chapter 1: some people should not get ideas nor create rituals

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick-
-tock.
Ticktockticktockticktockticktocktick-

Tock.

The repetitive sound of a clock is the only thing breaking the silence that he has encased himself with. Is this what madness tastes like? he wonders. If it is, it tastes like dry air and the vibrant anxiety that makes his blood boil.

The horrible truth of his circumstances is that he is bored; utterly mind-numbingly bored. To make matters worse, the mind-numbing boredom settled next to the anxiety in his bones on the 3rd of May, 1998 and has not left since then.

It's now the 5th of November. 2013.

And he is still so achingly mind-numbingly bored.

His friends tried to help him at first but they were all dealing with the aftermath of the war and the scars that it has left behind.

He has talked to the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet, he has shook hands with people at the ministry and that he has met on the street, he has attended funeral after funeral after funeral, until he lost his voice, his hand cramps, and he has no tears left to cry.

And he has done it all with the same sense of boredom eating away at him.

It was only expected that his friends stops visiting, stops sending letters that remains unanswered, stops calling. It was only expected that Britain forgets about him.

He knows nothing but the dry air of Grimmauld Place, the repetitiveness of the old grandfather clock in the corner, and the boredom that never left. He cannot remember the last time that he left the sofa upon which he is lying face-down, his face mashed against the pillows. His human needs were replaced with boredom all those years ago.

Not for the first time, he wonders if there is any truth to the tale of the three brothers, and if so, if this is Death's way of punishing him for his accidental ownership of the three hallows. Stranger things has happened to him. Not that Death had been responsible for any of those times… Voldemort had been.

And suddenly, for the first time in 15½ years, Harry James Potter has an idea. A really fucking stupid, potentially life-risking idea.

It takes the whole Black library, twenty-one cryptic conversations with Luna, seventeen nargles, twelve pinned butterflies stolen from a museum, five pairs of Dumbledore's old socks, and a broken set of Narcissa's nicest china, but it's going to work. It also takes some more logical things as three wands - one of elder, one of holly, one of yew - and the remains of a Horcrux. He chooses himself for that one; it was enough of an adventure to get Dumbledore's old socks.

The ritual itself - because of course the idea needs a ritual - is pretty simple. Luna has given him a collection of cryptic notes for what he should expect after it works along with not so cryptic ritual instructions. She even organized it all as lists.

1. Stuff each pair of Dumbledore's socks with 3.4 nargles and 2.4 pinned butterflies
2. Use all three wands simultaneously to put the socks on fire
3. Throw the burning socks into the library and wait for the books to start burning
4. Cut the remains of the Horcrux with the broken china pieces according to the phase of the moon and the position of Neptune
5. Throw the Horcrux remains into the library fire
6. Have Luna put out the fire after the ritual succeeds

Harry is not there to see the sixth point get put into action.

The perhaps - in hindsight - obvious issue with throwing yourself into a library fire is that you can't avoid getting burned alive. Add to that the loss of blood and the questionable sanity of it all…

Harry is not at all surprised when he opens his eyes to be met with the white ceiling of Hogwarts' hospital wing; he is surprised by the thought that it's the first time in his life that it's a sight that he is happy to be met with. Hogwarts has always been his safe place, which definitely is ironic. All sense of happiness or safety disappears as he lower his glance and meet the twinkling eye of the one and only too-many-names Dumbledore. He knew that he should have questioned Luna more on the socks!

"How may I help you, sir?" he asks politely in hope that it will at least to some degree manage to throw Dumbledore off track. The infuriating Headmaster smiles calmly at him. Harry refuses to sit up to appear even politer; he's not sure if he can anyway. He has yet to look at the damage of the flames and cuts.

"What you're doing with two wands that have belonged to or are currently belonging to Dark Lords is a good start. Especially as one of them hasn't left my possession." Dumbledore inquires, looking genuinely interested. Harry swallows. He hopes that Luna's notes has survived the fire.

"How are you sure it's the same wand if it hasn't left your possession? And wouldn't it be all over the Prophet if a Dark Lord got disarmed?"

"Ah, both very good questions, my boy. Lets call it the intuition of an old man, shall we?"

Harry silently curses the ritual for bringing him to Hogwarts out of all places.

"Would you believe me if I said that a ritual gone wrong resulted in me traveling to the past?" Harry asks; it's not far from the truth. He is not actually sure if the ritual has succeeded, but Dumbledore still being alive seems like a positive in that context.

"A ritual would certainly explain the state that you arrived in and the duplicate wands, mr…?"

Harry grins.
"Riddle. Hadrian Mily Arthames Riddle."

He gives a laugh as Dumbledore pales. Messing with the past is fun.

"Not Gaunt?" Dumbledore asks at last.

"Why would daddy dearest give me grandmother's maiden name?" Harry questions with wide eyes and both eyebrows slightly raised. Dumbledore smiles thinly and gives an acknowledging nod in response.

"And your mother?"

"Now, that would be spoiling the future, sir."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but where am I in your future?"

Harry grins again, wider this time.
"Dead."

Dumbledore leaves rather quickly after that. He does give the date and asks Harry to at least consider staying at Hogwarts so that they can find a way to send him back. Harry is extremely amused by the fact that Dumbledore never introduced himself, but assumed that Harry would know who he was. He also definitely has no plans on staying at Hogwarts and get sent back, so he gets up from the bed and leaves only minutes after Dumbledore.

If he gets to the Chamber, he might be able to apparate from there. Or he should just go to the Room of Requirement… the hospital wing is on the first floor, so the Chamber is definitely closer.

Now, what can he possibly get up to in 1965?