Author's Note:

This story begins towards the end of Deathly Hallows, in chapter 35/36.

This is where Harry has the conversation with Dumbledore in the King's Cross dreamscape after Voldemort pseudo-kills him.

Below is a quote from the book written by J.K. Rowling, this is her work, her world. None of it is mine, all credit is hers. My chapter begins where the quote ends. Enjoy.

Quoted from Ch 36 of DH:

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore smiled at him. “We are in King's Cross you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to . . . let's say . . . board a train.”

“And where would it take me?”

“On,” said Dumbledore simply.

Silence again.

“Voldemort's got the Elder Wand.”

“True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand.”

“But you want me to go back?”

The Ends

“You see, Harry, you have done your part and more… Yes, much more than can be or should be expected.” Then he paused, as if gathering himself to say something that he'd rather not. “But you are the only one I can trust.” He raised his hand to forestall Harry's interruption, and Harry shut his mouth. “No, it is not only the fact that in this state you are the only one I can reach, but it is your heart I trust the most. For this is a responsibility I would not even have trusted myself with; as you can appreciate from the knowledge of my life, Harry, I have been tempted, and fallen to it all too many times.”

“But you changed,” Harry protested quietly, not quite meeting the dead wizard's eyes.

“Perhaps, and yes, I did my best to remove myself from places and things that would lead me down a path liable to raise my lesser qualities. Tell me, Harry, what did your friends, what did people say when they found out the truth about my… shared beliefs with Grindelwald? How did they explain it?” There was a slight bitterness to the question, and for some reason Harry met his eyes to answer .

“They said you were young.” He shrugged. “You didn't know any better,” he finished hollowly.

“…and how did dear Remus and Sirius explain your father's treatment of Professor Snape?” Dumbledore asked. Harry looked at him suspiciously before answering.

“They said he grew out of it, that his head 'deflated.'” He could hear the sarcasm in his own voice.

“You did not like either of those explanations, did you? Or excuses, as I believe you may think them,” Dumbledore shrewdly questioned. Harry could not hold his stare and looked away sharply, before making contact again.

“I don't really… well, the thing is, I was younger than him… or you… and I didn't, I mean, I'm not saying I'm better or anything but… I never bullied anybody… Not the way he did! And, and I would never have believed Muggles to be-“ Harry trailed off, trying to hide disappointment he had felt in Dumbledore and his father.

“Exactly, Harry. That is just the thing. You have always had the maturity and the heart to know better, to have been a better person than I was. In my place, you would never have been enamored by Grindelwald's grand schemes of suppressing Muggles.” Then he quieted and spoke much more gently, “And in your father's place you would have been fairer to Severus, though I doubt you would have been friends.”

Harry did not know what to say, the compliment was too much. He felt guilty for saying things he hid in his heart, and it was little comfort that Dumbledore agreed with him. He wondered about Dumbledore's proof of why he trusted him, while looking around, drawn to the pathetic figure rolling on one end.

“I wish to talk to you about James, something I should have done a long time ago, but first, do you understand why it is that I trust you over anyone else?”

Harry gave a jerky nod, hoping to move away from the emotional topic of Dumbledore's trust in him. “What do you want me to do, sir?” he asked, not really wanting to talk about his father either.

“We will come to that soon, but your disappointment in James has gone long enough.”

“I'm not disappointed, I-” Harry trailed off.

“But you are ashamed of him, some part of you is ashamed of us both,” he said with sad but piercing eyes. Harry felt blood rush to his face and started denying it vehemently, feeling anger only second to what he had when Sirius had died. Dumbledore again raised his hand to stop Harry's outburst, and settled even further back into his chair.

“I do not have any defense my boy, I was wrong, wrong in so many things in life that it seems I have spent the most of it in an attempt to redeem myself. But I wish you to know of your father, someone very dear to me and special as you are.”

Harry nodded reluctantly, and found something to look at other than the old wizard's face. After all this time he wondered what else he could find out that he didn't already know.

“No man is one thing, Harry,” Dumbledore began with a sense of great import. “Your father is both the man who stood against Lord Voldemort three times and one final time in defense of his family-”

“Without a wand. They didn't even have wands on them,” Harry bitterly interrupted.

“And does that make him any less courageous, Harry? Is he less noble that he had faith in the loyalty of his friends?” Dumbledore demanded with a hint of anger. Harry felt his blood run cold at the rebuke.

“No…” Harry whispered.

“Indeed. As I was saying he is both that man and the one you saw in the Pensieve thoughts of Professor Snape. But perhaps you think that it is unforgivable that he was not as considerate as you at your age; then let me ask you this: what do you think of the boy who at the age of eleven accepted and defended the scion of one of the darkest families in England, the boy who forced his peers to look beyond Sirius's surname?” Dumbledore paused for it to sink in. Harry tried to say something but couldn't think of how to convince Dumbledore to stop.

“What do you think of the boy who took it upon himself to become an Animagus from the age of eleven just to comfort a reclusive werewolf, what most claim is a dark and vicious animal?”

“Remus isn't dark… wasn't… wasn't an animal,” Harry sighed.

“True, but it was James who gave Remus the confidence to share his kind nature with us. It was James and Sirius who gave acceptance to someone that everyone had taught them was worthy only of being culled. It was also James who gave his protection to little Pettigrew when he was bullied by the upperclassmen.”

“What about Snape?” Harry asked with a challenge, expecting Dumbledore to criticize James on that subject. After recently seeing Snape's memories he was no longer sure what to think. But he didn't have the time or inclination to think on him too much.

“Severus chose the wrong path at a young age, despite his affection for Lily. It was not until she was in danger that he came back to the light.”

Harry shrugged in the moment Dumbledore was quiet.

“Know this that Severus was not James Potter's victim. He was quite capable in defending himself and attacking your father. They were frequently and near equally in detention for cursing each other. Your father's advantage over Severus was Sirius's willingness to team up against him. Severus sadly saw things differently; it is always difficult for those who are not accepted to think well of those who are, and your father was very popular.”

“I always thought that Dad bullied him… Why didn't anyone tell me?” Harry demanded.

“I recall that Remus and Sirius did, but you did not believe them; not truly, because they were your father's friends.”

“Then why didn't you tell me?” Harry grew angry. Dumbledore's face slackened in a look of pain.

“I am afraid I left that doubt in you so you would give Severus a chance, and I am sorry for that. I can only hope you forgive me, now that you know the full truth about Severus's work for the light.”

Harry sat stunned, unable to believe Dumbledore's reason. He suddenly stood and began pacing in the hazy white version of King's Cross. Shaking his head he tried to figure out how to feel about this.

“You know, Professor, I can understand that you changed. I wish it wasn't because of your sister dying, and I can never blame you. There's nothing worse that could happen than that. But after this… I don't know how to feel about you. Just tell me what you want, sir, I'm not sure I want to spend more time here with you,” Harry said without turning back.

“I am sorry,” Dumbledore whispered. Harry's back tensed but he did not say anything. “I needed someone who would vouch for Severus besides me when time came. It is too bad he died before he could be vindicated.”

“Snape only cared for my Mum, Professor. That's all. You used that against him. I saw his memories, he didn't give a damn for what is right, he only wanted Mum alive. It isn't enough reason for you to let me think what I did about Dad, it's my fault I did but still… I won't be so arrogant to claim all the blame.”

“My own words, Harry? Perhaps you did learn something from Severus, how to cut to the deep,” Dumbledore said bitterly. Harry shrugged.

“Why am I here, Professor? What do you want to trust me with?”

“As always, the future of our world,” Dumbledore answered.

“I'm dead, Sir. I let Voldemort kill me like you wanted me to.”

“What if I were to tell you the choice is yours? You can still live Harry, you can still affect the future, and there is great need for it.” The hazy whiteness of the walls and the floor suddenly became like television screens, great green pools, spreading out like water until becoming perfect ovals. And then the green pools cleared away to show Harry saw scenes of destruction.

Outside the Leaky Cauldron, on the Muggle side of the world, he saw SAS members opening fire on witches and wizards leaving the pub. Only a couple brought up shields in time to deflect the bullets, but many ordinary wizards were gunned down. He saw a wizard boy held point-blank, and heard the soldier shouting distantly.

“Tell us the entrance, take us to Diagon Alley,” the soldier yelled, waving a Hogwarts letter in the boy's eyes. The boy shook his head, face white as a sheet. “Lead us inside or we will shoot you.” The young boy, maybe a third year Hufflepuff Harry recognized, shook his head again. “I will count to three,” the soldier yelled and counted down. Harry saw the third year's head snap back, his forehead blown apart. He didn't realize until seconds later that he was screaming. With a ringing in his ears he saw the soldier grab another child; a witch hexed him and three other gunmen shot her down. The vision faded away to whiteness again.

Another scene played out. Harry saw an older, thinner Hermione and some other unfamiliar people in Muggle military garb in Hogwarts hallways. He saw Hermione silently crying, and directing the soldiers to different areas of the castle; they all seemed to be obeying her. He saw them install what looked like bombs, or at least he figured the timers on the devices meant they were bombs.

“Hermione Granger betrayed the magical world in favor of the Muggle world. At first they found her parents, and forced her to reveal our secrets, but in the end she willingly began working with them to destroy our power,” Dumbledore said.

The scene vanished and another showed up where Voldemort was flying in the air. Two missiles came streaking from far. Underneath him, the quaint outline of the wizarding village Hogsmeade spread out. Harry watched the missiles get closer to the village at unbelievable speeds, and waited in horror for them to blow up the much loved village. But to his surprise Lord Voldemort raised his wand against the inbound missiles, and they were banished from the air away to someplace familiar. In a moment Harry recognized it to be 10 Downing Street before all he could see was plumes of fire and concrete bursting outwards.

“What you see is a possible future if you don't go back; or if you go back but die against Lord Voldemort a second time. Now I will show you what happens if you win against him.” Dumbledore spoke clearly over the shock Harry was feeling. “Sadly it is much the same, only the magical world will look to you to defend them against Muggles, rather than to Voldemort.”

“But we're wizards, how did the Muggles find us?” Harry protested.

“Yes, we are wizards, but as a people we are comfortable in our lives, and do not have a drive to improve as we once did. Many adults of our kind have trouble casting a simple shield spell. When Muggles descend upon us with their incredible firearms and destructive weapons, there will be few of us with the skill to protect themselves. As far as how they found us, it is sadly Lord Grindelwald's work, and Voldemort's after him: they have exposed us. Watch now, Harry, to see how you would fare against them if you went back.”

The familiar outside of St. Mungo's hospital appeared. Harry saw himself flanked by members of Dumbledore's Army in their school robes. Only they were taller, older and he himself looked unshaved. Under the fear of what he was possibly going to see, he curiously noted that he had facial hair. Scowling at himself for stupid thoughts, he watched what was happening more intently.

Shoulder mounted rockets pounded into the front of the building, but wherever they hit silver transparent shields popped up to take the damage. Heavy gunfire was impotent against the DA's shields, some absorbing the bullets other reflecting back onto the shooters. Harry himself was sending bombardment hexes at cars and other large things the Muggle forces were hiding behind. The hexes blew the cars apart, sending pieces flying hundreds of yards.

As he watched, roaring sounds of Cobra gunships announced their presence, and rockets aimed at his team came hissing at him. Patil twins switched their shields to cover over themselves, and Harry added his own magic to stop their powerful destructive capacity. Seamus Finnegan sent an Impedimenta charm at the rotors which slowed but didn't stop, others followed him and cast the same charm, causing the gun ship to crash. Cho Chang was less indirect, and began banishing the remains of cars and trucks Harry was blowing up into the aircraft.

The DA led by Harry was thoroughly crushing the Muggle forces, this was unlike the scene he had seen outside of the Leaky Cauldron. He turned and pointed proudly to his friends, and Dumbledore nodded.

“Yes, Harry, what you see is well trained wizards who have not fallen to complacency. Many will awaken and relearn magic that they have forgotten from their school days, but until then they will be easy prey for Muggle soldiers, who are very much trained for the mentality of warfare. You saw already the weapons that Voldemort thwarted, sadly that is no child's game. He and few others can protect themselves against the full might of Muggle weapons of truly grand scale. Look what happens…”

Harry looked at the white walls washed with images of the possible future. It was still the scene in front of St. Mungo's. He was impressed with the variety and scale of the shields being cast by his possible future self, there were not many he recognized. There was an apparent lull in the fight, the Muggle soldiers retreated and the DA huddled together pulling their own wounded behind them and healing.

A lone figure walked down the road towards them in the middle of all the wreckage. Through the dust and smoke from fires he could not make out who it was until the figure was a dozen yards from the DA.

“Hermione?” Harry heard his future self say in astonishment, before his expression hardened. Hermione Granger looked thin and pale, but there was determination in her. The DA flanked his future self, many of them looked murderous. She was wearing a gray coat, with her wand out against her leg.

“How long do you expect to hold out, Harry? They can keep wasting their ammunition on forever, even if it takes one of you down it is worth it to them,” Hermione asked wearily.

“You are one of us, Hermione. What the hell are you doing? They don't have your parents anymore,” Harry's future self yelled.

“The magical ministries all over the world are trying to take over the government, trying to make Muggles into… into house elves. It's Death Eater agenda, Harry, how could you support that? You betrayed what your parents died for, what Dumbledore died for!” Hermione yelled back.

“I'm stopping these bastards from killing us. Have you forgotten what they did to us? You forget the burnings? They fucking burned witches, they burned little children. They executed civilians. They drowned Trelawney. You call them house elves? They're exterminating us.”

“And you're enslaving them, Harry, people like my parents, Obliviated and… and doing whatever pureblood fanatics want,” she screeched. Seamus Finnegan whispered something furiously in future-Harry's ear. Suddenly they could see Muggle soldiers coming up in tight formation around Hermione, and they seemed to be hiding something behind them.

“I can't believe you would say that, Hermione. You're like my sister, do you really think I'm part of any of it?” Harry's future self appealed to her, and for the first time there was sadness on both their faces.

“No, Harry. But if you win, they win… And all the Muggles will just be servants to magical ministries. I can't have that. If you lay down your wand now and turn yourself in the DA goes free, and St.Mungo's is left alone.”

“Never!” yelled many voices from the DA.

“She's stalling, Harry, they're hiding something,” Seamus shouted, pointing at her.

“They're surrounding us, Harry, she's betrayed us,” Cho Chang pulled at his arm.

“Hermione, please, I swear to you I will do everything to protect your family and you. Come back to us, you belong with us. Stop helping them execute innocent people and putting them in prison,” Harry's future self appealed to her again.

Hermione hung her head for a moment, apparently affected by his words, then looked up with a blank face. “Sorry, I'm working on cooperation between wizards and Muggles, but the ministries don't want to listen. I won't be part of genocide-“

“You already are,” Harry's future self interrupted her. He looked at her and then shook his head disappointedly. “DA, Portkeys!” he commanded and as one every member reached for some secreted item on them.

“She dies if you disappear!” Hermione shouted. An older George Weasley with a rough beard and unkempt hair put his hand on future Harry's shoulder, pointing behind Hermione. The Muggle soldiers dragged someone kicking and screaming forward. Hermione stepped aside, and between two burly soldiers he saw a young girl with flowing silvery blonde hair, that had an almost supernatural shine. She was swearing and crying in French. Harry looked at her in horror.

“You've gone mad, Granger,” George said, stunned.

“What are you doing with Gabrielle,” future Harry asked in forced calm. Behind him the DA was buzzing furiously and looking at Hermione in shock.

“The deal is simple, Harry, you turn yourself over to the authorities right now. Give up your wand and everyone here is free to go. You can't Apparate, I have put up wards, but if you Portkey she pays for it,” Hermione explained.

“This can't be Hermione, Professor.” Harry turned to Dumbledore for reassurance but got nothing. The old wizard just pointed Harry back to the walls to see what came next.

“Harry, I'm sorry! She found me, I thought she was your friend! Run away please, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” Gabrielle shouted at future Harry from behind Hermione.

“Take me instead,” George offered, stepping forward, but Hermione raised her hand to stop him.

“No one but Harry, the authorities won't settle for anything else,” she said.

“We can fight you,” George growled. The two soldiers holding Gabrielle's arms immediately pointed their weapons on her.

“She will be dead before you can think, wizard, this close even magic can't help her,” the soldier sneered. George jerked forward but future Harry held him back.

“You will get a trial, Harry, I made sure of it,” Hermione offered, but all she got was hateful glares. The DA tried to talk to Harry, but he only stared at his former best friend.

“You don't know what you're doing, Hermione. Let her go and I will come, at the same time.” There were loud protests from his friends and followers, but he shook them off, taking a few steps forward. Gabrielle was released and she shuffled towards Harry, in tears and bearing signs of being roughed up. Her pretty young face was screwed up in fear and anger. When she reached Harry she threw herself on him; he hugged her, placing one hand on the back of her shiny hair, as she murmured apologies in French.

“Harry,” Hermione called, breaking up their moment, her wand held tensely. Future Harry bent and placed a kiss on Gabrielle's forehead, pulling her arms from around his neck. He pushed her back towards the DA and George.

Harry watched his future self walk to Hermione and give up his wand. He saw his hand and Hermione's clasp painfully for a second where she took the wand from him. The soldiers surged around the pair and suddenly the DA couldn't see anything. Harry's future self was forced to the ground and Gabrielle started screaming.

“They'll kill him, they'll kill him,” she wailed.

He saw the soldiers separating Hermione from his future self, he saw him struggle with them, but they kicked his legs out and he fell to his knees.

“He's not to be harmed, he's not to be harmed! I have the word of the Prime Minister!” Hermione yelled as she tried to reach him. The DA opened attack and took down the outside ring of soldiers, but they had been quick to send Harry to the back of the line. There were cameramen waiting, Harry's guards threw him on the ground and made a circle around him. They pointed their automatic weapons and opened fire. Harry saw the side of his skull crack open and then it was bloody carnage on his body. They riddled him with bullets.

Hermione was held back by other soldiers. The DA reached them in minutes, but too late to save Harry.

“Your leader is dead,” a ranked Muggle spat in the face of Creevey and promptly received a Cruciatus for his insult.

When the white walls once again blanked, Harry realized he was on his hands and knees, cold and afraid. He had no idea how long he was like that, but eventually Dumbledore's voice reached him.

“Harry, my boy, get a hold of yourself. Harry, wake up.”

He recoiled, feeling like someone had slapped him. He turned to Dumbledore, expecting that the old wizard was the one who had smacked him out of his shock, but the dead wizard was still sitting in his place.

“I don't understand.” Harry looked to Dumbledore helplessly.

“There is of course one more possible fut-”

“No, no more. I've had enough,” Harry interrupted, sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. The featureless whiteness all around him was a blessing now, in which he could pretend to forget what he'd seen.

“This one is not nearly as shocking as the other two. This is a possibility if all goes well. Go ahead and watch. I don't wish you to be hopeless.” Dumbledore pointed to the floor, which Harry was glaring at. It became a window, like the walls had, through which he saw events played out.

It was Platform 9 ¾ ; there were parents and children buzzing about in the usual rush of catching the Hogwart's express. He caught site of an older version of Percy Weasley arguing with someone, and near him was a huddle of people who were instantly recognizable. Hermione, much older than he had seen her previously, but also in much better health, was standing with Ron Weasley. Next to them he saw Ginny, now in full womanhood, and felt his breath taken away; with a twinge of jealousy he saw an arm on her waist but then realized it was his own future self's. A smile touched his face finally, for the first time since he had woken up in the dream King's Cross.

Around the group he saw a bunch of kids, who looked vaguely familiar. His own hand was on a boy's shoulder, and Ron was talking to a school age girl who had Hermione's hair. Harry looked to Dumbledore in askance.

“Yes, Harry, those are your and the Weasley children. A possible and happy future, if you go back.” Dumbledore smiled at him, and Harry returned it, feeling a huge weight lift off of him.

“So it could be alright? I mean things will work out if I go back. It's possible isn't it?” Harry asked.

“Yes, everything is possible.”

“Okay, good. How do I make that happen?” Harry pointed to the floor where the scene at the Hogwart's express continued. Dumbledore gave him a long look.

“I do not know. I only know some of the possible futures. I have no knowledge of how you defeated Voldemort in that particular future and kept the Muggles at bay.”

“What? How am I supposed to stop all the other things if you don't know?” Harry demanded, agitated.

“I don't know. I simply don't. I have no idea of the choices you will make, or what actions will lead to one future or the other. Remember, Harry, it's not just your choices that will shape the future. In all of those you are not the only one who mattered. Some combination of the choices of the many forces in the world led to each of those futures. Yet, it is true that you will be a major force by yourself.”

Harry sat down, defeated, staring up at the far blank ceiling. The endless whiteness of it soothed his mind, the silence of the dreamscape helping him let go of his thoughts, full of anger and helplessness. He avoided the thought that he simply did not know what to do.

“Now that you have seen what the future could possibly be, I come to what I wish to ask you for,” Dumbledore began, breaking the silence.

“You want me to go back, and just hope everything works out, right? Like with the Horcruxes, just running all over the country.” Harry's voice was flat, but the criticism in it was loud.

“There are many things that I wish I could have done differently. But putting my faith in you is something I have never questioned. You cannot make me feel sorry for that, my boy.” Dumbledore smiled at Harry. “No, that is not what I had in mind. Unfortunately, I have something much more difficult to ask of you.”

Harry looked at his deceased Headmaster, wary of his grave tone. “What?”

“There is a way to ensure that the danger of Muggles finding out about us is taken care of sooner than later. A small chance you could stop the killings before they even begin.”

Harry took a moment to absorb what he'd heard. The thought he could stop the terrible things he'd seen from happening lit a fire inside where he had felt helpless, while watching the possible futures. He was still wary of hoping to much, and knowing that nothing had ever been easy for him. However, it did not take much thought for him to know he wanted nothing but to make sure the better future was the only future there would be.

Wisely, Dumbledore had given his favorite pupil time to consider the idea and waited for him to ask that most important question: “How, sir?” Harry asked, excitedly.

“Given your unique position, you are hovering between life and death, where many of the universe's workings are laid open. You can travel back in time, perhaps far enough to counter Voldemort's attacks against Muggles, at least to warn us ahead of time to prepare.” Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat, earnest in his idea.

“Do you think it would work? I mean there's still Voldemort,” Harry asked, trying to keep his own excitement in check.

“Oh! I dearly hope so, my boy. It is a risk, but that one voice warning the magical world of what is at its doorstep might make all the difference. I hope that it is what will make the best future you saw possible.” Then Dumbledore sobered, giving Harry a hard look. “The power to defeat Lord Voldemort is in you. You will find a way, I am certain of it, but something to consider is this: you are the true master of the Elder wand, not Voldemort. Draco Malfoy won it from me, and you won a duel against him. By rights the deathstick will obey you. That is one weapon that you have denied Tom Riddle.”

For a moment he felt elated finding out he was the true owner of the elder wand, and saw that as a shining hope for victory. But having learned caution from experience in the last year, he shared his concern, “I don't think that is enough, Professor. He's still more powerful than me, I don't even understand the kind of magic he can do.” Dumbledore did not say anything to deny this, and Harry was not waiting for him either, he was busy resolving himself, despite his misgiving. “But I'll go back. I'll do whatever I can. I'll tell whoever about the Muggles, but I don't know if I can stop Voldemort.”

“You already have,” Dumbledore disagreed, and smiled serenely at Harry's confused look. “You died for your friends, and those you wished to protect, much like your mother died for you. That is powerful and old magic. I am certain that you have left an incredible protection on all that are fighting for the light today. Don't despair so soon.”

“You're serious? I thought I had to go so that the part of Voldemort's soul died.”

“True, but your sacrifice is noble, and powerfully magical. Trust in yourself.” Dumbledore spoke with feeling, making Harry uncomfortable with his sentiment.

He sat thinking of what he'd seen happen between him and Hermione. But nothing moved him like seeing the young Hufflepuff who wouldn't tell where the entrance to Diagon Alley was. Strangely he felt that child was braver than him; here he was, wondering if he should go back in time, and the kid hadn't even hesitated. He had stayed true to wizards.

“I want that last future, sir, and I want to save that boy.” He turned his determined eyes to Dumbledore, and saw fierce pride reflected in the old wizard's face.

“I had a feeling you would. Once again, we embark on an uncharted area into magic. Good luck, my boy.” Dumbledore's voice became faint and white mist began gathering again.

It occurred to Harry that he had no idea of how far back in time he would be traveling. Feeling a slight panic, he frantically yelled, “Wait, how far are you sending me?”

“I have no way of knowing. Farewell!” Dumbledore's faint voice echoed in his ears as he lost consciousness.

A.N. Much thanks to Tinn beta'ing and the many content reviewers.