Temporal Paradox: The Second Chance of Harry Potter

January 3rd, 1977

'Magic, especially dark magic, leaves traces...'

Albus exited his Pensieve with a frustrated frown on his wrinkled face. The memory he had watched did not bring as much enlightenment as he had hoped.

Young Fabian Prewett had provided the memory for him after Albus had contemplated for two days who it might be best to ask. Sitting at his large desk he started scribbling down some notes on the events he just witnessed.

Ever since the attack on the Bones Manor on New Year's Eve, Albus spent considerable efforts trying to reverse engineer what happened that night. He himself had been invited to the party but chose not to attend this year, something the attackers have undoubtedly used to their advantage. Therefore, he was only made aware after his friend Alastor Moody sent him a Patronus shortly after midnight, telling him about the episode.

It had taken almost fifteen minutes to break through Voldemort's incredibly strong wards, which denied anyone that was not bearing the Dark Mark access. After finally taking down the enchantments with an entire team of curse breakers, the enemy had left already and all that was left was a single person standing upon a heavily damaged balcony, surrounded by corpses, shattered debris, and hot ash.

'Harry Ignotus Peverell'

Of course Albus had been immensely relieved that the boy had not been killed and defended the entrance to the manor. However, his mysterious survival had awoken significantly more questions and made the events all the more mysterious, especially since the boy refused to elaborate on anything that happened.

'Why had the Dark Lord spared his life?'

Undoubtedly Peverell was a powerful wizard with rare talent and Albus did not question that he could have held himself against a few of the Dark Lord's most dangerous followers but against Tom himself?

'No... despite the boy's brilliance he would not stand a chance at this point...'

Alas, as with everything involving Harry Peverell, Albus had to find answers for himself... So the first thing he did was analyze the scene where it had all taken place...

Flashback

January 1st, 1977

"Back again so soon, Albus?"

"I apologize for the intrusion, Harold." He stepped out of the fireplace and brushed off any ash from his deep purple robes: "I was hoping I could take another look at the balcony, my friend?"

Lord Bones motioned with his head for Albus to follow him over to the staircase: "Of course, though I'd be surprised if you'd find anything. I had the unspeakable working there all night, trying to secure evidence. They looked rather disappointed when they left a few hours ago."

"Perhaps I shall succeed where they failed." Albus chuckled, following the man to the upper floor.

"Do let me know if you find something!" Harold Bones nodded: "Whatever that Peverell boy did to delay the attack of those scumbags, he has my sincere gratitude. I don't want to imagine the massacre that might have taken place if they penetrated my wards and entered the manor."

"I assume he did not share anything with you either then?"

"I hardly saw him after you arrived with half the Ministry." Harold shook his head: "I wanted to personally thank him for what he did for my guests and my family. Merlin, if the boy was not so smitten with Alfred's daughter, I'd be doing my best to set up a contract between him and Amelia!"

'It would never work.' Albus chuckled along: 'Nothing could break the bond that had formed between his two sixth years and only a fool would try to separate them, thereby provoking their ire...'

They reached the balcony, where Harold led him outside through a damaged doorway: "Well, feel free to do your thing, Albus. Just let me know if you find anything."

"Of course, Harold." The headmaster nodded thankfully. 'Time to get to work.'

'Magic, especially dark magic, leaves traces...'

Wand ahead and eyes closed he started walking over the balcony in tiny steps, focusing on his surroundings and any potential residual traces. Albus decided to start with a wide lap along the edge and work his way inwards. On his lap around the edge, he felt the faintest traces of multiple spells, their after-effects still lingering in the air and leaving the area saturated with their magic.

However, the further inwards he traveled, the more those faint traces were pushed aside to make room for something significantly more detrimental. The deep scorch marks and destruction of the stone tiles provided physical evidence for that hypothesis.

He finally arrived right in the center of the balcony, which was aligned with one of the entrances back into the Manor. It was here the feeling was the strongest. Magic had been cast here, but not just any magic...

Albus blocked out everything else and concentrated on his breathing. It was almost as if the air around him was saturated with the intent the spell had been cast with.

He sensed a never-ending hunger, the desire to destroy, and a prickling heat. Yet all of those effects were overshadowed by a ravishing hatred that lay thick in the air and consumed everything in its dark depths.

Albus exhaled deeply, shivering at the hostility he ran straight into.

'What spell required this kind of intent?'

Dropping to one knee he brushed the tip of his wand over the deep scorch marks on the blackened tiles.

'A fire spell then?'

But not just any fire spell... Most of the tiles and the rubble looked like they had been made molten around their edges and surface. The deep scratches looked almost like they could have been caused by the claws or fangs of something living, something sentient...

'Fiendfyre.' Albus frowned at the implication. 

To cast the spell required a fair amount of power, however more so, it mandated the intention to destroy something or someone beyond any possible repair. It required to see something crumble and vanish in an inferno of loathing never to reappear again. Such hatred does not dwell in your average witch or wizard, nor could it be used so efficiently by just anyone.

'Such hatred in combination with such power was dangerous.'

And yet it had evidently been cast with supreme control as Albus noticed when he visualized the alignment of the scorch marks. The caster must have been standing close to the entrance of the balcony and directed the cursed flames away from the Manor itself, which the lack of scorched tiles confirmed.

The fact that the Manor remained undamaged further underlined his suspicion and strengthened his belief.

'Yet was it really Harry who cast the spell?'

Unfortunately, Albus had no way to verify so. At some point during the last term, the boy had found a way to perfectly mask his magical signature permanently. No matter what piece of transfiguration or charms work Filius and Minerva had provided him with from their lessons with Peverell, Albus had failed to isolate any traces of the boy's magic.

'A feat unheard of.'

However, upon further concentrating on the residual magic, there was one signature the headmaster did manage to verify... A signature he will never forget or mistake for another's due to its almost unmatched uniqueness.

'Tom Riddle.'

He had been Tom's transfiguration professor for seven years. He knew the boy's unusual style. Yet it was not Tom who conjured the cursed flames, instead, unless Albus was mistaken, Tom had put an end to them...

'How very curious...'

Albus led his eyes to roam over the scene once more before heading back to the entrance to the Manor. He might have been successful in finding something and still he felt like he was merely stumbling through the darkness.

The fact that a sixteen-year-old boy showed proficient use of one of the most destructive spells should be disturbing if it wasn't for the fact that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary young man. This was the same student who managed to cast other incredible pieces of magic already, as he demonstrated by hiding two rooms right under Albus' crooked nose at Hogwarts.

Yet this piece of magic was inherently different as the faint imprints the headmaster felt all around him confirmed.

'Magic, especially dark magic, leaves traces...'

Could that have been the reason Tom spared the boy's life last night? Did the Dark Lord, similar to Dumbledore, see the potential in the boy, yet intended to pervert it and lead him into darkness?

Albus knew not, however, what he did know was that he had once again underestimated Peverell. For a sixteen-year-old to use such a spell confidently he must have had plenty of opportunities to practice it before. Perhaps it was time to return to the Castle and take an even closer look at the second room Peverell hid under the Fidelius, the one on the Seventh Floor...

Flashback End

Albus sighed heavily as he rubbed his temples. His investigation on what kind of room had been hidden on the Seventh Floor had quickly proved fruitless. The headmaster had studied the Fidelius charm extensively in his youth and knew that nothing short of killing the current secret keeper or persuading Ms. McKinnon to share the location with him, will reveal the room.

'It was safe to say that neither option was very likely.'

His thought shifted back to the memory he had just seen. Fabian Prewett had been one of the few defenders of the balcony who had been willing to share it with him. The others were pretty much out of the question. With how protective Charlus Potter was of Peverell, the man was far more likely to pull his wand, send a few questionable curses Albus' way and find a very creative way to tell the headmaster to keep his crooked nose out of his family's affairs.

Asking the older McKinnon brother was also unlikely to wield any significant results, especially with the family being so close to Peverell, due to their active courting agreement. Add to that that Amelia Bones now seems to be dating Matthew McKinnon and the two were crossed off the rather short list...

Still, after much persuading, Albus had secured himself a memory and had eagerly dived into his Pensieve only to leave with even more questions than he entered.

Peverell had somehow recognized that Tom had arrived on the balcony before making visual contact with the man. The only explanation for that was that the boy managed to sense the other wizard's presence. In turn, this meant that they must have met before this incident...

The anxiety and panic had been evident on the boy's face when he failed to rescue his brother's girlfriend from the Dark Lord's killing curse, yet the spell had appeared so quickly that even Albus himself doubted whether he'd managed to stop it from connecting with its target.

Peverell's shield charm had undoubtedly saved the lives of a few more defendants, yet due to Fabian and his brother stumbling through the entrance of the manor, Albus was missing the perhaps crucial moments during which Peverell separated himself from the Potter Lord and his girlfriend's brothers.

'Did he by chance mention anything to them?'

In the end, watching the memory had not revealed any new insight but it did confirm a few of his existing theories. Peverell and Tom likely met before, since Harry recognized his presence and knew of the imminent danger. Second of all, the boy chose to face Tom alone, after ensuring anyone else was out of harm's reach. Finally, his relationship with the Potter family must have only gotten stronger, as the Potter Lord's desperate reaction confirmed.

Why did the boy have to be so difficult and insist on doing everything by himself? Did he not see that Albus was merely trying to help?

"It seems the mystery continues." Albus stroked his beard absently, eliciting a low trill from Fawkes in the background: "I know, I know… I have a feast to prepare…"

Peverell's bright green eyes looked up to him from the pale surface of the Pensieve.

"But step by step we're getting closer to unraveling the truth behind you, my boy!"

January 4th

The mood was just as melancholy at the table dressed in green and silver this morning as at any other table in the Great Hall. The students might have left behind the home of their parents last night, but Hogwarts was still far from an escape from the events that had happened recently in the wizarding world.

'And this time Slytherin was directly involved in ways they hadn't expected.'

The upper-year students had cleared the common room last night and held an assembly. People were desperate. Desperate for answers to find out what happened to their family members during the New Years' Eve Ball at the Bones. 

Roughly 15 families mourned the absence of either a witch or wizards from their ranks. None of their questions about their whereabouts were answered, they didn't even know if their brothers, fathers, or uncles were still alive. There was no physical body to mourn over and no enemy to blame for their losses. No one knew a thing, since zero information on what actually happened that night was shared.

He chuckled darkly: 'They wouldn't get their answers, not from the Ministry and not from the Dark Lord either.'

A flock of owls entered the Great Hall through one of the many windows high up under the ceiling. As expected, he spotted the familiar light brown owl make its way over to where he was seated at the Slytherin table, land in front of him, and hold out its leg.

Luckily, no one paid him any attention, since the majority of students were too busy opening up the latest edition of the daily prophet now, hoping for any additional news on the attack. With calm fingers, he detached the small roll of parchment from the owl, which flapped its wings and immediately took off again. 

Unfolding the missive, his eyes scanned over blank, pale parchment. The tip of his wand poked from underneath the sleeve of his school uniform, touching the note. None of his peers noticed the snake-like hiss that escaped his lips, all of them too distracted by the arrival of the news: "Reveal yourself!"

Lines of the blackest ink twisted and turned over their yellowed background, forming letters, words, and sentences.

Lay off your quest to infiltrate the hidden rooms, more important work is to be accomplished. The young Peverell shows great potential and strength. He may be the embodiment of my vision for a new generation of Death Eaters under my command. However, for that to be achievable, his hatred and rage, the very side of him he hides from the world, has to be fed and nourished.

Learn more about him and report any findings of worth.

LV

As soon as the last sentence was read, a small flame set ablaze the center of the note until the heat scorched its way to the edge of the parchment, and the letter crumbled into white ash in his hand. He snorted dismissively, his eyes narrowing on the very subject of the missive who sat over at the table dressed in red and gold.

No jokes or laughter echoed from the Gryffindors this morning. An unusual quietness held the table of the brave in a tight grip. Peverell was eating in silence, one hand around his fork, the other intertwining the fingers of his blonde girlfriend, who as per usual had joined him. McKinnon's golden hair was covered by a black hat. In addition, she wore a black cloak over her Ravenclaw school uniform. 

A cruel grin curled his lips: 'The girl was mourning her brother.'

'How pathetic.'

Rage stabbed his insides like white, hot knives. These are the people his master envisioned to be the future leaders of the Death Eaters? People who wear their raw emotions on their sleeves and allow the world to see their weakness.

'People like Peverell?'

He had been surprised when he learned about Peverell's supposed feats during the ball. To him, the younger wizard had never shown talent or power equal to what he was supposed to have displayed in his fight against Antonin Dolohov.

'It was a shame he didn't see the spectacle for himself.'

The Dark Lord had ordered him to remain inside with the guests instead of taking up his mask. Supposedly he was too valuable as a spy within the walls of the castle to be caught or injured during the fighting. Too valuable was the deep connection between the servant and the personal item he had been trusted with. Were he to fall in battle, then months of preparations and careful planning were lost.

At least after the attack, the Dark Lord had included him in his call, where he addressed his followers with strict orders. They had been rather simple orders with no potential loopholes:

Nothing that happened that night may be shared with anyone else, not even with families, or friends. The bodies of those that fell during the attack shall never be handed back to their families. Lies and deception shall be used to deceive those asking too many questions about their whereabouts. Peverell is to be left alone until a plan is made and set in action. The entire operation was kept under secrecy for now.

Then the Dark Lord had dismissed everyone besides him and asked detailed questions about how Peverell behaved at Hogwarts, in his classes, and with the people he surrounded himself with. In the end, he was dismissed as well with instructions to wait for further orders once he returned to the castle.

'A waste of time that could be better used to cleanse the castle further of mudbloods.'

He did not know what the big fuss was about. In addition, he thought the tales of how the boy defeated Dolohov must have been exaggerated. No sixteen-year-old could hope to maintain that much control over the cursed flames. If it wasn't for the Dark Lord ripping them from his grasp, Peverell would have likely killed himself during the next few seconds... 

'There was no other possibility.'

Still, the Dark Lord's commands should be carried out as quickly as possible. The sooner he reported that there was nothing of worth about Peverell, the quicker he could go back to plotting his next attack.

'And this time it will be lethal.'

His musings were interrupted when the chatter around him and at the other tables slowly died out, making him look up to the staff table expectantly. The old muggle lover stood from his chair and spread his arms. 

'A speech the morning after the welcome feast?'

"Good morning, everybody, I sincerely hope you had a restful and pleasant slumber back at Hogwarts!"

By now it was so silent that one could hear a needle drop to the floor.

"It was decided to postpone this announcement to the morning after the feast to give you all a sense of normality as you just came to the castle as students last night."

Every single student clung to the headmaster's lips while the man's piercing blue eyes roamed over their heads.

"Tragedy struck our community mere days ago. I am of course talking about the savagely and cowardly attack on the Bones manor during New Year's Eve. I am aware that many of you are currently mourning the loss of a valued family member, relative, or perhaps a dear friend since even innocent children have not been spared during this attack. The painful gaps in your own ranks will serve as a permanent reminder for that..."

Sadness filled the professor's expression as his gaze came to rest on a gap of two missing students on the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table.

'Those blood traitors deserved it.'

"A warning will therefore be spoken now and only this once! Should the Prefects or members of staff notice that this attack, which we should all condemn harshly, be romanticized or glorified in any way, said individual will be removed from this school immediately, irrespective of his potential rank as Prefect, position on their House's quidditch team, or academic achievements. There will be no exemptions from this, not even for our members of staff!"

'Interesting.'

His eyes and that of a few other students who held the necessary awareness and intellect all drifted over to the defense professor, who glanced down at his silver plate with an impassive mask.

"Allowing anything of the like would be nothing short of mockery of those who lost their lives and those who sacrificed themselves in an effort to minimize the bloodshed of the innocent. Their memory shall not be tarnished!"

Murmurs of agreement and appreciative nodding of heads accompanied the headmaster's words on three of the four House tables. 

"The professors and members of staff take their job to protect each of you, students, very seriously." His eyes roamed over the entire Great Hall once more

"Because that is what you all are and the very reason why you are here in the first place. To be students, to be children, and to enjoy your years of study, laughter, and even the occasional piece of mischief." A small twinkle sparkled in the depth of blue, as he lingered on the Marauders for a second.

"Children should never have to burden themselves with the atrocities the newspapers were forced to report mere days ago, but alas, this world is far from perfect. Nevertheless, Hogwarts will remain a place that accepts everyone in our magical world. A place where discrimination against your peers due to their blood status, parentage, or any other background will not be tolerated. I urge you to keep that in mind over the entire duration of this term and any that follow."

He paused briefly, before forcing a small sad smile back on his face: "With that being said, I release you back into your first day of classes and hope you enjoy stuffing your presumably emptied heads with knowledge once more. Off you go!"

January 10th

Sharp shadows from the torches danced over rough stones walls, tiles, and ceiling, twisting and turning as a faint breeze played with their source.

"Are you ready?" He looked at the blonde girl next to him who had her eyes closed and took deep steady breaths.

"Just trying to clear my mind a bit." Marlene flicked her hair over one shoulder and bobbed her head.

"Good, the more attention to detail, the better." Harry twisted his wand and levitated the rune-covered stone basin to hover between them: "Personally, I'm not too keen to spend hours on multiple trips down memory lane."

"Me neither," Marlene grimaced: "There are many things I'd rather do." 

"I bet there are," Harry chuckled as he closed his eyes and brought the tip of his wand to his temple. He concentrated on the brief memory he tried to retrieve and ensured to imagine its contents in as much detail as possible.

When he removed the tip from his skin and simultaneously opened his eyes, a silvery smoke-like substance hung to it. 

"There we go," Harry murmured under his breath as he carefully placed the memory in the Pensieve and tapped a few of the runes.

Marlene had watched him curiously, now biting her lower lip as she surveyed the memory float on the liquid surface: "Does it hurt to remove them? And do you create a replica or remove the actual memory?"

"It does not hurt; it merely requires some deep concentration and good focus." Harry stirred around in the Pensieve with the tip of the Elder Wand: "And since all I can remember is the rough outline and no content, I'd say it was temporarily removed from my memory instead of replicated."

'It would explain why Snape hid those memories in the Pensieve before risking me entering his mind during Occlumency training.'

"Interesting..." Marlene placed any dangling stray strands of hair behind both ears, freeing her face: "So, I look out for the runic layouts while you try to decipher the instructions?"

"Well that sounded like the best plan," Harry admitted with a grin: " Unless you managed to somehow learn parseltongue and prefer to do my part instead, my love?"

"Less joking, more reconstructing, love," She smirked at him, took a deep breath as if she was about to take a dive, and leaned headfirst over the stone basin.

"Merlin, I love this girl." Harry chuckled before joining her.

The world swirled past him when the tip of his nose touched the silvery surface. Then, he was sucked into the darkness, shuddering at the slightly uncomfortable feeling. The last time he had visited a memory was when he still worked as Unspeakable in his original timeline and Croaker provided him with a few on the composition of time turners to make his job somewhat easier.

'Not that they helped much.'

He reappeared in the same room he had just left, only more dimly lit next to the pale figure of his girlfriend. Marlene lifted her head and smiled at him when he stepped next to her, before glancing around curiously. She spotted his memory counterpart over in the corner of the small study, leaning over an ancient leathery tome and flipping through the yellowed pages.

"Even after growing up with magic, experiencing extraordinary things like this for the forest time never fails to amaze me," She murmured as she walked up to memory Harry and tried cupping his jaw and playing with his unruly hair: "Incredible."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think about when I see you being physical with another guy even though I know it's me..." Harry chuckled.

"Don't be jealous, my love." A bright gleam appeared in his girlfriend's eyes: "Makes you think about what other kind of memories the two of us could watch together, doesn't it..."

"On that note, perhaps we should return to the task at hand." Harry laughed, his eyes roaming over the shelves which were filled with ancient books: "Being reminded about how much knowledge was lost shortly after that day physically hurts me."

"Then let's start by saving a small part of it." Marlene leaned over Memory-Harry's shoulder and watched him turn the page while humming.

"This is the one," Harry easily identified the correct page and began memorizing the instructions of the ritual sentence for sentence. The first paragraph seemed to be about the general nature of the ritual where some of the advantages were described. Harry skimmed through it briefly, as his interest was caught by the necessary ingredients.

Next to him, Marlene trailed her index finger over the runic array while murmuring to herself under her breath. She too was deep in concentration, her eyes taking in each of the complicated patterns one element at a time.

Since his memory counterpart was merely skimming over the sentences, his thumb soon traveled down to the page to flip. Harry repeated the last couple of sentences he read in his head while shooting Marlene a quick nod and closing his eyes, willing himself to exit the Pensieve.

He reappeared in the small study, panting heavily as he pulled his head out of the basin. Harry instantly hurried over to the table where he had prepared two sets of parchment and quills and started summarizing what he had learned so far, filling the paper with letters of dark ink.

Marlene had joined him at the table merely a split second later and started drawing the first sequence of runes, biting her lower lip in concentration. 

A minute passed where neither of them said a word, simply focusing on their work. Then Harry spoke up when he noticed that his girlfriend's quill had come to halt as well: "Shall we compare?"

"Sure, go ahead."

He handed her the parchment of notes: "The healing ritual strengthens the body's innate recovery capabilities in a similar way to a muggle vaccine."

"I've read about those." Marlene hummed her understanding: "So partial immunity is achieved by purposefully infecting yourself with a weakened trace of the virus?"

"Exactly!" Harry nodded: "In this case, the vaccine consists of magically potent venoms, which will end up strengthening the body when combined with a blood sacrifice."

"Then we might have a problem." Marlene frowned and handed over her own piece of parchment, gesturing for the first set of rules: "If venom is the main ingredient, then it has to be taken against the will of the magical creature it stems from."

She gestured to the second row of runes: "In addition, this sequence hints that the more powerful the venom or creature and the more dangerous it was to take it, the better the effect. That means killing some pixies will hardly work."

"At least we only have to find something for you then." Harry sighed nervously: "I still have a small stack of the most lethal venom on earth, but since it was me who killed the Basilisk, magic will only recognize it as my sacrifice and not as yours. It might be dangerous to involve it as an ingredient for you if you did not truly deserve it."

"It would be outright foolish." Marlene agreed, unable to hide her disappointment: "But there has to be some other strong venom I can take against a creature's will. A Manticore, Nundu, or another Basilisk are pretty much out of question, but there has to be a different venomous beast..."

"I know of one that will certainly work." He felt a particular scarred patch of skin on his leg starting to prickle.

'The cut from Wormtail's knife was not the only injury I suffered the night of the third task...'

"We will get you your venom, my love." Harry pulled her closer by the waist until she sat on his lap, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow: 

"Tell me, Marlene, what do you know about the Forbidden Forest?"