Prologue
In a vast, dimly lit hall, a dark-haired man rubbed his face wearily, exhaling a tired sigh before returning his gaze to the intricate symbols etched across the floor. Across from him, a blonde man hunched over a thick tome, his quill scratching furiously as he made various calculations regarding their enigmatic endeavour.
"Any updates, Draco?" the dark-haired man asked, his voice betraying the weight of their undertaking. Draco looked up from his book, dark circles prominent beneath his steel-gray eyes.
"I've made progress with the calculations, Harry, but nothing definitive yet," the blonde answered, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I'd estimate we need another two days to pinpoint the exact numbers required for this... ambitious project of ours." His counterpart gave a short nod, a flicker of determination crossing his emerald eyes. "Any word from Neville?"
Harry turned his wrist, examining the markers on the bracelet he wore. A red symbol in the shape of a sword glowed faintly. He turned back to Draco, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "He's still alive and kicking. Knowing Neville, he's probably giving those bastards hell as we speak."
Draco chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. They lapsed into silence, each returning to their respective tasks – Draco to his intricate calculations, Harry to experimenting with different combinations of runes, searching for the elusive outcome they desperately sought.
Minutes ticked by, the silence broken only by the scratch of quill on parchment and the occasional muttered incantation. Suddenly, Draco felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as a wave of dense, angry magic filled the room, pressing down on him with suffocating intensity.
"Harry?" Draco called out, his voice barely above a whisper. Harry looked up with a non-committal grunt, his eyes flickering with an otherworldly power. As their gazes met, the oppressive magical pressure eased rapidly. "When we pull this off – and we will – I won't say you should forgive them outright, but... consider giving them a chance, alright? We were all just kids back then, fumbling in the dark."
Harry's shoulders sagged, the weight of their past settling heavily upon him. "I... I understand, but it still hurts, Draco," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Sometimes, I find myself questioning everything. My marriage to Ginny, my relationships with Ron and Hermione, even my love for my children – Albus, James, Lily. Were any of those feelings real? Or were they just... consequences of manipulation?"
He paused, struggling to articulate the turmoil within. "I know what I felt for my kids was genuine, but if the foundation of my life was built on lies and half-truths, how can I trust any of it? All those days playing with James and Lily, teaching Albus, the laughter, the joy, the love – were they just elaborate illusions? It's tearing me apart inside, Draco!"
Draco regarded Harry with a mixture of empathy and sorrow. He couldn't offer pity – Harry had never accepted it, not in all the years they'd known each other. Nor could he truly sympathize, for he couldn't fathom the depth of Harry's pain. Instead, he crossed the room in quick strides and enveloped the other man in a firm embrace, offering a shoulder to lean on.
As Harry's composure crumbled, Draco glanced towards the ventilation window, peering out at the grey, oppressive sky. His face hardened as he contemplated the grim fate they were fighting to overturn.
The day this calamity began was seared into Draco's memory. It had started with a case that turned the Wizarding World on its head – a resurgence of Grindelwald's followers, now comprised mostly of descendants of his original supporters. Draco Malfoy had been hired as a prosecutor by the ICW, while Harry Potter, the famed "Chosen One," led a multinational Auror task force to hunt down these remnants of a dark past.
For eight months, their efforts bore fruit. Fourteen wizards were arrested, tried, and sentenced to life imprisonment for their crimes against both wizards and Muggles. A trail of evidence led them to a manor in England, deserted for nearly two decades since the death of its previous occupant, Albus Dumbledore. The ensuing raid resulted in the capture of the group's supposed leader, seemingly putting an end to whispers of another dark lord rising to power.
The entire manor was sealed, and objects from the house were turned over to the prosecutors to gather incriminating evidence. That's when everything began to unravel.
Draco discovered Dumbledore's personal diary, its contents so disturbing that they shook the usually composed Lord of House Malfoy to his core. He immediately handed the case to his deputy and devoted himself to uncovering the full extent of his former headmaster's machinations. It took a month to catalog the events for which the dead man had been directly and indirectly responsible.
What struck Draco most was the intricate web of manipulation Dumbledore had woven around Harry, and how much of it had come to fruition. Without hesitation, he sought out his former classmate and presented him with the diary and his findings. In hindsight, Draco wished he had brought someone like Granger along that day, someone who could have offered Harry the emotional support he so desperately needed. But Hermione and her husband Ron were in Oslo, attending the trial of the captured group leader.
Harry, having decided to stay in Britain and spend time with his children before their return to Hogwarts, had confidently left the trial in the hands of his capable deputy.
As Harry numbly finished reading Dumbledore's diary, an Auror burst into the room, his face ashen with terror.
"The Minister is dead!" he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "The trial was attacked by the true leader of Grindelwald's forces! No other country's Minister of Magic survived. The entire Scandinavian region has fallen under their control!"
In that moment of chaos, all eyes turned to Harry. But the revelations in Dumbledore's diary, coupled with the tragic loss of his two best friends, had shattered his confidence. His marriage to Ginny had already been strained for years, their love having slowly faded over time. Now, with her death in one of the subsequent attacks, Harry was left adrift in a sea of grief and uncertainty.
The man who had once been their beacon of hope fell into a deep depression, leaving Wizarding Britain without a leader in its darkest hour. Draco Malfoy tried his best to fill the void, but opinions formed during the Second War against Voldemort still held strong, and people doubted his orders.
Britain stood strong for a year, but it quickly began to crumble under the relentless assault. While Harry and Draco fought desperately at the Ministry, another group of enemy fighters launched a surprise attack on Hogwarts. Their mission was specific and brutal, resulting in the deaths of the Potter children, Scorpius Malfoy, and anyone else who dared stand in their way. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had been high on their list of targets, as the pair had been responsible for significant losses to their forces. They were determined to repay that debt with interest.
What they had gravely underestimated was that this wasn't merely a remnant of Grindelwald's ideology, but an entire army that had been breeding in the shadows, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The Statute of Secrecy shattered as Europe fell, plunging the entire world into chaos.
Over the next three years, skirmishes reduced the resistance to fewer than ten wizards, scattered across Europe. Harry, Neville, and Draco stubbornly clung together, refusing to give up hope as they searched for a way to combat the overwhelming darkness.
And then, they found an answer: Time Travel.
They would journey back through the years, far enough to nip this violent uprising in the bud. However, they were constrained by the existence of their own souls, unable to travel to a time before their births. Nor could they arrive too late and risk another all-out war. Britain, they knew, couldn't withstand three such conflicts in the span of two decades.
Their approach needed to be subtle, swift, efficient, and as impactful as possible. As Harry and Draco worked tirelessly in that dimly lit hall, the weight of the world resting upon their shoulders, they knew that failure was not an option. The future – past, present, and yet to come – depended on their success.
As Draco pondered their predicament, a harsh grating sound echoed from the doorway, signaling someone's entry into their secluded sanctuary. Neither Harry nor Draco needed to turn; the Fidelius Charm ensured only allies could breach their haven.
"Hey there, Nev! Had fun?" Harry quipped, his attempt at levity coaxing a slight upward twitch of Draco's lips and a raised eyebrow from the newcomer.
Neville dumped a heavy bag onto a nearby chair before sauntering over to his companions. "This and that," he shrugged, his face a blank canvas before splitting into a triumphant grin. "I did what we needed. A lot of Time-Turners. I at least hope these are enough because if I try to break in again, I'm fairly certain they'll have my head."
Draco nodded solemnly. "They should suffice. We won't be using them as is, anyway. If we can transform them into a more condensed form, the time density should increase, potentially making our plan viable."
"Potentially?" Harry's scowl deepened, clearly displeased with the lack of certainty. "When we embarked on this mad venture a year ago, you said it was definitely possible. Now you're saying potentially?"
"Harry!" Neville interjected, halting his friend's brewing tirade. "Cut Draco some slack! We've all lost something here. We're this close." He held up two fingers, barely a hair's breadth apart. "I want absolute certainty as much as you do, but we're attempting something unprecedented in magical history. Draco deserves the benefit of the doubt."
Draco shot Neville a grateful look before turning to Harry. "It's as Nev says, mate. We started with no records, no leads—nothing. Back then, I deluded myself with the chance of seeing Astoria again, and at that moment, the odds didn't matter. We all want to see our loved ones again, Harry. Deep down, even you know that you still long to see Hermione, Ron, and Ginny alive, regardless of what's transpired."
Harry nodded silently, but neither he nor Neville missed that it was the first time Draco had ever used their friends' first names.
"Topsy!" Neville called out, and with a resounding crack, a house-elf apparated into the hall. "Could you bring us something to drink?"
The elf nodded enthusiastically, a joyful smile gracing her features. Topsy was one of the few elves who had escaped the Fall of Hogwarts three years prior. She had bonded with Neville, who had been a Herbology professor when their beloved school fell. Neville had barely managed to escape with a handful of students who had been in his vicinity. "Topsy will bring Master's favourite!" she exclaimed before disappearing, only to reappear moments later with a bottle of firewhisky and three glasses.
After pouring their drinks, Topsy vanished once more. The three men toyed with their glasses, each lost in thought. This would likely be the last time they drank as the adults they had become, the final moment to mourn their misfortunes before embarking on their desperate mission.
Draco raised his glass. "To Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick." The venerable educators who had valiantly defended Hogwarts, allowing Neville and Hannah to escape with the children.
Neville followed suit. "To Hermione Granger and Hannah Abbott." The brilliant witch who had reshaped Magical Britain with her intellect, and the compassionate healer who had exhausted herself tending to injured students during their harrowing escape.
Harry completed the toast. "To Ronald Weasley, Ginerva Weasley and all those who fell fighting against the Obscura Order!"
They drank deeply, the firewhisky burning a path down their throats, a final reminder of the world they were leaving behind.
-oOo-
Two days later, the trio was making their final preparations for the monumental journey through time. They had decided that rather than arriving at the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War, they would insert themselves before it could even begin. Their mission: to eliminate Voldemort in his weakened state, ensure the survival of key allies, and root out the Obscura Order before it could gain a foothold.
The plan seemed deceptively simple, but they were acutely aware of its complexity and the myriad ways it could go awry.
Harry meticulously examined the runes he had painstakingly painted across the hall's floor, double-checking each intricate detail. At the center lay two Demiguise runes, positioned close together but facing opposite directions. Surrounding them were three double-mountain runes, with arrows originating from the valleys and radiating outward at equal angles. Finally, three sets of Runespoor and Graphorn runes were inscribed between the arrows, moving from right to left.
They had established the basic runic matrix long ago; the true challenge lay in how to power such an ambitious array. The answer rested at the heart of the central Demiguise runes—a glass container, three feet wide and four feet high, filled with countless double triangles sharing a vertex, all separated by vertical lines and brimming with Time-Turner sand.
The runic matrix would compress the sand into glass, a feat of magical engineering that melded wizarding ingenuity with Muggle scientific principles. The resulting increase in temporal potential would provide the necessary boost to the floor matrix, facilitating their journey across the vast expanse of time.
"So, we're aiming for the start of the Triwizard Tournament, aren't we?" Neville asked as they took their positions on the array, each standing on one of the outward-pointing arrows. Draco nodded affirmatively.
"That's the ideal insertion point," he confirmed. "We stop Barty Crouch Jr., expose Barty Sr.'s scandal regarding Sirius Black, and secure his innocence. That should create significant problems for many Death Eaters in the Wizengamot. After that, we hunt down the Horcruxes and Voldemort himself. Once that's done, we turn our attention to the Obscuras."
Harry nodded in agreement, a determined glint in his eyes. "We deal with Dumbledore before Voldemort. I won't have him interfering with his 'Everyone deserves a second chance' philosophy. And we save Severus in the process," he added with a shrug. Draco's lips curved into a small smile at the mention of his godfather. "Let's begin, shall we?"
The trio began to channel their magic into the matrix, directing it towards the glass container. They increased the flow steadily, watching as the sand within started to compress towards the center, glowing a bright orange as the temperature rose. For several tense minutes, this process continued, the orange hue growing increasingly intense until it suddenly shifted to a blinding white.
In that moment, they caught a fleeting glimpse of the newly formed stone at the center—a transparent, crystalline structure emanating an ethereal purplish glow. The runic matrix etched into the hall's floor began to pulse with light, the very air around them thrumming with dense, unnatural magic.
With a final surge of power, the matrix flashed blindingly bright. In its wake, the trio vanished, leaving behind an empty hall. Seconds later, the manor erupted in a spectacular explosion, the sudden discharge of magical energy reducing it to rubble—the last vestiges of a future they hoped to prevent.
As the dust settled on the ruins of their former sanctuary, Harry, Draco, and Neville hurtled through the corridors of time, their minds focused on the monumental task that lay ahead. The fate of the wizarding world—past, present, and future—rested squarely on their shoulders. Failure was not an option.
A/N: I guess this is my first shot at trying out a well planned fanfic. I've a semi-concrete storyline which I plan to follow, some flexibility for a few of readers' suggestions.
As of now, this is rated T. You can expect it to go up sometime down the line.
Previously I've tried my hand at a few anime fanfics in excitement, and wholly unplanned which caused them to go stump. I made so many mistakes in excitement that they are beyond salvageable. I had tried a hand at bring back two of my fanfics over the summer, however, I realized that the storylines had gone woefully out of hand in excitement. So, if anyone is an anime fan PM me if you wanna adopt and continue the stories.