Chapter 1; Sacrifice

Clouds filled the sky around an old, broken down castle in northern Scotland. Looking at the crumbling walls, collapsed towers, and dark, murky lake, one could easily guess how old the century old structure truly was. What one couldn't see was that less than two decades before, the castle was a thriving place filled with adults, children, teenagers and all manner of creatures. Neither could they tell of the one who still resided there.

At that moment, there was a stirring in a darkened room in one of the few still intact towers. The room was a rounded husk of what once could have been a magnificent place. Now, debris was scattered and thrown everywhere. Suddenly, a voice called out into the gloom.

"Well, my boy, it looks as if we may have a visitor, and a rather rare and peculiar one at that."

In a shadowed corner, a man stirred and finally sat up on the makeshift cot set up there. The man's body looked aged and deformed, but the look in his hooded eyes gave a look that told he was in no need of a new lease on life. The years had not been kind to this man, that much was certain.

There was a sudden ray of light in the clouds that hung in the sky. Soon, the light became a bird, and the bird entered the room from a missing window, landing on the remains of a desk and giving a soft thrill. As if responding to the bird's presence, most of the shadows seemed to wane, and a small fire jumped up in the remains of a fireplace at the bird's sharp glare.

The man, with long and dark matted hair falling past a surprisingly clear face and fierce emerald eyes sat adjacent to the fireplace looked at the bird with something akin to surprise on his features. On a shadowed shelf above the man's head, some cloth shifted until part of it split open as its voice once again filled the room.

"Well, it has been a while Fawkes. To what do Harry and I owe the pleasure?" the Sorting Hat asked. The phoenix gave another thrill and the hat nodded.

"You can understand Fawkes, Hat?" a rasping voice from Harry asked, only to choke slightly on his own words and start rubbing his throat. The Sorting Hat simply looked surprised the man had said anything at all, after being silent for about a full year.

Fawkes, who had been missing from just after Dumbledore's funeral in his sixth year, was currently staring at Harry before fluttering over and landing on his knee. The Sorting Hat slid off its shelf and onto Harry's head, letting him talk mentally if he preferred.

"Well, now. Finally deciding to be coherent, are we?" the Hat asked 'looking' down at Harry.

'Yeah,' Harry thought to the Hat. 'Was that really my voice?'

"Indeed. That's what happens if you don't use part of your body for prolonged periods of time, say, a year?" the Hat replied somewhat dryly. "So what brought on the actual thought process?"

'Not sure,' Harry thought back. 'Maybe Fawkes…Yeah, probably Fawkes. Can you thank him for me?'

"Do it yourself," the Hat responded, falling silent. Trying to clear his throat a bit, he was surprised he could actually make some noise, then he noticed Fawkes had been crying on his throat around where his voice box was located.

"Thanks, Fawkes. For everything," he managed to croak out. The phoenix gave another thrill, then Harry felt something slip by his rather deteriorated occlumency barriers.

"You are welcome, young one. I actually come with a… proposition for you," an ancient and powerful voice spoke into his mind, causing a slight start.

"Was that… you, Fawkes?" Harry asked, looking at the bird on his knee with some suspicion.

"Of course. Though I must say that your magic has greatly deteriorated since we last met all those years ago."

"My… magic deteriorated?" Harry asked, wondering just what was going on, on this rather odd day.

"Don't be surprised," the Hat spoke up again from on Harry's head. "When's the last time you've had any actual food? Your body's been sustained by your magic ever since you came here after his defeat almost three years ago. When it ran out of free, wild magic from around you, your body began eating at your own magic, almost faster than your core could replace it. I'm actually rather lucky to still be around."

Thinking back, Harry couldn't actually remember much of the past, well, three years according to the Sorting Hat. When Voldemort had finally been defeated, Harry took a look around and found that there was actually nothing left for him. All of the Order, the Weasleys, and even Hermione finally passed away not a week after Voldemort fell from the coma she'd spent a year and a half in as a result of some unknown spell. Looking over himself once more, Harry was actually slightly amazed. 'This old body hasn't died yet? Heck, if the Hat can be trusted to tell time, I'm only somewhere in my thirty's.'

"So, Fawkes, you mentioned something of a proposition?" Harry managed to ask after some more moments of thought.

"Do you want to save them? Do you also want to save yourself?" the fire-bird asked, fixing Harry with his piercing stare.

'Save myself?' Harry thought, Sorting Hat still on his head.

"In case you haven't noticed, my boy… you're wasting away. Not just figuratively, but literally as well," the Hat commented from his head. "I'm more curious what Fawkes would possibly get from this."

"…Conclusion," was the only answer offered.

"…Fine, what do we do?" Harry asked.

A little over a month after Fawkes' arrival, Harry Potter stood in a now-clean Head office. He was standing facing a mirror in the middle of a rather complex rune circle. The other odd thing in the office was the mirror itself. Or rather it's reflection.

"Do I really have to go that far to hide?" Harry asked staring somewhat apprehensively into the mirror. In the mirror was the picture of mid aged woman in her early thirties with long raven hair falling about her waist and framing a pair of violet eyes which were staring back into his own.

"Of course it is. Haven't you been listening at all this past month?" the Sorting Hat asked from his shelf which was now located behind where Harry stood. Fawkes was perched on top of the full length mirror itself.

"We are traveling backwards with Time, young one. The fewer complications added in, the better for us. These two potions are the easiest and simplest to make," Fawkes thrilled into his mind.

"Alright… so there will be two of me running around then?" Harry asked, eyes still locked on 'his' reflection. "How far back are we going, anyways?"

"The best time would be shortly before Voldemort visits your parents, so that you can be rid of that scar. It wouldn't do to have two children with identical scars running around, now would it?"

With a resigned sigh, Harry popped two vials out of the mirror, whose reflection became 'Harry' again before being banished into the far wall, shattering it in the process.

"You know, I might need to take this wand with me," Harry commented, staring at the shaft of ebony wood. "The Harry there will need your other wand, Fawkes, but none of Ollivander's other wands are really any good for me. He custom made this with the remains of your feather, mixed with my blood and the Basilisk Venom and Phoenix Tears still floating around in it."

"I will be sure to drop it off, Harry. A note of caution may be necessary, though. It is a rather…volatile wand," Fawkes commented.

"And you're sure these potions are what we need? Gender-Changing and Pigment-Draining potions don't usually last more than an hour at best," Harry commented, swirling the two potion vials he took from the mirror.

"Perhaps this is too complicated for mortals, hmm?" the Hat quipped from behind. "Let's try to dumb this down a bit for you. As you go backwards through time, your very life energies are being mixed with magic, mainly to keep your memories intact. As this happens, your body is broken down and rebuilt. If potions such as these are brought in as you are changing, they will be 'rebuilt' into your new body as well."

"That wasn't much better, but I guess I sort of understand now," Harry commented, still looking nervous.

"Don't worry much about it, Harry. Just trust me to do my part, and you will be fine," Fawkes said, taking perch on Harry's shoulder as he finished his short note which was wrapped around his wand and given to Fawkes.

"That should be it," Harry muttered, before turning to the Sorting Hat. "S'pose this is 'bye' for now, Hat. See you twenty-something years ago."

"Yes, I suppose you will, won't you?" the Hat said, sounding wistful. "If you want a bit of 'fun', try calling 'me' Damian during your sorting. It won't tell anything it finds in your head anyway, but he won't really have to look too far past your new memories to place you where you want."

"Thanks," Harry said, before turning to the bird on his shoulder. "Time to go, eh?"

Fawkes bobbed his head in a nod, before lifting his wings and singing a very solemn song. The room lit up spectacularly as all the runes around them seemed to ignite, then fire surrounded them. Harry just barely remembered to break open the potion vials before he lost consciousness.

chapter 1; end