Okay, so for those who are following me because of my other fanfiction, no worries, it is not abandoned, though I have been in the process of writing the next chapter for... awhile. I'm not satisfied with it yet and there are many other factors such as lack of time in uni. Since it is my mid-term week-long break, I will hopefully finish it by the end of this week.

To everyone else who are just checking out this story, this idea came to mind a year ago, but I never really got around writing it out much, but then I had the urge to start experimenting with it and see how it goes. I'll be alternating between this fanfiction and my other one, and if things go well, they will serve as a break from the other and I'll still have a fanfic I can update semi-regularly.

So here you go, a short chapter to start off the story and give you guys an idea of what it'll be like.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the original Harry Potter storyline and the Potterverse. I'm just borrowing it and messing around. Credits goes to all the fanfiction that I have read that inspired me to write this.

Warnings: Time-travel, AU, different Sortings, fem!Grey!MOD!Harry, slight OOC at times, also: weird shit may happen

Pairings: Neville/Luna, the rest are unconfirmed though there may be either HP/DM or HP/TMR-LV-whatever.

Chapter One: Divergence

Death watched as his favourite little soul looked around warily, her best friend by her side. Hazel Potter, he observed, had grown a lot since the first time he laid eyes on her. He still remembered the day he met her by the road, when he had come to collect the soul of the man who died in a car accident. She had been young and naive then, at the precious age of seven.

"Have you come to bring him home?" she had asked him innocently and he had been lost for words. They talked afterwards, about Living and Dying, about Limbo, about Heaven and about Hell. Three years later, she met Fate, who took an instant liking to her. Death was not very pleased with it, as Hazel began learning from Fate far more than was comfortable.

When she finally went to Hogwarts, she was sorted into Slytherin, surprising everyone, much to Fate's delight.

Over the years, Hazel was introduced to Luck and Chaos, Nature and Time. She forged herself a path of her own, defying odds and dealt with the Dark her own way. The Troublesome Three (Fate, Luck and Chaos) enjoyed meddling with her life, and Hazel always took their help and challenges in stride.

Now it seemed, it was time for Hazel to meet Change face-to-face.

Hazel took in the white space they had ended up in. The place was empty and completely devoid of colour.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked, eyes surveying her surroundings critically. Hazel could practically hear the gears and wheels turning in her mind, as she tried to make sense of their situation. If Hazel took a glimpse at her friends mind, she was sure she'd see books retrieved and discarded, pages constantly flipping and words flashing.

"Limbo, I think," Hazel said. Death had told her about such a place before. The Land Between Worlds.

"And you are quite right," a voice said. Hermione whirled around, wand raised. Hazel, who had recognised the voice, calmly turned around, hands relaxed.

Death stood before them, dressed in violet, gold and turquoise robes. Hazel froze, then groaned.

"Who picked your clothes?"

"Luck. I think it was Chaos's idea though. They wanted to see how well I could dress like your esteemed late Headmaster," Death replied, his usually emotionless voice was tinged with annoyance. Hazel snorted, then turned to the gaping Hermione.

"Mione, meet Death. Death, meet Hermione Granger," Hazel said as she gestured between them.

"Oh. Well. Pleased to meet you, sir," Hermione said awkwardly. Hazel chuckled. Hardly anyone she knew would be pleased to meet Death.

"So, is this The End?" Hazel asked her unofficial guardian. She was somewhat excited at the thought of going Home, yet her heart was not entirely content. She wouldn't say she had any regrets in life, for she had learnt from her unofficial guardians to live life well. And yet, she couldn't help but feel disappointed, perhaps even sad, about leaving the Living World. There was so much she wanted to do, to experience, to experiment, and so little time in a narrow-minded world. It was, after all, only a few moments ago, when Aurors chased them through the Ministry of Magic Headquarters, minutes after she finally defeated Lord Voldemort.

It had only been moments ago when she was accused of being a Dark Witch and a murderer, moments ago when they had left her no choice but to jump through the Veil, Hermione following close behind. These were the same people who hailed her the Girl-Who-Lived, their Saviour and Chosen One, for the accomplishment of her mother, the same people who threw her godfather into Azkaban without a trial, the same people who then condemned her the moment the Hat had called out "Slytherin!"

But Hazel had never been truly Dark. For all her bitterness and anger at the incompetence and ignorance of the Wizarding Ministry, Dumbledore, and the placement of her residence with her magic-hating Muggle relatives, she knew better than to overgeneralize.

She cared naught for blood purity, for needless slaughter or foolish fighting. It was true that she was not entirely against the Dark Arts, and would not hesitate to do things her way, using whatever resources was available to get what she wanted, but she still had her own set of morals and values.

Now if only more people could see things her way, or at least attempt to understand her actions and choices. Still, despite the Light not being very pleased with the way she did things, and the Dark annoyed with the way she meddled in their business, there was still so much that could be done, so much in life to enjoy especially now that she had gotten her biggest problem (Lord Voldemort, He-Who-Would-Have-Been-Decent-Without-Horcruxes-And-Hyporytical-Blood-Purity-Ideals) out of her way.

"No, it does not End here," Death said, to her surprise. He might have smiled, but his face was hidden, as always, so Hazel could not see what expression he had behind that raven-skull mask of his.

"Of course not, Hazel dearest," Fate sang as she swept in from nowhere, dressed in her usual red, black and amber gypsy outfit, her long and wavy dark golden hair trailing behind her. "Why, I still have so much in store for you!"

Hazel grinned at her wryly. "That's good to hear."

"Hazel..."

"Ah! Right. Hermione, meet Fate. Fate, meet Hermione," said Hazel, though it wasn't as if Fate and the others hadn't met or known Hermione before.

"Fate?" Hermione repeated sceptically. She wasn't doubting the validity of the statement as much as considering the power the woman before her held over their lives.

Hazel watched, amusedly, as Hermione began frowning at Death and Fate, no doubt suddenly being reminded of a certain annoying Divination Professor whose pastime was predicting the deaths of everyone she met - and anyone who met her would have to have more than nine lives to survive everything she predicts of them. But Fate told Hazel back when she was only thirteen, that Sybil Trelawney had truly been blessed with the Sight, though her gift was more often dormant than not. Fate had gone on to say that she had even given Trelawney a prophesy about Hazel before. Predictably, the prophesy involved the deaths of either Voldemort or herself.

"Yes, child. Though I interfere with the lives of mortals far less than you might think..." Fate said, then upon sensing Death's glare, hastily added, "Dear Hazel's life being an exception of course."

"You said you still have a lot in store for me but... we're in Limbo now," Hazel pointed out.

"Ah yes, but not for long. Change, please step forward."

Hazel and Hermione stared as a newcomer emerged from nothingness at Fate's command.

Change was someone Hazel had heard of before, from either Chaos or Fate, but she had never seen him before. Now he stood, facing them, wearing a jester's hat, painted face and a colourful chequered tunic and pants, all decorated with bells.

"Hello," he greeted them merrily, running a hand through short wavy blonde hair, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Hermione and Hazel exchanged wary glances. If he was anything like Fate or Chaos or the Weasley Twins...

"Hello," the both of them replied hesitantly. Change merely laughed.

"No need to be so scared. I'm merely here to help you along. Y'know, to make sure you don't get lost."

"Help us al—Where are we going?" Hermione spluttered.

"Why, to an Alternate Universe, of course!" Change and Fate chorused in reply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Hazel facepalmed.

Draco Malfoy fumbled with the golden instrument in his trembling hands. He knew he did not have much time. Time. Time was what he needed. And the reason why he had a time-turner looped around his neck, with the crystal timepiece held between fingers.

Three turns was all he needed for the special hourglass he had obtained from the Department of Mysteries, with the help of a loyal house-elf. He knew he would not forget the house elf's role in this important mission. He knew he'd never look at the world the same way again. Not after those thirteen years under the Dark Lord's rule.

There were so many things he knew he had to change, the major one being the result of the Battle at Hogwarts. Harry Potter had died then, and with his fall, the last hope of the Light perished. And though he scorned them when he was younger, he knew better now. He should have realised it earlier, since the Dark Lord's return at the end of their fourth year, but even then, he had been stubborn, and proud (not knowing how much pride would fall before a Dark Lord), and his family too late in turning away.

His family. Father crucio-ed beyond insanity for disloyalty, Mother killed for treachery. He was next, and as he curled up in the corner of his cell, he knew the guards would arrive any minute now, to bring him to his fate.

There was no time.

Draco spun the hourglass once.

To undo the past.

He spun the hourglass another time.

Change the world.

He spun the hourglass one last time.

Guards were thrown backwards on their way down into the dungeons of Azkaban, a bright silvery light filling everything. There was no sound. No colour. No feeling.

And Draco slumped to the floor and vanished.

This was not what he wanted, when he first set himself on a path towards world domination. He didn't expect things to turn out this way. He supposed he could blame it all on Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Mess-Up-His-Plans. But Tom Riddle knew better.

It was his fault. He could not deny it anymore, now that he was somewhat saner than before. It had been the result of paranoia, of abusing his soul, of abandoning sanity and foolishly chasing after half a prophesy—and a self-fulfilling prophesy at that. So he really had only himself to blame. Besides, the Potter brat was in no way responsible for the splitting of his soul and getting him stuck in Limbo.

Lord Voldemort knew not who was the one who killed him. He had been exhausted from fighting Potter day and night, until their powers waned and Dementors arrived like vultures. He had intended to deal the finishing blow, to shoot the killing curse at the boy, the curse that matched the boy's brilliant green eyes so well, and the Dark Lord had grown to respect the brat for all his will and defiant fire such that he felt the killing curse would be an honourable way to finish him—no unnecessary bloodshed or violence, no messy gore or carnage... But the Dementors had swooped in, feeding on the boy's despair, heedless to the Dark Lord's commands, and took away the boy's soul, leaving behind an empty body and hollow eyes like frozen stagnant pools of green water.

Then he had been struck from behind. And there was a brief explosion of pain, before he found himself surrounded by darkness. When he woke up, he was already in Limbo, where Death told him he could not move on, for the Train only took recognisable souls, and he was hardly a soul anymore.

Not that he particularly minded being killed then. It had happened so fast, his fear of death had no chance to manifest. And it wasn't like there was much of a world left to rule. During the nine years he battled Potter after the Battle at Hogwarts, the Wizarding world had slowly fallen to ruin. The war had escalated, other countries pitching in, until the lands were just short of looking like a post-apocalyptic world.

It might have been months, or years, or decades even, before two women and two men visited him at the Train Station, introduced themselves as Fate, Luck, Chaos and Change. They offered him a chance to redeem himself and have a second shot at life. Tom Riddle did not hesitate to take them on their offer.

Perhaps this time around, his original plan could work.

I started writing this one for myself, and will continue doing so.

However, if there is little interest in this fanfiction, I may not continue updating it online. Do review/fav/follow to show your support if you like it, yeah? Leave any comments or criticisms (constructive please, so I know how to improve it) you'd like. Feel free to PM or review if you have any questions.

Thanks~ Next chapter has been completed, but in an attempt at consistency *cough* I will only post it next week, or after my other fanfiction has been updated.