All characters owned by JK Rowling of course. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me.
Chapter One - The time turner, Harry Potter, and the fire whisky
Harry Potter, Hermione and Ron were celebrating finishing their OWLS. They were celebrating it in Hogsmeade. To be absolutely specific they were celebrating it in The Hogs Head. This was rather an interesting bar that smelt of goats and cows, or more specifically what used to be in goats and cows and what was probably originally a whole range of interesting plants, now properly digested. You might think it strange that they would choose to celebrate finishing their exams in such a smelly place?
Well this place, smelly or not, had some of the most interesting licensing laws in Britain. I'm not just talking about a driver's licence or a licence to breed strange frogs. This was a drinks licence, and by drink I mean alcohol, and the interesting thing about their licence was it specifically said they were allowed to sell alcohol to children. This was a law passed by Cuthbert the Unsteady in 562AD and the main reason he passed this law was that he was ten himself. Admittedly, before the law was passed he was known as Cuthbert the Sensible.
"Pass another Fire Whisky, Hermy," mumbled Ron.
"We're not used to this stuff, we should be carpetful."
Harry started waggling his finger at Hermione. "What about carpets?"
"Carpets, who's talking about carpets?"
"You are," said Ron, going distinctly green, "and that reminds me I need to add something to this one." He stared owlishly at the floor, gulped a couple of times and then sat up again. "I need another drink, I don't feel well."
"What were we talking about?" said Harry.
Ron started crying. "You're my best gate, Harry." He looked confused. "Late? Fate? Mate! You're my best mate, Carry."
"Everyone shut up a moment," said Hermione. "We were talking about getting Harry's parents back."
"It's a lovely idea, Hermyeaohnoen, but it happened in the past. The past." Harry picked up a bottle. "Let me demonstrate. This bottle is in the present. I drop it." It fell on the floor and smashed. "And now it is in the past."
"That was a full bottle of fire whisky! Can't you demonstrate your idea on an empty bottle like this one?" Ron handed Harry another bottle. Harry dropped that on the floor as well and it broke.
"That's what I mean," said Hermione. "Look, if I say Reparo-" She pointed her wand at the broken bottles and they both magically sealed up and leapt back onto the table, minus the contents unfortunately. "I've got this time turner thingy." She took out a small egg timer from her pocket. "If I turn it over we go back one hour in time. Am I right or am I right?"
"Does that mean we can go back in time and stop Harry breaking that bottle?"
said Ron hopefully.
"Not just that, if I make a few changes to this time turner we can go back and save Harry's parents from Moldyfort."
"You'd do that for me?" said Harry, his lower lip wobbling.
"Anything to stop you winging, mate," said Ron.
"I'm sure there's some sort of wizarding law about interfering with time or something," said Hermione.
"You need another fire whisky," said Ron and passed Hermione another glass.
She supped it down. "What, what was I talking about?" She looked at the time turner on the table. "Oh yes, that was it." She pointed her wand at the time turner. "Aximisemay imetay." The time turner changed into what looked like a mobile phone with a keypad and two small screens. "We put in the date and time that Harry's parents got attacked by Voldysort and this under here we type in the location. Press the green button and hey presto!"
The world swirled. Or rather the world didn't swirl, it just seemed that way to Harry, Ron and Hermione. Going time travelling when you're drunk is never a good idea. What was inside Ron ended up being outside Ron. The experience had not improved the look of the drink and it had not improved his robes.
Harry looked about him. They were in a garden of a cottage in a small village. Dusk was just beginning to fall. Above him he could several owls fluttering about and the first of the bats was out hunting. The cottage had a cheerful glow to the windows. He could the sound of a baby gurgling happily to itself and a woman's voice singing a lullaby.
"Quick, down!" he hissed to Ron and Hermione. They all ducked down behind a begonia and they could see a cloaked man glide up the path. He was at least seven foot tall and one white hand, all they could see of him, was holding a wand. The air practically crackled with potential magic.
"I'm going to get Coldysort," said Harry and stood up.
"Harry, get down!" said Hermione.
"Where are we?" said Ron.
"He's going to kill my parents! I've got to stop him." Harry stood up. "Hey Voldy! Yes you!" Harry stood up. Voldemort stopped walking towards the doorway and looked in bewilderment at this teenager. "You think you're so big and clever." Harry walked out in front of Voldemort. "I'm a dark wizard. My name's Smellytrousers. I bet everybody hated you at school. You were probably that spotty, smelly weird kid who everyone made fun of."
"Who are you?" hissed Voldemort.
"I am Harry bleeding Potter, sonny. Everybody knows me. I survived being killed by Voldetrousers." Harry looked thoughtful at this. "Hang on, you're smelly pants?"
"You will pay for this slur," said Voldemort and raised his wand.
"Get down!" said Ron and leapt on top of Harry. The spell seared above Harry. He could feel the heat of it as it passed him. Behind him a garden shed exploded, sending forks, spades and garden gnomes flying.
In the cottage behind him he could hear the sounds of panic. The baby stopped crying and from the back of house could be seen two broomsticks taking off, with one of the people on the broom sticks carrying a baby.
"Harry!" said Hermione. She grabbed Harry and Ron and pressed a button on the time phone.
Voldemort raised his wand again and pointed it at the three of them.
Again there was a swirling effect and they were all three deposited back in the bar.
"I feel sick again," said Ron and promptly was. The goats in the bar enjoyed this addition to their diet.
"I don't feel well either," said Harry and got his feet. "What happened back there?"
"I don't know," said Hermione," and right now I don't care. Come on, let's go back to Soggywarts to bed."
"You read my mind," said Ron, putting an arm round Hermione. "You know Smermione, why did we never get together? We could have been so light. I mean right."
"Let's just be friends," said Hermione.
"Yes," said Ron. "Friends. That's exactly what I meant." Ron looked over at Harry. "What's happened to your face, mate?"
"What do you mean?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, scar boy, but one of your defining characteristics, apart from complaining about everything - "Oh my scar hurts, oh my parents have been killed, and oh woe is me. The whole world hates me." - is you have a scar shaped in the just right place and shape to get lots of female sympathy."
"Well yes, you know I do."
"Where is it now?"
Harry walked up to a dusty old mirror on the wall. He wiped the mirror with a sleeve and looked in it. There was his face. Fairly thin and pale, showing too much staying in and studying and not enough exercise and fresh air. Dark brown hair in an unruly mop. Round glasses, and there above them… Nothing. Nothing there at all. Not a scar. There was a small spot that looked like it might do its own version of Mount Vesuvius soon but no scar. Harry pushed his hair back from the other side. Nope, not there either.
Strange drink-like logic took Harry's mind. Maybe the scar's moved. Do scars migrate like Wildebeest? He vaguely remembered some nature program about migrations. Unfortunately his mind kept thinking of Wildebeests mating. He shuddered. Anyway, maybe the scar has gone south. He started taking off his shirt.
"HARRY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" shouted Hermione.
"I'm seeing where the scar has gone, you stupid women," said Harry shaking his head at having to explain something quite so obvious.
"You are not taking your clothes off here!"
"Okay," said Harry, buttoning up his shirt. "We'll wait till we get back then, shall we?" And gave Hermione what he mistakenly thought was a sexy smile.
Hermione shuddered. One of the reasons women often went for older men was in the mistaken belief that men matured with age. This belief has kept the human race going for millions of years. Unfortunately men tend to mature like a pint of milk left in the sun. They tend to get a thicker skin, more hair and start smelling. Fortunately, just before girls notice this, the love gene kicks in. When I say kicks in, it tends to kick out any grain of common sense women have, and also that small voice (normally their friends) of people saying "You don't really love them do you, they've got nostril hair!" Anyway Hermione had not been affected by this yet, which explains why there are not lots of little Harry Potters running around looking cute and complaining about having parents and why they haven't got a series of books named after them.
They walked out of the Hogs Head and out into the street. The cold air immediately had a sobering effect on them.
"I feel terrible," said Harry. "Come on, let's get back to school." He looked above him and could see a dementor glide above him. A cold feeling gripped his heart. "I think we should hurry. I don't like those things."
They ran up the path towards the school. "Stop, Harry, stop!" shouted Hermione. "Look at this sign."
There was a large wooden board outside the school. It had the name of the school, the headmaster and who to shout at if any of the children from the school were using your garden wall as a meeting point or filling your pond with empty bottles of beer and fag ends.
"What? What?" said Harry. His eyes scanned the sign for two whole minutes before he noticed what was there. Where it said "Headmaster – Dumbledore" it now said "Headmaster – Voldemort."