Chapter Text
Mors et Tempus
Chapter 1
1943
Harry was annoyed. It seemed to him that the world was against the sixteen year-old Gryffindor, wanting to prove him wrong and paranoid at every step of the way. Malfoy was planning something. Harry knew this and yet he couldn’t figure out what. He spent days on end staring at Malfoy’s name, obsessed to see where he was going. Every time he could, Harry tried to shadow the Slytherin. He started bringing his Invisibility Cloak with him everywhere for this reason, along with the Marauders’ Map. It was late April, Harry felt as though the world was falling around him.
Draco Malfoy must be a Death Eater, he figured, and he is working on something. He just learned with Professor Dumbledore the horrible truth that Voldemort crated multiple Horcruxes from a memory Harry had to steal from Slughorn. He could feel the approaching war slowly engulf his world. Everything seemed darker, moodier. He started to reminisce more about his early years at Hogwarts. Back to when he was just dealing with homework and a deadly basilisk, and not an impending war that the entire Wizarding World is expecting him to win for them. He was just a teenager! Sixteen years old! He has no idea what he wants to eat tomorrow, let alone the rest of his life, how are these adults expecting him to win a war?
He needed to escape, just for a moment, escape and just reflect on what to do.
This was what brought him to the top of the Astronomy Tower, the tallest tower of Hogwarts. It was a cloudy afternoon. Harry came to the Tower directly after a double period of Potions with the Slytherins. He leaned against the rails of the tower and stared up out beyond the tower’s roof towards the mountains and grey sky beyond. Harry frowned and gave a long sigh as his thoughts turned to the war.
It’s hopeless, he thought. He tried to put on a brave face in front of his friends, in front of everyone, but if he was honest: Harry was tired. Every year since he began Hogwarts, he was solving others problems. It was fun, yes, and it did involve him personally, but looking back Harry couldn’t help but notice that he was just solving adults’ problems. He doesn’t regret it, he was happy that he did what he did, but still the fact remained that every year, the boy solved problems too old and too complex for himself.
He wanted a normal life. A normal life that he felt himself cheated from ever since he was a child. I’m going to die fighting, Harry thought, and it scared him. He didn’t want to die, obviously, and if he was being truthful, he still did not know why it had to be him. Why he had to be the one to fight Voldemort, why he had to risk his life while Magical Britain just seems to just sit back and watch. His heart felt heavy. He wanted to cry but didn’t. He just stood there, leaning against the railing with his bag hanging from his shoulder.
Time passed and he watched the clouds passed by, some a darker shade than others, but still were one massive form that blocked any light. The wind picked up and though it was late spring, Harry shuttered from the cold. He figured that his friends would be wondering where he was, so he turned to leave the tower.
The wind picked up dramatically.
Harry’s robes started billowing dramatically, and he held onto his bag tighter as he ran to the door that led into a stairway. He reached the doorknob and turned.
A burst of wind forced the door off its hinges and pushed Harry away. Harry screamed as he was lifted into the air, flying through the tower’s top and over the railing. This is how I die. That was Harry’s only thought as he arched into the air and fell. The air billowed around him, pushing against his eyes and ears. He could hear nothing but the rushing of his fall, and he squeezed his eyes and tightened his body, ready for the lethal impact. He fell and fell, heading closer and closer to the ground. He heard a woman’s scream, an unfamiliar scream, and his heart almost gave up. The ground was there, just there, and Harry knew in a second he was going to die, going to splatter against the ground. He was going to disappoint everyone.
And so he continued to fall.
And fall.
Lights overtook him. Hogwarts and the grounds disappeared. The grey clouds disappeared. All he could see around him was a collection of colors that mixed and swirled around him. His eyes dullen at the sight and his heart relaxed. He didn’t feel like he was falling anymore. He was floating, staring at the beautiful colors that hypnotized his eyes. His hand reached out. He wanted to touch them. He had no thoughts but the swirling colors. They were close, oh so close, he could feel the colors dancing on his fingertips, like a sea of sand prickling along. He giggled at the sensation and reached out further to gather more. The colors came to him, swirling around his fingertips and down to his hand, gathering in the cusp of his hands. A ball of rainbow colors, ever changing and shimmering. It felt warm in his hands, and he brought it closer to him.
The colors spread, latching onto his chest, and wrapping around, moving towards his neck where it stayed. He felt a weight gather around and drop against his neck and chest and the colors stopped.
He was standing, stumbling to keep his balance. He was no longer outside, but inside Hogwarts. Harry knew the castle immediately and intimately. He looked around and recognized that he was at the entrance of the Astronomy Tower. Harry looked around, and immediately searched himself as his thoughts tried to catch up to what he saw. He had his bag. His wand. Everything was still with him. His clothes seemed the same. “Was this a dream? Did I hit my head on the door?” he muttered to himself. But his fingers pressed against his chest and felt a cold weight. Frowning slightly, Harry opened his shirt and felt a silver chain around his neck. The chain was connected to a necklace which was a pure silver ring with runes he could not read, and in the middle, three interlocking crystals all coming together in the center. The crystals all had shifting colors that never once stayed the same. “Not a dream,” He muttered.
“No, I believe that this is not a dream,” a voice said behind him. Harry gasped and turned around, “Dumbledore!” he said.
It was Dumbledore, but he looked different. The man’s hair was not silver, instead it was auburn, and both his hair and beard were significantly shorter than the last time Harry saw him. Dumbledore still had his half-moon spectacles, however, and his eyes that were usually sparkling with mischief, were staring at Harry piercingly with both caution and curiosity. “You must forgive me,” Dumbledore said, “for while you know my name, I do not know yours.”
“Sir, it’s me, Harry,” Harry said confused. “Harry—we just had a meeting a few days ago about Voldemort—about his Horcruxes!”
Dumbledore’s eyes grew wide. “Horcruxes?” he whispered. “How do you know of such dangerous magic? Who are you, young man? I know all of my students, but I do not recognize you.”
“Professor Dumbledore please stop joking around, it’s me, Harry Potter—” Harry stopped short and frowned, staring at Dumbledore. “Your hair,” he muttered. “It’s not silver.”
“And I hope not for a long time, for I am only Sixty-two years old,” Dumbledore said, allowing a small chuckle as he stroked his beard. “However, that still does not answer my questions, Harry, was it?”
Harry panicked. He looked around and touched his body. “This can’t be, no this can’t be.” A wild idea came to Harry and he stared at Professor Dumbledore. “Sir, please… what year is it?”
Dumbledore eyed Harry curiously, “Did you hurt yourself recently? It is 1943 Harry, September the Twenty-third of 1943 to be precise.”
Harry made a noise of surprise. 1943? Harry was in 1943, fifty four years in the past! Harry’s mind started to whirl. What happened? How is this possible? “This, this can’t be right,” he muttered. “Sir, it’s 1997.”
“Curious? Perhaps we should take this conversation to a more private location, Harry?” Dumbledore asked. “Besides, Headmaster Dippet would be most interested in what you will have to say.”
Harry stared at Dumbledore for a moment before nodding cautiously. Dumbledore gave Harry an easy smile, and held out his hand, “I do not know your story, Harry, however I do know that you belong in Hogwarts,” he said reassuringly, “otherwise the walls would have rejected you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said.
The walk to the Headmaster’s tower was silent. Harry did his best to collect himself, gathering his thoughts on what happened, but as they stood in front of the headmaster’s doors, he still felt confused. Professor Dumbledore opened the door and the two walked in.
The headmaster’s office looked drastically different than from what Harry remembered. There were no fancy instruments, no devices of unknown means. Even the huge wardrobe where Dumbledore kept his Pensieve was gone. Instead, there was a large liquor cabinet along with other cabinets holding what Harry guessed were vials and objects collected over many centuries. The desk, thankfully, looked the same. Behind the desk, an ancient frail looking wizard sat. Harry recognized him from his portrait that hung on the wall in Dumbledore’s office. He was the wizard who always yelled at Phineas Black. “You’re Armando Dippet,” Harry said, “I remember you from your portrait in the headmaster’s office!”
“Ahh, and you are dressed as a student of Hogwarts,” the old Dippet said, “but I do not recognize you. Dumbledore, who is this guest you’ve brought in?”
“His name is Harry, sir,” Dumbledore said. “I’ve found him near the Astronomy Tower on my afternoon walk. He seems lost and dazed. He believes it to be fifty years in the future.”
“Fifty years? Is that all?” old Dippet asked, he leaned forward and gave Harry a rueful smile, “I’m almost three hundred years old now, you know. Fifty years is short compared to that.” He leaned back and watched Harry for a moment. “What is your full name?”
“Harry Potter, sir,” Harry said.
“Potter!” Dippet repeated. “That cannot be right, the only Potters I know recently are Fleamont Potter and his wife, Euphemia, however they have no child. Which leads me to believe that you are either lying about your name, which I see no reason for, or that you are actually truthful. In which case, this is a magic far stronger than any known magic.” He waved his hand and the door closed, “Sit child, tell us your story.”
Harry sat in front of Professor Dippet, with Dumbledore next to him and thought for a moment, “Sirs, wouldn’t it be dangerous? If I tell you about where I am from specifically?” he asked.
“It is,” Dippet nodded.
“Then I suggest, Harry, that you recall facts that will be important to our understanding of your situation, however, keep out events that will impact our understanding of the future,” Dumbledore suggested.
“Yes, that can work,” Dippet nodded. “I Vow Harry, that none spoken about in this office about your present and our future shall ever leave or be spoken about outside of the three present here.” There was a whirl of magic that danced through the air. Dippet nodded and turned to Harry. “You may begin.”
Harry nodded and began his story. “I’m a student at Hogwarts, a Gryffindor. In my time, it was 1997, I’m a Sixth year and I have pressure… worldly pressure. A lot of people counting on me to do things that nobody else is willing to do. There’s a madman. His name is Voldemort. The Dark Lord started a war and only I can end it. And that includes hunting for his Horcruxes. But I’m afraid. I don’t want to fight, every year at Hogwarts was nothing but fighting for me. I was in the Astronomy Tower, thinking. The wind was starting to pick up, so I went to go inside. But when I opened the door, a burst of wind thrown me over. I don’t know what happened after, I saw many colors, but did not hit the ground. The colors felt warm to touch. I fell and fell until before I knew it, I was in front of the tower, and I was wearing this,” Harry pulled out the crystal necklace. “I don’t know how or what this is, but somehow I’ve traveled fifty four years into the past.”
“And from one war to another,” Dippet said sadly. “I am sorry young Potter, but I do not recognize this magic that you speak of. And yet, given your evidence, we must believe you. Dumbledore tell me, do you recognize the crystals in his necklace?”
“No sir, I do not,” Dumbledore answered.
“Nor should you,” Dippet said. He leaned forward slightly, “I have only seen that crystal one time before, and even then not in such a large quantity as this,” he said. “A crystal of many colors, shifting as a never ending rainbow, and warm to the touch. If I may, Harry?” He held out an old hand.
Harry took off his necklace slowly and glanced at the two of them before handing Dippet the necklace. The ancient wizard touched the crystals gently, nodding to himself. He handed it back to Harry. “Time Magic,” he said. “This crystal only appears as an aftermath of time magic, powerful magic by the looks of it. I do not know how young Harry, but Magic has brought you back into our present.”
Harry swallowed heavily. “Is there... is there a way back?” he asked.
Dippet’s face shallowed as a shadow overtook it. “Sadly, I cannot say.”
“So what now?” Harry demanded, slamming his fist on the table. “I have friends who are counting on me! Friends who will die if I do nothing!” His anger flared and the liquor cabinet nearby shook violently, the front bottles breaking. “My friends are going to die!”
“Harry Potter! You will calm down!” Dumbledore roared, getting to his feet. “People are dying now! Here! We are at war here and now.”
“Both of you, calm down,” Professor Dippet said, still sitting in his chair. “Young Harry, I can understand your frustrations over wanting to save your loved ones. However, at this time, there is nothing we can do. That is not saying that I will give up on your case. Research is needed. I have old friends who researched Time Magic, however even then I cannot promise you hope. You must be prepared for the worst if that comes. You may be stuck here permanently.”
Harry’s heart fell. He felt tears fall down his cheeks. “Okay,” he said, his voice heavy and strained.
“In the meantime, we must think of a new name, a new background for you during your stay,” Dippet said. “And you will resorted.”
“Resorted? Why? I’m already a Gryffindor,” Harry blinked. Dumbledore handed Harry a handkerchief and answered his question.
“You were sorted into Gryffindor, correct, but in your present, our future,” he said. “To Hogwarts and the Sorting Hat, you are a stranger, unfortunately. A welcomed stranger, yes, but still a stranger in her halls.”
“But worry not,” Dippet smiled, “this will be a quick process. It will be a simple manner of being sorted back into Gryffindor for you, and then you can go through the school year as a normal student until we can figure out a solution.”
“Okay,” Harry nodded, he started to feel calmer. “Okay,” he repeated.
“If I may ask Harry, what was your parentage?” Dippet asked, “You are a Potter, obviously, but who is your mother?”
“She was a muggleborn, sir,” Harry answered.
“Then we will keep the same here,” Dippet nodded. He leaned back and thought for a moment, looking between Dumbledore and Harry. “We will need an old name, a died out name for you to hide behind. Harry is common enough and will keep it easier for you. The closer to the truth your lie is, the easier it will be to keep up.”
“If I may suggest, sir, the Peverell family has been gone for some time,” Dumbledore said. “It will not be hard to believe that the name continued on through a line of males in hiding.”
“Harry Peverell,” Dippet said, nodding softly, “would that work, Harry?”
“Yes.”
“Good, you are now Harry Peverell, a half-blood whose family was on the run from Grindelwald’s forces. You ran around Europe, hunted by his forces. Unfortunately, you were found, and your parents sacrificed themselves for you to escape,” Dippet said. Harry nodded, his heart aching at how eerily similar Dippet’s tale was to his reality. “Repeat it.”
“My name is Harry Peverell. Since I was born, my mum, dad and I were on the run from Grindelwald’s people. We ran everywhere around Europe. My parents taught me everything I know, but it wasn’t enough when they finally found us. My parent died fighting to protect me, and I ran back here, to Britain. I was lost, running, and somehow found myself at Hogwarts, where Professor Dumbledore found me on the grounds during his afternoon walk. Is that good enough, Professors?” Harry asked, looking at the two of them.
“Perfect,” Dippet nodded, “Dumbledore?”
“I was very surprised to see the boy on the grounds and immediately brought him in to speak with Headmaster Dippet over some tea,” Dumbledore said.
“Excellent,” Dippet nodded. He checked the time on his watch and made a noise. “Ah! We will have our Sorting to begin Dinner. Harry, if you would, there are some plain black robes in the dresser over there. You can change into that, and remove your tie? All for the appearance of our story, of course.”
Harry nodded and left his bag on the chair as he stood up. Dippet chuckled and leaned towards Dumbledore, “This is exciting, isn’t it?” He grinned.
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. Harry emptied his pockets and took off his robe and tie, folding them both neatly and placing them on an empty table. He went to the dresser Headmaster Dippet pointed out and opened its drawers, spending five minutes to find robes that will fit his small frame. Properly dressed for his sorting, and his belongings back to him, Harry looked at Professor Dippet. “I’m ready,” he said.
“Then let us be off!”