Explicit Adult Content – Read at your Own discretion

Created, Written and Illustrated by k505

Additional Illustrations by No One Currently – Looking for Artists

Edited and Proofread by No One Currently – Looking for Editors

Dedicated to my Favorite Time Travel-Reincarnation Fanfiction Authors

(Full) Disclaimer: I do not own JK Rowling's Magical World (The Harry Potter Series (books 1-7/Films 1-8), Quidditch throughout the Ages (book), The Tales of Beetle the Bard (book), the Cursed Child (script), Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them (film)) or the Labyrinth film. They belong to their creators and various publishers. No, money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fictional story is the product of my imagination and shared for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

Once Upon a Time Turner, Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series

Summary: Happiness in Harry Potter's life is fleeting – much like fireworks exploding in the night sky, they quickly fade. After the birth of his third child, Harry was betrayed by the woman he called his wife and by his friends and family. His entire life was fabricated by a duplicitous and manipulative old goat and three whiney redheads in order to gain power, prestige and wealth. Imprisoned in the Potter manor, while someone else wears his face and uses his name, Harry falls into a deep depression. Then Hermione breaks free of the compulsion spells and potions placed on her by her so-called husband, Ronald. She seeks out her one and only friend, the real Harry James Potter. They concoct a complex plan to change the world and to create a better, brighter future for the world, through time travel. Harry, now under a different identity, is determined to honor Hermione's sacrifice.

Future Main Pairing(s): Tom M. Riddle Jr./Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape/Wyatt Ravenswood/Charles Urquhart/Antares Black (HP)

Future/Established Side Pairing(s): Marius Gaunt ǀ Alt. Dark Lord/Bellatrix Black/Evan Rosier/Barty Crouch Jr./Alecto Carrow/Hestia Carrow/Flora Carrow/Pansy Parkinson/Morag McDougal/Daphne Greengrass/Nadia Nott, Undecided/Reinaldo McNair, Arcturus Black/Melania McMillan, Charlus Potter/Dorea Black, Altair Potter/Elizabeth McKinnon, Joshua Ryder/Aurelius Potter, Pollux Black/Irma Crabbe, Cygnus Black/Druella Rosier, Theodore Tonks/Andromeda Black, Magnus Ravenswood/Arthur Weasley/Byrne McCaffrey, Oliver Wood/Francis "Frankie" Belby, Gregory "Greg" Belby/Angelina Johnson, Percival Rookwood/Audrey Whittle, Aquila Black/Julius Potter/Nicodemus Diggory/Daemon Bones, Alessander Blythe/Sirius Black, Vernon Dursley/Adele Addison, Paul Martin/Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley/Lavinia Richards, Scorpius Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass, Corbin Capulet/Erin Lovegood, Roger Davies/Cedric Diggory/Isaiah Holmes-Moriarty, Bran Kensington/Erik Lovegood/Aistan Kamel/Tao-Peng Lin/Basilio Leone/Indra Kumar/Oleander Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Lysander Trelawney, Laurence Scamander/Ophelia Malfoy/Nymphadora Tonks, Odysseus Malfoy/Hermione Holmes-Moriarty, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, Percival Graves/Newton Scamander, Theseus Scamander/Leta Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy/Queenie Goldstein, Claudius Malfoy/Narcissa Black, Rodolphus Lestrange/Rabastan Lestrange, Nikola Watson/Dianna Potter, Remus Lupin/Fiona Wellington/Josie Martinez/Elysia Frost/Claire Morten/Rhea DuBois, Auric D'Arcy/Amelie Chastain-Leone/Henrik Frost, Xenophilius Lovegood/Aleksander Chastain-Leone, Rolf Scamander/Luna Lovegood

Listen carefully, my dear reader… Humans fear what they cannot predict, what they cannot control and what they cannot understand. To use magic and to see the true nature of this world, one must free themselves of these fears. If you want to see beyond the façade of the ordinary and predictable, you must embrace the unknown and face the fact that not everything is dictated by logic and reason. Suspend your criticism and doubts and believe in something greater and more wonderful than you can ever imagine.

Introduction

Introduction

Becoming the Wolf

"Have you ever dealt with people who have lost everything in just an hour? In the morning you leave the house where your wife, your children, your parents live. You return, and you find a smoking pit. Then something happens to you - to a certain extent you stop being human. You do not need any glory, money anymore; revenge becomes your only joy. And because you no longer cling to life, death avoids you, the bullets fly past. You become a wolf." - Russian General Aleksander Lebed

"Please," I beg, "I want to see my children, Ginny! Please, please let me see my kids!" I plead desperately with the middle-aged redheaded woman, my eyes are wild with fear. My desperation gnaws at me like a lion at an antelope's leg. It's a helpless sickening feeling. I am panicking, I fear that I would be alone once more without having seen my children, even for a moment. I reach for her wrist unconsciously. She sneers down on me from where I am on my knees on the white marble floor, begging. Drawing her foot back she lands a kick in my gut and I crumple in on myself. By the time I had recovered, wheezing, the massive front door slams shut behind the redheaded woman. I stare at the redwood door uncomprehendingly for several moments. I am alone once more. I am imprisoned in the old Potter Estate alone, always alone. Ginny has gotten what she wants, she had forced me to impregnate her, again, like some prized stud. However, she had not followed through with her half of the bargain. "Fuck!" I curse slamming my fist against the marble wall of the foyer, tears of frustration and anger trail down my cheeks. Maybe, I was stupid, gullible or just desperate enough to see my kids that I had believed she'd uphold her half of the bargain. Maybe, she'd slipped me something or spelled me befuddled. Maybe, I am just lonely, and I let myself be used, desperate for some human contact. If I am brutally honest with myself, it is the last option.

The carnal pleasures we commit together always leaves a bad taste in my mouth and later, I knew I will be sick over the toilet. Sick of my own desperation, sick of Ginny's greed (her wanton moans still ring in my ears, as does her sickening praise) and sick of the act itself. She'd forced my hand, but I had still committed the carnal act. Although, I can lay with women, my sexual preference lies in my own gender. I am so lonely, trapped in these echoing old halls. I desperately want to see my kids.

Ginny and her mother had used dark magic and blood magic to imprison me here against my will. Then they had given my face and name to someone else. Unfortunately, whoever was wearing my face is infertile. So, I was Ginny's only means for children. She is desperate for more children before she reaches an age she cannot carry children. I am trapped eternally in my seventeen years old form – young and fertile.

I received the Daily Prophet and read as "Harry Potter" bolstered his fame as an Auror with his daring rescues of victims and captures of criminals. Whomever was wearing my identity was almost suicidal in their drive to save everyone. Sometimes I wondered if my imposter was actually suicidal, wanting to escape the Weasley's control. I had tried suicide, but the Master of Death title was not some child's fairytale, after all. I had cleaned up the evidence before Ginny and Molly discovered my inability to stay dead in addition to my eternal youth. I didn't want them to capitalize on that knowledge.

I sink to the floor burying my head in my hands. I wondered how James Sirius and Albus Severus were handling Hogwarts. Were they pranksters like their grandfather? Did James or Albus love to fly, like I did? Did either of them inherit my parselmouth abilities? I wondered what Lily Luna looked like? Did she look more like her mother or her grandmother? I wondered about this child, the one I had just put in Ginny's womb, would it be a little boy or girl?

"Harry?" a feminine voice whispers hesitantly. I look up slowly, expecting to see Ginny, but my eyes widen when I see an aged Hermione Granger-Weasley. She is still undeniably Hermione, but there is something in her eyes – a coldness and bitterness. My eyes narrow. I only have fond memories of Hermione, but I do not if she is part of this plot.

"Have you come to see the Weasley's prisoner and prized stud? Come to taunt or torture me?" I ask bitterly.

"No," Hermione bit out angrily, "I came to see my one and only friend, the real Harry James Potter."

"And now you found me." I say carefully, "What do you want?"

"Harry you were not the only one fooled by the Weasley family or trapped in a miserable prison." Hermione claims firmly. "Although my prison was my marriage to Ronald, whereas yours is more physical. They drugged me with love potions and other mind-altering substance, I had not been myself for a long time... May I come in?"

I hesitate, for just a moment, before pushing open the massive front door. I stare out across the hidden valley which houses Potter manor. The valley is lush with wildlife, a dirt track leads deep into the forest from the side. I cannot leave the manor, even to go to the gardens. Open doors and windows are my only way to experience the outdoors, but I cannot step outside. The blood ritual repels me from passing any threshold into the outdoors. The summer sunlight filters down through the twisted branches of the trees which create a long tree-alley framing the front door to the edge of the property. Hermione steps through the doorway and her arms embrace me. I do not embrace her back, I involuntary shake at her touch. I have not been touched in a platonic and positive manner for many years. "I'm sorry, Harry." She says pulling back and wiping her eyes.

"How did you find me?" I ask cautiously.

"I followed the redhead bitch." Hermione says, "Ginny Weasley is not as stealthy as she believes. I am sorry, I didn't come sooner Harry, but I had to blackmail Ronald into a divorce. I managed to break the compulsions on me, several months ago."

"How did you manage that?" I ask in surprise.

"I was joking around in the Weasley kitchen and told your double an inside joke and he didn't recognize it. I quickly realized it wasn't you. The shock allowed me to overpower the compulsion." Hermione says, we sit on the white marble steps of the staircase.

"Do you know who it is?" I ask cautiously, the identity of my double has always troubled me.

"It's not human," Hermione says in a strange tone, "It's a subspecies of a dryad and a Leshy with unique shapeshifting capabilities. Albus and the Weasley family began growing it in Dumbledore Manor's greenhouse in your fifth year. It's the last of its species. Well, it was the last of its species. It has been breeding with a number of witches."

"Then why did Ginny…" I ask softly, trailing off. Why did Ginny force me to impregnate her? Was it just to hurt me?

"I imagine she doesn't want the thing to lay three avocado-sized seeds in her. The seeds become as large as ostrich eggs before the woman gives birth. The eggs then hatch two days later." Hermione says in her patent-professor tone.

"Why would any woman want that?" I ask in horror.

Hermione blushes fiercely, "Apparently the thing is well endowed. Also, when the eggs rock inside the girls, they cause powerful orgasms." She concludes.

"How many people know about it officially?" I ask.

"Well, there's Ginny, Ron and Molly. Then it's breeders, who are Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecombe, Katie Bell, Fay Dunbar, Morag McDougal, and Tracey Davis. Then there's three Healers at St. Mungo's and reluctantly Kingsley Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt has been trying to find you and rescue you, but the Weasleys have blackmail on him." Hermione finished.

"That's rather disappointing," I say. That so many people know I am missing and have done nothing, is a stab to the heart. Furthermore, that Kingsley, the man I remember for his integrity and bravery is being blackmailed by the Weasleys, is an uncomfortable thought. I have always thought Shacklebolt was far more honest than that.

"I know," Hermione muttered. "Harry," she says hesitantly, "Harry, I know you want to leave Potter manor, but don't." She rushes in case I cut her off, but I am too shocked, "The Weasleys, they've been passing laws under your name. They're very discriminatory laws. Your double has had multiple assassination attempts on him. The papers spin it off as arrests of Dark Wizards, but it's not just dark creatures and wizards and witches. Even if we did find a way to get you out of here. No one would help you. They wouldn't let you live long enough to explain. You're hated by a large majority of the magical populace." Hermione says sadly.

"What about my kids, I can't leave them unprotected and alone." I plead desperately.

"The kids know…" Hermione says after a moment of silence, "Well, at least James Sirius and Lily Luna do. They've been indoctrinated to hate you and think you were a spoiled and selfish bastard who refused to share your wealth with the family."

"What…" I gasp, my lips moving soundlessly. "How…"

Hermione looks close to tears, "I overheard them speaking with my daughter and Molly. My own fucking daughter called me a cow." Hermione says, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You know, Ron began dousing me with mind-altering potions in fourth year. I hate Ron. Ron essentially raped me and forced me to give birth to his children…I hate them all." Hermione sobs as I gather her into my arms hesitantly. I am crying soundlessly as Hermione sobs. She is wailing as if in pain. Perhaps she is. The Weasleys destroyed us. Hermione and I are broken and bitter people.

"That thing isn't Harry Potter." Draco snarled at his father from his cell. The Malfoy father and son had adjacent cells in Azkaban. Lucius had been trapped in Azkaban for the last fifteen years, but Draco had only been imprisoned for five months, "I think I'd know my own schoolyard nemesis." Draco snarled. The cold depths of the dank prison chill Draco to the bone.

"So, our boy hero is dead and gone? Destroyed by the Light faction?" Lucius snarked back, "Now, you see why I sided with the Dark faction." Lucius says haughtily.

"Daddy," Scorpius whispered, "I'm hungry." Draco pulled his son onto his lap. Lucius looked worriedly at his son and his grandson. Draco was already halving his food to give his son more. His fair-haired son, Draco, was rail thin from the lack of substantial food, much like Lucius was. Scorpius was steadily fading away. The Dementors targeted the child the most. When, not if, Scorpius died, Lucius feared for his son's sanity. Lucius watched though the gloom as Draco carded his fingers through Scorpius's hair in a soothing manner. The thirteen-year-old boy curled in on himself on Draco's lap. Although, Lucius was not a demonstrative man and loved to argue with his son, Lucius cared deeply for his child.

The Greengrass girl, whom his wife had arranged to marry Draco, was not in Azkaban. Astoria Greengrass had sold the location of her husband and son for her own freedom. Lucius wished he could rub that fact into his wife's, Narcissa's, face. However, the woman had killed herself before she could be placed in Azkaban. Narcissa had slit her throat in front of the Aurors and Draco. The Aurors restrained Draco and watched gleefully as Narcissa bled out. Fuck Potter and the Light side, Lucius thought, let them all rot. The sound of waves crashing against the rock and the moans and screams of the prisoners are Scorpius's lullaby. No child, no child should be thrown into prison for the crimes of his or her family. However, far too often Lucius was seeing their appearance in Azkaban again and again. It disgusts him and forces him to fight back his rage. He wants them dead for their crimes against the dark faction. Yes, he was not a good man, but he didn't target children. They were the monsters.

"Hermione, why are you here? Don't get me wrong, I am happy to see you again. However, I know you and I know you have a plan." I ask the frizzy haired woman. We are still in the foyer with Hermione and me sitting at the edge of the sweeping marble staircase with the once-upon-a-time crimson runner, which I had changed to green in a passionate fit of anger. I had come to abhor the color crimson and the word Gryffindor. Gryffindor meant so many painful things to me, from my idiocy to the betrayal of the Weasleys, especially Ginny and Ron.

"I was planning on your help researching." Hermione says closing her eyes and relaxing into my side.

"Researching what exactly?" I ask softly.

"Something like time travel. I want us to have a second chance to change everything." She whispers.

"And how do plan to research? The Weasleys took the Potter Libraries." I ask.

"I may have liberated the Potter libraries in addition to a few of the Ministry's contraband collections, including a number of Dark pureblood families' libraries, which they had stored in the Department of Mysteries. Kingsley hasn't reported it to anyone." Hermione says sheepishly.

I laugh softly. "You and your books," I say fondly.

"Yes, me and my books. However, I think we should start with unbinding you from the manor and removing any foreign substances, charms and potions, in you. Also, we need to make the house impenetrable to the Weasleys and the Ministry of Magic."

"What if Ginny or Molly comes to check up on me again?" I ask unhappily.

"I hadn't thought about that." Hermione says.

"How about we make the Weasleys think they came to see me, but they really didn't." I say.

"How do you propose we do that?" Hermione asks.

Biting my lower lip, I answer hesitantly, "When the Weasleys were clearing out the house of books, they didn't find a few textbooks on Basic Runes and Arithmancy. They were in the attic bedroom. I've been reviewing them, but they came pretty easily to me. Although, I don't have a wand… I've been altering a few low-level spells." Hermione's eyes widen in surprise.

"Harry, you know that spell alteration is an extremely difficult skill. I mean creating spells in much simpler. You need incredible creativity, knowledge, a skill in linguistics and brute power to alter a spell!" Hermione says.

"I didn't know that." I answer softly.

"Harry, how long have you been hiding your intelligence and why?" Hermione asks gnawing at her lip anxiously.

"I am sorry, Hermione, but the Dursleys beat me if I scored better than Dudley. Then Ron is an underachiever and a jealous prat. I swear that boy would laze about and eat all day if he could." I murmur softly, hesitantly.

"Fucking Ron Weasley," Hermione snarled, before visibly calming herself, "Harry, be yourself with me. You don't need to hide anything from me. I promise I will think things over before I make a decision." I nod slightly. "Now explain the spell to me."

"It's an amalgamation of the Fidelus Charm and the Muggle's repulsion charm, the Notice-Me-Not charm. You know the charm which makes Muggles think they are needed somewhere else. However, I finetuned the Notice-Me-Not to affect Wizards and Witches, but instead of making think they've left on the stove or forgot to shut the garage, it influences their thoughts and emotions. For example, if Ginny needed to see me to force a bank signature, she would be compelled to choose an alternative means to get a bank signature – like forgery. Or if she wanted me to father another child, she'd find someone else to do it. It both hides me and directs attention to other people. Only a Master Occlumens would become suspicious."

"That's ingenious!" Hermione praises me. "Now, we also need to protect the manor while we work. Any ideas?"

"The Fidelus of course and some serious antitracking charms, but Hermione I don't have my wand."

"You mean this," she says offering me the Death Stick.

"Hermione, this is the elder wand…" I say cautiously.

"I know. The Weasleys destroyed your holly wand, but the Elder Wand was in Dumbledore's coffin."

I chewed my lip for a moment, "Okay, you graverobber. I'll use it, but only because beggars can't be choosers." She snorts in amusement. I smile back at her hesitantly. I take the wand into my hands. It feels like coming home.

He hadn't heard from his best friend, Draco, for the last year. Blaise flipped through the reports on his massive redwood desk, a strand of his dark hair falling into his eyes. His quill flew over the heavy stack of parchment as he carefully reviewed the paperwork. He had read about Draco and Scorpius's imprisonment and cursed the gleeful face of Ronald Weasley. The redhaired bastard was the arresting officer. The same redhead had watched Narcissa Malfoy commit suicide and had laughed. Of course, the story was told to him through a dark-faction Auror sympathizer and not from the Daily Prophet. The Daily Prophet was firmly under the light-faction's control. Blaise rests his head in his hands. He felt like a failure of a friend, not being there for Draco.

Blaise had been clever. As soon as the light side had won the war, he had moved to Italy. His father's family, the Zabini family, were Italian citizens and Blaise capitalized on that. Blaise and his family had been working an underground ring to help the British dark-faction escape false charges and unlawful imprisonment. The British had warrants out for his arrest, but the Italian magical government would not hand him over. Although, the made no moves against Britain, Italy was quick to support his endeavors passively. The would not prosecute British refugees and they would not deport them back to Britain. The Italian Magical Government didn't precisely do the heavy lifting – arranging escape routes, food, safe houses, medical treatment, and funds – but their passive help was welcomed. Unfortunately, Blaise couldn't free those trapped in Azkaban. The prison was too heavily monitored. So, Draco and Scorpius were beyond his considerable reach. He felt sick imagining the horrors Draco and Scorpius were suffering.

"Signore Zabini," calls one of his informants, "We have the Selwyn family." Blaise turns to his compatriot, Signore Ellington, originally of Britain. The man is tall and broad shouldered with dark-brown hair and kohl-lined golden-brown eyes framed by long eyelashes. He is dressed like a former snatcher since he was once one. Of course, he had used a different name back then. He wears a black leather jacket with an outrageous amount of buckles and a red-silk tunic with black leather pants, he paints a stunning, if troubling, bad boy image. They are all bad men, after all, doing the right thing in a world without justice or tolerance.

Hermione and I had left the foyer for the Potter wards room. We took the steep basements steps two at a time. The wards room glows an ominous black-red in the gloom of the windowless subterranean stone room. The warding room is situated in the bowels of the manor. The wards themselves stand as massive black-marble obelisks in the chamber. They are carved with innumerable runes. However, currently they are stained with my blood, making them look more like a sacrificial altar than a means of protection.

The obelisks rest on an island in the midst of dark chilly water. Using my wand, I ignite the glass scones which illuminate the room with blue flames. I grip Hermione's hand carefully as I step out over the water. A flat slate slab levitates out of the water, supporting my way over the water to the island. Hermione is brought along, despite not being of Potter blood, through our entwined hands. As I reach the center, the obelisk surrounding me. A shadow lengthens becoming a shadowy manacle and chain around my ankle. Hermione stares at the shackle in shock. "Fucking bitches," she swears, hovering over the black manacle on my ankle. "They bound your magic to the house. They turned the wards against you."

"I know," I whisper, "Any thoughts on how to unbind me and have me remaster the wards?"

Hermione draws her wand. She quickly blasts a hole through one of the obelisks. The chamber shakes. "We destroy them first and then remake them." She instructs me, "Prepare your charm quickly. We need to do this before they realize anything is wrong." I quickly begin etching out the runes in air, prepared to brand them into the stone, which Hermione will create. Hermione pulls out a second wand, to my shock, and as she blasts the old wards to pieces, she uses her other wand to reconstruct new ones. The new obelisks are made of shungite stone and black obsidian carefully blended with black tourmaline stone. The obelisks are encrusted with malachite, bloodstone, garnet, citrine, and jade, which were held in place by silver shaped into blossoming water lilies, foxglove and azaleas on tiny vines. As the last Obelisk sprouts from the waters, I release the long line of runes I have created onto the stones.

The ward room shudders as my wards take, for a moment I worry that the room will crumble beneath the strain of the potent magic. The room quick settles and the wards blossom over the manor and the hidden valley. I feel them settle in my core. The new wards banish the sinister purposes of the old wards. The slowly fading shackle on my ankle abruptly shatters.

"Hermione how long will your conjured stone last?" I ask, worriedly.

"Harry, I dabbled in alchemy. Those stones aren't conjured, they were recreated." I look at her in surprise, she smiles smugly, "You weren't the only one dabbling in a new magic, during all these years."

Her memories of the Weasley family haunted her. She was certain that her former husband, William, had no knowledge of his family's duplicity, but she couldn't be certain. It was because of this uncertainty that she divorced him and fled back to France, before the papers were signed. She had remarried, becoming Madame Fleur Beaufort nee Delacour. She and her husband, Clarence Beaufort, were well matched by her father. They had conceived five little ones, where she and Bill had none. Fleur was a happy Mama of three little boys and two girls. Her children were cherished and spoiled equally in their home.

However, those memories still featured in her nightmares. The Weasley matriarch and her youngest son and only daughter, had been planning on declaring her marriage to Bill as illegitimate because of her creature blood. They had then prepared to use her a bloody broodmare for their family. They had been whispering about it, in her very own kitchen in Shell Cottage, while she went to fetch something from the attic. Ronald's lewd comments and sexual-insinuations about her body and their potential offspring had horrified her. Recent legislations passed would have allowed for this if they could prove that she had used her "dark creature magic" to control Bill. While, she had never used her allure on Bill, the Weasley matriarch's testimony would be held higher than her own claims. Truth serum was no longer permissible for use in the courts, that was the first amendment passed under the Weasley family's name. Additionally, the recent legislations passed in Britain were making it rather difficult for those with creature bloods to survive in the country. They could barely feed themselves, let alone their families. If they attempted to flee from Britain and were caught in the act, they were immediately thrown into the Creature Camps, no trials necessary.

The camps were disgusting examples of human cruelty. They were comparable to the Nazi's camp, Auschwitz. They had even installed gas chambers for those who fought back or tried to escape. The men, women, and children mined precious metals and magical stones for the human populace, leaving their hands bloodied and mutilated by their work. The beautiful female hybrids were bred by powerful wizards to create a secondary-class worker, much like the Lost Generation of Aborigines in Australia. It was inhumane and disgusting.

Fleur feared that she could very well have been a breeder, lying on her back day in and day out as her belly swelled with unwanted life. Her children then forced into a menial class and worked like house elves. The girls, when old enough, also taken as breeders, for the humans. House elves were now considered dark creatures and were almost extinct. The menial class of those with creature bloods, had now replaced House elves. The very idea of the British breeding programs made her nauseated.

"Mama?" Claire laughs, toddling toward Fleur in the family's atrium. Fleur laughs scooping up the toddler in her arms.

Yes, she was glad she had left Britain behind her.

Bill was lost, in a metaphorical sense. He had no purpose, no drive and no interest. His work with the British Goblins had ended when the Wizarding World's former bankers were rounded up and placed in the Creature Camps. Many goblins died in the procedure. They were tortured and mutilated by zealous Auror for entertainment. All of this, all of these injustices had been committed under the Potter-Weasley name. At first, he believed that these atrocities were commit by Potter. That the Weasley name was just attached to the deed for more political reasons. He remembered with anger, sneaking into his sister's and her husbands' bedroom, wand prepared to strike down the man responsible for dragging the Weasley name through the mud. He had been hidden under an invisibility cloak. They'd been fucking, but then the man he thought as his brother-in-law was pushed off the bed by Ginny.

"I hate it when you look like him." Ginny snarls "If I am fucking you, I want to fuck you and not him."

"I have to help Ron train the new Aurors," Potter says calmly, "In about thirty minutes."

"I'll get you off the hook with Ron," Ginny says. "Now change back and fuck me, but don't lay anything in me." Potter's features begin to melt away revealing a stunning creature. He has pale skin, the color and texture of dogwood tree bark. His eyes are a luminous green and take up more than half his face, which is not anatomically correct for a human. He is tall, taller than Potter, taller than Ron and still taller than Bill, with considerably broad shoulders. His lips are the color of poisonous berries and his nose is small. His fingers are long and slender. Instead of wiry and dark body hair or messy ebony locks, he has snowy-white dandelion-fluff. Hanging between his legs is the biggest cock, Bill has ever seen. Bill quickly tears his eyes away from the creature's bits. Ginny spread her legs in whorish fashion, making Bill mentally gag. The creature quickly mounts her. "You're a better fuck than Potter." She moans as he thrusts in powerfully. "Good thing we did away with him."

Bill always feels sick after remembering his sister's words. Harry James Potter is dead, killed to further the Weasley agenda. The only Weasleys, who Bill is involved with now are Charlie and George. Percy and Fred are dead. Their father is not entirely sane anymore and their mother is certifiably batty. Bill doesn't consider Ron or Ginny his siblings. Bill cannot find a future for himself, even after having escaped to Romania to live with Charlie. Bill only finds peace at the bottom of a fire whiskey bottle.

After recreating the wards, and naming me as the secret keeper, Hermione and I each select a room and settle in for the night. I chose the smallest bedroom in the house, namely because if I wake disoriented it will allow me to realize that something is different than the many nights before. I usually sleep in the master bedroom, but I feel vulnerable and disgusted with the memories associated with the room now. I stare at the ceiling of the smallest bedroom, which reflects the stars above Potter manor, as I think about the next step. My thoughts are jumbled and disjointed as I finally succumb to sleep.

I wake with a start. The sun is shining through the old wooden shuttered, painted white, which replace the elegant curtains of the other rooms. I sigh, climbing out of full-sized bed and heading for the shower. I dig through the wardrobe for something to wear, conveniently forgetting that I have yet to move my clothes into this wardrobe. I stare for a moment at the neat line of brown lederhosen in the wardrobe. I snort at my idiocy before quietly making my way to the master bedroom to collect my belongings. Under the considerable pile of clothes and a few knickknacks, I return to my new bedroom. I quickly pick out an outfit and enter the small bathroom to shower and dress. The bathroom is small and is decorate with blue tile. There is not bath, but the shower cubicle is perfect and had three water nozzles. I shower quickly and dress.

I find Hermione in the kitchen. She's reading from a notebook filled with detailed notes. I recognize her handwriting in the notebook. "Good morning Hermione." I say pouring tea into two cups. She seems to have forgotten her own tea in favor of reviewing her notes. She jumps in surprise. Her wand is pointed at me and I smile at her in bemusement as she looks at me owlishly. "Oh, sorry Harry." She apologizes quickly tucking her wand away. I place the teacups down on the table before pulling out the chair and taking a seat. She smiles at me hesitantly as I head back into the kitchen to pull out some breakfast food. "So how are we going to manage getting food for the manor?" She asks aloud.

"The ice box is connected to grocer, I just altered the runes on it for protection when we altered the wards." I say.

"Oh, you really did think this over." Hermione says with a smile. "I'm so used to you pulling off those hairbrained schemes."

I smile softly, "Well, after everything was said and done, I realized I need to rely more on my Slytherin side."

She nods empathetically, "And my Ravenclaw side."

"So, what precisely are we planning to research?" I ask as I place breakfast on the table.

"Well, magical researchers claim the possibility of alternative universes." Hermione begins, "Now, through my research with both muggle science, magical and muggle theology, and magical theory I have discovered that alternative universes are created through the action and inaction of key individuals that splits alternative universes into existence. For example, in one universe Albus Dumbledore joined Grindelwald opposed to capturing him. That changes the entire timeline."

"So, you want to travel to an alternative universe?" I ask carefully.

"No, I want to create one." Hermione says.

Luna Lovegood studies the creature who has replaced her brother in all, but blood, from behind an older issue of the Quibbler. To her eyes, the façade of "Harry Potter" melts away revealing the true form of the Leshy and Dryad subspecies. She had promised Hermione to keep an eye out on the false Potter and the deplorable redheaded menaces. She knows she makes the creature twitchy, she takes perverse pleasure in doing so. The false Potter drops his load of coffee all over the redhead traitor as the elevator closes. She knows they will get into a massive row, per usual when false Potter fumbles. "You know, as much as it amuses me, you need to stop doing that." The Minister, Minister Shacklebolt, says from behind her. "They're becoming suspicious."

Luna smiles up at Kingsley, "I imagine the Humperdincks are congregating as we speak."

Shacklebolt studies the blonde enigma for a long moment, "If they are congregating doesn't that put you in harm's way?"

"It won't be long now until the lightning bolt and the former beaver's plot takes hold, and everything will change. Excuse me, I have a scarlet female Humperdinck to annoy during lunch. It invited me for appearances in front of the paper prophet."

"Lunch with Ginny Potter-Weasley, good luck." Kingsley says after a moment.

Two months later, I am seated in the Potter library, which is now overflowing with books. Hermione had divided them on subject, then by her own system she calls "Grade Level". I asked her what "Grade Level" meant and she had, blushingly, told me that she had recreated the Hogwarts education to fit a higher standard of education. She had never shared that information with the redhaired traitors, only Minerva. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall not only ran the school but fought tooth and nail against the Weasley-Potter policies. An example is a currently debated legislative bill, which would deny a wand to any student sorted into Slytherin. Minerva secretly worked alongside an underground group who assisted dark-inclined individuals and pureblood families to escape Britain. The majority escaped during their seventh year, transferring abroad. Minerva had the knowledge from Dumbledore's old paperwork to forge travel documents and passports. While, Minerva didn't know the identity of the Harry Potter imposter, she had her suspicions according to Hermione.

I am reading through Hermione's standard curriculum as quickly as I can. Due to my photographic memory, it is a quick and simple task. Hermione had hit me over the head with a heavy Runes textbook and cursed up a storm at Dumbledore and the Weasleys when I hesitantly revealed that they had bound my photographic memory. She was outraged. It is quite funny, how quickly we fell into a pattern of researching and studying. If anyone were in the manor with us, they'd say we'd developed our own language for researching. I was also making progress on my Muggle education, already studying for my A levels. We took breaks on Saturdays after performing the rite. Hermione has plied me with a mountain of books on Muggle and Magic theology. The Saturday rite reaffirmed our loyalty and devotion to our sworn deities.

Hermione, who was half-Greek through her mother, was sworn to the Greek Parthenon, specifically to Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Military Victory, to Charon, the Ferrier of Souls, to Hecate, Goddess of Magic and Mysticism, to Erebus, the God of Shade, Shadow and Obscuring Darkness, to Artemis, the Virginal Goddess of the Wilderness and the Hunt, who reputed men, and to Nyx, the Goddess of Night. Hermione was not a Light Witch, not any longer. Not after what we had been through.

My mother's family originated from Ireland, while my father's family from Wales. I had chosen the Celtic Parthenon. My sworn deities were the Morrigan, the triple goddess represented by the maiden, the mother, and by the death crone. I was also sworn to Lugh, the God who knows all Arts, to Arawn, god of the Celtic otherworld and of terror, revenge and war, to Gwydion, the Magician and Warrior God, to Scathach, Goddess of Healing, Magic, fighting arts and prophecy, known as the Shadowy One, and to Don, Welsh goddess of the Heavens, the air and Sea and ruler of the Dead.

I had chosen my deities and pledged my devotion, and like Hermione, I received their blessings and claim in the form of tattoos across the soles of my feet and winding around my ankles. Hermione's tattoos were situated around her upper thighs and across her breasts – not that I needed to know that, albeit I was an idiot for asking something I later learned was private

Saturdays, after the rite, usually found us in the kitchen cooking and trading stories. We shared fond memories of our school years, shying away from the Weasleys and Dumbledore and their betrayals. We are progressing quickly on our plot to create an alternative timeline, although, I have been regulated to the Runes and Arithmancy portion of our research. Hermione challenges me to create a spell or alter an existing one, describing a result. I do not question her, knowing she will share it eventually. To this date, I have only failed to create one spell, which she challenged me to.

"Careful, Rubeus." Filius Flitwick instructs gently. He sighs as the enormous man slips on the outdoor stair. "Oh, Rubeus." Filius say slipping out to his assist the larger man. Filius finds the gentle half-giant sitting on a punctured pumpkin staring out across the horizon. The mountainous landscape is unfamiliar to him.

"Where am I?" Rubeus mumbles. "Professor, where are we?" He asks turning one eye on the old half-goblin. The other eye is clouded and unfocused. Filius sighs, placing his hand atop the man's head and running his hand through his hair soothingly.

"We're on holiday, Rubeus. We'll be home soon, you'll see." Filius lies. He doesn't have the heart to tell his former student that they will never be returning to Hogwarts, while the man is stuck in one of his fits. They had barely escaped Britain, after all. Rubeus had sacrificed his left eye and sanity to help Filius escape the creature camps. Filius had refused to abandon the gentle half-giant and now cared for the big man near the Austrian alps. Together, they minded a small dairy farm. Rubeus often thought he was still that eleven years old boy he once was. Filius believed it was Rubeus's mind's way of coping.

"Oh, that's good." Hagrid says and begins humming to himself, idly tying a long grass stem into knots with his dexterous fingers. He's still sitting on the poor pumpkin on the front lawn. Filius reenters the kitchen and using his new wand, begins preparing the crust for a pumpkin pie. They would make do, as they always did… even in the darkest of times.

When Bill had told him about what Ginny, Ronald and their Mother had done, Charlie hadn't wanted to believe it. Bill had cautioned him against confronting them, told him to be careful in seeking out his answers. Charlie had reluctantly done so. His big brother had lent him an invisibility cloak given to Bill by the goblins. Returning home to the Dragon Reserve after his misadventure, Charlie had puked all over the carpet in front of the floo.

However, unlike Bill, who was content to waste away, searching for peace at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, Charlie was determined to fight back. Charlie worked alongside Headmistress McGonagall to smuggle more than half of the former Slytherins to safety. The Dragon Reserve became a cover for sneaking families and children over the border into Romania. They would sneakily employ the Slytherin students and when their work visas expired, no one on the Dragon reserve reported it. Likeminded Hufflepuff students and Ravenclaw students joined in the effort, creating a massive front of employing from the Slytherin house and sneaking their employees to safety abroad. Gryffindor became a synonymous term for bigot and traitor to magic. Few Gryffindors fought to save the former Dark faction or newly discovered dark-inclined. Charlie would be later quoted as having said that "he'd rather die trying to save victims of this injustice than sitting at home doing nothing for them", in one memorable row with Bill. Bill was both proud of his brave, brave little brother, but he also mourned Charlie's impending death.

"Bill, we received a letter." Charlie called, "It's from Hermione. I recognize her handwriting." After having divorced Ron, Hermione had confided in them – she didn't believe that Harry was dead. Charlie kind of hoped he was, his sister and her children could be manipulative shits. The letter was addressed quite humorously making Charlie snort with laughter.

Charlie Dragon-tamer and Bill Wards-wright

Dearest Brothers,

I found him! He was being held prisoner in his Ancestral Manor, the wards and his own magic were used to imprison him. We've reversed the method and have created a means to protect ourselves. We are working on a plot to save everyone, but not as you might assume. It involves a rather complicated piece of magic, I am hesitant to call it time travel. He told me to tell you, "Blood does not make family, you can choose family too." He instructs me to say, "Charlie, don't get eaten by Dragons until you fulfil your promise to him." What did you promise him, you muscle head? I have never seen him blush this fucking much! He also tells me to inform Bill, "I am sorry for the pain you're experiencing. Life is not fair. You have your brothers still. You have two good legs, so get up. Start walking and don't mope around. I know you are Bill! Don't argue with me. Bill be true to yourself. Live freely for me, when I cannot - not after my name and face had been used to promote these injustices. Live, Bill and fly." I really don't know what he is referring too? I don't believe your broom fanatic like him and Charlie? Are you? I always thought you were the more sensible one!

With much Love,

Your sister,

Hermione

"No, Hermione," Bill laughed as he read the letter over Charlie's shoulder, "I am an Owl Animagus."

"Since when?" Charlie asks, grinning as he turns to face his older brother. He hadn't heard his brother sound so alive for the last seven months. He hadn't heard his older brother laugh without hysterically crying for ten months. He wanted to go kiss Hermione and Harry now! Charlie could see his brother emerging from his agonizing cocoon with this letter. "And why didn't you tell me? How does Harry know?" Charlie ask pouting a little. Bill chuckles blushing a little.

"I'm an embarrassingly tiny owl. Harry surprised me, and I freaked out and pop, I was in my Animagus form."

"How did he freak you out?" Charlie asks, looking for blackmail.

"I was changing clothes, and he walked in a complimented my bum when he was half asleep. We were both so fucking embarrassed, but he was completely enamored with my Animagus form, kept trying to persuade me to be his Post owl and jump out a people when they got their mail." Charlie stared incredulously at Bill, before bursting out laughing. "Okay, spill what did you promise him that made him blush so much?" Bill asks grinning.

Charlie grimaces, "Err, I was drunk. Also, I fancied him quite a bit for a rather long time. So, before his wedding night, I was completely sloshed and offered to give him a good time. Promised him I'd be the best he had. He turned me down, since, well… he was getting married." Charlies swallowed uncomfortably, "I felt like such a berk the next morning, I couldn't face him. I left after the wedding and barely visited since." Charlie looked vaguely miserable.

"I imagine that Harry quite liked you too before Ginny got her claws in him. You have no idea how often I saw him admiring you bum and muscles. Poor lad was drooling, I swear." Bill said smiling softly. "Well, it's late. I am heading to bed. Can I shovel some dragon dung tomorrow? I think I need the work out."

"Yeah, sounds good. Hey, don't think you are getting off now showing me your owl form!" Charlie shouts after him.

Two Months Later. The cool autumn breeze tugs at Hermione's notes and my research as we sit on the veranda. "So essentially our ritual is part muggle sciences, part ritualistic magic and part magical theology?" I ask dubiously, "Please explain it to me one more time." Hermione rolls her eyes, looking up at the sky through the glass roof of the garden veranda, as if seeking patience.

"To begin, imagine a tree, specifically the Celtic Tree of Life. Now the base, the trunk, was the original universe, but branches began to sprout branches and roots began to grow through every key individual's actions or inactions. Each new branch, each new twig is a division of a new universe, a different timeline."

"Okay, I am with you so far. This is based on the Yggdrasil Theory?" I ask.

"Yes! Okay, imagine the space between these branch, filled with powerful energies, a wall or barrier between timelines or alternative universes if you want. If everything is made of atoms, then so is this barrier. Now Ernest Rutherford worked to split an atom. He did so in 1917. However, we don't want to cause an explosion or in this case an implosion of the tree. That is where the Ritualistic Magic you created and an energy which I call Divine Energy comes into play. We use a sacrifice as a conductor of Divine Energy in the Ritual which you named "The Entreaty". The conductor, or the sacrifice will allow us to use the energy without being harmed Divine Magic. The Sacrifice with disintegrate in moments, containing the explosion in itself."

"What are we using as the sacrifice?" I ask carefully. She holds up several AA batteries.

"A muggle battery?" I deadpan.

"Not just a Muggle battery, it's been fed a magical current." Hermione says.

"Alright. How much longer until we do this? I mean we need a full moon for the ritual to activate."

"Five days." Hermione answers, smiling.

Ginny ran her hand over the swell of her belly. She was four months along and quite large. The healer said she was having twins, a little boy and a little girl. She smiled like the cat who had got the canary. Her hands slipped across her protruding belly as she thought of Harry pleading to see his kids. She took pleasure in his desperate and fear. Logically there was no reason to take pleasure in his anguish, he had never wronged her, but she'd grown up in poverty. She liked to strike at all those good for nothing purebloods and half-blood with their good breeding, wealth and large homes. Now, now she was the one with the wealth, the power and the prestige. She had everything she wanted. She loved to watch their jealousy and despair.

Her hand trails lower on her naked belly, just below the distention of her belly. Her fingers sink into her sex and she pleasured herself. Her memories turn to Harry pleasuring her in hopes of seeing his children, eyes filled with unshed tears. Children whom she had raised to hate him. A smirk curls the corner of her lips as she brushes her fingers firmly at her clitoris. She reaches her climax, head thrown back in a wanton moan, as she imagines Harry's desperation if he ever learned the truth.

We stood at opposite poles on the ritualistic circle painted in our blood on the floor of the Potter Manor basement. Magic whirls fiercely around us like a miniature tornado. Our voices resonate throughout the house as we chant. As the magic rushes in me and through me, the ceiling seems to open up into darkness. The darkness glows a daunting blue-black, eerie and yet compelling. Something changes and then… something unexpected happens, it becomes hard to breathe. As I am prepared to reach for the batteries to throw them from the circle and break the ritual. Hermione yells over the vacuum. "I am sorry Harry, but this is the only way." I turn horrified eyes on her as she raises a wicked dagger and plunges it downwards… into her own chest.

"NO! Hermione!" I scream heartbroken, reaching for her, but before my fingers touch her she dissolves into dust.

"I am sorry Harry, you need this. As strong as I pretend to be, I am truly broken." A golden figure says materializing behind me. I spin around, shocked and taking in her softly golden-glowing ethereal face. "I will always be with you!" She pressed a finger to my forehead, "I will always be your friend." And darkness consumed me.

To Be Continued

Was the "Introduction" any good? Was it too rushed? Should I rewrite it?

What do you guys think about my creation - the Subspecies of Leshy and Dryad?

Any ideas for me to improve the story?

Any thing you desperately want to see in this story?

Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a Review on your Way Out!