Warning: Not betaed. Reading on your own risk. If it does make sense your doing something wrong.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well besides the computer I'm typing this on. Well and some copies of the Harry Potter books, but not the characters. Just messing around in JKR's sandbox.
Hogwarts, November 3rd 1981
"So this is your story." asked the white haired man.
"Yes." answered the young man sitting on the other side of the desk shortly.
"I hope you have learned your lesson young boy, one does not meddle with time without consequence." the older man then said.
The young black haired man started to chuckle. "Yes, yes, I have learned that a long time ago, and I am certainly no longer a young boy. But in the end I must say it was most likely worth it, even if it didn't work as planed."
"So what will you do now?" asked the old man once again.
"What I always do, spread chaos, learn everything new I can get my fingers on and assure that my other self lives a good life. What did you think." the younger one answered.
The old man frowned and then hid it by taking a sip from his tea: "You should be aware that it your methods don't seem appropriate, I'm afraid I can't let you 'spread chaos' as you said in the name of the Greater Good."
"Then we have nothing more to discuss." the young man said, his green eyes met the other man's twinkling blue for the first time during their conversation. Wind picked up, obscured the vision of the old man for a moment and then his guest had disappeared from his office. He would never be able to prevent the younger man from his path. Not even for the Greater Good.
Dairy Entry, November 4th 1981
Let me introduce myself. My name is Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, Heir of Slytherin, Triwizard Tournament Champion, and probably every other title you can think of. Yes, I am really the Heir of that specific founder. Ever heard of 'Right of Conquest'?
But I digress. One thing that isn't that well known is that I am a time traveller. Not by choice, as nearly everybody always seems to assume. No way in hell that I would do something that stupid. Then again I did. Well not I, but different me's. Confusing, isn't it.
I'm still not sure what exactly happened, but I think I pieced enough together to know that it will stop soon. Well soon enough, but then again time has lost it's meaning to me. I won't bore you with Arithmancy formulas and different odds and ends of wizard's lore. In the end the most important components were the Deathly Hallows, remnants of dark rituals, especially fragments of a Horcruxe, and a few unique properties of the killing curse. Not that anyone ever tested those out, I had to do that myself.
After making sure that I wouldn't end up like Bellatrix and Tom after overuse of the Dark Arts. As it seems there are a few loopholes so to speak to escape the taint of using those magics. Only most never bother with those, either because they are rather time consuming, or because remaining tainted, so to speak, allows to use those magics more easily on the long run.
Well, anyway something happened when Tom's Avada Kedavra collided with my Expelliarmus in what was probably dubbed the Final Duel. I think so anyway, because I have no idea what happened afterwards. Could have been that Tom survived.
Then how do I know all this. As I mentioned before I am a Time Traveller. I go back in time. Thats the theory anyway. It gets a bit more complicated, because even doing extraordinary things I seem to be incapable of doing normal.
At first I assumed the effect merely sent me to a different reality. I arrived only seconds before Voldemort cast the spell, conveniently somewhere behind him. Since I saw myself in front of me I took the opportunity, at first thinking of a similar effect to a Time Turner, and hit him with a Reducto into the back of his head. The snake dropped dead. When there were still two of us in the evening we started to think it was weird, but shrugged it off. After all there was a lot of work to be done, and a double came in handy every once in a while, especially dealing with the press and politicians.
It took me about two months before I found myself once again in the Great Hall, standing somewhere behind Ol' Snakeface. What I did notice was that I was a bit earlier than last time. Another interesting fact was that I was wearing once again the same things I wore the day of the battle. And exactly like before a more throughout examination come to the result that I once again had all three Hallows on my person. That was a good clue that their powers were somehow involved in this mess.
Anyway I killed Voldemort once again, and then two of us spend some time rebuilding the country. Even after I stayed longer that the last time the nagging feeling that I will be thrown into the battle once again was always there. And I was right. It took whole eighteen months, and a whole Auror crash curse before it happened.
I began to see a pattern. I always arrived a bit further in the past. The time I spend was different each time, usually somewhere between a month and two years, but I had some aberrations. Even got married in one that lasted seven years to my luck. I sometimes wonder if that timeline ended or if it went on and she is still searching for me.
As I went farther and further back I started to change my tactic. Sure the first hundred or so repetitions all involved me arriving in the middle of the Great Hall during the duel. Those where I arrived before my counterpart could take of his cloak were especially funny. The outrage when he suddenly saw me appearing, and everyone thought I was the original. Hilarious.
I spend some time just altering Tom's perception of reality a slight bit, altering his aim just the little bit that allowed Minerva, Kingsley, Horace and Molly to survive, most of the time anyway, and Tom's Killing Course just that far of course that it never hit the same way it did with me, but rebounded.
Those realities I never revealed myself I spend my time often searching for new things, like exploring the non-magical world, where I found my one time wife, travelling the world, grave robbing in Egypt, the like. There was so much to find and enough time to learn. I thing Hermione would turn in her grave if she saw me holed up in the Black library at Grimauld Place, reading books all day long. Well in those realities where she was dead anyway.
You see while most lives followed the same path, there was the odd every now and then that turned out very different. I still have nightmares from that one world where my other self was married to Draco Malfoy of all people. That would have been somehow acceptable, if he didn't seem genuine happy about. In my shock I even forgot to check for love potion and the like, before sealing off Malfoy Manor and burning the whole thing down. Don't get me wrong, Malfoy can be halfway decent, especially if you obliviate years of indoctrination by his father. I found out that his mother is halfway decent anyway. For some reason she never gave up her weekly meetings with her sister Andromeda and got exposed to more tolerant views that way.
But I'm starting to get off topic again. As said some worlds were different. I assume every one of ten had an observable difference, and ever fifth of those differed that one could speak of an independent timeline. For example one in ten there were different survivors after the battle of Hogwarts. Nothing big, but noticeable. But every fiftieth or so there was no battle of Hogwarts. Some of those Tom was already dead, or the light was totally lost. I still think the one where Tom was Minister of Magic instead of Fudge was one of the best I ever saw. Never saw someone knock Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbldore down a peg in the same sentence.
Naturally in most timelines he was the same monster that was twisted by the Dark Arts instead of an artist with words that could insult everyone into the face, without leaving them any chance of retribution. Sure there were also those were my other self became submerged in those abysses. Either by myself? himself? or naturally with a little help from good old uncle Tom. Only that he was the bigot there.
Well as said, I learned many a thing. You don't believe what kind of treasure you can find on the British Countryside. Old pureblood manors, warded to hell and back and nobody is able to enter them, sometimes for generations. Sure, it takes a lot of time to get in, especially those with Fidelius or it's variations that don't need a secret keeper.
How do you set up a common, well the usual variation is rare enough, but you know what I mean, Fidelius that isn't risked by the secret keepers death? Easy, take a loyal, but replaceable servant, feed him the secret, make him write it down, so that you can pass the secret to others feed him Draught of the Living Dead and place him in magical stasis. The oldest one of that variation that I found was over thousand five hundred years old.
Anyway, those houses are a treasure grove. Not only did I have near unlimited funds after a while, because I knew where and how to get them, but also so much lost knowledge. Then again, my preferred style of fighting long left it's British origins behind, and became something that only travellers like myself would recognise. I particular like Phonician curses and Norse runes. Deadly combination.
Ah, yes. Anyway I travelled back though time, sometimes simply let it play out, sometimes meddle with it a bit and even rarer showing myself in public. Mostly it was little things, like placing a list of all Horcruxes and their location in our tents while all three of us were sleeping, or preventing Malfoy from fixing that cabinet in the Room of Requirements.
Sure, the things I did change changed as I went back in time further and further, from banishing Sirius into Bellatrix when she was about to send him through the Veil, to disposing off Umbridge discretely, to mixing a few extra ingredients into Tom's resurrection ritual, oh he was never the same again, to incinerate that paper slip before it vanished in the Goblet and replacing it with one calling for Barty Crouch Jr. and so on and so forth.
One thing that I learned and that seemed to be true for each and every reality, no matter how different from the original, was that Dumbledore was far to manipulative for his own good. Sure more than half the time he did it with good intentions, but it doesn't make it less wrong to play with peoples lives.
I think the long time of practically undisputed power in Britain – forty years of holding the position of Chief Warlock and Hogwarts Headmaster – he ceased to see people for what they were, but saw them as mere paws on a chessboard. Sure, he had good intentions in I'd say eighty percent of the timelines, but in sixty percent of the timelines one had to apply the old saying: The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.
And so I found myself struggling to fight the old Headmaster far more often than Tom. Especially after my awakening, as I had taken to call it, happened before the Dark Lords resurrection.
Some times he only manipulated with words, but more often with actions as well. His influence reached from small things, like drawing constant but little amounts from the Potter vaults, for the War effort during peacetime of course, and ignoring my parents will, up to pressure every muggle-raised wizard and witch into forced marriages. After all one could not expect those new to magic to know what was good for them and what not and let them decide for themselves.
I even remember a few where muggleborns got assigned jobs by the old manipulator. As it seemed most of the time his goal was to achieve the Greater Good, consisting of a peace loving magical society, anchored in traditions, that ruled a non-magical society, because muggles can't be trusted with authority after all.
Well then there were those times where the old man had gone truly senile or even was dark himself. But I won't go into those, because he committed crimes that would have the last twenty Dark Lords and Ladies combined envious.
When I arrived in my pre-Hogwarts years I had learned most things there were, or at least I think so. If there is more hidden knowledge about magic out there than it is either inaccessible to me any way or I lack the right way of thinking to gain access to it. I'd also probably be able to gain a PhD in most non-magical subjects. Not to mention all those little things I figured out myself, most of them in the realm of combining magic with science. I even figured out where magic fits into physics. At least I think so, I never managed to see the detectors necessary to confirm it come to completion.
So I turned to something else: Seeding Chaos. After all it is an catalyst for change and progress. Let's take a look at the last few non-magical wars: stemming from chaos they brought forth large progress in so many fields. Sure, scientific advantages were military technology in the beginning, but in the end many people profited from it.
Unlike the magical wars. Problem is that the fights are mostly traditionalists versus traditionalists, while the new blood suffers from pursuit from one side and usage as cannon fodder from the other side. The new blood that might bring change. The new blood that is driven out of society back into the non-magical world.
But then again playing with Wizards is so much more fun as well. The damage one can cause with Polyjuice Potion, a camera and an anonymous letter to the press. Wonderful. Alecto Carrow appearing in Reality TV, Lucius Malfoy flirting with non-magicals on Trafalgar Square, Severus Snap wearing a 'Hello Kitty'-T-Shirt or Dumbledore stage diving at a Rock concert. Endless possibilities, and not to mention good distractions to get young Harry away from my so called relatives.
Blood Wards my ass. Sure, Dumbledore erected some most of the time, but they are weak and have no relation to my mother. Heck, I don't think I ever came across a world where mum used blood magic. Soul Magic yes, even some where it is Lily's soul was lodged to my scar, not Voldemort's, ancient rituals, check, a rune ward blocking the killing curse, that nobody ever found, because nobody ever saw it fit to examine my crib, all that happened.
But most of the time the answer was far more simple. Tricking Ol' Snakeface into a magical binding contract that was agreed to with Tom killing my mother and included that he could not kill me. Simple, but nobody seemed to ever have thought about it. In those timelines, and those were the majority, Voldemort wouldn't be able to kill me, or better my other self, if I stood in front of him and let him do everything he wants to me. It'd probably hurt like a bitch, but I wouldn't die, unless he called someone for help.
See, nothing to do with any Prophecy. Even if they are true Prophecies they are a fickle thing. Some are self-fulfilling, some only happen if someone acts upon them and some are plain fake. Didn't someone ever get suspicious that Trelawney made a Prophecy during a job interview for a Divination post?
That seemed to be the one constant, besides Dumbledores manipulative streak. Hell, even Snape was friendly in some timelines. But the Prophecy? Every time I checked, and as soon as I saw the signs I often did, she faked the Prophecy. She was good at evasive Occlumency, and therefore able to fool Dumbledore, but that was one fake prediction if there ever was one.
I'm sure some would want to know how she was able to predict Pettigrew's escape? Let's just say that that woman has one hell of an affinity for scrying charms. All those glass orbs had to have their use after all.
But it will end soon. My calculations don't point to a definite result, but there are only two paths possible. Up to now I always came back with a seventeen year old body, holding onto three Hollows and a Holly and Phoenix wand.
Soon this body will break down, no longer able to hold the strain of this much magic. When this happens my soul will latch onto the body with the most similar magical signature – which would be my own, the younger version anyway.
My calculations point to this happening either on October 31th 1981 or July 31th 1980. This time I awoke anew on November 3rd 1981, so it's not too long till then. Only a century or so. And then all those wizards will be in for one hell of a surprise, because Boy-Who-Lived or not, nobody will expect what is coming for them.
Wait, because soon we will unleash hell onto all those backward bigots.
Godric's Hollow, October 31th 1981
A dark clothed figure appeared in the front yard of a small cottage in the tranquil village of Godric's Hollow. Not that an unusual sight, since the small village was populated manly by magicals, mixed with the odd Squib and magic aware muggle, which was the only reason why Hogsmead still held the title of the only purely magical village in Great Britain.
What was unusual was that someone just appeared on the front lawn of a small cottage that should be protected by powerful wards. No, not any ancient wards anchored into a ley line to draw it's power from there or something of that sort. A simple intruder detection ward and a Fidelius charm.
After all Albus 'I have to many titles' Dumbledore had said it would be perfectly safe. The property appeared on no list of Potter ownership, since it was a long forgotten guest house of the Dumbledore Family, and therefore the enemy was unlikely to even come near the house through elimination.
One James Potter suddenly regretted not placing additional wards or using the Fidelius on one of the previous warded properties that were in family possession. They could have used the cottage here as another decoy, while being safe under Fidelius elsewhere. Maybe letting the Secret Keeper living here in Godric's Hollow. Maybe even being Secret Keeper himself. He stopped that train of thought. Dumbledore always insisted that Sirius had to be the Secret Keeper, but never said why not Lily or he himself could shoulder that burden.
Shrugging the thought off, he said to Lily: "The intruder detection ward was just tripped, but it is someone keyed in. But it is neither Sirius nor Peter. Weird. Have you added anyone else?"
Lily looked at him for a moment and then said: "No, I haven't, but I'll prepare Harry that we can move at a moments notice. What was it? By foot, apparition or portkey?"
James frowned, while Lily was already moving up the stairs and then answered confused: "Neither of those. It's as if it just appeared."
On the lawn in front of the house Harry was mentally screaming. Sure, he had been hit by a Cruciatus Curse more often then he cared to remember, but this was something else. It felt as if his body was tearing apart. Probably because it was. Luckily first to malfunction were his vocal chords, otherwise the whole village would likely know the location of the cottage once more.
As his body combusted into black flames and was reduced to nothingness in mere seconds his spirit unseen by anyone flew up into the first floor and a small nursery where it merged into a toddlers body.
Seconds later young Harry Potter had a strange dream. A man that looked just like his father, but with the same green eyes like his mother slowly walked towards him on a deserted country lane. When he stopped in front of the one year old he knelt down and said: "I'm sorry little one, but I need your body."
As so many young children little Harry had learned one word better than his parents liked and answered: "No!"
Older Harry sighed and then placed his hand on the side of his younger counterpart while looking him straight into the eyes. Young Harry stood there, the epitome of a stubborn small child, arms crossed in front of his chest and stared back.
"I'm sorry that it has to come to his." ,the older one the reluctantly said and whispered: "Legilimens"
The older one filched back as if hit by lightning and pressed his hands onto the sides of his head. He then moaned: "That bloody hurt."
The younger one stared at him and then said defiantly: "I told you no."
After a short time of recuperation the older one said: "Okay, that obviously didn't work. Keep your body for now. We'll have to do that some other way." He then once again peered into his younger counterparts eyes and shoved a memory into him.
Downstairs James was watching the spectacle on the front lawn and then muttered to himself: "However that was definitive looked like a Potter, even if Voldemort had made sure that all of our family he could find were dead. I always fought we three were the last left. No matter, we will head your warning, unknown cousin. But spontaneous combustion? That has to be one nasty curse."
Meanwhile Lily entered the nursery and was greeted by the opening eyes of her son. He seemed to be lost in his dreams for a moment longer, before he said to her: "Bad man coming. Uses green spell."
Lily paled. It wasn't so much the sudden realisation that her son was a seer, it was more that he had just spoken of one of the most feared spells of the world, something he should have no knowledge of.
Picking her son up she ran downstairs and told James: "No matter what you do I'm leaving. I don't care what they say about apparition with toddlers, I'm going to take that risk. It's just no longer safe here."
Her husband nodded and said: "I agree. Tinworth? You do know how to cast the Fidelius charm, right? I'll be secret keeper."
"Sounds like a plan." ,she answered and disappeared with a 'pop'.
A few minutes later two 'pop' announced the arrival of some guests. The taller one looked at the smaller and said in a cold voice: "Worm, you said the Potters hide here under Fidelius, then why is the only magic on the property some charmed artefacts and an intruder detection ward? Should the cottage not be hidden from me, since you didn't yet tell me the exact phrasing of the secret?"
"I, I don't know, mylord. Please forgive a humble servant." ,answered the smaller figure, cowering low.
"You do know what happens to betrayer, don't you?" ,the taller figure asked in a chilly voice, that at the same time promised pain, before he grabbed the smaller person on the shoulder and dissapeared again with a 'pop'.
Voldemort's Secret Lair, aka Riddle Manor, a few minutes later
The Dark Lord, Heir of Slytherin, and whatnot, had summoned his loyal subjects. Well, loyal as long as they had to fear his Cruciaturs curse of their master. What they didn't know was that range was not a problem for the Snake Lord. After all he had taken care of that little problem with his mark, that was granted to loyal followers. Yes, the plan was foolproof. They do say that the easy plans are the good ones. Like the one for this evening. Visiting Godric's Hollow with a rat, listening to a secret and killing three people. Very easy. But someone had to botcher it up.
"My dearest subjects." he began with a slight hiss in his voice "Today we have gathered to see what happens to those who think they can betray me. This little fellow here," he made a motion at Pettigrew, who had soaked his pants "Had the gall to offer me a great opportunity, but it turned out that he tried to lead me into a trap. Only due to my quick thinking I was able to escape battle, because that would have been the Gryffindor thing to do, don't you agree?" Affirmative murmurs were heard in the hall "Worm, transform into your animagus form, now" the Dark Lord then said silkily.
Slowly, far slower than usual the trembling man shrank until he was a small rodent.
"You know, dearest Nagini hadn't had a meal yet." the Dark Lord then announced as he locked Pettigrew in his rat form with a quick wave of his wand.
As the snake slithered after a panicked rodent Voldemort turned towards Bellatrix Lestrange and asked in a smooth voice, that promised pain if one answered wrong: "I've heard you have information on the Longbottom boy, right?"
Padfoot's Den, Bristol
Sirius hurried downstairs towards the little garage that was besides the modest house he lived in. He had told nobody, but he had tied a few charms of his own into some objects in the cottage at Gordric's Hollow. Now they told him that nobody alive was left there. He was panicking. His brother in all but blood, his godson and his sister-in-law as far as it mattered were likely dead. He left the house in a rush, not even bothering to close the front door.
Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. The mirror. It was vibrating. James hadn't called him through it since they went into hiding, but now he did. Hopefully it was really James and not the Snakeface. He shuddered at the thought as he pried the mirror out of the too small pocket. Well the pocket was big enough, thanks to expansion charms, but the opening wasn't.
As he held the mirror in front of his face, James appeared and said: "I've got to make that short. We had to relocate, because the property got compromised. I'm secret keeper of the new location, but won't leave the building unless absolutely necessary. I'll contact you again if we run out of food. On the other hand could you do two things for me? Inform the Aurors to look out for Pettigrew, either as traitor or as a tortured corpse. And please collect our personal stuff at Godric's Hollow. It is Dumbledore's cottage after all and we left in kind of a rush. We'll let you in on the secret when necessary, until then, good hunt for a certain rat."
Sirius just nodded, before the mirror went reflective once again. They were safe. But he had work to do. Pushing mirror and key for his bike back into his pocket and closing the front door, he went to the fireplace, calling the DMLE. He was off duty after all, but he would use his time to go over potential holes that the rat had hidden himself in. Later the evening he would go to Godric's Hollow, no need to run into the old Headmaster. Let him guess what was going on for once.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had arrived at his families old guest house. When he had cast the Fidelius he had added a few detection charms into the mix after all it would just weaken the charm minimal, while helping him keep a tab on things.
While his instruments had not indicated any spells used they were quiet clear that one: Someone with a Dark Mark and Voldemort himself were present in the immediate vicinity of the cottage. Two: James, Lily and Harry Potter were no longer alive. Or at least his instruments could no longer sense their magical signature. Therefore they were dead.
There was a weird reaction from the one bound to Harry shortly before all three stopped working. He hoped that meant that the Prophey was fulfilled, and if he was lucky he would even be able to claim the fame of vanquishing yet another Dark Lord. A stable society needed strong leaders after all, and despite his age he would be able to lead the magical world at least another fifty years, longer if he could convince Flamel to part with his stone.
Taking a good look at the property he found nothing. No bodies, no spell signatures, nothing. Well there was this high concentration of magic on the front lawn, and a weird scorch mark.
Taking a further look at it he came to the conclusion that the Dark Lord was dead. After all only that could produce so much magic. And it had a feel that he had never felt with one of his own experiments. And since he was the epitome of a Light Wizard everything he didn't know had to be very Dark Magic. The kind that twists the soul faster that you could say 'Lemon Drop'.
Coming to the conclusion that somehow, the density of magic allowed no proper conclusion, Harry had vanquished the Dark Lord, while in the process destroying himself and his parents.
Happily whistling he made his way to the town square, from where he apparated to the Ministry.
Still in a good mood he walked into the office of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch. "I have a good and a bad message."
Crouch looked up and said: "Good is too rare these days, let's keep it for the last."
"Okay, bad news first: The Potters are dead. Unfortunate the Dark Lord was able to find them oin their safe house." ,Dumbledore answered.
The Head of the DMLE send the old Headmaster a calculating glance and the slowly said: "Head Auror Bones had just informed me that Auror Black asked for two days off, because as she said, the Potter's safe house had been compromised and they had to relocate. He asked for time to collect a few of their belongings and to take care of loose ends. I assume he is going after the traitor. Words in the Department, that we are to keep an eye out for Pettigrew, either tortured to death or with a Dark Mark."
Dumbledore stared at Crouch with wide eyes, blinking in disbelieve.
Small Village, Lake District, 1st November 1981
"You sure that that's Pettigrew?" one Auror asked another.
That one frowned a second an then said: "Positive. The magical signature matches the one of Pettigrew during the aptitude test. You-Know-Who gets crueller as time goes bye, don't you agree? Transforming people into rodents, letting snakes having fun with them and then letting them poisoned and dead lying somewhere on a rubbish dump."
The first Auror thought for a moment: "What do you think, do they make them into another war hero? Another random Order of Merlin, to keep up morals? I can see it, Order of Merlin, third Class, for keeping secrets from the enemy or some such rubbish."
AN: Just a random idea that just wouldn't leave me alone. It's unlikely that I will write anything further here, unless the plot bunnies hit me with a compulsion charm again.
On a other note I managed to condense quiet a few ideas in here, big and small. For example, I always find it difficult to accept in time travel fics that the older version 'sacrifices' the younger one, most of the times with no resistance at all. Therefore a stubborn toddler.
Another would be a simple small idea: sure, Hermione somewhere says that Hogsmead is the only pure wizard village, but I had the idea that Godric's Hollow, Tinworth, etc. are pure magical as well. I can see the bigots make a distinction between only wizards and wizards plus the three muggleborn that moved here with their non-magical parents.
If you want the whole thing to continue writing, a message would be nice. Same if you want to use bigger parts. Not as if this is big at all.
Remember one thing: Harry is not quite sane after all that. Who would be? Then again I don't see myself as sane and therefore quickly label others insane as well. So who am I to judge?