Chapter Text
1| HOW IT ALL BEGAN
The Marauder's Era
Year 1982
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY WAS A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING CRAZY.
The staircases moved, suit of armors talked and danced, ghosts existed, students who did magic ran through the hallways, powerful professors handed out detentions and the headmaster named Dumbledore who had a 'perfect map of London Underground' scar above his left knee, spoke cryptic nonsense and treated life-or-death situations with casual nonchalance while eating candies.
That was Hogwarts.
But Hogwarts was also a place where found families existed, love bloomed, laughter rang and the darkest wizards of all times studied.
Yes, Hogwarts was a place where heroes and villains and antiheroes everyone rose. From leaders to people you'd never notice, everyone had a story worth knowing, everyone had a secret worth hiding and everyone was powerful in their own rights.
Forget "knowledge is power." The actual school motto is "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," which translates to "Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon." Practical advice for anyone planning to sneak into the dungeons.
So yes, Hogwarts was a place for everything crazy.
But things were about to get crazier. Although, before that...
Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry-where the staircases move, the ceiling is a lie, and the health and safety regulations are purely decorative!
It started at breakfast on a very fine, very normal Wednesday morning. Everything was taking place as it usually did. Until, it wasn't.
The fifth, sixth and seventh year students of Hogwarts were having their breakfast, having an extra session today while the four younger year students slept peacefully in their beds. Such lucky souls.
The doors to the Great Hall opened with a deafening bang and people, who were most definitely not supposed to be there entered the place.
Headmaster Dumbledore [yes the old candy eating man] rose from his seat at the teachers' table, a frown gracing his face. "Ah..." He started speaking, "May I ask, to what do I owe this surprise?" His hand stroked his beard and all that was left was for him to go Ho ho ho. In the author's defense he was wearing red robes, with his pointy wizard's cap on, boarded by fluffy white fur.
"What do you mean Dumbledore? You're the one who called for us on the basis of an urgent matter." said Fleamont Potter, the great potioneer behind sleek and silky hair.
"I did?" Dumbledore started, but was interrupted by a blinding flash.
Everyone watched, as a string of fire started in the air, zig-zagging to form a rectangle before it took the form of a paper. Yes, paper, not parchment, and slowly drifted towards Dumbledore. He read it once before clearing his voice and speaking out loud, "Dear people of the past," murmurs broke.
Past?
Dumbledore cleared his voice, asking for attention and continued.
'Dear people of the past
To those who are listening/reading to this message. First of all, please do not be alarmed. We have no reason to harm to you, though that might be hard to believe given the situation. So please, I would like to repeat my words, do not be alarmed. At least... not yet. As stated at the beginning of this letter, dear people of the past, this letter is from the future. We are aware that you are in the middle of a war in the wizarding world. But what you're going through is nothing compared to the horrors that we have gone through.
The future consists of wars. Yes I said wars, as in multiple. Not just in the wizarding world but also in the muggle world. Although we did win them, it was at a huge cost. Forces greater than you magicians exist. Aliens — yes, they exist and have invaded Earth more than once. They're not as friendly as old muggle movies make them sound. We've lost a lot of people in this war, but, everyone has lost someone or something, so we have decided to change the future (or at least, alternate it slightly at the very best). The best way to save those we've lost is to rewrite the past.
We've collected memories from many people with help of wizards and have compiled them in the forms of movies, films for you Britishers. Beyond this room, time stands still. We will be sending a few guests from the future to watch the movies with you. You cannot leave this current location, so living arrangements have been made.
We could not save them in our time.
So we are trusting you to save them in yours.
Also, I was the one who wrote letters to the families that arrived there.
Thank you,
SS.
PS: I'll be there too.
There was a loud murmur of confusion, excitement and most importantly fear.
Fear for the future.
Fear for the next generation.
Fear for all the things they had all lost.
The families which had just arrived were none other than the Blacks, the Potters, the Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Tonks and the Weasleys.
Before anyone could utter a single word about the absurdness of the situation there was a loud bang and everyone jerked as the windows shuddered and the floor beneath them trembled. The candles went out.
The seats threw everyone out of it before collapsing. The table broke and everything started to rearrange. Comfortable sofas and armchairs and mattress appeared scattered all around the place and a big projector screen rolled down in front of the now locked doors of the Great Hall. It was a perfect atmosphere for the theatre.
Slowly but steadily an orange spark lit, and a string of sparks appeared yet again, this time forming a circle. Everyone held their breaths, and then-
Ow!
What the heck!
Bloody hell!
Merlin's beard!
Get your foot off me!
Ew! Whose armpit is this?!
Get off! Get off!
One by one they managed to slide off each other and separated their tangled bodies.
There were...
A lot of people to say the least.
Everyone had their wands out and pointed at the newly arrived guests.
"You must be the people from future..." Dumbledore spoke carefully, walking down the platform.
"I think anyone can tell that professor," said Euphemia, her eyes set on a black haired individual amongst the group.
Harry Potter met his grandmother's eyes for the first time in his life. "Hullo grandma," he greeted politely.
Euphemia's face broke out in a grin. "Hello my child."
James stared at his near identical twin, his jaw slacked. His friends were in no better condition.
"Wait-" Remus said abruptly, "The eyes!"
Sirius narrowed his eyes at the boy before comically widening his eyes as a red haired girl with hazel eyes stepped beside the boy, throwing an arm around his shoulder, a grin supporting her face. "What about his eyes Uncle Moons?"
"Uncle? Moons?" Remus sputtered.
"No way..." James muttered, taking off his glasses, he cleaned them hurriedly before putting them back on. "Is that..."
"Hi dad!" The duo greeted.
"YES!" James shouted, jumping with his fist in the air, "I married Lily-flower yes!"
Lily Evans turned redder than her hair. She knew it the moment she had seen the girl with her red hair and the boy with his green eyes she recognised them for some reason. Now she knew why.
"Oh my..." She mumbled burying her face in her hands as Marlene and Dorcas, her best friends cheered for her.
The marauders were in a similar state of excitement.
"Well..." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "That was something... Would you all please introduce yourselves?"
"Certainly Professor! I'm Lilith Euphemia Potter, Gryffindor, twenty-two."
"Harry James Potter, Gryffindor, twenty, our parents are James Potter and Lily Evans."
The others followed the two siblings.
"Hermione Jean Granger, twenty-one and Gryffindor, I'm a muggle born so you wouldn't know my parents." A girl with bushy hair and brown eyes called from beside Harry.
"Fred Gideon and George Fabian Weasley, Gryffindor, twenty-two!" The Weasley twins chorused.
"Ronald 'Ron' Bilius Weasley, I'm twenty and a Gryffindor." a tall boy who resembled every other Weasley with his striking hair said.
"Ginevra 'Ginny' Molly Weasley, nineteen also Gryffindor." the only girl in the family of Weasleys said.
Molly Weasley (past) squealed, grabbing Arthur, "A girl Arthur! A girl!"
"The Weasleys sure were busy," Sirius mumbled.
"I'm surprised you weren't," James whispered back.
"I'm not a player Potter," Sirius rolled his eyes.
"No, but you're crazy about your girlfriend and I don't see any mini-Marlenes and Sirius' here." James muttered.
"That's because you're blind, look there." Remus nodded at a girl and a boy, standing behind a tall man who stepped forward.
"My turn now. I'm Lyra Dorcas Lupin, twenty-two and a Gryffindor." Said a young woman standing beside the tall man, looking undoubtedly like his little sister which she was supposed to.
"Archer Remus Lupin, twenty seven and yes, I'm also a Gryffindor." Said the man with sandy blond hair and warm chocolate brown eyes.
Remus blinked. "Huh?"
"Moony you little minx!" James exclaimed.
"Twenty seven?" Remus repeated, "Lupin?"
"You'll see me in... about a year? I suppose," Archer grinned one of his captivating smiles.
"A year?" Sirius gasped.
Dorcas and Remus tried to process this information.
Archer nudged the man standing beside him, who blinked, realizing it was now his turn.
But another man, dark haired with a mischievous smile interrupted him. "Ah- I'll go first. Adria Michael Pucey, Slytherin and twenty-two."
There were Slytherins too, people realised.
The other man started speaking.
"Cassius Rabastan Lestrange, twenty-two, Slytherin and keep your opinions to yourself." He added the last part noticing the reactions of a few people. "My parents are Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, I was named after my uncle." He added as an after thought.
The woman who stood beside him resembled him a lot. Both had dark hair, stormy eyes and aristocratic looks. The man on Cassius' other side spoke up, everyone knew who he was before he said his name though.
"I'm Black, Draco Black." The platinum blonde said, stormy eyes sweeping across the hall once.
"Black?!" A lot of people, mainly the Blacks questioned.
The man sighed, "Formerly known as Draco Malfoy, though I changed my name. I'm twenty, Slytherin and Narcissa Black's son."
"You didn't mention your father," Narcissa spoke up hesitantly.
"The sperm donor was Lucius Malfoy, mother." He spoke curtly, his jaw clenched.
Lucius Malfoy raised a single brow. The Black family glanced at the father-son duo, though the son refused to acknowledge him as his father.
A few murmurs broke out at his coldness.
"Reyana Black, twenty-two and Gryffindor." The woman on Cassius' other side spoke up. "Marlene and Sirius Black's daughter."
"That's not a full name Reya," the man on her other side said.
"My name's too big, who's going to bother saying something that big," Reyana replied with a roll of her eyes.
"Yes but it's shorter than the sentence you just spoke," the man replied with a slight grin. Reyana opened her mouth to say something but the man interrupted, "And shorter than whatever you're about to say."
Reyana sighed, grumbling slightly, "It's Reyana Marlene Sirius Regulus Black, yes I know that's mouthful but I love it."
Regulus who stood on the other side of the hall from Sirius blinked owlishly, trying to grasp what he just heard.
The man who had been teasing Reyana spoke up, "Damian Enrico Nightshade, twenty-three and Gryffindor. You wouldn't know my parents."
"Why not?" James quirked.
"I'm Italian and the only one in family to attend Hogwarts or to come to Britain."
"Ooh..."
"Luca Edoardo Bianchi, twenty-two and I'm a muggle." Said the man beside Damian with an Italian accent.
"A muggle?" Whispers and murmurs broke out.
"My name is Doctor Stephan Strange, I was the one send you the letter, there are muggles who would be joining us too," He said nodding at a group of mainly adults who stood a little farther from the rest.
Names were said out loud by the muggles.
"Natasha Romanoff."
"Yelena Belova."
"Melina Vostokoff."
"Alexei Shostakov."
"Clint Barton."
"Bruce Banner."
"Tony Stark."
"Steve Rogers."
"Thor Odinson."
"Loki Laufeyson."
"Peter Parker! Hey!" One of the, if not the only person who looked within his twenties amongst the group said.
Everyone looked at the newcomers, taking it all in.
Reyana glanced at Natasha and Yelena, her shoulders tense.
"Let's get this party started then, shall we?" Tony Stark spoke up, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
THREE MONTHS AGO
The room did not belong to any country, any world, or any timeline.
It was circular, vast, and filled with the faint hum of something ancient and powerful. Golden sigils rotated slowly in the air like lazy constellations. A single window showed nothing but darkness. Not night, not space, just absence.
At the center of it all stood Stephen Strange, cloak shifting slightly as though it breathed.
And in front of him stood people who were not supposed to exist in the same room.
Wizards.
Soldiers.
Assassins.
Gods.
Survivors.
No one spoke first.
Because everyone in that room had already lived through the end of the world.
Strange clasped his hands behind his back.
“Thank you for coming,” he said calmly.
“That implies we had a choice,” Natasha Romanoff replied flatly.
A few people shifted. Tony Stark snorted under his breath. Thor folded his arms. Hermione’s eyes flicked between Strange’s hands, the symbols, the architecture, cataloguing everything. Ron looked around mumbling to Harry.
Strange inclined his head slightly. “Fair.”
He gestured, and with a quiet ripple of magic, glowing images formed in the air.
Cities burning.
Battles in the sky.
Wizards dueling in ruined streets.
Aliens pouring through portals.
Graves. Too many graves.
No one reacted loudly.
But the silence thickened.
“We won,” Strange said softly. “Eventually. But victory didn’t mean survival. Not for everyone.”
His gaze swept the room.
“We all lost people. Entire futures. Entire possibilities.”
Yelena shifted her weight, jaw tightening.
Natasha didn’t move at all.
Strange continued.
“I’ve spent months studying timelines. Possibilities. Outcomes.”
He lifted a hand, and hundreds of branching golden threads burst outward like a living map.
“In most of them… we survive. But broken. Divided. Always too late to save the ones who mattered most.”
He lowered his hand.
“But there is one path where that changes.”
Tony leaned forward slightly. “Let me guess. Time travel. Again.”
“Not just time travel,” Strange replied. “Collaboration.”
He turned, and with another flick of his fingers, a new image formed.
A castle.
Ancient. Alive. Full of magic.
“Hogwarts,” Harry whispered.
Strange nodded.
“There was a time when both of our worlds stood at turning points. Before wars escalated. Before choices hardened into inevitabilities.”
He faced them again.
“If we intervene there… not to fight, not to conquer, but to learn… to understand… to show them what happens if they don’t change…”
He let the words hang.
“We may be able to rewrite history.”
The room stayed silent.
Then:
“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” Bruce Banner asked quietly.
Strange’s lips curved slightly.
“Memories,” he said. “Collected. Preserved. Experienced.”
He waved his hand again, and this time moving images flickered into existence. Battles, sacrifices, reunions, losses.
“Your lives,” he said simply. “Your truths. Turned into something they can witness.”
Tony stared at the images, expression unreadable.
“So we make a highlight reel of trauma and send it to the past?” he said.
“In essence,” Strange replied.
Damian Nightshade, who had been standing near the back with his arms folded, finally spoke.
“And you think that’ll change anything?”
Strange met his gaze directly.
“I think,” he said quietly, “that seeing the future forces people to confront what they’re willing to lose.”
The words landed heavier than any spell.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Clint muttered, “Yeah. That would’ve worked on me.”
A small, humorless laugh escaped someone.
Reyana exhaled slowly.
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
“There’s always a catch.” Cassius hummed in agreement.
Strange nodded.
“There is. We can’t send memories alone. We need anchors. People who lived them. People who can answer questions. Guide choices.”
His gaze swept the group again.
“I’m asking all of you to go.”
The room shifted.
Thor looked intrigued.
Steve looked thoughtful.
Hermione looked determined.
Tony looked tired.
Yelena looked at Natasha.
Natasha didn’t look back.
Reyana’s voice broke the silence again.
“And once we go?”
Strange answered simply:
“Then we watch the past decide whether it wants to survive.”
Another long pause.
Then, unexpectedly, Yelena spoke.
“Well,” she said dryly, “I have nothing better to do than help save reality again.”
Tony groaned. “Great. Field trip to the 70s.”
“80s,” Hermione corrected automatically.
Reyana huffed a small laugh despite herself.
Natasha finally moved, stepping forward slightly.
“When do we start?” she asked.
Strange’s cloak stirred behind him.
“Immediately.”
The golden threads in the air began to spin faster.
“Three months,” Strange said. “That’s how long we have to gather memories, prepare the jump… and decide whether we trust each other enough to change history.”
Reyana glanced sideways at Yelena.
Yelena met her stare, unimpressed.
Natasha stood between them, expression unreadable.
Strange raised his hands.
“Then let’s begin.”
"Well... this is going to be fun," Loki grinned.
The room erupted in light as everyone returned to their timelines.
And the past began waiting for them.