Chapter Text
The sound of the trees rustling, the nearby animals, and even the distant footsteps of what were surely people searching for them should have stopped long ago, thinking of everyone, of how they couldn’t just leave as if nothing had happened, of their duty and obligation to continue, but no longer.
Time changes people; it is really the events that happen in that time that change them: decisions, actions, betrayals, triumphs, loves, heartbreaks, life, death—everything changes.
A war was not enough for the magical community; they lost their childhood, their innocence, and they also wanted them to lose their future, but they refused. Now they would have an escape. After all, the magical community had shown that one day you are a hero and the next a criminal, all for their own benefit.
“Is everything ready?” Harry asked hurriedly, hearing the witches and wizards growing closer. “Tell me it’s almost done.”
“It’s already done,” Hermione assured, looking at Harry before hugging Teddy tighter. “You have them with you.”
“Yes, all three. Are you sure, Hermione?”
“I wouldn’t let you go alone, and I’m tired too,” she assured him with a small smile. “Everything that matters to me is with me now.”
Harry nodded before wrapping his arms around her shoulders, placing the invisibility cloak over them, the stone in one hand and the wand in the other. “I also have everything that matters to me with me,” he whispered before starting to utter those lost words from ancient books, words that no wizard had spoken in millennia.
The simple words worked to take them away from that place. Having the power and being the Master of Death caused death itself to act, fulfilling the wish of its master, taking him to a better place, one where he could enjoy happiness with those he loves.
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“Are you okay?” Harry asked, alarmed, after feeling his body being hit and crushed before falling to the ground. His gaze was fixed on Hermione, who held a sleeping Teddy in her arms. “Are you okay, Hermione?”
“I’m fine; the journey was a bit disastrous, wasn’t it?”
“Horrible is the best word,” he assured, getting up and now cradling the sleeping child in his arms. “Where are we?”
Looking around, he saw only a desolate field. The sun was setting; it was earlier than in England, though the weather suggested they were to the north if that was any indication. Calmly, Hermione took out her wand. “You know, your question was when are we?” she said to Harry, maintaining a smile on her face.
“Me and my stupid Potter.”
“You’re not a Potter anymore, remember?” she reminded him, stepping closer and looking fondly at the sleeping child. “We made the right decision bringing him with us.”
“There was no one, Hermione. Everyone who could care for him is dead, and the others…”
“The others betrayed us,” she finished for him, her green eyes completing the thought. “We’re in November 1977, which means we’re a year away from your parents graduating from Hogwarts.”
“And the war starting again.”
“It would be the first,” Hermione joked a little, given the situation. “You know, timeline and all that.”
“Since when do you respect time, Miss ‘I’ll go to as many classes as I can’?”
“You get boring when you’re hungry.”
“How do you know I’m hungry?”
“I know you. So where do we start?”
“I want to try something. Can you hold Teddy for a moment?”
Hermione nodded, taking the little one in her hands. The sleeping position was a good idea, especially since they didn’t know where they would appear. If Teddy cried, it could give them away or distract them. “What are you thinking of trying? I’ll tell you now, Harry; I don’t want to be a widow this soon.”
“Understood,” he assured, raising his wand. He may have broken that damn wand many times, but it always returned. It was then that he realized the relics would never let him go; he had accepted them. “I, Harrison Perseus Peverell, bearer of the Deathly Hallows, call upon you, Death—not as a master, owner, or lord, but as a mere mortal.”
Seconds passed as if the words were carried away by the wind until the air began to cool, the sky darkened, and a shadow formed before them. A hood covered its face, but the fingers were skeletal, and a scythe was in its right hand.
“You know, you’re the first mortal to call me, but you are mistaken; you are the owner of the Deathly Hallows, the Master of Death,” the voice was rich, although the wizards’ instinct to flee was evident. “You traveled through time. Why?”
“There was nothing to hold onto in our time,” Harry simply confessed. “We didn’t know where we would go, just that it would be better. But I doubt that being in the past, on the brink of war, is a better place.”
“Lady Magic has her ways of acting,” Death replied. “So why did you summon me, Harry Potter?”
“Well, it’s said that you could help us—or rather, help me,” Harry hesitated for a moment, stepping forward. “I return your relics; I don’t want them. You can help us instead.”
“Humans betray, but I see you’re not lying. You don’t need my help; you have everything you need with you.”
Hermione blinked at what the deity said. They had everything—well, they had books, gold, food, and some artifacts in their bag of holding. But aside from that, the most important thing was their name. “Harry,” she called, stepping to his side. “Death is right. The Peverells didn’t exist directly in our time; they have money, even political power. They have houses; we can go to one and act as we wish.”
“But the magical community will wonder why we appeared out of nowhere.”
“They might, but the Peverells are an ancient family. We returned to England; we don’t need to say anything more,” Hermione insisted, thinking of the possibilities. “We just have to go to some of their properties and plan from there.”
“My lady is wise,” Death commented after listening. “You are the three Peverells that exist; you don’t need to provide deep answers. Now, regarding the help…”
A paper fell into Harry's hands, containing a series of coordinates. “Why are you helping us? Is it about the relics?”
“I can’t have the relics,” Death explained calmly. “They are yours; only someone who doesn’t want them is truly deserving of them, and if you renounce them, you’ll only make them cling to you more.”
“Damn it,” Harry sighed, but then turned to Hermione after feeling a tap on his arm. “And what was that for?”
“Don’t curse in front of Teddy. So, Mr. Death, you’re telling me that Harry can’t give them to you, so when he dies, they’ll be yours again?”
“Under other circumstances, I would say yes, but now only if you die first, my lady. If that’s not the case, when both of you are dead, if your son does not carry them as a legacy.”
“Why do you refer to Hermione as your lady?” Harry asked curiously.
“You, Harrison Perseus Peverell, are the Master of Death,” Death began to explain calmly. “But Hermione Selene Peverell is actually your soulmate and holds power over you; she has power over the Master of Death, which makes her the Lady of Death.”
“Wow, I knew she had power over you, but not that much,” Hermione joked with a smile. “So what does that mean?”
“If you call me, I will respond. And please do; I’m bored these days.”
“Death can get bored?” Harry asked, confused, ignoring his wife’s look. “How does death get bored?”
“Do the same thing for millennia and then tell me,” Death assured. “So if that’s all, I’ll take my leave.”
Hermione saw Harry sigh when Death spoke those words, but she had more questions. They needed to go to a safe place, not out in the middle of nowhere. Besides, talking to Death wasn’t something that happened every day, but since she was eleven, her definition of normal had become increasingly flexible. “Wait.”
Death suddenly stopped, hearing not an order but a request. “Yes?”
“I’m not speaking for Harry, but I would like you to come and talk with me once we sort out our accommodations, if you’re not busy.”
“It will be a pleasure, my lady,” Death assured. “When you want to see me again, there’s no need for the whole Master speech; just call me, and I will listen,” he promised before disappearing for good.
“I can’t believe you want to talk to Death.”
“And you say you’re not curious?” Hermione argued. “So where are we going now?”
“To these coordinates. I hope there’s more than one bed at that place.”
“Well, Mr. Peverell, so eager to take me to bed.”
“Funny, you know we’ll both be asleep at any moment.”
“True, so let’s go, darling.”
When Voldemort was defeated, the entire magical community celebrated his downfall, but after a few months, things worsened. Muggle-borns were persecuted, many with creature heritages were killed, and the Ministry of Magic continued its pure-blood policies. Harry and Hermione realized they were soulmates one day while with their friends; it happened at Luna’s house.
They were talking when Harry suddenly asked about a cube he saw on a shelf. It belonged to Pandora, Luna’s mother, who was creating an object to determine magical compatibility among wizards. Everyone was captivated; Ron insisted on trying it with Hermione, as her magic had a normal synchronization, Ginny and Harry more than average, and Hermione and Luna surprisingly had their magic connect almost perfectly. But when Harry tried it with Hermione, a golden glow appeared—soulmates. None of the Weasleys took it well.
Although Hermione insisted that the kiss in the Chamber of Secrets was a mistake, Ron didn’t listen, and Ginny went crazy. When blood supremacy increased, while they were in Diagon Alley, several attacked the Muggle-borns or half-bloods present. Harry protected Hermione, but it was a curse aimed at the witch from behind that alarmed Harry. He saw a wizard with red hair escaping through the crowd; his heart nearly stopped when he looked back.
Hermione screamed and cursed when she felt herself being pushed aside. She looked up to see Luna had shoved her, taking the curse instead. She knew Harry was by her side without saying a word as they appeared far from the place. The blonde died within minutes as her organs began to melt.
Crying for days was all Hermione did until Harry confessed he saw someone red-haired in the crowd. He couldn’t be sure, but when Ginny showed up at Grimmauld Place just a few hours later, saying she was sorry about Hermione, it was enough for them to distance themselves from the Weasleys. Of course, when Hermione reappeared in public, Ron approached, saying he was sorry about Luna, which was strange given what he had said about how painful her death was. Neither had mentioned which curse killed Luna.
When the bags were ready to leave the magical Europe and start anew, Andromeda entered, injured. Teddy had been attacked because his father was a werewolf, and the Ministry wanted to eradicate them. The eldest Black sister faced as many attackers as she could before fleeing with her grandson in her arms, heading to the only people she trusted with her life.
While Grimmauld Place was known, it was the Black house, and with its high defenses, they were given several days to plan; they would not leave Teddy or Andromeda behind. Returning or leaving was complicated due to who they were, especially Harry, regarding accepting one of his lordships; they discussed between the Blacks and the Peverells, ultimately choosing the latter.
In one of the ritual chambers, Andromeda married them, changing not only their names but also purifying their bodies and magic in exchange for the little strength she had left. They both fulfilled her last wish to protect their grandson with their lives.
Now, as they gazed in amazement at the Peverell mansion in northern England in November 1977, there was much to consider, not ignoring the fact that they had Death as someone to converse with—the only one who knew the truth. Life changed for everyone and would change for many more. Although the house-elves assured them that there were more suitable rooms, they refused, sleeping together with Teddy in the middle, their son.
Adopting Teddy was simple, especially since Andromeda ensured that his Metamorphmagus abilities were not lost. He was now Edward Apollo Peverell, named in honor of his grandfather and destined to be the light of their lives, the firstborn of the Peverell marriage, son of Lord Harrison Perseus Peverell, named in honor of his former life and Perseus, the ancient Greek hero who ultimately lost his family to violence, but above all, Perseus, one of the brightest constellations in the Andromeda galaxy; Lady Hermione Selene Peverell, named in honor of the witch who not only helped him discover his soulmate but also saved his life.