The graveyard. The scene was far too familiar for Harry's liking. Lord Voldemort stood before him, tall, pale, and malevolent, wand steady on his heart and red eyes sparking with confidence and rage. Harry was on his knees, broken and dejected, too tired to raise his wand, panting and drenched in sweat. Masked Death Eaters ringed them, their hands wrapped firmly around the wands in their pockets.

The stars in the sky sparked and twittered just as they had for millennia, oblivious to the heat of the battle below them. The moon was a thin sliver in the sky, lighting the scene with a lethargic sort of glow. A breeze whispered through the bare trees, whistling through the tiny canyons between the tombstones. And the chill in the air was deadening, kissing the skin of everyone on the scene like a corpse's fingers...

But there were differences, too. This time Harry didn't have to worry about Cedric's dead body, or indeed anyone else's. He had come alone. Ron and Hermione had protested, and Ginny had tried talking him out of it, but the prophecy had to be fulfilled. The final Horcrux had been destroyed and now it was time. One way or another, someone was going to die tonight. Sadly, it looked as if it might be himself.

"Tired, Harry?" Voldemort asked in a calm, degrading tone. His high pitched voice bored through Harry's throbbing skull. He stared at Harry over his wand, but he received no answer. He continued. "Nineteen years ago, I made a mistake." He spat venomously, filling the silence. "This was the first and last time that was ever to happen. I will rectify this mistake tonight. But, be consoled. I don't have time to kill you slowly, and you'll soon be with your dirty-blooded muggle mother again."

Harry's head rose very slowly at this, and he made eye-contact with his soon-to-be murder. He was surprised to find that he felt... happy? Yes happy. The hard road that had been his life would soon come to an end. No more suffering, no more pain, no more betrayal or suspicion or fighting. Just a chance to see those he loved again and sleep in peace... Sirius, his parents, Cedric, Lupin, Dumbledore, they would all be waiting for him. Too bad he couldn't have stopped this maniac, but they would understand... It was a reassuring thought and it gave him some strength. He clambered shakily to his feet, weary from the fight. Voldemort laughed cruelly.

"So you choose to die standing. How noble. I shall make sure no one knows. Good-bye, Harry Potter."

But Harry didn't hear him. He didn't hear anything. He didn't see the green light streaking towards him; he didn't see the Death Eaters lean in, holding their breath. He didn't know that nearby, Hermione and Ron, betraying their promises to stay away, were fumbling with the gate, trying desperately to force their way in, trying to save him. No, he saw nothing, heard nothing, and knew nothing but himself. He heard his heart beat, the blood gurgling beneath his skin. He saw only the sweaty hair hanging in his eyes, the frames of his glasses, skewed on the edges of his vision. He felt the ground under his feet and the clothes rubbing his skin. All else ceased to exist.

Perhaps everyone experiences this intense self-awareness just before they die. Or perhaps some part of his brain, the deepest, most raw and instinctive part of his brain, was simply trying to protect him from the reality of his own death. Or make him realize what he was losing. Perhaps he was enchanted. But no matter what was happening to him or the reason for it, it was for the best. Because as his mind and soul was suspended in time and space, it was completely unaware of the body. His limbs moved on their own, raising his wand for the last time, his mouth and voice acted of their own accord, and in the split second before the green light blossomed across his chest he managed to thrust his last words into the world, loud and clear.

"Avada Kedavera!"


And then he fell.

But his incantation, his last act of heroism, lived on. And Voldemort didn't see it coming. In his final moments, Harry had unknowingly performed advanced Occlumency, shielding his intentions from Voldemort's prying mind. The curse came at him so fast and so unexpectedly, that he had no time to react. He raised his wand in an attempt to block it, but light is much faster than any human can ever hope to be when caught off guard. And after all, much as he loathed to admit it, he was only human.

And so the most feared wizard of all time fell to an enemy he had created himself, those nineteen years ago...

The shock that permeated the scene was almost tangible. The ring of Death Eaters watched, open-mouthed. Most were so numb that they didn't even notice when their ranks were breached. Ron and Hermione, having finally tracked Harry down and gotten past the obstacles left for them, rushed to see. Tears were streaking down Hermione's face, and Ron looked sick. They slowly knelt, still and silent. Hermione then broke into weak sobs. Ron simply stared.

No one grieved the second body. Indeed, Ron and Hermione didn't even acknowledge the dead monster with his wide red eyes. His servants didn't move. They seemed unsure; as if they weren't sure he was actually dead. He had come back once before, hadn't he?

The scene was still for a few minutes. The Death Eaters stared, Ron and Hermione grieved, and the wind died down. Even the stars seemed to stop twinkling. The air seemed so much colder now... Finally, the first Death Eater left. His fear of the authorities caught up with the initial shock. He was gone with a simple popping noise. Startled out of their shocked silence, countless others followed suit. Several remained rooted to the spot, still in shock, afraid to leave their master's side, even in death. A few remained, but looked around as if they were lost. These were the ones who had been placed under the Imperius curse. Now, seeing as their warden was dead, they were freed from the curse, and clueless as to where they were.

Only one person seemed unsurprised, and seemed to have their wits about them. A shorter Death Eater, whose mask still covered her face, slowly backed away from the scene. She turned, striding away with a purposeful gait, and before she was missed, she had apparated with a snap.

12 Grimmauld place. It had been secured after the secret keeper's death and had been the Dark Lord's hiding place for four years now. The security and stylishly gloomy decor made it perfect for conducting his shady business. Bellatrix Lestrange strode swiftly up the steps and into the house, careful not to wake anything up. She made barely more sound than a spider sliding across its web as she slinked up the padded stairs.

She had a purpose here. A very important one. The Dark Lord may be gone, but he never gave up. Even now, there was a plan in place. This was Voldemort's last act, carried out through her. She could not fail him in this...

Two years ago, there had been a siege on the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort, at the time, was growing worrisome. Having finally learned the full contents of the prophecy, he had learned that the odds were stacked less in his favor than he had thought. It was kill Harry Potter, or be killed by him, and he never was one to take chances. So, when the department was breached, there was only one thing that he wanted.

Time. It was something that wizard kind had worked for millennia to harness, fight, and understand. Time turners were a relatively recent invention, and they were only being improved upon. Nowadays, Wizards could safely travel backwards in time anywhere up to a week. But that simply wasn't enough. A week could not allow the Dark Lord to triumph over his most dangerous enemy, no. Even if he had gone back to the boy's childhood he could not touch him. There was no time in Harry Potter's life when he could be vulnerable without upsetting the delicate balance of time and ruining his own plans of the time. He would have to go back further.

And so, using stolen ministry magic and knowledge, the Dark Lord had toiled for hours, given of his own time and energy and boundless knowledge, to create something new. Using his own hands, he had created an object which would allow one person to travel safely backwards in time precisely 30 years. Accurate to the minute.

But it was risky. This was magic that had never been tested before. To dapple in the very mechanics of the universe like this was dangerous. The person using the object would be ripping the fabric of time and trying to step through it and come out whole. There was a very likely possibility that the traveler would never reach the past, or would be dead when they did. Voldemort had explained this to Bella when he had given her the task.

Upon his death, should he fall, Bella's task was to travel to the past, using this new object, and eliminate Harry Potter from existence. It was the most important task any of his followers had ever been given, and he had been loathe to trust anyone but his best with the task. Bella could not fail him.

Now Bellatrix entered the master's lair cautiously. The enchantments he had put on the room for safety would undoubtedly still be active. But she needn't have worried. The Dark Mark on her arm protected her from the enchantments. In the center of the room, where it could be seen from all corners and therefore was always in sight, stood a chest. It had many locks on it, like the one Mad-eye Moody had at Hogwarts. Bella, being the only person aside from the Dark Lord himself with the key, unlocked the third lock from the left without hesitation and hefted the lid open. Inside was a cushion, and on the cushion was a small blue orb the size of a marble. It was smooth and polished, pretty to look at and more valuable than the sapphire stone it was made from.

This was the time orb, and she picked it up gingerly, as if afraid it might break. The incantation was simple, and she did not want to waste time. Even the thought of the danger of time travel couldn't quell her impatience. She wanted to go, and nothing would stop her.

"Kintiscus moralus" she whispered to the blue orb, smiling as it began to hum. It grew warm in her hands and began to glow with a light like a star radiating from the center. The light spread to the farthest corners of the room and seemed to pass through the walls. The air around Bella vibrated and wavered, making it look as though she were looking through a heat haze.

Then the room began to twist inward towards the center point of the orb, as if it were sucking everything inwards. Bella felt herself being pulled and warped, too, and she began to be afraid. Her grip on the stone tightened and she felt herself go taut, but she stopped spinning. The light from the orb was now so bright she couldn't look at it, she clenched her eyes shut and waited for it to end. There was a rushing sound, as if things were flying past her, but the light was still too bright, she couldn't open her eyes.

And just when she thought it would go on forever... it stopped. Slowly, she cracked one eye open, then the other. She was still in the same room, but it was quite obvious that the stone had worked perfectly well, because it was no longer the damp, gloomy, and mould-ridden room it had been moments before. The room was now immaculately clean, with oil lamps all along the wall (they were unlit, as it was very late), and decorated with deep green shag and dark paneling. The furniture was all dark green in color, Victorian in style, and looked brand-new. All around were shelves piled with rare and expensive intricacies and knickknacks. Artifacts from the ancient past and the close present shared a spot in this room.

A smile split Bella's face and she stood, shaky from her journey. She knew this room... She knew this place. And why shouldn't she? It was, after all, her cousin's house. The same place she had left. But in this time, the house was inhabited by her relatives, the Blacks. And if the little orb was as accurate as the Dark Lord had said, the year was exactly 1978, two years after Sirius had moved out and thirty years preceding her own time. She would have been in the seventh year at Hogwarts by now, but of course she hadn't come her seventh year. She had dropped out and become a Death Eater.

Well then, it wouldn't be difficult to pose as a student...

She stood up and dusted herself off. She still wore her Death Eater mask and her long black cloak; she didn't bother taking them off. She didn't want to be recognized until she could brew up a De-Aging Potion. She would have to look 17 again in order to pass without suspicion at Hogwarts...

She crept from the room, careful not to wake her aunt, uncle, or cousin, Regulus. Down the stairs and out the door, she managed to creep. She managed to slip silently out the door without so much as a peep and descended the stoop to the familiar street below. She hadn't even run into Kreacher. She didn't have time to revel in her luck, however, as there were important things to do. Plans to make.

She cast one a look up and down the dirty muggle street on which she stood, and disappeared with a pop.

"Full to bursting with Muggles, as usual," Mrs. Potter sighed exasperatedly as she pulled her seventeen-year-old son behind her. Mr. Potter and Sirius Black were trailing behind them, both pushing heavy trolleys with a trunk and an owl each. Sirius was James Potter's best friend and had been staying with the Potters for over a year now, ever since he had run away from his own dreadful parents. He was practically a member of the family. James thought his mother was about to yank his arm out of his socket when she suddenly let go. Mr. Potter and Sirius stopped next to them. They were all standing before the divide between the Muggle platforms nine and ten. His mother turned to the two boys with watery eyes.

"Well, here we are, then," She said with a wavering voice. James rolled his hazel eyes and adjusted his glasses to a more comfortable position on his thin nose. Of course, this was so typical of his mother. She pulls them along like the train is about to leave so that she can have her long, emotional good-bye.

"Mum," He said bluntly, "Must we go through this every year? I'm just going to school."

"Yeah, Mrs. Potter. He'll be back for Christmas," Sirius said with a grin, a lock of soft black hair falling into his dark eyes. He had stylish black hair and a very handsome face, with eyes that were so dark blue that they looked black.

"We know," His father said, clapping him on the shoulder, "But the house is just so quiet without you around."

"Yes. And this is your very last year. Soon, you'll be moving out and... and... and..." She sniffled loudly, words lost to her, and had to fish around in her purse for a tissue. Sirius patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. His father picked up for her.

"And you'll be a man. Out there all alone. Without us. It's a tough thought," He said softly, looking more solemn than he normally would.

"Ok... here's a question," James said with a sigh, "Why did we wait until we were in the middle of the train station to have this conversation? Was there something wrong with the car, or did you want an audience for mum's emotional breakdown?"

This got a chuckle from his father, who ruffled James' already terribly untidy black hair. His father's huge palms practically covered his son's whole head and knocked the poor boy's glasses all askew. Lovingly, his mother fixed them for him and licked her finger, rubbing a smudge off his cheek. Annoyed, James pulled away, rubbing his cheek. Sirius couldn't help but smirk.

"Mum!" He said, "Stop it."

"I'm sorry, baby," She said with a watery smile, "I guess it's just hard to let go of the old habits. I can't help but see that cute little boy with his finger always in his nose when I Iook at you... You were so cute..."

"Mum. You're making it sound like I'm never coming back," James said, checking his watch. Fifteen minutes until the train left, time to wrap this up. He leaned forward and gave his mom a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. She hugged him back for a good minute before James finally managed to pry himself from her grip. Then he turned to his father, who gave him the trolley, a smile, and a good firm handshake.

"Well, son. Have a good year. And take care," James smiled back at his dad.

"Thanks, dad," He said, backing away.

Sirius got a quick, but loving hug from Mrs. Potter and a manly handshake from Mr. Potter, and then it was time for them to go.

"We love you, baby," His mother called as they started walking towards the barrier, "Don't forget to write often! You too, Sirius!"

James waved over his shoulder to let them know he heard and winked at Sirius, then he passed through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters and lost sight of them...

The platform was bustling and buzzing with activity as it had been every year since James and Sirius had first come here seven years ago. Students and parents were milling everywhere, piles of luggage and cages with owls were everywhere. Cats weaved and meowed underfoot, making walking a challenge. And before him was the legendary scarlet locomotive, the Hogwarts Express. It was humming gently in anticipation of its journey.

But these were familiar sights to them, and they only spared them a quick glance before peering through the crown again. They didn't spot any of their friends right away, so they started down the side of the train, looking into each compartment as they went. Finally in a compartment closer to the back they found who they were looking for.

"Hey, Moony, Wormtail. Did you have a good summer?" James asked as he and Sirius hefted their trunks into the compartment.

Moony was Remus Lupin, and Wormtail was Peter Pettigrew, and they were James and Sirius' other best friends. The four boys had been inseparable since first year.

Remus snapped shut the book he was reading and cast them a little smile, the premature crow's feet around his brown eyes crinkling up. He was tall, very thin, pale and sickly looking. He had light brown hair and a thin face.

"Well you would know if you had taken the time to write," He said with a chuckle. He wasn't actually bothered. He knew perfectly well that James and Sirius never picked up a quill unless it was a dire emergency.

"I had a great summer," Peter said happily, his neck fat wobbling animatedly as he talked. Peter was very short and a little chubby, with a pointed nose, protruding chin, and small watery blue eyes. His lank hair was the color of dirty dish water and his two front teeth were a little large.

"Me and my family took a cruise to Jamaica and we went snorkeling and canoeing and scuba diving and--"

"What's a scuba?" James asked curiously.

"Yeah," added Sirius, "And why would you dive for it?" Both of came from Pure blood families; they knew nothing of Muggle ways.

Remus began to explain that scuba wasn't a thing, it was a type of muggle activity, he would know because he was half-blood. However, James wasn't listening. He was busy staring at a girl a few cars up. A sloppy grin formed on his face.

"I'll be right back..." he said absently to his friends and started towards the girl.

Lily Evans was struggling to get her heavy trunk in the train car. She was in James' year and house, and was the apple of his eye. He had had a crush on her for years now. She had long, luscious red hair that fell in soft waves around her delicate face. Currently it was hanging in her brilliantly green almond-shaped eyes that he loved so much. They probably would have been together by now if it wasn't for one very big problem. Lily hated James.

He approached confidently and leaned against the train, flashing Lily a winning smile. At the sight of him, her frown only grew in intensity.

"What do you want, Potter?" She snapped with what little breath she had. The luggage was truly heavy, and the train was nearly ready to leave.

"I just want to help you," He said honestly.

"I don't want your help," She said irritably. "So just go away."

"Aw, come now Lils. I'm just trying to be a gentleman."

Lily let out a strained laugh.

"Sure. That's all you were trying to do," She said. "Like I believe for a second that you just wanted to help, not show off your strength or chivalry. There's always an ulterior motive for you, Potter. And another thing, don't call me Lils. Or Lilykins, or Tiger Lily, or any of your other cute little pet names."

"Oh, you think they're cute, do you?" James said with a grin.

Just then she dropped the trunk painfully on her toe. She swore loudly and sat on the cursed thing, holding the sore foot.

"Need some help?" Three people with trolleys came walking up to them then, Sadie Lewis, Calvin Eastwood, and Claire Eastwood, who was the one who had spoken. They were Lily's best friends.

Calvin and Claire were twins and had known Lily since their parents had put them in the same play group together at a church function when they were three. They had grown up together and were, consequently, the best of friends. Well, Claire was anyway, Calvin just liked Lily because she hung out with his sister.

Claire was tall, thin, and well toned. She wasn't a body-builder, but she definitely had muscle. Her brown hair was wildly curly and seemed to defy all gravity. She had a thin, heart-shaped face and brown eyes with long lashes.

Calvin was equally tall, and had blonde hair that was every bit as curly as Claire's. His eyes were blue and framed by coke bottle specs that he wished more than anything he could get rid of. He had strong features and a delicate splash of freckles. He was not as well-toned as Claire, but he wasn’t scrawny either.

Sadie looked like a little porcelain doll, with short straightblack hair that made her pale skin stand out in stark contrast. She had soft, kind grey eyes and was very short and delicate looking. She had met Lily and the twins first year, when they had all been put into Gryffindor house.

"Oh. Yes, thank you Claire," Lily said, standing up gratefully. Claire hefted the trunk up and shoved it into place with a slight grunt as if it were barely heavier than a stack of a few phone books. James frowned.

"Oh, so you won't let me help you because you'd rather have Claire do it?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Lily said coolly.

"Did you have a nice summer, James?" Sadie asked quickly in an attempt to change the subject and veer away from the fight they all knew was coming. Lily and James were just too predictable together. Sadly, James ignored her.

"Why are you always like this, Lily?"

"Like what?"

"I came over here because I saw that you were having trouble with your luggage. Every time I try to be nice to you, you just blow me off like some kind of jerk!"

"Because you ARE some kind of jerk!"

"I am not a jerk all the time!"

"I have yet to see you ONCE do something completely and totally selfless, James Potter."

"The train's about to--" Claire started, but James interrupted her.

"I can be selfless; you just refuse to believe it! I'm always helping other people!"

"No you're not! You're just concerned about what's best for you and--!"

"--Shut the bloody hell up, the both of you!" Calvin snapped. Claire had already loaded everyone else's luggage and the platform was completely empty, the train was about to leave, "Now stop shouting and get on the damn train, Lily. Or they'll leave you behind. Potter, just go back to your friends. There's no need to start the school year fighting with each other."

They glared at each other a moment longer before Lily stepped up into her compartment. She was about to close the door in his face when James stopped her. He looked her straight in the eye.

"Listen, Evans. I know you hate my guts, but you're going to have to learn to deal with me because I'm the Head Boy. And if Dumbledore isn't completely off his rocker, you're Head Girl. So let's try and get along, eh?"

With that he left, and Lily was standing there, looking completely stunned. She was the Head Girl to James' Head Boy. It was a nightmare.