Hey everyone! This is one of the earlier scenes of a Harry Potter fanfiction I started some time ago. The story deals with Harrys unwilling timetravel into the time of Tom Riddles last year in Hogwarts and his struggle against the time paradox.
Because the name Harry gives himself is a name he has heard before when Hermione was telling them about Voldemorts first rise to power, the name of one of the dark lords most trusted. And there was no way Harry would be that person.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
A Beginning
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Harry landed on the
unforgiving ground and his breath was knocked out of him. He blinked,
once, twice, before forcing himself into a sitting position. He was
still outside and the place looked familiar, he could easily make out
Hogwarts looming above him, but something was missing.
Something important that
could not simply be moved away.
Dumbledores grave was
gone.
The ground lay unmarred
before him.
Harry looked around and
finally his gaze fell on the two broken pieces of the wand next to
him.
The Elder wand, broken and
charred, barely recognizable. He picked it up and put it into his
pocket, feeling a distinct unease at the realization, that he was now
wandless.
He remembered leaving his
wand in the jacket he had worn during the reconstruction of the great
hall, he had just discarded it, when the letter arrived and hadn’t
bothered to pick it up, to dumbfounded by the letter he could still
feel in the pocket of his trousers.
Cursing himself he
stood up, brushing of the grass and dirt that clung to his clothes.
Voldemort may be dead, but running off without a wand was more than
just foolish, he could almost hear Madeyes voice barking in his head.
Constant Vigilance!
Well it would not happen again, Harry told himself. He would get a
wandholster, no more stuffing wands into pockets.
Shrugging he turned
towards Hogwarts and the unease he felt intensified. Hogwarts was
perfect, looking exactly the way it had looked when he had first seen
it and that was the problem.
Hogwarts was supposed to
be damaged. The giants had laid waste to the entrance hall and he was
quite sure that one of the towers had been damaged as well.
Something was terribly
wrong. Harry hoped that the backslash that had occurred when he had
snapped the Elder wand in half had simply knocked him out and he was
simply dreaming now, but his instincts told him that this was not the
case. And Harry had learned to trust his instincts the hard way,
because usually they were right.
He took a closer look at
his surroundings, searching for other indications that could give him
a clue as to what had happened to him.
It was only when he looked
at the place where, he knew with uttermost certainty; the Whomping
Willow should be that a suspicion began to form in his mind.
Harry shock his head,
forcing the thought away.
It was impossible,
timetravel was only possible in a very limited timeframe and with the
help of a timeturner. The Willow had been planted when his father had
gone to Hogwarts, more than twenty years ago and the timeturner could
send one back twenty four hours at most.
A voice in the back of his
head chided him, telling him, that the Elder Wand, the Deathstick,
the wand of Destiny was certainly capable of more than a delicate
little pendant, but he pushed it away.
He had just managed to
survive Voldemort and end the dark wizard once and for all. He was
not ready for another adventure yet, but still he continued to
steadily walk towards the entrance.
Gently pushing open the
gates he stepped into the castle and his breath caught as his eyes
fell onto the unblemished entrance hall. In front of his minds eye he
could still see the rubble lying at the feet of the great staircase,
or the door of the great hall – blown out of its hinges together
with a great part of the wall.
It was surreal and Harry
simply kept standing in the middle of the room, looking around
aimlessly and wondering, what he should do now.
Distinctly he could
remember Hermione telling him about the rules of time travel in his
third year when they had set out to save Sirius. He was not supposed
to be seen, yet should he really have travel in time, that was not
helping him at all.
How was he supposed to
return home?
Unlike Hermione he wasn’t
extraordinary smart and certainly not able of coming up with a way to
travel into the future. Was it even possible to travel forward in
time?
The last time they had to
wait for the moment they left to travel back to take their places
again.
“And who might you be?”
He was pulled out of his
musings and turned towards the direction from where he had heard the
voice. A man was standing on the top of the staircase and looking
down to him curiously, but with a distinct air of carefully veiled
suspicion.
Something about him was
familiar, but it took Harry a moment to place the youthful face with
the one he was accustomed to.
It was Dumbledore.
His hair was red and he
looked considerably younger than the last time Harry had seen him,
but it was still Dumbledore. Not Harrys Dumbledore though, but the
Dumbledore Harry had seen insider Tom Riddles diary and the pensive.
An around fifty years
younger Dumbledore.
And that could only mean
that there was more truth to his explanation than he had hoped. Harry
opened his mouth to answer, but he froze halfway through.
“I- I…”
The words his father had
written echoed through his head and suddenly they gained a new,
horrible meaning. At familiarity he had felt towards it, making it
more than just the name of one of Voldemorts followers.
Shaking his head Harry
forced himself to swallow the bile rising in his throat. There was
only one way to find out.
“I’m sorry. My name is
Harold Evans, sir.”
--------------------------------------
So yes It's quite short and almost a year old as well. There are various otherscenes I have written and I might upload so of them in the future as well.
Feedback would be welcome.
