Harry Potter and the Wastelands of Time

DAWN

Chapter 2 - As You Were

Memory… is an internal rumour.

--George Santayana

I arrived at The Leaky Cauldron at 09:59 and forty-two seconds, according to Dudders' borrowed watch. Right on time - or rather, I think a little bit faster than the last time. No matter. I was getting to the point where knowing the time down to the last second wouldn't make a difference anyway.

The journey from Little Whinging had taken ten minutes and thirty seconds, and I'd planned a little surprise during that time, as I always did, getting ready to put Big D's unused lighter fluid to good use. I had a feeling it would come in handy in about eight minutes and thirty seconds. Just a hunch - who knew the future, after all?

The wizarding pub was practically deserted this time of morning, only a few die hard patrons and Tom the barman, of course. I had shoved my Invisibility Cloak back into my bag, yet that didn't matter. Some people would recognise me, most would be too awed to approach - or too scared. It wouldn't do to be seen with the boy on the top of Voldemort's 'To Kill…' list.

Tapping the bricks with my wand, I opened the way into Diagon Alley and all the sights and sounds therein.

10:00 exactly.

It's funny, and with all the years available to me I've never bothered to check, but I've always wondered what the Alley looks like from above. Surely there must be some sort of concealment magic in place, making it look like just any other part of old London, because pretty much everything for sale or on display out in the street would blow the Statue of Secrecy right out of the water.

Wards, I'd imagine, or runes and a canopy of invisibility… much like the Lost City of Atlantis, but on a smaller and cruder scale.

Diagon Alley had changed after the events of my fifth-year and Fudge's acceptance that Voldemort had returned. The colourful, glittering window displays offering everything from spellbooks to cauldrons, had been covered with large posters of security information produced by the Ministry, as well as scowling photos of known Death Eaters on the loose.

*~*~*~*

Most of them near the top of my list.

*~*~*~*

Cheap and dirty vendors selling all manner of useless crap now lined the once bustling and relatively joyful market street. Everything from Dementor repellent to Dark Lord detergent for a few measly galleons. I was tempted to blast them, oh so tempted to bring ruin and fire and ultimate destruction to their smiling faces and sleazy grins, peddling wares that could get people killed.

But I couldn't, no - I'm just fifteen now, and had to control the basic urges wrought in a world that existed only once upon a time, an hour ago, and in a moment no further away than a heartbeat. A world where you were only as good as your last lie and your last kill, where no game was fun and the wind howled across desolate fields of fiery bones-

I was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Hero, Last Guardian of Atlantis, Time Warrior - not some fucking spell-happy animal… I was better than Voldemort.

And I am older now, wiser - crueller. I used to have so much mercy, so much compassion. Ha, no angel born in hell, right…

Damn it all.

So here I am at Diagon Alley - always the first stop when I get back because Gringotts is here, and my mountain of gold - considerably increased thanks to the last and final wishes of my godfather.

Rest in peace, Sirius Black - at least one of us can. Bloody Gods and their fine print… Although I will admit, they did deliver exactly what I bargained for - just in weird and unexpected ways.

And I suppose Gods might be too strong of a word, it conjures up images of religion, mayhap pleasant images, and no one has ever worshipped these creatures save on their knees bleeding from their godforsaken eyes - the Old Ones, the Twilit Fae, the Ancients, the Before Folk - call them what you will, they gave me the power to wrap time around my little finger, and that is a strength that must be respected. Though I'm none too happy with how it always turns out.

Motherfuckin' fine print… Do you hear my sigh? Oh do you hear me sigh?

*~*~*~*

I was also left wondering if my immortal soul was a fair price to pay to drink from the chalice of eternity.

Just a nagging thought I sometimes have, that.

Most of the time I can live with it just fine, other times… Well, have you ever had a dream you were so sure was real? A sleepless night where the border between reality and illusion blur and you find that, no matter how fast you run toward the light, the darkness is there before you - there before you, and waiting.

Yeah, I think now you're beginning to understand… only you're not, not really, you can't - but you will, and then wish you couldn't.

*~*~*~*

Mostly I'm none too happy about it because I end up a whole lot of dead every time - same as everyone else. I've the ability to go back and try to stop the war, to make a difference, but it seems that no matter what I do or how hard I try, events always shape themselves back to the path I travelled long ago, and for the first time.

It may happen in a different way, but I still lose. Usually I end up taking a big old bite out of an Avada Kedavra sandwich.

And I won't accept that.

I won't accept that the end of the world can't be changed, can't be stopped. There is far too much goodness on this planet, too much life and love, for it all to fall at a madman's whim and thirst for power. I knew I had the chance to be loved, and to love in return, and that was worth fighting for if for no other reason than I wanted it.

10:01 and four seconds. Where the hell was I? Time's getting away from me…

And I need a cigarette - one of the only pleasures I manage to hold on to most of the time. From the side pocket on my backpack I removed the pack of ciggies I'd 'borrowed' from Dudley, and his silver Zippo lighter. Lighting one up, I took a deep drag, putting the pack away and slipping the lighter into my pocket.

10:01 and forty-three seconds.

I nearly coughed up a lung on that first drag - always the way. This young and handsome body of mine ain't use to the abuse. I'd be working on that - wizarding cigars were some of the finest in the known world, and were pretty high on my shopping list.

I followed the curving alley down toward Gringotts at a stroll, seemingly taking my sweet time, gazing at all the crap on offer, yet in my head taking every step on the exact second I was supposed to. I puffed on the cigarette sparingly, getting used to the smoke would take time (what didn't?), and the white paper slowly burnt down toward the orange filter.

It was 10:03 on the dot when I entered Slugs & Jiggers Apothecary, and that was such a foul smelling and smoke-filled place that the fumes from my half-smoked cigarette went entirely unnoticed as I moved past the barrels of slimy, peeled newt eyes and powdered shrake, under the bundles of owl feathers and snake fangs hanging from the ceiling, and picked up an Erumpent bladder.

My purchase cost four shiny galleons, the last cash I had on me, and just as my watch ticked over 10:05 and thirteen seconds I found myself back out in the thin crowds on Diagon Alley.

Now, for those of you who don't know, an Erumpent is a Class Four African magical beast that looks a lot like a rhinoceros. It has a horn which can pierce almost anything, and its body secretes a fluid through this horn that explodes upon impact. Yeah, I know, they blow themselves up a lot…

The use of its bladder in potion making is of particular interest, because the spongy, round bulb can hold pretty much any liquid in a sort of a time-delay cacoon. Simply fill the bladder with whatever substance is required, and pop it into the burning cauldron - gently, gently, because it can rupture quite easily - and there you go. Over about two minutes the bladder is dissolved by the heat and the liquid released.

Using one of these you have time to stand well back when adding dangerous ingredients to volatile potions. But - read carefully - they come from Erumpents, and Erumpents explode. Squeeze too hard, drop it by accident, shake it around, and the bloody thing will burst.

As I continued on my timed stroll towards Gringotts, I filled the bladder with Dudley's lighter fluid, expanding the thing to about twice its size and holding it very, very carefully in my left hand.

It was 10:07 and eighteen seconds. I'd almost finished my cigarette.

I left the main strip of stalls and shops behind as I came to the intersection for Knockturn Alley. Just ahead Gringotts rose up magnificently against the clear blue sky, a snow-white marble building towering over all the other shops and burrowing far beneath the earth for miles out of sight, guarding the collective wealth of wizarding Britain.

Just for the record, the goblins and I don't see eye to eye - they don't know that yet, but they will, they will…

And then there she was.

Fleur Delacour coming down the steps of the bank, her blonde hair caught in the sun, flowing out behind her shoulders. And a look on her face that was at the same time carefree yet guarded, beautiful yet cold. Don't ask me to explain that, I don't really know what I mean - its just strawberries and rain, strawberries and rain…

10:07 and forty-three seconds. I knew the time, didn't even need to look at my watch. Less than half a minute to go.

I picked up the pace, determination entering my step, and headed straight for Fleur, cradling the Erumpent bladder under one arm, safe and secure, and scanning the dark and dank entrance to Knockturn Alley, waiting for my first glimpse of the man who would dare to harm her…

And then there he was, as soon as the clock struck 10:08, just fifteen feet away - as always.

Dressed in dark robes, the edge of a hood resting just on his brow, partially concealing his face, he held a wand towards her and in a clear voice that rang across the small square, cried, “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

I've lived through more than one heart-stopping moment, and died in a few as well. Heads turned, gasps rang out, and more than one person simply froze as that dreaded curse was uttered for all to see under the cool morning sun in the busiest shopping district of wizarding London. Fleur's eyes had time to widen, and she took half a step back, her hand instinctively heading for her wand…

Yet I was faster, I had already moved.

I had hurled my bloated bladder at 10:08, as soon as I'd seen the bastard appear from the shadows of the alley. And just as he began to utter the last few syllables and end her all too innocent life, he got a face full of Erumpent innards, and my lighter fluid bulb exploded inside his hood, splashing liquid all over his face and down the front of his robes.

He staggered back, and his wand went wide - a burst of cold green light shrieked past Fleur on her left, impacting with a deafening bang and a burst of green flames against the guarded doors of Gringotts. Goblin-made, strengthened across centuries, the doors buckled but held, forcing large chunks of iron and marble to slam into the ground as Fleur dived away, hitting the cobblestones all too hard just to my right.

I had drawn my wand but I never needed to use it. Taking a last deep drag on my cigarette I flicked it through the air with my thumb and forefinger, and with the ease of long practice, the burning butt struck Fleur's attacker just on his nose.

Now lighter fluid burns fast and it burns blue - the sparks from my cigarette ignited the fluid doused over the mysterious attacker, and his old and dusty robes erupted in hot and greasy flames. He screamed in surprise and staggered back as I stepped between him and Fleur, offering her my hand and one of those charming smiles I had given Tonks.

“'Arry Potter,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “What iz-?”

I always forget how beautiful she truly is, every time. Golden-blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and a cold regard masking her innocence that gives me more of a rush than facing down the worst this world has to offer. And it has nothing to do with the Veela in the gorgeous French woman, at all, because I'm immune to that particular charm.

“Hello, Miss Delacour,” I said, all confidence and reassurance. The arsehole I set on fire won't get his shit together for about thirty seconds, and the Aurors are rushing down the street anyway, wondering just what the hell happened.

Fleur took my hand.

And just like Tonks, as I pulled her to her feet, she stood just a shade taller than me as well. A growth spurt by January, I promise.

“'Arry, you-” Her eyes widened looking over my shoulder and I frowned - because that doesn't usually happen.

I turn in time to see the dead eyes of my killer, just as his twisted black blade skewers me like a piece of meat on a kebab stick. The blade enters my lower back on the left, pops my kidney and wreaks all kind of havoc with my intestines before bursting up and out of my stomach.

I grunt, and then I gasp and stagger into Fleur as the sword is wrenched sideways and out of me, pretty much hacking me in half.

Now this shouldn't be happening, I thought, as Fleur screams and falls under my useless weight. She hit the ground hard again, and I fell on top of her, no longer able to feel my legs and not quite understanding that I was dying once more all too soon.

I'm lying on top of Fleur, sort of on my side, as my life's blood and my insides pool quite unexpectedly on the old cobblestones of Diagon Alley. I turn over, looking up into the sky, not because I wanted to but because that was the way my weight fell. I must be crushing Fleur, who is screaming in my ear - she sounds far away, and the sun is very bright.

My murderer stands above me, blocking the sun light. He's not human, that much I guess as his grin nearly splits his face in two, revealing rows of sharpened grey fangs, bleeding some sort of yellow puss. His - no, It's - It's eyes are dead, black orbs and the barely passable human façade its wearing shatters entirely, tearing away with a sickening squelch and revealing possibly one of the most ugly creatures I've ever encountered.

“Time's up…” It hissed, a forked tongue slipping over its fangs. It's flesh is decayed and bulging-grey, and covered like a road-map with tiny blue and red veins.

I don't know what's happening - this is a first, and firsts aren't supposed to happen to me anymore. I'm in too much pain, too much blinding, vicious pain to figure this out. I'm about to die.

The monster, whatever it is, shrieks louder than Fleur and it poises the blade that had killed me over my prone form. I can feel my heart beating so fast, so sure, pumping my blood out of the gaping wound in my side.

I realise it's not shrieking - but laughing - as it drives the sword through me a second time, straight through the heart.

Did you know that the human heart creates enough pressure when it beats to squirt blood about thirty feet? Yeah, me neither - but let's just say I painted the windows of Flourish and Blotts across the street bright red…

Fleur had stopped screaming. Something wet and warm just hit the side of my head, covering my ear. The sword had not only pierced my heart, but had been driven straight through me and into Fleur, and now she lay dying as well, coughing up blood.

My head lolled to the side, resting in the groove of Fleur's shoulder. As the world grew dark I stared down at the slow seconds ticking by on my wrist watch, unable to move anymore. Fleur's hand gripped mine reflexively, squeezing hard, and a small drop of blood has smeared over the screen of the watch.

It was 10:10 and forty-nine seconds when I died.

I hope Fleur died just as quickly.

*~*~*~*

DAWN

I awoke from the dream - the Dream, the same Dream - and turned to glance out of the window above my bed, as I always did, wanting to catch the first rays of sunlight beaming in on my renewed life.

Only something wasn't right - the Dream was different, and I remembered why. Never have I remembered dying in such clarity. I grasped my stomach just to make sure there was no gaping sword wound…

I was whole. I was alive - I was pissed as all hell.

The last hour had not happened, not yet. It was just starting to happen.

Okay, no, this was different, this was wrong, this was impossible.

Something new wanted to play, it seemed. A low growl, vicious and cold, escaped my throat and my hands clenched into hard fists.

Just what was fucking with me now?

*~*~*~*