Disclaimer – The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership.

Lost time.

Chapter One

He was cornered, there was no way out and there was no chance of help coming. The fact that Harry knew this was irrelevant and didn't change his behaviour in the slightest. Being the stupid Gryffindor he'd been made into practically since birth he was fighting to the bitter end, for that was what it truly was, a bitter end.

This war had been lost from the moment he and his friends had left Hogwarts after their sixth year. With the children gone and defences at their lowest, Voldemort had seen this as the perfect opportunity to kill the hope that was Hogwarts. Needless to say all the teachers, House-Elves and various magical creatures of the forbidden forest had been slaughtered.

With the death of Hogwarts, Muggle-born witches and wizards no longer were recorded by the entry books into magical education. With no more Muggle-born children in five years no one could even tell what all the fighting was for. Without Albus Dumbledore, the moral compass of the wizarding world, no one could build the resistance to fight against the dark.

By the summer of 2001 all of the magical community was apathetic to the pleas of half-bloods and Muggleborn for justice. No one cared. By February of 2002 the ministry and all of its resources had been seized by the 'political party' led by lord Voldemort. For that was what they were now calling themselves, a political party. Anyone with half a brain cell could see through that- but the wizarding world had long lost what few brain cells they had.

During all of this Harry, Hermione, Remus, Tonks, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George had been fleeing the Death Eaters. All of them were targeted for separate reasons (Half-blood, mud blood, half-breed, and blood traitors) but all had no other choices. Each had seen horrors during their times abroad, but now Harry was last.

Hermione had been struck down in December 1999 after valiantly running for three years flat out all over the continent and Britain. She'd been almost untraceable for most of that time, using the Muggle world against the Death Eaters. Her parents had been murdered in 1997, to get to Hermione, but it had only strengthened her resolve. She had become a skilled martial artist in less that one year and had used it tirelessly against her enemies, mixing in a magic unique to herself.

She died defending a small family with multiple bludgering curses to the head. To say this news had shocked the fugitive's was an understatement. They had all believed that with Hermione's skill she would be the last- but they all understood their days were numbered. No one could stop what was happening- even then.

Remus had been poisoned by Pettigrew's silver hand in November of 2000. He'd been the next to go. Cornered by Death Eater's on the full moon- while he was both strongest and weakest- they had left it to Pettigrew to deal with him while they restrained him. Peter had nervously approached and begun burning his hand into the werewolf flesh. This had been a grave mistake as in Remus' pained state he had lashed out and bitten Peter. Screaming in agony Peter had been killed by the silver in his own hand.

When news made it to the survivors of Remus' revenge- tear streaked faces had smiled bittersweet. Peter had died as he should have- his right hand a traitor to his flesh. The fact that Remus had died moments later was a testament to Remus' undying loyalty to his long dead friends. He had seen to avenging Lily and James deaths and Sirius' wrongful imprisonment, even in death.

In the years leading up to his death he had developed, with the help of a certain metamorphmagus, an ability coveted by all werewolves. For this Remus was truly the cream of the crop. He had become a Lycan, able to transform any part of his body to the wolf at will. He was still transformed under the moon, but his body, more acclimatised to the change, could handle the pain and his mind remained clear at all times.

This was revealed post-mortem by the afore mentioned metamorphmagus in a letter she sent to her fellow fugitives to show Remus' true ability and skill, a tribute if you will. She had been in love with Remus- and he with her- and took the blow harder than the others who felt this had been long in the coming. She had quickly joined Harry on his travels- seeking his quiet company.

The Weasley children, who were no longer children, suffered their first blow to the remaining family in March of 2001. Up until this point all of the red heads had been travelling together through lessor known parts of the world, the back roads; Tibet, the Orient and South America being their favoured hideouts.

Their parents had died to protect them in the Burrow, after Hogwarts fell, giving them the time to portkey out on a broom which had been designated for such a task. In the end Molly had died in her husbands arms in their room in the Burrow as the Death Eater's left and the Aurors arrived. Arthur had died shortly after of a broken heart. Ginny had never been the same, the only comfort she had left was a certain magical phoenix who had come to her after Albus' death.

In a little known forest somewhere in magical Japan the Death Eaters had caught them for the first time. And sadly it had been Ron to fail, to save his brothers and sister. He had sent them ahead, forcibly by magic, and fought to give them enough of a lead to ensure security; watching from the tree's Fawkes had been the only living person to survive Ron's final onslaught of magical energy- literally exploding with magic and crying out Hermione's name as he died. The Death Eaters hadn't stood a chance.

For a time the Weasley's were not found, but Tonks and Harry had been. Tonks didn't live through the encounter. July 2002 Tonks died of an overextension of magical power. She had madly flung herself into a storm of flying arms and legs, using her powers to turn herself into a living weapon of mass force and muscle as strong as steel. In her dying moments, with Death Eaters- or rather now Auror's- taken care of, she had done something that had burned itself into his mind forever. She had smiled. As she closed her eyes, almost peacefully, a howl was heard or maybe imagined and Tonks slipped away. Harry had never been the same. He quickly made contact with the living Weasley's and they disappeared.

Learning from those years the four of them, Harry, Fred, George and Ginny had become a tight knit family and trained themselves in ways they would otherwise wish they could not be. Wandless magic was used and exploited relentlessly, research into magic forged and powers widened and expanded. They had made themselves into killers to become survivors.

For a while they were not found, however this changed in the summer of 2003. The four were caught by 'Aurors' in Britain while using a certain circle of stones on the open downland of Salisbury Plain to extend their connections to the primal forces of magic. They luckily were able to complete the ritual while their pursuers were held off by heavy duty magical shields constructed for this purpose. Using the new powerful connections the quartet had managed an escape without permanent injury, barely.

Three years after Tonks' death, in December of 2005, the twins were captured and executed. During their capture their magic had had to be bound to leave them basically defenceless. Born in life together, together they had died.

Voldemort himself had killed them. Under the law of the pureblood regime, they were illegal fugitives and under Voldemort's rule capital punishment had been brought back. He had sentenced them, and then executed them in front of a congregation of countless Death Eaters, as was the new custom.

Ginny had screamed murder as their deaths had been publicised as a victory for the 'good guys'. She had literally charged into the new and 'reformed' ministry, cutting down an amazing 50 Auror's before finally committing suicide as she was about to be captured. Harry had cried himself to sleep that night with the trilling of the Phoenix as his only comfort.

The Phoenix had become his companion for another 2 years as they had conversed. It appeared that Fawkes could speak through telepathy, on a very basic level, to those he bonded to. They thought differently- so the words often didn't make sense to him. Slowly he'd begun to understand, but it had been slow. Fawkes had showed that he had seen Ron die, that last burst of magic, the primal scream.

Fawkes was able to show him things through the bond and he'd even been able to see the private moments before Albus took a final potion to incinerate his body and disallow his corpse and residual magic to be used. The pain that vial would cause him as he was eaten alive by fire from the inside out was ignored for the greater good. It was touching, and the look in the old mans eyes, courage and fear, stayed with him in his travels around the world.

It was as he was travelling in one of his more inconspicuous disguises, buying food as it were, in Italy that he heard the news of 2007. Voldemort had declared himself as the Magical Royal Monarch of Britain. There was uproar in France as the French Ministry of Magic had been promised that there would never again be a magical Monarch of Britain several centuries ago. This of course was course of action for Voldemort to start the process of taking it over. The French Minister of Magic didn't last a month.

Harry barely thought of these things anymore. He'd repressed it under layers upon layers of impenetrable Occlumency. However, as he fought to what would no doubt be his death he didn't repress it- it was what was giving him the will to fight these fledging wannabe servants to the dark lord. The howl in the distance as Tonk died, that primal scream of rage, a broken heart, that smile shared in Tonks' last moment, the need to protect someone who can't protect themselves, the loyalty of the marauders, the true ones, and finally the undying selflessness and willingness to sacrifice everything for the greater good.

Harry had just cut down his forty second Auror and for a moment believed that maybe this wasn't so impossible, as a man he dreaded entered the alley, Voldemort walked into the small dead end as if he owned it.

"Potter" Voldemort smirked, knowing this was over. It was a known fact that after numerous searches throughout the world, Voldemort now possessed the only known Philosophers Stone. Harry personally knew that Voldemort had infused it upon his person and that the Philosophers Stone now resided in his heart, bringing new meaning to a heart made of stone.

"Riddle" Harry spat. He wasn't so much as afraid of the man. Harry had long since come to the conclusion that he was living on borrowed time and now feared nothing. There wasn't enough time for it really. But he did hold a healthy caution for the mass murderer, a wariness of instinct which screamed he was bad news.

"As much as I'd love to banter- I've become tired of such practices. It is truly the act of a fledging Dark Lord."

"Wizened I see. Though only as much as possible for a megalomaniac."

"Uh-hu, well, shall we get this over with?"

"Whatever. I've been dead for longer than you'll ever understand." This just pissed the man off, as intended. For some reason death was a touchy subject for Tommy boy. Harry almost smirked.

"HA. I was dead for fourteen years, Potter! You talk of being dead! You bug, you insignificant child! Crucio!" And that was it, the end began in earnest. Stepping to the side of the Curcio Harry shot off spells as fast as he could, using both his hand and wand.

"Diffindo! Abdulo! Pookimaunga! Silencio! Incendio!" The slashing spell hit true. While his ridiculous sounding pain spell hit dead onto Voldemort, making him scream out in pain, the silencing spell stopped anyone other than himself from saying anything and therefore stopped most of them from actually using magic. Someone could always use wordless spells, which were harder to do, but most wouldn't even think of it.

Making an executive decision and feeling tired of this world and its inane need to destroy itself, Harry got down to his knees and began his ending. He had planned this out very carefully. One slip of the tongue and he'd lose the spell and that'd be it. It was a suicide spell, used in Japan with Western roots to honourably kill one's self and insure, as his Japanese contacts had said, a life after this one which was better. It had fallen out of use and wasn't as common, but did tend to pop up once in a while.

The first step was an oath. It wasn't word for word like other rituals- just a general idea and structure- allowing him to state it plainly in English. He began to speak: "I Harry James Potter of Noble birth and Honourable parentage do preserve that nobility and parentage with this oath of suicide" The bluish-white shield sprung up as it should, fed by the ambient magic around it, making it almost impenetrable. Harry took out a ritual dagger he'd bought in Germany for the final steps.

Runes on the ground marked out his parentage in a circle around him and he fed the spell a small amount to begin with. The idea was to use all of your magic so that any residual magic in you're corpse wouldn't be used later. Checking his rank, which he would need for the next phrase, he was shocked to see the mark of a thrice blessed Lord against the mark of what translated into a magical heir to 5 families. Ignoring the second part he waited for the signal. A locking sound rang through his ears, signalling the locking in of the oath and that the parentage had been checked as honourable, his birth in wedlock and therefore noble. He spoke the next phrase he'd devised with the added label as was applicable.

"I, the thrice blessed lord, do commit this oath in dire times and under duress. May this be the fulfilment of my honour, destiny and morals." The spell suddenly jerked away from him. He'd said something wrong. Looking up he saw shock in the eyes of the Death Eaters, none of them had planned on this, none of them at all. Suicide was so far away from modern western morals and the idea of Honour being understood amongst these low lifes was almost funny.

Looking at the Dark Lord he saw something close to respect. The expression was something so alien to the features that Harry almost didn't recognise it. The expression turned malicious as he smirked evilly. Harry was deeply offended that Voldemort would smirk at him while he was about to die. It got to him like it shouldn't have gotten to him. In his mind Harry saw this as the last straw, the final action which defined Voldemort as truly evil, a coward to his bones.'I hope he rots in his eternal body'Harry thought cruelly.The spell jerked away from him again, shocking him out of his hate filled thoughts. Concentrating again on the task at hand,Harry waited for the signal. The spell's shield should have gone a darkish purple, mixing in red and black for blood and negative- but instead it turned a horrifying green.

Harry had no idea what green meant, maybe lime- but not this. He was so horrified that he didn't notice the runes shining brighter and brighter as more of his magic was bled off. If nothing had happened, it would have meant he wasn't under duress or the times weren't dire enough. If it had turned black, it would have been an absolution, showing his sins were forgiven, and he would have been given the all clear to end it. If it had turned white, it was another form of absolution, showing his deeds were worthy and he was spotless. Grey showed sin but it was still absolution. Red he could accept- he'd killed too many not to be damned. Lime showed he still had something to do with the introduction of yellow, and was not given permission to end it. But this green was unfathomable.

Looking at it he saw that it was in fact the exact shade of green as his eyes. There was also a metallic hue to it, though he had no idea what it meant. Swirls of black as well as white danced across the surface, entrancing him. The shield was still transparent and it was only because of this he snapped out of it. They were trying to break in!

Quickly he finished. "By the will of magic and the gods who are agreeable I accept the decision and do hereby end this life, with hopes for the next. May my noble heritage spur me on through the next life." The last touch of magic in his body left, the runes leaving the ground to surround Harry. In a ring of white light, that spun and twirled mysteriously. That much was normal. Harry slashed his wrists and dug the blade deep into his stomach, waiting for death now and then, the shield collapsed.

Harry at first thought this was Voldemort- but the look of shock and delight on the slimy Dark Lords face stopped that theory. Looking to the ground where the runes had been he saw the magic spreading out under the feet of the Death Eaters. Something in this ritual had gone terribly wrong and was completely out of his control now.

Screams echoed out as Death Eaters dropped to the ground in agony, Voldemort was soon overcome by the same sensation his followers were suffering from. Harry merely lowered his head, as was the last step in the ritual, ignoring them. Whatever happened now didn't matter. His blood was spilt and his magic was gone. Now matter if someone else interfered, it didn't matter, nothing did now.

He felt the tender brush of death and her release. It was liberating to the extreme. He felt no pain, just a release, which was unusual. The last step was supposed to be painful. A release was meant to be there, but it was a release brought on after the pain. He opened his eyes and stared.

His body was unmarked and lying on the ground. That wasn't the cause for his staring though. He could see magic and what he saw it doing was disturbing. As the Death Eaters rolled in pain he saw their magic flowing away from them, into a vortex of magic that was above his body. He was standing behind himself and next to him stood Ginny, Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.

They were all in their prime, beautiful tall and proud, and the sight made him want to cry. They were staring at the vortex over his body.

"Harry" A strange voice called. Not one of the others.

"Yes?"

"Take you're friends with you, they deserve this chance as much as you do."

"Who are you?"

"I'm death."

"Harry?" He turned to see Hermione speaking. Not thinking he ran forward and hugged her fiercely.

"I missed you so much, Hermione. Never leave me again." Harry felt Ginny at his ear as hugged Hermione tightly.

"I'm sorry I left you Harry" Ginny spoke into his ear in a whisper as Hermione and he hugged.

"I understand. I truly do, and I accept the apology" He looked over his shoulder to look Ginny in the eyes before she stepped back to stand beside Ron. Ron smiled stupidly as he caught his eye.

"It's good to have you back Harry, but we have to get going. That vortex won't last forever."

"As much as we…" George said cheekily.

"… hate to be agreeable." Fred answered in their little game of 'finish my sentence'. Their twin birth and magic had formed into a strong mental connection that had once made them fierce warriors. They always knew what the other was doing, how their position related to their twin and what the other was thinking. Harry fondly remembered them arguing and using each others arguments against each other. It had been one of the rare points to look forward to after Hogwarts had fallen. "Ron is right." Fred and George chorused together. Ron looked half insulted.

"Oh Harry, I have missed you so much, but never die again." Hermione said desperately.

"Not if I can stop it." He answered her. "Let's go… well wherever we're going."

"To the past Harry, to where you can fulfil you're oath and uphold the morals of magic. And a word to the wise, forget your personal morals; it is the morals of magic you are going to uphold. Go in peace and with the god's blessings." said Death. Taking a deep breath while mulling over the message, he took Hermione and Ginny's hands who grabbed the other Weasley boys before as a group they walked through the vortex- together again.

What none of them noticed were the runes that followed the-boy-who-lived, none of them saw the magic drain out of the wizards and witches and the vortex shrink and disappear. No one saw Fawkes dive through the vortex at the last second. For it was at this second that the world, this hell created by a half-blood called Riddle, simply ceased to exist with a deafening snap.