Chapter 1
Harry Potter was looking out a front window in Grimmauld Place. He had placed himself there as soon as Hermione Granger had left to prepare, and now he was waiting, watching.
Almost a year had passed since the end of the war, yet he didn't look like someone who had won. He had stopped shaving a few months ago and his unmanaged beard made him look years older than he was, while the faded jeans and t-shirt he was wearing were worn and barely fitted him anymore, if they ever did. The lines of stress and worry on his face did not help, nor did the haunted look of his emerald eyes.
He had poured himself a generous glass of firewhiskey and watched as the sun set over the horizon and the London skyline. He wasn't sure he would be able to see or feel anything, but he wanted to. He needed to know if it worked. He remained standing, a vigil in front of the window. He wanted the closure, while the drink burned his throat.
The Fidelius Charm they had re-cast following the end of the war made sure no one would be able to see his silent watch. But really, there was no one left to see him.
The final battle, or Hogwarts Battle as some people called it, had been a massacre. Instead of being the end of the war, it had been the beginning of the end.
Yes, the Light side had won, technically, because Voldemort was dead. He died from the rebound of his own Killing Curse, while Harry survived. Hermione had survived too. In the end, they didn't feel like they had won a war, nothing about what happened felt like a victory. They weren't sure if surviving had been worth it.
Ronald Weasley had died, from the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirements, alongside Crabbe, who had set it and lost control. They had kept going anyway, they had to.
The battle had lasted hours, duels everywhere, bodies everywhere. Ginny Weasley, his Ginny, his love, had been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, Molly Weasley's curse a few seconds too late. She had never forgiven herself and was slowly wasting away.
While initially Percy Weasley had survived the fall of the wall by Rookwood who killed his brother Fred, he had eventually died from his injuries a few days later. Less than two months later, George had killed himself, unable to live in a world without his twin brother, a world full of losses and pain.
Remus Lupin and his wife had died as well in the heat of the battle, all the Marauders were gone. Even Severus Snape had died, all links to his parents were now gone.
Remus' son Teddy had survived, and was being raised by his grandmother Andromeda, which is why Harry had asked her about their plan, making sure she was okay with it and its consequences. While she loved her grandson dearly, she felt herself fading away already despite her young age by Wizarding standards, not able to deal with the loss of her husband, daughter and son-in-law, not to mention everyone else they had lost. Andromeda had cried for a few hours, holding Teddy tight against her, but eventually she had agreed it was for the best.
Lavender Brown had been mauled to death by Fenrir Greyback, who also killed Bill Weasley and his wife Fleur. The battle hadn't happened during the Full Moon, so there was no transformation or turning, only death and Greyback had been on a warpath for hours, leaving body parts and blood behind him.
So many people had died, so many of them students, so many faces he didn't even know or recognise, too many too young. Hogwarts hadn't re opened, with the loss of so many pupils and most of the staff, no one was able to go there and re build, no one really wanted to.
The Death Eaters had taken heavy loss as well, at least. However, the worst of them had fled and continued to cause chaos and destruction whenever they could, as if they could sense the end too and refused to leave without inflicting as much pain as they could, a sinister type of legacy.
Kingsley Shacklebot had survived and had become interim Minister mostly because he had been the unofficial Head of the Order of the Phoenix and there was really no one left to challenge him, as a large part of the Wizengamot was decimated. He was left alone to try and re-organise the Ministry. A Ministry who had lost so many employees during the war that it often felt like a ghost ship. Walking the corridors felt eerie, the silence was suffocating. At least, his first action had been to destroy the disgusting fountain in the Atrium, he had done it himself, a sort of cathartic act, to prove to himself Voldemort was really dead and so was his control on the Ministry.
The entire Malfoy family had been killed, by Voldemort himself before his own death. For betraying him when Narcissa Malfoy lied to him, and earlier when Draco refused to re-join his side as he announced the death of Harry Potter. Many pureblood families were decimated, from Death Eaters fathers to their children who refused to join, or did and died anyway. Voldemort had decided to continue his strategy of killing entire families who refused to join him, like he had done to the McKinnon before. Therefore, the Greengrass, the Abbott, the Pucey and the Flints were no more. The rest had either chosen to flee the country early on, like the Zabini, or had chosen to fight. While brave and noble, most of them fell down fighting anyway.
The British Wizarding population was low to begin with, Grindelwald had already made a dent despite trying to stay away from Dumbledore's country, and then the first war had decimated many families, including the death of many muggleborn and their families before they even received their Hogwarts letter. This war, however, had created losses so heavy, their world wouldn't survive.
Hermione and Harry had spent months with Kingsley, the three of them holed up in the Minister office, trying to come up with something, anything. They even thought about a marriage law but the numbers were so law that even if everyone between 17 and 50 were matched and had children, it wouldn't be enough, that age range was the one who had suffered the most. It was hopeless. At this moment in time, the British Wizarding World would end in less than 50 years, the younger witches and wizards would survive longer of course, but it wouldn't be enough. Immigration and leaving their world behind was the only thing left to do. It was the end of the British Wizarding World.
They also knew Voldemort hadn't stopped at the borders, the losses in neighbouring countries were important as well. The magical community in Ireland had been very small to begin with, and now was no more. France would survive, but it would take time.
Hermione had a crazy idea when they realised how desperate the situation was, instead of trying to fix the aftermath, she decided they should focus on preventing it.
Turning back time.
However, time-turners created an unbreakable time loop and that clearly wouldn't work, so Hermione had been spending all her time in Time theory, even having access to the Time Room in the Ministry. The department of mysteries was mostly deserted and while they didn't report to the Minister, Saul Croaker had agreed to the exception, hoping the bright witch might have a solution, because he didn't have one himself and was getting desperate.
The answer had been at Grimmauld Place all along, in the Black family grimoire. She wasn't supposed to see it, even less use it, but Sirius Black had made Harry his heir and now he was Lord Black so he gave her full access, despite her lack of connection to the Black family.
She had found it a few weeks ago, a time anchor ritual. Instead of going back and creating a loop, the ritual would erase the timeline, vanish everything and everyone in it, including himself. As the traveller, she would remain, in the past. The ritual was very much a Dark Magic ritual, but it was also their last option. He hoped her soul would okay, despite what she had to do. They knew the ritual would erase her younger self from existence, to avoid paradoxes. She was going to go before her own birth, and it was likely the Granger would simply have a different child this time around, if any.
It felt a bit like dying, in a way, and he was sure he should have been feeling some kind of despair, or sadness. He could only feel relief. He knew he should feel guilt as well, as they were essentially condoning billions of people to death, or non existence. He didn't.
He had survived the war to find himself in a world so empty, so hollow, that it didn't feel like living anymore. Maybe their actions were drastic, and maybe their world didn't deserve another chance, but he didn't care anymore.
They had worked out a plan, to make sure she could kill Voldemort early, but late enough to know where his Horcruxes were. He knew his own birth could be prevented because of this, he was at weirdly okay with it. Hopefully he could find peace on the other side. Maybe he would be born again and live a good life, without the hardships this one had. Maybe he wouldn't exist anymore, his soul might rest finally.
Hermione had left a couple of hours ago, to do the ritual in her home in Scotland so she could re-appear there safely. She knew the Manor had been unoccupied for decades, she would have a safe base to work from.
Harry was looking out the window, waiting for the end of the world. When the clock chimed at midnight, he saw it. A darkness approaching like a thick fog, destroying everything on its path, leaving a void behind.
He tipped his glass to the fog before taking a large gulp, "You did it, Hermione." and closed his eyes while the world faded away and Harry Potter ceased to exist.
Some time later, and many years before
Regulus Black was sure of one thing today, his entire life had been about surviving and blending in. Becoming the perfect Black son, then Black heir, eventually preparing himself to be the perfect Lord Black. However, as he stared at the locket below the poison, he realised this was his first act of bravery, the first time in his 18 years of life he was making a choice for himself, by himself.
He thought he had been the epitome of Slytherin, the master of self preservation. He recognised now, he had been a coward.
His childhood had been shielded by his brother, Sirius. Protected from their mother's temper and demands, only he realised that a few years too late. Sirius had been there for him, physically protecting him against blows, and distracting their mother to attack him instead, so his little brother would be safe. He hadn't seen it before, how much Sirius had done for him. Always protecting him, always there. Until Regulus had abandoned him, betrayed him.
The year spent alone while Sirius was off at Hogwarts, being sorted into Gryffindor, causing mayhem and getting in trouble, had been a year of being told to never be like him. Never be a disappointment like Sirius, who chose the wrong house, the wrong friends, the wrong attitude. His mother, and his father to a lesser extent, had spent the year making sure Regulus knew being like Sirius would be worse than death itself. He had to go to the right House, make the right friends, be the perfect example of pureblood scion. Be a Black. Proud, arrogant, calm, collected, superior. Superior to less than pureblood, but also better than other pureblood families.
Which is why he begged the hat for Slytherin when he finally went to Hogwarts. He had been terrified to follow in his brother's footsteps, or go to Ravenclaw, like he truly wanted to but couldn't even allow himself to think. The hat had said Slytherin after a few minutes of intense debate, and he hoped no one would tell his parents he had almost been a hat stall.
Overtime he blended in the House, becoming what everyone expected of him. He shunned his own brother, mocked his friends, especially the muggleborn, and the werewolf. He tried not to do it himself, but he also never stopped his House mates. Self preservation.
He pretended to like his own friends, Crouch Junior was a lunatic, and Regulus was often afraid of him but he was the right sort of contact due to his father's position in the Ministry and the boy's love of Dark Arts. The whispers of the Dark Lord were already there, years ago, and his father had made sure he knew it was his future. The only true friend he felt he had was Severus Snape, and because he wasn't a pureblood he had to pretend to only tolerate him. Severus was pretending too, even to himself. Watching him lose his childhood friend had been painful, but seeing him retreat into the Dark Arts in response had been heart-breaking. He wish he could save him, but he wasn't sure he could save himself at this point.
Becoming a Death Eater hadn't been a choice. He had followed the rise of the Dark Lord closely, hoping someone would take him down before he was Marked, but no one did. He had all these news clippings in his room, while it might look like the work of a fanatic, he was simply studying the problem, hoping for a way out.
Instead, the minute he graduated from Hogwarts he had been Marked, his consent had not been asked nor wanted. He was thankful his name gave him enough power and respect to not have to kill or torture someone as some sort of initiation. He had been Marked, and left alone. His elf had been the only demand so far. Which felt silly, sometimes, that it was all that it took for Regulus to betray the Dark Lord. But can you betray someone you were never loyal to?
Suddenly, a voice broke his staring match with the locket and his reminiscence, "I always wondered if his treatment of Kreacher was the only reason you did this."
It was a woman, around his age he thought. She was flying over the lake on a broom. He cursed himself, he didn't even think to try that and had to take the small boat instead, he didn't know what was under the lake but he wasn't keen to find out. She had long wavy hair, a sort of caramel brown in this light and she was wearing tight black pants he didn't recognise tucked into knee high boots, a long-sleeve tight shirt. There was also a light cloak, the flight making it look like a floating cape. She looked like some sort of angel, or demon. Her clothes were very much too tight to be appropriate though and clearly not Wizarding, Regulus thought.
She was walking towards him now, her short flight done. He was staring, in shock and confusion. She had asked him something, hadn't she?
"Nothing to say?" She asked, breaking him from his trance, while stopping a few feet from him and cocking one eyebrow in question.
"What did you ask?" Regulus replied, not really computing the fact that someone was here, in the cave no one was supposed to know about.
"Are you doing this because of Kreacher?"
"Who are you?" He retorted, starting to panic at what she knew.
She smirked, "Answer me."
And he did, mostly because he was sure this was his last day anyway so what did he have to lose, "What he did to Kreacher made me snap, I'll admit. It's not the first or only reason though."
She nodded at him, not surprised, "I thought so. You seemed too smart to really believe the blood supremacy bullshit."
"I had to survive."
"I know."
"Who are you, again?"
"My name is Hermione." she replied with a smile.
"Never heard of someone with that name." Regulus replied in a cold voice, trying to mask his panic. Despite his own admission of his probable death, he didn't really feel like dying today or anytime soon.
"No, you wouldn't have." she said, cryptically.
"Why are you here?" He asked, instead.
"Oh, to save your life, of course."
