man's cunning and dedication.
Suppressing a laugh at the thought of expressing gratitude to Snape, Harry quickly masked it with a cough as Snape's piercing gaze fell upon him. The notion of thanking Snape seemed absurd, yet strangely amusing in its own right. Harry chuckled inwardly, a reminder of the peculiar circumstances in which he found himself.
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As 48 hours slipped away, Harry found himself no closer to uncovering the identity of the heirloom's owner. Frustrated, he sought solace in his Transfiguration homework, only to have his concentration shattered when his book slipped from his grasp into the hands of an unfamiliar red-haired girl.
"Harry! Why are you ignoring me? It's been two days since you've spoken to me or even looked my way! I thought we were together? If I've done something wrong, just tell me!" the girl exclaimed, her voice carrying across the common room, drawing the attention of curious onlookers.
Harry arched an eyebrow, the distinct fuzzines of a time forgotten sneaked into his mind. He knew this girl was someone from his past but the passage of time had stolen the name from his mind. "Do I know you?" he asked dryly, his tone laced with annoyance.
"HARRY!" Hermione's voice rang out in disbelief, her expression a mix of confusion and concern.
Ignoring Hermione's silent plea, Harry regarded the girl with disinterest. "Who are you? I don't recall having a girlfriend," he stated matter-of-factly. Nor did he want one. The time for that had long passed, and nothing here mattered anyways… Apart from the necklace.
Gasps filled the room as the girl's face twisted with anger and disappointment. "We've been dating for weeks, Harry! How could you forget?" she retorted, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Well, let's end it before it goes too far," Harry replied casually, unfazed by her reaction. "You need to find someone else, someone more… not me." he added, his words cutting through the tension.
"Who are you? You're not Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, pointing her wand at him.
"Oh, I am. I remember that much. I'm just not the Harry you knew at this moment. What year is it? 2012? No, that's too far, maybe the 70's? Was that when we were in school?" With a chuckle, Harry waved his hand, causing those who had heard his confession at Gryffindor Tower to collapse, their memories of the conversation erased. "Don't worry, they won't remember any of this," he assured them.
"Why did you not do that to us?" Ron's voice quivered with fear, his trust in his best friend shaken by the sudden turn of events.
"Hmmm, why... maybe because Hermione promised to help me find out who owned that necklace?" Harry replied, casting a meaningful glance at Hermione.
Hermione gasped. "That thing?! You still haven't found out who the owner is?"
"Not yet," Harry admitted, his shoulders slumping with weariness.
"That thing? What do you mean?" Ginny interjected, her disappointment evident despite her curiosity.
"I found an heirloom, and I need to return it to its owner... it's the key to how I can return to my time, and Harry in this time will return to where he belongs."
"Your time? Time travel doesn't work like that! This would be possession!" Hermione exclaimed, her concern etched across her features.
"Maybe magic has improved between my time and yours?" Harry suggested with a shrug.
"But there are laws to magic! You can't just break them like you're saying! Where is the real Harry?" Hermione demanded, her voice tinged with frustration.
Harry waved off her concerns with a nonchalant grin. "And the world is flat and the centre of the universe, bad miasma causes disease, and Quantum Gravity is a myth... And he's probably asleep somewhere in the back of my head. You don't need to worry," he reassured her, his grin widening mischievously. "I'll make sure your Harry remembers what happened in this room tonight."
Ginny's expression shifted from frustration to hurt as Harry's words sank in.
"Hey! I only saved you from the suffering that would happen if we were together. That's one regret that I really want to fix," Harry said earnestly, his tone softening.
"Aren't you afraid you'll change the timeline too much?" Hermione interjected, her hand tightening around Ginny's as she shot a concerned look at her friend, who was on the verge of tears.
Harry blinked at Hermione's question, his expression momentarily thoughtful. "You're right, I forgot you were playing with a time-turner a few years ago," he conceded. "Well, I won't regret it. I don't care if I disappear when I come back because I ruined this timeline. Because the thing I want most is... to die," he admitted bluntly, his words hanging heavy in the air.
The room fell into a heavy silence as Harry's words hung in the air, the weight of his unusual desires settling uneasily among them.
"Dead? Are you crazy? Who will defeat Voldemort if you die?" Ron protested, his voice a mixture of fear and anger.
Harry chuckled softly. "Voldemort has been dead for a long time in my time, so it doesn't matter, right? I'm sure this timeline Harry could kill him eventually," he reasoned, his tone oddly lighthearted considering the gravity of the situation. Sighing heavily, Harry addressed Hermione's concern. "If you think I'm from a few years in the future, you're sorely mistaken. I won't say exactly what era I come from, but you certainly wouldn't like it if you were me. I have lived the lifetimes of hundreds of men, and have seen too much. I've watched my best friends and my wife, children and grandchildren die. I've watched the world burn and be reborn more times than you can count. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."
"...Odd for a supposed time traveller from the far future to know a line from a muggle movie over a decade old." Hermione spoke in confusion at his monologue.
"Is that what it's from? Never knew that. I just thought it sounded poetic."
Hermione pressed on, pointing out the potential consequences of Harry's actions on the timeline. "But won't the current you be disappointed if the girl you want to be with isn't with you because you ruined this timeline," she reasoned.
Hermione's concern weighed heavily in the air as Harry mulled over the potential repercussions of his actions. "Maybe... maybe I'll regret it, or maybe I'll be grateful that I did this. We never know what would happen if I broke this timeline. It could be that this was destined, right? Have you ever thought like that?" he pondered, uncertainty threading through his words.
Nodding thoughtfully, Hermione acknowledged the possibility, though doubt still lingered in her mind. "That possibility... could indeed happen," she conceded, her voice tinged with apprehension.
With a determined nod, Harry redirected their focus to the task at hand. "Is the drama finished? Do you want to help me or not?" he inquired, producing the heirloom that held the key to his return. "To return this to its rightful owner and... send me back to my time."
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"Potter is up to something again, attention-seeking bastard!"
"What's he done this time?"
"He asked my sister if she'd lost any jewellery. That's so weird! We just walked away from him! That creep shouldn't be talking to younger girls"
Daphne halted, her hand on the door of a toilet stall, overhearing the chatter of two gossiping students at the sink. Potter was looking for the owner of some jewellery? Could it be?
Waiting for the gossiping girls to exit the toilet, Daphne emerged from the stall. She needed to find Potter immediately and confirm what she'd overheard. But where would he be?
With hurried steps, Daphne headed straight for the Great Hall. Lunchtime was approaching, so she had to intercept Potter there.
Nervously, she waited near the entrance, casting an invisibility spell. Students streamed into the Great Hall, but Potter wasn't among them. Then, spotting him in the crowd, flanked by Granger and Weasley, Daphne wasted no time and approached him without hesitation.
"Potter, can we talk?" she blurted out upon reaching him, catching him off guard.
Harry, though surprised, didn't show it. "Sure," he replied without missing a beat.
"Great, come with me. You two can tag along if you want," she said, motioning to the others.
Leading the way, Daphne guided Harry and the others to an empty classroom nearby.
"Potter, I heard you're searching for the owner of a necklace you found," she said, getting straight to the point.
"That's correct... How did you know? I didn't announce it to anyone."
"I overheard it in the restroom. Someone mentioned you'd asked her sister."
Harry nodded, accepting Daphne's explanation. "And what do you want?"
Daphne hesitated for a moment before speaking her truth. "My family heirloom went missing a few days ago. I always wear it, never taking it off. But somehow, it slipped loose and vanished. I've searched everywhere and even told Professor Snape, but no luck. I have to find it, Potter. It's been passed down through generations, a legacy entrusted to me. You understand its importance, don't you? I hope the necklace you're seeking belongs to me," she said, her tone tinged with hope, revealing a side of Daphne Greengrass rarely seen by others, except her family.
"I understand, Greengrass," Harry replied, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small pouch he'd kept safe. "But I need to confirm first. Does this necklace bear an insignia that reads..."
Daphne's voice caught in her throat as she spoke. "That's a motto my family has always lived by and instilled in us since we were little. It means 'All the time we have is an opportunity'."
Harry smiled, feeling a sense of déjà vu from those words. They were the same words his beloved always said to him and instilled in their children. He didn't know if his actions from the previous night would change his fate in the future or not. He didn't want to know, and he didn't regret it. But one thing was certain: even though it might bring about significant change, perhaps he wouldn't be able to meet her as he had always hoped for hundreds of years. Yet, he was content. He could see his beloved again, even if it was for the last time.
"Take it," he said, handing the small bag to Daphne, who immediately lit up and checked its contents. Inside was the necklace she had been searching for tirelessly over the last few days. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she could only muster a heartfelt thank you.
"Potter... thank you very much for looking after this for me and trying to return it," she said sincerely, her voice filled with gratitude. "I won't forget your kindness. What can I do for you in return?" she asked, her tone serious, tinged with hesitation and nervousness.
With a smile, Harry replied, "It's no trouble. You can have it... and in return, just call me Harry."
Daphne looked surprised by his simple request but then giggled. "You're quite a special man, Po— Harry," she said, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.
Harry shrugged, "If I'm not special, then I'm not Harry Potter," he said proudly, with a hint of cockiness.
Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at Harry's comment. "Forgive him, he always gets a bit too full of himself when he jokes," she said, giving him a playful shove.
"Hey!" Harry protested, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh yeah, but can you tell me one thing?"
"Yes, Harry? What do you want to know?"
"What does 'Reficere' written on the back of the insignia mean?" Harry asked, blinking several times after saying the sentence. He had returned to the antique shop in Diagon Alley in the future. How could that be?
"Hey, sir? You said you found it?"
Confused by what was happening, before snapping back into reality, Harry replied reflexively, "Yeah, I found it."
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As Harry sat on the bench, his thoughts swirled with mixed emotions, looking at the necklace in his hand. Memories flooded back, reminding him of his connection to the Greengrass family and the lost heirloom. He chuckled at the irony of pretending to remember finding it for Daphne after the war, realising now that it might have been the reason for his forgotten memory. Perhaps the incident had prompted Daphne to keep the heirloom safe rather than wearing it.
Sighing heavily, Harry contemplated the aftermath of his actions in the past. Despite the chaos he caused, it seemed that little had changed, except for the end of his relationship with Ginny a few days later. Was that supposed to happen? Harry couldn't help but find amusement in the twists and turns of fate, even amidst the turmoil.
With a laugh, Harry acknowledged how Fate seemed to revel in playing games with him once again. Yet, amidst the uncertainty and confusion, he found solace in the resolution of one regret. Whether he had created a new timeline or merely become ensnared in a paradox, he felt a sense of relief at the possibility of sparing his younger self, or perhaps an alternate version, from the pain and disillusionment that had accompanied his first serious relationship.
It had taken him many years to realise that Ginny... Yes, that was her name... had been drawn to the titles associated with him rather than the person he truly was. She had wanted The Boy Who Lived, and later, The Man Who Won, but not necessarily Harry himself. It was not healthy for either of them, and he had always held the regret for not being able to give the girl the relationship she wanted… Even if there was nothing he could do about it. He supposed that was his 'saving people thing' he had always been told he had, still refusing to completely die away.
Thinking on the multitude of titles bestowed upon him throughout his life, Harry couldn't help but feel that none of them truly captured the essence of who he was.
Reflecting on his journey, Harry found solace in the fact that only a select few knew the truth about him — about how he continued to live despite facing death countless times, only to find himself paying back his debt for cheating his demise so many times. It was funny in a sense; His first dark lord obsessed over immortality, severing his soul and killing his humanity in search of the power he had been cursed with. It would have been interesting to see how Tom would have coped with such a curse… Tom Riddle… That was a name he had not thought of in a long long time…
He smiled in remembrance at the family he had had. Hermione, his sister in all but blood, smart beyond the abilities of Ravenclaw, but braver than warriors twice her age. Ron, the best friend a man could ever ask for, a mind for tactics that would outdo Salazar himself, and loyalty to put any Hufflepuff to shame. Sirius… The kindest person he ever knew, happy until the end. Daphne… The love of his life and owner of his heart. His parents… James and Lily… So full of compassion and love that they willingly died to save their only son... Maybe it wasn't too bad to remember, after all. With resolve, he rose from the bench, knowing what he needed to do next. It was time to pay a visit to their grave in Godric's Hollow, one last time.
As Harry pondered the unexpected twist of fate that had led him to retrieve the heirloom, he couldn't help but marvel at the intricacies of time and destiny. The idea that his descendant had orchestrated the mission, spanning generations, left him both amused and intrigued. It seemed that the Greengrass family had indeed safeguarded the heirloom with great care over the years, perhaps anticipating his eventual involvement.
A smile tugged at Harry's lips as he considered the possibility that Daphne might have known he was coming, either through Hermione's words or some other means. The thought of her being aware of his presence brought a sense of warmth and connection, despite the centuries that separated them.
Gazing up at the vast expanse of the sky, Harry's mind wandered to the countless adventures and challenges that lay ahead of him in the future. What other trials would he face, and what role would destiny play in shaping his path? With a sense of anticipation and curiosity, Harry embraced the unknown journey that awaited him, knowing that each moment would bring new discoveries and revelations. Maybe it was true, all those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain... but maybe it wasn't quite time to die. That would come eventually, he was sure of it. And when it did, he would greet it as he did all those centuries before
As an old friend.
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