Despite the commotion of recent weeks, the wizarding village of Hogsmeade was experiencing a calm end to summer. The attack at the World Cup had stricken fear back into the hearts of everyone old enough to remember Voldemort's first reign, but after several weeks with no additional attacks, people were beginning to settle back into their routines. Hogwarts had started the previous week, and the various businesses were gearing up for the first Hogsmeade weekend.

Outside the town, on the far side from Hogwarts, the slight breeze suddenly began to pick up its pace. The tall grass began to whip around, and leaves began swirling in a circle. This was accompanied by the appearance of green sparks that crackled as they span. A low roar, like a waterfall from a distance, filled the air as more and more sparks appeared, obscuring the entire area. Suddenly, the roaring gave way to a deadly silence as the sparks, leaves, and grass froze in place. The sparks shivered, then vanished, leaving no evidence they had ever been there, save for the body lying still on the ground.

Near an hour later, movement revealed that there was still life in the body. Eyelids fluttered and fingers twitched, before the man sat up with a gasp, sucking in air as quickly as possible. The man shot to his feet, spinning around and taking in his surroundings as his right hand raised and began glowing a deep red. Upon seeing nothing in the vicinity, however, he slowly relaxed as the glow faded. He then traced a strange symbol in the air before him that pulsed. No other effect was apparent, though he seemed satisfied enough to lower his hands. Continuing to take deep breaths, he reached up and gave a sigh of relief upon feeling a thin chain upon his neck. He soon froze once again, though, upon seeing the town lying before him, with a castle looming in the background. Emerald eyes widened, and he immediately began jogging towards the village.

He slowed as he reached the outskirts, spotting a few figures moving about the streets. With a look of concentration, a shimmer ran from his feet to his head, changing his appearance nearly instantaneously. The previously baggy grey robes now fit perfectly, though they were still ripped in several places now that he had grown by several inches. Visible underneath the robes that were open at the front was a dark blue hoodie, along with a pair of black jeans. The unkempt black hair had faded to a light brown, nearly blond color, and had receded to a much shorter length. The boys most distinct quality, the emerald green eyes, had changed to a pale blue color, thought they were just as sharp as before.

The man pulled many strange looks from the populace as he walked through the village but was mostly ignored as he strode towards the massive gates leading to the castle in the distance. Upon arriving at them, he grasped the wrought iron and pushed. The gates didn't budge. He tried pulling but received the same response. He stepped back and glanced about but was interrupted before he could try anything else.

"Hey, you!" a voice called out from behind him. The man spun on his heel, hands clenching at his sides, though he managed to restrain himself from any further action. "Why are you trying to get into the castle?"

The man paled as the woman approached, though his hands did not relax. "R-Rosmerta?" he asked, a tone of incredulity in his voice.

The woman stopped abruptly. "Aye, that's my name, though I don't recall meeting you before. Have we met?"

The man quickly schooled his expression. "No, we haven't. A friend described you to me when I told him I was coming here."

The woman, Rosmerta, seemed to relax at that. "Well, why didn't you say so? Come on, my pub is this way," she said, turning and moving back towards the main street of the village. The man hesitated, then followed her. "Now, what did you say your name was?"

The man hesitated, before answering, "Nicolaus. Nicolaus Blackwood."

Rosmerta tilted her head. "Quite the interesting name you've got there. Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

The man seemed to relax at this question. "Born in Britain, actually, though I've lived in Australia most of my life. My parents travelled a lot when they were younger and got a taste for foreign names."

Rosmerta nodded. "I can see that. I assume you haven't been here before? You looked pretty lost back there."

Nicolaus nodded. "Yeah, I just got here on the Knight Bus. I've never seen Hogwarts before, and my friend told me it was something I really needed to see while I was here. This is Hogsmeade, right?"

"Yep, sure is. And I don't think you'll be getting into the castle without an invite from one of the professors, they've upped security since the Lestrange's escape last year, not to mention the debacle at the World Cup," Rosmerta explained. Nicolaus stiffened at this explanation, though Rosmerta failed to notice. "The kids get to visit every few weeks, and since school's back in session, this weekend is their first visit of the year. You might meet a professor then, though I can't imagine them inviting someone they just met." Nicolaus didn't reply, appearing lost in thought.

"Welcome to the Three Broomsticks!" Rosmerta announced, breaking the man from his reverie. "The best pub in the Isles, though don't tell Tom I said that. We've got a few rooms for rent, if you'd like to stay and try your luck tomorrow."

Slowly, Nicolaus nodded. "That sounds great, actually. I'll probably need to pop back to London tomorrow, so I might not be around then. How much is it per night?"

"Just three Galleons, and for another 10 Sickles you'll get breakfast tomorrow. How's that sound to you?" she answered.

Nicolaus shoved a hand in his pocket and withdrew three Galleons a moment later. "Works for me."

"Great," Rosmerta answered. "Let me show you your room." She led him up the stairs and down a short hallway, before opening a door for him.

The instant the door closed behind him, Harry turned and ran his hand up and down it, satisfied upon hearing a squeak as the door sealed. Nearly hyperventilating, his appearance melted back to the form it had upon his arrival as he collapsed into the chair in front of the small desk.

What on earth is going on? he thought in a panic. Last time he had seen Rosmerta, she had been locked in a vicious (and losing) duel against Thorfinn Rowle, but she now looked several years younger, and very much alive. That was not to mention the village, which was half on fire and half blown up last he had seen. Something was very, very wrong, and he had no idea what was going on. Taking some deep breaths, he thought back to the last memories he had before he woke up here.

Harry dodged spellfire and explosions as he dashed towards the courtyard from the second floor girls' lavatory. He leaped down the entire entry staircase, a quick mutter of "Arresto Momentum" slowing him enough for a soft landing at the bottom. Continuing his mad sprint, he forced himself to ignore the screams he could hear coming from nearly every direction. Where he could, he waved his hand and launched curses towards the masked figures, though he doubted most of them would hit their targets. He tossed a silent Flipendo at the main entry doors, knocking one off its hinges entirely, and slid to a halt at the top of the outdoor stairs.

Standing before him, flanked by the Lestranges and the Malfoys, was Lord Voldemort himself. The pale, snake-like face was twisted in what he guessed was a smirk, though it was hard to tell with the warped features. The Lestranges had someone held at wandpoint, though their upper body was obscured by a large cloth.

"So, Harry, you've finally decided to join us," the monster spoke softly, his voice drifting easily across the distance. Harry descended the steps and slowly stalked closer. "I was wondering how long it would take."

"What do you want, Tom?" Harry asked brusquely, in no mood for the Dark Lord's games, though he knew he had little choice.

Voldemort, in a rare show of patience, failed to rise to Harry's use of his given name. "Now, now, Harry, there's no reason we can't all be polite here. After all, I think I have a rather… convincing bargaining chip you may be interested in." A skeletal hand gestured vaguely towards the shrouded figure. Harry suspected he knew who it was but was still praying for it to be anyone else.

Bellatrix, with a mad cackle, tore the shroud from the figure, revealing the form of Hermione Granger. Harry's fists shook with rage, though he did not dare to move a muscle, seeing Rabastan's wand hovering just behind her head. Hermione mouthed "I'm sorry" before she was forced to her knees by a sharp kick from Bellatrix.

"What do you want," Harry demanded, growling out each word.

Voldemort smiled, a disturbing sight. "Why, it's quite simple. If you can defeat me in a duel, right now, your friend will go free. I presume you can guess what the result will be if you refuse my… generous offer."

Harry scowled, but knew he had no real option. "Alright, Tom. Let her go, and we'll duel."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Now, I know you know that I can't do that. Though, I have made a concession to ease your mind." He gestured to his followers. "As your friend can attest, I placed a spell on my friends here. If I am to fall, they will be incapacitated." Harry looked to Hermione, who nodded firmly. "I think you'll agree, that was most thoughtful on my part. Now, will you accept my proposition?"

Harry squared his shoulders, knowing he had no real choice here. "Very well, Tom. Let's do this."

Voldemort smiled, then waved his familiar looking pale wand before him. All debris in the area was cleared and placed in a perfect circle with the two combatants on opposite sides from each other. Harry slowly began circling to his right, a motion that was mirrored by Voldemort.

Deciding to make the first move, Harry thrust his right hand forwards, launching a quick series of curses at his nemesis. Each had a different weakness, so a single shield couldn't stop them all. Voldemort negligently flicked his wand, raising a wall of earth before himself, bolstered by a crackling magical shield. Harry's curses destroyed both shields but went no further. Harry, however, had not wasted the time the spells took to travel the distance between them, and was sprinting to the side, launching spears of earth at Voldemort with his left hand while conjuring a small pack of wolves with his right.

Voldemort easily transfigured the spears into flames, which he sent blasting right back towards Harry, then banished the wolves towards the castle at high speeds. They yelped as they flew, then fell silent with a series of sickening crunches. The Dark Lord then sent nearly a dozen spells towards his opponent with a single wave of his wand.

Harry grimaced as he was forced to conjure a metal shield in front of himself to block the two Unforgivables Voldemort had mixed in with the more mundane curses, then threw up a glowing blue shield that deflected most of the remaining spells. A single piercing hex punched through both shields and lanced through Harry's left side as he dodged away from it at the last second.

Rolling back to his feet, Harry pushed magic through his feet, raising dirt into the air all around Voldemort to obscure his vision. At the same time, he cast a Patronus charm straight at Voldemort, followed by several dozen conjured metal orbs, sent flying at breakneck speeds.

Voldemort spun his wand in a circle, transfiguring the dust around him into tiny shards of glass, which then launched high into the air. His eyes widened momentarily at the massive silver stag racing towards him, but he reacted quickly by slashing his wand at an angle as he spun to the side, redirecting the metal pellets back at Harry. He then gestured towards the glass shards, which coalesced into a small dragon that dived towards the boy that had evaded him for so long.

The pattern continued for several minutes, each combatant collecting several more minor injuries, though nothing severe enough to put either out of the fight. With a roar, Voldemort jabbed his wand directly at Harry's chest, spewing a flood of green and red light at the young man before him. Harry transfigured and conjured a series of physical shields that managed to stop all of the Unforgivables that had been flying at him. Before he could celebrate, though, he saw a nearly invisible ripple of light flying directly towards his chest.

With no time to attempt to block or deflect it, Harry allowed himself to fall to the ground. As if in slow motion, he watched as the spell grazed the front of his robes, turning them to ash, but failing to connect solidly. When he hit the ground, he rolled to the side and jumped back up, ready to continue the fight.

He paused when he realized Voldemort hadn't cast another spell, nor did he look like he was about to. In fact, there was a cruel smile growing on his lipless mouth. Harry glanced down, where Voldemort's eyes seemed to be looking.

There, where that last spell had grazed his robes, was a growing hole. The edges were slowly turning to ash, and it was also spreading to his other clothes. As he raised his hand to cut away the affected material, a rushing sound filled his ears. His hand slowed to a snail's pace, before stopping entirely. As more and more cloth fell away from his chest, a small hourglass on a golden chain was revealed. However, the glass was being dissolved just as his clothes were, and the dust within was spilling out, coating his skin. Green sparks began to appear around him, even as he tried to rip the Time-Turner from his chest, to no avail. The rushing sound grew in strength, overwhelming all of his senses, before –

Harry opened his eyes. Unless this was all just an extremely elaborate illusion that Voldemort had trapped him in, he had been thrown back in time, apparently to the beginning of his fourth year. Curiously, though, his magic and body remained in their matured states, and kept all the changes they'd had been through in the past few years. To check his suspicions, Harry decided he needed a copy of the Daily Prophet, Harry replaced his disguise, removed the privacy spell on the door, and went back downstairs.

Rosmerta was cleaning some glasses behind the bar when he exited the stairway. "Nic, can I get you anything?"

"Just a copy of the Prophet, if you've got one?" Harry asked. Instead of replying, Rosmerta reached beneath the bar and tossed a bundle of papers at him. "Thanks," he said, and went back upstairs. This time, when he closed the door, he drew a series of runes on it with his finger, leaving glowing symbols behind. When he finished, the entire door flashed with a blue light that ran along the walls, floor, and ceiling before fading to nothing. The only evidence that he had done anything was a single rune, pulsing a faint blue, in the upper corner of the door.

Confident that he could now be certain of his solitude, Harry leaned up against the headboard of his bed and flipped the newspaper open. The majority consisted of the usual gossip and fluff pieces, but he found a small article on the eighth page that drew his attention.

Investigation into World Cup Continues

After the World Cup, a group of wizards who had apparently overindulged in the post-game festivities caused a significant amount of damage to the campground and private property that was staged there, in addition to participating in Muggle-baiting. After some time passed, the Dark Mark was conjured over the nearby forest. Some unnamed Hogwarts students who were fleeing the campground were found at the scene where it was cast, but it was determined that a house elf that stole a wand was the culprit. Those who participated in the Muggle-baiting were not apprehended, though Auror Captain Potter has stated that his team had uncovered some promising leads to their identity.

Harry read the article, and nearly tossed the newspaper aside before something he read made him do a double take. "—Auror Captain Potter—" Harry's heart began racing. Something was very, very wrong here. He tore through the rest of the newspaper but found nothing of interest. Either the Prophet had made a massive typo or – Harry didn't know what else it could be, but he needed more information. He was already planning on stopping by Diagon Alley the next day, so he would just have to add a few more stops to his journey.

Disclaimer: This applies to the entire story. Any characters, locations, ideas, or anything else that is recognizable from JK Rowling's Harry Potter books are her property. Original characters, locations, or ideas are mine. When I draw inspiration from outside sources, I will explicitly note the original source in an author's note in that chapter. If you notice I have not given credit where it is due, please notify me and I will fix the oversight.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. No, I haven't abandoned my other story, but I wasn't entirely pleased with how it was proceeding. At some point, when I feel up to it, I'll probably rewrite and republish it. However, this idea was sort of festering in my head, so I decided to get it out. I'm aiming for longer chapters in this story (this one is already the longest one I've written, and I'm aiming for longer ones as I go), so it'll probably update much slower than Unbreakable ever did. However, it is much more fleshed out already than Unbreakable, so we'll see how it goes. At this point, I'm planning for each chapter to be part plot development, part flashback, but if that gets too confusing please let me know. The name "Rahkesh Asmodaeus" is from Miranda Flairgold's "A Second Chance at Life," which I strongly suggest you all read. It's very original and well-written. Anyways, thanks for reading, and please drop a review!

Edit, 2/4/19: Fixed a typo.

Edit, 11/8/19: Changed Harry's name.