Attention everyone: I humbly apologize for taking so long in writing the next chapter to this story. I have many reasons why, many real life reasons that I don’t wish to get into, and muse reasons which I’m sure you understand. I knew where I was going, but nothing was coming out, especially after some really bad rl things that happened. My muse didn’t want to write anymore of this, so I started something new (A Vampire’s Soul), and now my muse for that fic is being a pain, so I decided to look over some older fics that I haven’t finished yet. Luckily, this one made my muse perk up.

I have gone through all the old chapters and fixed a few things: mostly puntuation and things that contradicted themselves. If I missed anything, please let me know and tell me where I missed them. Thank you for your patience, and let’s hope that my muse will cooperate with me and help me to end this fic. My plan is 25 chapters.

Time Is Irrelevant - Prologue

Main Pairings: Harry/Draco, James/Sirius, Remus/Snape, and others

Notes and warnings: This fan fic contains slash (male/male relationships), and is a bit AU (Another Universe), and a time traveling fic. This fic would not leave my head until I wrote it, so that’s what I did. I had this idea since way back in the beginning of February, and it kept coming back to haunt me. :) This is a post-OOTP fic. Book six didn’t happen, but in later chapters there might be some mentions of things, but different.

I’m hoping that this isn’t too fast, but I figured that it’s just a prologue anyway, so it doesn’t really matter as much. This is mainly just a set up for the rest of the fic. Sorry if this is a bit boring.

Rated: R

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. They all belong to J. K. Rowling.

.-.

Harry stormed his way up to the headmaster’s office, feeling so weary and hurt, that he wasn’t too sure as to why he suddenly wanted to do this. He supposed that he was just sick and tired of everything around him—sick and tired of this life and what he had to endure to stay alive—who he had lost. He knew what he was asking was dangerous, and that it wouldn’t be a good idea, but he had to try. He couldn’t stand his life anymore, and suicide wasn’t the answer.

“Professor?” Harry said as he entered Dumbledore’s office. It was the same as it always was, with Fawkes sitting at his perch, the Sorting Hat on top of the bookcase, and portraits of past headmasters all around – most looking at him with interest, and others sleeping soundly.

“Yes, Harry?” Dumbledore said as he emerged from atop a dais on the upper part of the room.

Harry knew from past experiences that asking permission from Dumbledore about anything remotely dangerous to his health, and even others’ health, was out of the question. But he knew that he had to try anything to get his way… he just had to.

“I… I just can’t… take this anymore!” Harry said, forcing tears from his eyes and bringing a shaky hand (from being nervous) up to his face.

Dumbledore approached Harry slowly and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “What can’t you take, Harry?” he asked softly.

“Everything!” Harry cried, and then buried his face into Dumbledore’s robes. “I don’t want to live this life anymore! I want… I want my parents back!”

“I understand how you feel, Harry,” Dumbledore said, even softer still. “Everyone wishes that they had a loved one back, but I can’t help you there…”

“Yes, you can!” Harry shouted suddenly from the vicinity of Dumbledore’s chest. “You – you can let me go back through time, and save my parents…”

Dumbledore took hold of Harry’s shoulders and pushed him back to look into his eyes. “No, Harry. Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous to dawdle in time travel. You’ll mess things up for everyone – not only will your future be altered, but so would many others’. Do you wish to screw up Hermione, Luna, and Neville’s future? Or even Ginny?”

Harry sniffed, trying to make sure that his fake tears didn’t turn into real ones. How did Professor Dumbledore know that bringing those that he care for into the argument would trigger Harry to stop and think? He didn’t like it. Sure, he cared for what happened to his friends, but what if they had a better future, like him? What if what he did made things better for all? There would be no Voldemort to ruin their lives. His parents would live. Sirius would live. Cedric would live… everyone that was killed by Voldemort would live! Wasn’t that enough? Was he, or was he not, the savior of the wizarding world?

“Sir, please…” said Harry, calming himself. “I must do this… for everyone…”

“No,” said Dumbledore, more sternly now. “You will ruin what you have worked so hard to accomplish.”

“I don’t care!” Harry shouted, wrenched himself from Dumbledore, and trudged heavily to the window. “I want all that I did to be a distant memory… I don’t care anymore! I don’t like how my life is turning out.”

“Then fix it here, in the present.”

Harry rounded on him. He had never felt such anger at the headmaster before in a long, long time. “I CAN’T FIX IT! That’s why I need to do this in the first place! I WANT MY PARENTS BACK!”

Dumbledore crossed over to his desk and sat down, folding his hands together and looking distant. “There are prices one would pay, if you do this, Harry. Don’t be selfish, and don’t try going back through time to save them. You have no chance in succeeding in your plans.”

Harry’s face smarted with pain as he felt the anger inside of him burn. His ears began to sting.

“You think I’m a failure?” he grounded out. “You think that I’m doing this solely to benefit myself? Well, you’re sadly mistaken!” Harry turned and hit his fist on a pedestal that held one of Dumbledore’s Astronomy instruments, and it fell off and broke. “I’m doing this for all those that have died in vain! I’m doing this to save many from death!”

“Death isn’t the end, Harry.”

“It is when I can’t see them anymore!”

Dumbledore’s face softened. “Please calm yourself now. I don’t want to give you a detention.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Dumbledore looked over his specs at him. “Harry, do not think that what you do for those who died because of Voldemort is what’s best, and to use it as an excuse for your own pleasures. If you go back to try stopping Voldemort from killing your parents, you may as well risk your own life. Something may go wrong, and you might either not succeed, or get yourself killed – present self or baby.”

Harry felt like yelling, ‘I don’t care!’ but didn’t think it was wise to do so at the time. He knew that arguing with Dumbledore about this wasn’t going to help matters. He just wanted to get to the Ministry of Magic, into the Department of Mysteries, and steal a time turner. That was all that mattered right now.

“Fine,” Harry finally said, clenching his fists. “I’ll try to fix things in the present, then.” With that, Harry practically ran from the room and slammed the door behind him. He didn’t look back as he ran full on through the hallways, not caring what anyone thought anymore. He was leaving Hogwarts grounds… tonight.

.-.

Harry Potter was sixteen years old. He had been trying with earnest to get good enough grades so that he could become an Auror, but that didn’t seem possible now; now that he was about to change his life completely.

With no thoughts of the consequences to what may happen. Harry walked out of school under his Invisibility Cloak, wand securely tucked into his jeans. He didn’t even say goodbye to his friends, because he knew that they’d be waiting for him in his new future.

He made it to Hogsmeade with no problems and ran for the nearest place to use Floo Powder. He knew that he could have used a thestral to get to the Ministry again, but he didn’t think he had the time to look for one. Because he wasn’t thinking clearly, he knew that he’s probably splinch himself if he tried to Apparate there. He walked into the Hog’s Head and went straight for the fireplace. There was a pot already filled with Floo Powder next to it. Harry quickly grabbed some from under his cloak, and then stepped into the fireplace. Without a care, he threw down the powder and shouted, “Ministry of Magic!”

Green flames leaped up and engulfed him. He felt himself flying as he spun around in the fire – and then he was toppling out of another fireplace and onto a checkered floor. Harry quickly bounded back to his feet, making sure that he was still covered by the cloak, and then made his way to the lift. As he got in, a few flying memos also popped inside, circling above his head. He impatiently hit the button for the right floor and tried to wait best he could as he kept his Invisibility Cloak on him. When the doors opened, it wasn’t his floor, but a few witches and wizards got on, so Harry moved to the way back into a corner. He waited until the doors opened again, and a few more came into the lift. There was a few more coming and going before he reached his destination. Harry silently got out, along with some other wizard, and made his way to the Department of Mysteries.

He reached the familiar door with no troubles and went in immediately. He was surprised that he had got in so easily, but then again, the place was still run by Cornelius Fudge, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise. He had always hated Fudge, ever since he made Harry sound as if he were crazy in the Daily Prophet. Hopefully in his new future, Fudge won’t be the Minister.

Finally, Harry found the right path and took it by memory. He hated being back here, but it was the only way that he could get a Time Turner so his plan got into action. He read up about time travel a bit, and he knew that once he had it, he couldn’t use it right away. Harry had to be in the right spot to use it, and that meant that he had to Floo to Godric’s Hollow and hope that he reached the right time and day in which to stop Voldemort.

It was all too easy, Harry reflected. Anyone could have done this – anyone with an Invisibility Cloak could, anyway. He knew that Mad-Eye Moody had one, but he also knew that the old Auror was too goody-goody to even try going back through time. And why did he need to go back through time? Harry figured that he was more worthy of doing this, since he had suffered more than anyone. No, Moody had no reason to go back through time.

Now Harry, himself, on the other hand, had plenty of reasons to travel back to the past to save his parents. Anybody would in his predicament. And if anything did go wrong, then he’d just try and fix it. Yes, that was logical, right?

Harry found himself the right room that held all the Time Turners, glad to see that there were some still in working order. He snatched the nearest one that was marked “years” and bolted out of the room, not wanting to stay there any longer than necessary. He tucked his Time Turner into the pocket of his shirt and ran out towards the exit. As he walked out, heading for the fireplace, he could hear loud voices down a hallway. He thought he heard his name mentioned, and that one of the voices belonged to Dumbledore (damn old coot must know that I’m here!), so he ran even faster to the fireplace. Heart pounding in his chest, he took a handful of Floo Powder and used it right away.

“Godric’s Hollow!” he shouted, and in a whirl, he was gone.

.-.

Harry couldn’t believe his luck. He really did it, and he was really at Godric’s Hollow. From what knowledge that he had gathered, Harry immediately spotted the house that used to be his parents’. It was still a bit charred and burnt a few places from the old fire that happened years ago, but it was still standing. A good thing, too, otherwise Harry would have to guess just which room was the right one to stand in.

Breath going ragged, Harry walked slowly into the old house and took a quick look around. He noticed a few belongings that were burned, but recognizable – like an old blanket, couch, and table – and cobwebs stewed everywhere. When he took a deep breath, he coughed and sputtered from the dust all around. He knew that there was no time to waste. Dumbledore was on his trail, and probably going to try stopping him.

Making sure that his cloak was secure, Harry started to rotate the Time Turner so that he went back about seventeen years in the past. Praying to whatever god was listening, Harry activated it, and in a sudden flash, he was gone. Just in time, because Dumbledore rounded the corner, wand out. He had seen the flash, and knew that it was too late. He bowed his head and wished Harry all the luck in the world.

.-.

He arrived at the exact time that he estimated. With his Invisibility Cloak still wrapped around him, Harry took out his wand, ready for the attack to start. He heard his father’s urgent voice to his mother, and then he suddenly saw him running out of a room, wand in hand. Harry stayed invisible as he watched, waiting for the opportune moment.

“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off—”

The front door burst open, and in stepped Voldemort, high cackle and all. Harry’s insides turned into jelly as he watched his father raise his wand, and he knew that it would all be in vain. He didn’t want to watch his father die right in front of him… it was too much. He finally found his footing when Voldemort raised his wand, possibly to use the killing curse on James, and Harry charge forward, lunging his body into his father.

Just at the exact moment that Harry pushed his father out of the way, Voldemort enounced the killing curse. It was perfect timing. It looked just like Voldemort’s curse pushed James back into the door to the kitchen, when it actually flew past James’ head and hit a small moth in the corner of the room that was flittering around a low-lit lamp.

As Harry and James tumbled to the floor of the kitchen, the door swung shut, blocking out any accidental appearance of Harry’s legs from under the cloak. James had fell hard, cushioning Harry’s fall, as he hit his head on the edge of a chair, knocking himself unconscious. Harry was also seeing stars from the fall, his heart beating crazily in his ribcage from the swift and bold action he just took.

Harry slowly lifted his head, which was still covered from the Invisibility Cloak, and looked up at James. His father’s glasses were just as crooked as his from the harsh landing. He didn’t want to waste too much time, so Harry unsteadily got to his feet and took hold of his wand that had fallen next to their bodies. He covered James’ body completely with his cloak, just in case Voldemort peeked inside the kitchen door.

What happened next made Harry’s stomach clench. He knew that he was too late when he heard his mother’s voice screaming and begging for Voldemort to spare her child.

“Not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I’ll do anything…”

“Stand aside!” Voldemort shouted. “Stand aside, girl!”

Heart still beating wildly, and eyes fogging up, he sidled up against the wall of the kitchen, near the door, and listened with a sickened stomach as he heard Voldemort enounce the fatal spell to kill his mother.

Harry closed his eyes and grimaced his teeth in horror. Her screams were the exact ones that he had heard in his mind when the dementors got too close to him. He failed. Harry shut his eyes tightly, trying to will the tears to stay at bay. He failed his mother… he couldn’t protect her from that evil monster! Anger welled up inside of him as he heard Voldemort’s joyous laughter after he had killed Lily. Then Voldemort said, in a low chuckle, “Now, young Potter… it’s time for you to die…”

Older Harry knew just what was about to happen. Clutching his wand in his fist, he heard the curse being used on his younger self. And then – the entire house was a blinding green as Voldemort’s screams echoed all around. Harry was too shaken with fear and anxiety to move from his spot; no matter how curious he was to watch just what had happened.

But Harry now knew that Voldemort was dying. He wasn’t dead, but it was pretty damn close. Thinking fast, and getting his feet to actually move, Harry ran to the cupboard in the kitchen to find the biggest, sharpest knife. He finally found one, guessing it was something that his mother had used to chop vegetables and possibly meat, and ran into the living room. He knew that there was no way that he could finish the job killing Voldemort with the curse – he didn’t have it in him. So, he decided to do the next best thing: to severe the last shred of life and power from Voldemort—nay, Tom Riddle Jr.—the old fashioned way.

When he entered the room, he immediately spotted the murderer’s remains—the room starting on fire. Voldemort’s so-called body was lying near the crib, and baby Harry was on the rug—head cut open and bleeding. Teenage Harry gaped at the sight, feeling his stomach lurching.

“Oh—My—God-” he said, and then held his mouth closed with his left hand. But he knew that he had no time to waste. Swallowing his bile, he raised the large knife in his right hand, and with one slash, cut off what remained of Voldemort’s head. There wasn’t as much blood as Harry thought when he did it. What little life Voldemort had in him had faded into nothing—and his remains slowly began to rot into the hot floor. The flames around him burst, and then Harry dropped the knife to check on his baby self. He knew there was nothing he could do, and he also knew that his baby self would be okay because he, himself, was okay.

Harry suddenly heard something from behind him, and with the reflexes of a trained Auror, he turned, wand pointed forward. What he saw froze him to the quick.

His father was standing in the doorway, taking in the scene. James had Harry’s Invisibility Cloak in one hand, wand in the other, but it was limp by his side. He had tears in his eyes as he stared at the older Harry, and then at his baby son by his feet.

“Harry…” James muttered. Harry was so close to answering his father back, but he stayed silent. James’ eyes moved to his wife on the floor beside Voldemort’s dead body. “Lily…”

“I’m sorry,” Harry suddenly said, his voice low and cracking from how close he was to tears himself. James jerked his head up to stare at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her,” he said to James, “it—it all happened so fast and I-”

James held up a hand to silence him. “Don’t apologize,” he said with a hoarse voice. He slowly walked over to check on baby Harry, and started to perform a few healing spells. It stopped the bleeding, but didn’t heal the lightning shaped scar that formed on the child’s head. “You – you did what you could,” James looked up into Harry’s face, “did you—kill Voldemort?”

Harry smiled slightly, despite what was going on right now. “Yes—I finished him off, actually. His killing curse backfired when he…” Harry trailed off as he looked down at his baby self, and then into James’ eyes.

James had an amused look as he stared at Harry. He held up Harry’s Invisibility Cloak and said, “family heirloom?”

Harry blushed a little, and nodded. James took baby Harry into his arms and walked over to face future Harry. Harry was a few inches shorter than James. He handed the cloak back to Harry, eyeing his scar and then gazed into his green eyes.

“Thank you… son.”

Harry gasped, and then blushed slightly, taking back his cloak. “You’re welcome… dad.”

Without warning, Harry was embraced in a rough, one-armed hug; baby Harry in the middle of them.

“I don’t know if what you did was the right thing,” James whispered, “but I’m grateful that you saved me.”

“Me—me too.” Harry said, eyes full of tears.

James found a lump in Harry’s shirt, which was the Time Turner. He touched it gently, “Go back to your own time now, son. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’ll—I’ll be there,” Harry said, and then he quickly kissed his father’s cheek.

“Harry, stop—just go now before anyone sees you. Go…”

Harry did as he was told. With a sad nod of understanding, Harry took out the Time Turner, twisted it a few times, and then was gone.

“And I’m proud of you, Harry,” James whispered to the spot where Harry disappeared. He held baby Harry in his arms securely.

End Prologue