Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Well, Fuck
August 8th, 1998
“Bloody hell,” was the first thing Ron said. It was tired and worn, but the breathless hope threading through his words weren’t lost on everyone. All of them sighing softly where they were resting on the cool grass of the Hogwarts’ grounds, watching the sun rise before their day’s tasks were assigned.
“It’s officially done. The war is over ,” Hermione added with a nod, as if trying to convince herself despite the time that’s passed since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts.
“And now we can focus on rebuilding,” Luna’s melodic voice filtered through the group of five students.
It had been exactly three months since the end of the battle, a flurry of funerals, hearings, and more. The term officially had ended that tragic day, and no one returned to Hogwarts except for professionals for rebuilding preparation.
Until now, since the rebuild was officially beginning and all five amongst others had volunteered to help.
There was still a little while before they were supposed to meet Headmistress McGonagall and a few of the professors out front where they’d hear the general plan of action and get their assignments. It would be a long and arduous journey to complete, but they were ready even if they knew it would never truly be ‘home’ again.
“You okay?” Harry heard Neville ask softly from where he was seated next to the green-eyed boy. His words were quiet, trying to keep it between themselves but with the silence surrounding them, it didn’t do much good, though Harry appreciated the attempt.
“I’m fine, just a bit tired,” Harry explained. It wasn’t a lie per se, but it wasn’t exactly truthful either. The war and aftermath had worn heavily on the saviour, but no amount of rest seemed to make a change in the exhaustion. But it wasn’t only that, he was numb. As if when he died that night in the Forbidden Forest, he’d lost a piece so significant to him that nothing seemed to matter.
Surrounded by his friends, the warm, rising sun, and fresh air seemed to help. It almost gave Harry hope that the sacrifices and losses were almost worth the new start. At least until the twist of guilt shot through him and his lips, that had started to tilt up, curled back down into its newly permanent frown.
“You can talk to me if you need anything, you know that right?” Neville continued, worry filling his deep green gaze when he saw the soft scowl on his friend’s face.
“Yeah,” Harry started but the sound of McGonagall calling out to them from the front doors of Hogwarts pulled their focus to which Harry was thankful for. He didn’t want to talk about it, all he wanted to do was focus on the manual and magical labor of rebuilding, with the hopes that it would wear him out enough to sleep that night without nightmares.
As they approached, they looked around and saw more faces, all drawn and grim. Dark circles and frowns were prevalent amongst the rebuilding volunteers, a few were hugging, but overall the mood of the day was melancholy.
“Morning to everyone who has volunteered to assist in the rebuilding, I just want to begin with a thank you for being here. It means a lot not only to me, but to Hogwarts and its current and future generations who will soon resume to walk these halls. But I’m sure you’re all very eager to get started so let me explain the general plan before Professor Flitwick and I start handing out today’s assignments,” the headmistress stated. Her voice was warm and steady, her back was ramrod straight in an attempt to seem strong, but the soft glistening in her eyes belayed her true emotions.
“We’ll be sectioning the castle into quadrants and that area will be assigned one or more teams depending on the damage and size of the space. Teams will consist of two to ten people and for the more extensively damaged areas, a professor or adult volunteer will be available to assist,” Professor Flitwick took over, standing on a platform he’d conjured. His keen gaze scanned the crowd, lingering on every volunteer as he continued to rattle out instructions.
The quadrants were read off, team assignments following quickly. Harry was pleased that he was with his friends in an area of the castle that wasn’t the fallen Gryffindor tower or the Great Hall, he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing either of those ever again. The six of them moved into the castle, having been one of the earlier crews given their assignment, and immediately ascended the stairs to one of the upper floors that had been damaged with scorch marks and shattered stones. It was hard for Harry to see, his teeth grinding as he looked at the scouring, but with a few deep breaths, he kept his panic and flashbacks at bay.
“Alright, It would probably be easier to fix the stones then clear the spell and curse damage,” Hermione offered, inspecting the wall closely. “Then when it’s done, we can alert the ward crafters to come and check the warding.”
No one argued, all lining up next to one another and facing the wall. They worked slowly so they didn’t cause any more damage, and the quiet was soon overrun by murmured ‘ reparo’ s and the rumbling sound of stone shifting and slotting back together. It took a while for them to do one half of the hall, moving down once a section was complete until the entire thing was finished. Before turning around and starting the other wall, they tackled the spell and curse marks that littered the rough, old walls of their school.
“Well, one half done,” Ron exclaimed with a tired huff. “Ready to tackle the next side? Once it’s done we can take our lunch before moving on, yeah?”
They agreed, knowing the other side shouldn’t take nearly as long with the large windows on this side of the hall with glass that somehow stayed unharmed during the attack. It wasn’t until they reached the end of the windows on this section did they realise there was a nondescript door tucked around the corner.
“Has this always been here?” Harry asked, unable to remember seeing this door before. Harry quickly contemplated digging out the Marauder’s Map, having quickly learned to carry it and the invisibility cloak at all times just as Hermione always carries her still packed beaded bag, and checking it but decided against it.
As he was looking closely at the door for any signifying marks, he half-watched Luna and Neville step closer and open it.
“Talk about pitch black,” Ron noted as he peeked over their shoulders. Luna propped the door open the rest of the way for all of them to file in, curiosity getting the better of the five friends.
“Wow, what is this place?” Neville breathed as we stepped further in. Now that they were within the space, they slowly were able to make out the room around them.
“I have no idea, I don’t ever remember seeing this on the map,” Harry revealed, taking in the dark area. It wasn’t large and there were no furnishings which made alarm bells start to ring in the back of Harry’s mind, his instincts kicking in the longer they stood there.
“Could just be a forgotten storage room that the Marauders missed?” Ron suggested, earning an agreeable nod from Hermione. As soon as Luna, the last of them joined, the door slammed shut sharply, startling everyone.
“Does anyone else have a bad feeling?” Harry asked softly, struggling to adjust his eyesight to the renewed pitch blackness of the room.
“Everyone grab someone’s hand until we’re all connected,” Hermione instructed. Her voice was calm and collected but the sharp note betrayed her nerves.
“Can’t lose anyone in a magical room if we’re all attached to one another,” Neville joked nervously with a shaky laugh as they quickly sought out each other’s open hands.
“What’s that noise?” Hermione questioned, everyone falling silent and straining to figure out what she was hearing. At first there was nothing but their breathing, but quickly the sound of whirling and crackling static filled the space until it was nearly deafening. Harry didn’t know how long it went on for, but finally it quieted, but only after one loud ‘pop’, and the door opening allowing them to all tumble out in a heap on the floor.
“Well, that was fun,” Ron muttered sarcastically, but something sounded off about his voice. “What the—”
“Oh my!” Hermione screeched in shock and that was when realisation settled on the group.
“We’re...” Neville started with a slack jaw.
“...eleven,” Harry finished grimly.
“At least we’re still at Hogwarts,” Hermione added shakily after a long pause.
“Oh, yes, as if being magically teleported somewhere else would be the least of our worries right now,” Ron muttered sarcastically.
“Well, this is certainly interesting,” a soft, yet familiar voice stated, all five students whipping around to find a once dead but clearly very alive Albus Dumbledore standing nearby. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m—”
“Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” Harry murmured in shock, scrambling to standing. His clothing and robes had obviously not shrunk to fit his now scrawny eleven-year-old body meaning he tripped slightly, but was able to right himself.
“Oh,” was all Albus said, clearly confused. It was clear that the children knew him, if their gaping was anything to go by, but Albus was unsure what to make of them as they jumped to standing hastily.
“Professor, this might be an odd question, but...what’s the date?” Harry continued, suddenly feeling very nervous about the situation. The headmaster's brows furrowed slightly, Harry no doubt knew it was because of the tension now filling his body.
“August 8th,” the elder man explained, not outwardly questioning the young lad and his friend’s odd behaviour, but Albus recognised there was something more going on so he stayed quiet and waited until more information was presented.
“And the year?” Hermione asked.
“Why, it’s 1976, my dear girl,” Dumbledore explained and Harry felt his stomach drop.
How in Merlin’s Beard did they end up over twenty years in the past?
“Why? What year did you believe it to be?”
The headmaster grew even more confused, his lips curling in a soft frown when all five gasped or groaned, along with looking shocked beyond belief. Harry though, stood there tensed and gaping, unable to wrap his head around it. They’d finally won the war, they were free . Why did things always happen to him? He wondered ruefully.
Albus waited until they wrapped their minds around what had happened, his curiosity getting the better of him as he inspected each of them with a closer look than he had originally when he arrived in the barren corridor.
“Professor. We aren’t— weren’t —eleven year olds in 1976,” Hermione explained, regaining her composure first. “We are seventeen year olds in 1998. We’d just won the second Wizarding War, this one here defeated Voldemort a few months ago at the Battle of Hogwarts.” She waved a hand to gesture to Harry.
“We’d just started restoration to the castle when a room we didn’t recognise locked us in and spit us out here,” Neville took over, huffing in annoyance when he looked over to the empty brick wall. “Where’d it go?”
“You’ve got to be sodding kidding me!” Ron exclaimed in frustration, his hands flying up. “Haven’t we done enough?” he seemed to scream at the castle. It was a very odd display indeed, the headmaster decided.
“It isn’t polite to yell at her, Ron,” the small blonde girl said airily, stepping over to the wall and patting it gently. “She just wishes to avoid such grave injury.”
“My girl, are you saying that Hogwarts is...sentient?” Albus questioned, noting the glazed look in her eyes cleared and she smiled knowingly. Part seer, he was sure of it.
“Why of course, Headmaster. She was damaged quite severely during the battle and she figured who better than to fix the future than with the Saviour himself and his friends?”
“Ugh, I seriously wish people would stop calling me that. That’s worse than the bloody Boy Who Lived—”
“Twice,” Ron, added with a smirk hearing a glare from the raven haired boy with glasses.
“Yes, Ronald . The Boy Who Lived Twice or The Chosen One,” he spat and shuddered, pouting slightly. The movement helped Albus look at their clothing noting they were Hogwarts house robes but much larger on their small frames.
“I wish to believe you, but I’m sure you can imagine it is quite difficult given the state of the world,” Albus reasoned.
“I can show you,” the Boy Who Lived Twice stated simply, tapping his temple. “You can view them in your Pensieve. Though be fair warned they’re quite...dark and some downright gruesome.”
“Albus, what’s going on? You left the Great Hall in quite a rush...” a familiar Scottish voice filled the corridor, trailing off when she saw all the children looking around the headmaster with soft smiles.
“Professor McGonagall,” the Boy greeted politely, earning a shocked expression. He turned back to the headmaster with a resigned sigh. “I think this would be better discussed in your office where you can view everything.”
“Of course, though I’m sure I don’t need to show you where my office is, do I, my boy?”
“Harry, sir. Harry Potter.”
That drew sharp inhales from both professors. Now that they had heard his surname, the two of them truly looked at Harry. Black curls were haphazardly springing around as if defying gravity itself while golden tan skin was pulled taut over a very thin—a gravely thin—frame. Every piece of him screaming the Potter looks, all except for haunted emerald eyes that seem to see right into the depths of both professors. It was clear this boy before them had seen many atrocities and carried a heavy burden to have such a cold, worn glimmer in his eyes.
“You do look incredibly like—”
“My father, James Potter, except my eyes,” he cut off the Transfiguration teacher with a nod. “Those are my mother’s. Yes, that would be Lily Evans before you ask.”
“I believe there is quite the story here,” she exclaimed in surprise, looking to the headmaster. “I think we should oblige them, don’t you?”
“Absolutely, my dear Minerva,” Albus stated happily, holding his arm out for her to which she chuckled but took his elbow nonetheless.
The group walked throughout the castle, the headmaster and professor listening to the children arguing in hushed tones. It didn’t take long to reach the stone gargoyle that led to the headmaster’s office, the line of time travelers filed up behind Dumbledor with Professor McGonagall bringing up the rear.
“I’m unsure of how much you truly want to see,” Harry cut in before anyone could speak. “I’m assuming just some highlights at the very end of the war?”
“It would take ages to go over the entirety of our timeline,” Hermione agree solemnly.
“There will be plenty of time for the full version later, for now I think it’d be best to see those main portions and the events that led you to be here in 1976,” the headmaster agreed with a nod.
“As opposed to…?” Professor McGonagall inquired, her brow raising slightly in concern.
“1998,” the ginger boy explained.
“Oh, Merlin,” she breathed in shock. She physically shook her head a few moments later as if to dislodge her surprise. “Before we witness these events, would it be possible to include some introductions? It’s clear you know us, and the life of a student here at Hogwarts”—she gestured to their uniforms—“but we do not have the same courtesy.”
“Of course, Professor, apologies for our oversight,” Hermione exclaimed, jolting in surprise before introducing herself. “I’m Hermione Granger, this is Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and as you know already, Harry Potter-Black.” Harry was still surprised every time he heard the Black name attached to his own despite knowing Sirius had blood adopted him when he was a baby.
“Ah, a new generation!” Albus exclaimed, his blue eyes twinkling. “Now, before we continue on with our conversation, I think it best to confer with your memories, my boy.”
Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He focused on the highlights of the war starting with the very beginning: the death of his parents. After he started to pull the silvery memory out of his temple, he focused on the pitiful attempt of Professor Quirrell getting the Philosopher’s Stone from the Mirror of Erised, the confrontation with Peter Pettigrew on Sirius’ innocence, the graveyard, the fall of the Ministry, the takeover of Gringotts, and finally, the Battle of Hogwarts. While there were many other things he could have shown such as the Horcruxes, Snape being a spy, being the Master of Death because of the Hallows, Dumbledore being murdered, one made by his own hands, Harry left them for the future conversation, when he had a better understanding of the first Wizarding War.
“We’ll stay here, I believe I speak for all of us when I say we’ve seen enough of the second war to last us a lifetime,” he explained, tapping his wand on the edge of the pensieve and letting the strand of glimmering silver fall into the swirling liquid.
Both the Professor and headmaster nodded before tilting forward to place their faces within the bowl, pregnant silence nearly deafened the room for a long moment before Harry’s sigh filled it.
“Now what?” he questioned. “We need some semblance of a plan.”
No one spoke for a moment before Neville spoke up, “are we stuck here you think?”
“Knowing our luck? Probably.” No one commented on Harry’s sour, sarcastic tone.
“Can we make a difference here? At least if we’re stuck here, I mean,” Ron offered when everyone gave him a questioning glance. “It’s the first war. We know what it takes to defeat evil old snake face, we could prevent the second war.”
The significance of what Ron suggested hit Harry intensively to the point he nearly stumbled. He could help them, save those who had been lost. He knew it wasn’t likely that they’d be able to do anything because of things like the Butterfly Effect and even if they could, that it could irreversibly change the outcome of the future meaning the people who died before may not even exist if they do this now.
Was it worth it though? If it was actually possible, Harry noted mentally, thinking it over. With a quick glance between the others, it seemed they were also considering the possibilities. Hermione looked the most hesitant, while Ron and Neville both seemed lost in though, Luna though…she stood there with a soft knowing grin on her face, no hint of disagreement or hesitation and Harry’s hope flared just a little bit more.
Before any of them could talk about it more, the professor and headmaster emerged from the pensieve, both looking grim and slightly green.
“Well, alright then, I guess that’s proof enough,” Minerva exclaimed once the headmaster and her regained their faculties after returning from Harry’s memories. Neither said anything more about what they’d seen so Harry took it upon himself to fill the dour quiet.
“So...yeah, not quite sure what to do now. Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time,” Harry murmured, his statement earning a beaming smile from Hermione. He rolled his eyes at the display. “Yes, yes, I do in fact listen to you at times.”
“Can we go back?” Ron asked curiously, looking around the room hoping that the worry in his eyes wasn’t obvious. The four friends knew that while he’d been the one to suggest changing the future, he was the one most likely to be attached to his family and what had been left behind out of them.
“I don’t believe so, unfortunately. There’s no time turners yet, nor are there any that propels you over two decades into the future,” Albus offered solemnly.
The group of students nodded but didn’t argue, seeming resigned before they’d even been allowed to hope that as an option. Damn his Potter Luck.
“So, what is going to be the plan now then?” Neville asked, glancing at Harry. “Hogwarts herself seems to want us to prevent the return of Voldemort but would that mess everything up with the future?”
“No I don’t believe so,” Luna spoke for the first time since their arrival to the headmaster’s office, her glassy gaze looking up and around the air. “We exist alongside this timeline, like how you Harry still have control of the Elder wand, but so does Dumbledore.” Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a wand that matched Dumbledore’s, and the young Potter could sense the thrum of power from both wands. “The Headmaster might hold power over his Elder wand, but you are still the Master of Death, Harry.”
“Great,” he muttered but nodded, ignoring the curiosity brimming in Dumbledore’s eyes. “Well, we’re here with no way back and a goal. Now...how the hell do we exist here in 1976 without raising too many suspicions? I can’t very well go prancing about as Harry James Potter or Neville as Longbottom.”
“Gringotts,” Hermione stated helpfully.
“What does the bank have to do with it?” Ron asked his girlfriend. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go back after everything we did.”
“We paid our reparations to the Goblins after the break-in, Ron, besides, it’s not like they know what we did. But to answer your question, they don’t only deal in gold. They do inheritance tests, bondings, and blood adoptions,” she informed them.
“I would ask how you know that but I know it’s probably one of the many books you’ve read over the years,” Ron told her fondly with a soft smile, curling his arm around her and kissing her on the cheek.
“My God, I can just picture how this would have played out when we were actually eleven.” Harry waved at the two of them curled together with a chuckle.
“Yes, I probably would have punched him,” Hermione said with a smirk.
“Like Malfoy in third year?”
“You punched Malfoy in third year? Where was I?” Neville exclaimed.
“I probably would have been sick all over her, but good thing we’re not mentally and magically eleven otherwise taking on snake-face would be hell...worse than it already was,” Ron added with a grimace.
“So, first stop, Gringotts?” Minerva cut in, realising without some direction the five of them at that moment they wouldn’t be getting a move on.
“Yes,” they all stated together as Albus moved to the Floo, nervous to get their new lives started twenty years in the past.