Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The room Luna lead them to was on the seventh floor, and frankly after the night he’d had, Harry only barely made it. Despite being physically fine, he was still pretty sore from the exorcism or cleansing ritual or whatever it was that his older self and Hermione’s had done to him, and that many flights of stairs took it out of him.

The room itself was bloody perfect, nice and warm with a crackling fireplace, plenty of cushy looking armchairs in a variety of colors, and a comfy looking rug laid out on the floor in front of the hearth, which he promptly collapsed onto with groaning befitting his current physical and spiritual state. Cedric, apparently deciding that looked fantastic, followed suit while everyone else chose much more dignified place to sit on actual furniture.

“So,” he began, when it seemed nobody else would. “Time travelers.”

Hermione nodded, getting out a notebook and pen that she tended to carry for impromptu note-taking purposes. “So far, we know of Parvati Patil, going by Kali; Draco Malfoy, going by Rion Black; you, going by Hadrian Black; myself, going by Jeannie Dagworth; and Narcissa Malfoy, who seems to have just received her memories somehow, as well as Andromeda Tonks née Black, all from about twelve years in the future.”

“I got the impression that everything went to shit last night in the original timeline, so they came back to fix it.” Harry stated, shoving himself up to sitting cross-legged.

“I died.” Cedric said certainly, “And You-Know-Who returned.”

There was a brief silence before the Weasley Twins let out simultaneous, comically exaggerated sighs of relief, miming wiping sweat from their foreheads.

“Really dodged an AK there, I reckon,” Fred said.

“Yeah, really glad neither of those things happened, that would’ve been awful,” George agreed.

Harry let out a snort. “Definitely. The slimy bastard monologues like a bloody cartoon villain, I’d have lost my mind before sixteen.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Harry,” Cedric said slowly, “We didn’t even hear him do anything but scream.”

Harry stared at him blankly, then swept his gaze around the room, finding lots of confused faces. “I was under the impression that everyone was aware I’ve met him a few times before?”

“I mean,” Ron started, “‘Mione and I know you fought him, we just didn’t think much talking happened.”

“What are you talking about?” Padma asked, eyebrows scrunched. “We thought he was dead until yesterday!”

Harry tilted his head back and forth in a so-so gesture. “Nah, he was only mostly dead.”

“And we all know mostly dead means slightly alive,” Hermione said in an odd voice. At the confused looks she received, she sighed. “I need more muggleborn friends, none of you understand my jokes. Anyway, Tom was slightly alive?”

Harry nodded, figuring she must’ve been referencing a book or something. “I guess he’d been shoving bits of his soul in things—including my forehead, which is why that bloody scar never healed—and hid them all over the place. I guess our older selves had already destroyed all the other pieces and didn’t want to risk me having the only piece left, not knowing what it would do.”

“They did a bloody exorcism on him,” Cedric said, still a bit incredulous hours later.

“Excuse you, you participated also!” Harry exclaimed, “And I bloody knew that was an exorcism!”

“Okay, back up,” Parvati said, “That still doesn’t explain how you knew He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was alive.”

“Right,” Harry remembered. “Well, short version is he kept possessing people.”

“WHAT?!”

It took nearly an hour to explain to the room that was determined to get the long version exactly what had happened to him in his first and second years, then another thirty minutes to explain third year as well since they were curious. They also wouldn’t just shut up and let him get through the story, which made it take even longer.

At one point, he summoned Dobby to ask if he would be willing to provide refreshments, which lead to a whole tangent during which Draco explained House Elf magic to them all as the only one who’d ever had any and Hermione continued to look skeptical, but agreed to stop knitting hats until she could do more thorough research.

Once they’d caught up through the current year, it quickly became apparent that they would need more information before forming an opinion one way or another.

“According to my mother, I will probably be living with them this summer, so I could so some reconnaissance,” Draco offered.

For a guy who most of the room had considered an arsehole at best twelve hours ago, this offer seemed a bit out of character and suspicious. Ron specifically wasn’t buying the sudden desire to work together.

“Look,” Draco replied when questioned, “Any information I gain benefits myself as well as you, give that I’ll be living with them, and if I was reading my mother right, one of them will probably be my stepfather by January. As it stands, my best sources regarding the time travelers’ possible motives are the pair of you—no offense Miss Patil, I just haven’t interacted with you much—and I would rather be on good terms than bad, so my best option is an even exchange of information. I tell you what I learn and you tell me what you learn.”

Hermione pinned him with a long, assessing gaze before nodding. “Alright. Harry?”

Harry watched Draco’s reaction, more relieved than anything, then nodded. “Alright then.”

“Aside from that, Narcissa also told me that everyone involved should be expecting an invitation for a meeting with all of the time travelers to be owled in the next few days. If possible, I’d like to bring all of us in the room, but if not, I’ll keep everyone updated.”

That seemed to be the end of that, so most of the group began heading down to lunch until it was just Draco, Hermione, and Harry.

“I’m going to try to enchant something so we can communicate quickly over the summer so we don’t exhaust the owls,” Hermione decided, beginning a new list. “Any suggestions?”

The boys glanced at each other, then back at her.

“Something small,” Harry said, not all that confidently. “Maybe not a notebook?”

“I think the protean charm might do something like that,” Draco suggested, “Though I’m pretty sure that’s a sixth or seventh year charm and we only have a week or so until the end of term.”

Hermione got that glint in her eye she always got when challenged. “I brewed Polyjuice second year, give me three days.” And just like that she was off to the library, refusing to answer any questions.

“Remember to eat something!” Harry called after her, receiving only a wave in response. “She’s not going to remember to eat something,” he sighed, slumping back on the floor.

“…What was that about Polyjuice?” Draco asked, sounding impressed in spite of himself.

Harry groaned and flopped over onto his stomach. This was probably the most he’d spoken in months.

“You don’t have to tell me now,” Draco decided, and Harry thought he heard him standing up and coming closer. “After all, we’ve got all summer.”

Harry groaned again, louder this time, having completely forgotten his older self’s implying that there was a plan to steal him away for the summer. Draco laughed as he crouched and ruffled his hair, then stood and left the room.

This would be a long summer.

Chapter Text

Three days after the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, quite a few people received small packages in familiar handwriting.

Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom, all four Weasleys, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, both Patils, the Creeveys, Ernie McMillian, Draco Malfoy, Tracey Davis, and Luna Lovegood.

Luna took it upon herself to collect all of them, along with Harry, Cedric and a very confused Tracy Davis, and lead them all up the to Room of Requirement, not answering any questions along the way. Once they arrived to a similar room as before, just with more seating, Luna finally spoke.

“Today, many of you have received messages from a future that will no longer be, from versions of yourself that will never live on this plane,” she declared in a voice that ran shivers down their spines.

“In twenty-four years, a sickness will spread throughout the Earth. For the non-magical, it will only be a mild illness, but to any with a trace of magic in their blood, it will be a poison seeping into your very cores and sapping my gifts to you, killing magic as you know it.

“But there is yet hope. Seven people have traveled back to find a way to save magickind. The Leader bears the Hallows, which will be the key to carrying out the plan that begins to take shape. Each of you will be necessary, each important to their success.

“The memories you have received will help guide your way, lessons once learned through hardship and battle and strife passed back to you in time to make a difference.

“This will be the only chance I can give you, my children. Trust your hearts and open your minds. There are many things you have to learn and not a lot of time.”

On that horrific note, Luna promptly passed out onto a mattress the room conveniently provided behind her.

“Well, fuck.” Harry said, summing up the various feelings around the room rather succinctly. “That sounded an awful lot like a prophecy.”

“Professor Trelawney always says that prophecies are Mother Magic’s way of speaking to us,” Lavender breathed, barely above a petrified whisper, but enough to carry in the near silent room.

Hermione rubbed a hand down her face, already exhausted at nine in the morning. “Right, give me a moment, I’ll write it down.”

As she began transcribing in her notebook, everyone began to take a closer look at their packages.

“Wait a second,” Ron said, squinting at his. “This looks like my handwriting.”

“Mine has Parvati’s,” Padma noted, “But apparently I died a couple years from now, so that makes sense,” she said with a detached sort of practicality, having already somewhat come to terms with it.

“So does mine—“ Lavender abruptly realized that it was probably for the same reason and began hyperventilating even more than she’d been before. Parvati tugged her into her side and began rubbing her back, trying to get her to follow her breathing.

“M-mine’s in Dennis’ handwriting,” Colin said, voice shaking.

“Mine’s in yours.” Fred breathed, staring at George with such dread several people had to look away. “Fuck, Georgie, mine’s in yours.” He abruptly dropped his package onto the sofa next to him and pulled a shell-shocked looking George into his arms. “Goddess, I can’t decide what’s worse, being dead or being the one left alive.”

Ron and Ginny looked devastated, Ginny barely holding back tears. Everyone else just seemed mostly relieved that their’s were written in their own writing.

There was a long moment of silence before Neville hesitantly asked, “Should we open them?”

Everyone seemed to look to Harry without really realizing it.

“Um,” he said. “I suppose we may as well.” He didn’t get a package, but he did get a letter, which he opened and skimmed through. “I’ve a list of people receiving packages and a stack of invitations to the house where the time travelers will be staying to all of you, even Cedric, as well as ones for Snape and Flitwick, and a couple of extras for “anyone else who becomes relevant,” with a specific request not to tell Dumbledore about any of this for now.”

A few people balked at that, but Hermione surprisingly just nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”

At everyone’s stares, she just shrugged. “Dumbledore’s had nearly sixty years of being a large influence on Magical Britain, but what has he really done in that time? I’ve been suspicious ever since I realized that the night Harry’s name came out of the Goblet, he could’ve gotten Harry out of the Tournament as his magical guardian, but didn’t. Since then, I’ve been going through old papers during my spare time in the last few months and near as I can tell, especially considering the new information gained over the past few days, while some of the things he’s done publicly are theoretically for the good of muggleborns and those with creature blood or inheritance, what he actually votes for on the Wizengamot in practice doesn’t necessarily line up with what he says, and he rarely proposes new bills on his own. And all of that’s not even mentioning his actions when it comes to Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. “And what’s a magical guardian? And Dumbledores mine?”

Now everyone was staring at Harry.

“Potter,” Susan Bones said slowly, eyes narrowed. “Who exactly have you been living with all this time?”

Harry blinked at her. “My mum’s muggle sister’s family, why?”

“Were you raised knowing about magic?” She asked.

“No, I didn’t find out it was real until about a month before Hogwarts.”

“Did you get the recommended reading list for muggle-raised students with your Hogwarts letter?” Dean asked, catching on to what Susan had.

“No,” Harry’s eyebrows knit together. “Is that a thing? Why wouldn’t I have gottten one? I know McGonagall knows I was muggle-raised?”

“Even I got one,” said Seamus, “And I’ve lived with mum my whole life and she’s a witch.”

“Me too,” said Lavender, “I think because my mum’s muggleborn.”

Hermione stared at Harry. “I never mentioned it to you?”

Harry shook his head. “I think I’d remember if you had. Did it tell you how to get onto platform nine and three-quarters?

Hermione continued staring at him blankly for a long moment then began furiously writing notes with questions on parchment.

“We will definitely be addressing that,” Susan said, eyes glinting with a hard light that most of the present group had yet to learn to fear. “For now, let’s continue?”

“Let’s.” Said Harry, desperate to change the subject.

The next several hours were spent somewhere between shock, grief, and rage. Some people shared the letters and memories received and others didn’t, but by the end of it all none of the room was mourning their future.

They found themselves quite a bit more motivated to fight for a better one.

Somewhere, nowhere, everywhere, Lady Magic smiled.