After spending half his life trying to rid the world of Voldemort, Harry Potter finally succeeds. However, the price has been high. Too high. Unfortunately, when Harry risks his life to go back and 'do things right', something goes wrong.


I would like to thank…

S'TarKan – It was his story that gave me the idea for this story's starting point. Also, if you want to know what kind of Harry Potter my main character is (they've had similar experiences, losses etc), or just want to read a good Harry Potter fanfic, then read 'Harry Potter & the Nightmares of Futures Past' (available on among other sites).

The creators of QUANTUM LEAP and SLIDERS – Anyone who's seen either of these shows might recognise elements of both shows central ideas in this story. The situation my Harry gets himself into was indeed partially inspired by the central features of both of these shows.

This website – For providing a forum where people like me can write stuff that people will actually get to see.

J.K. Rowling – They are her characters after all.

PROLOGUE: Nothing left to live for.

A startled cat disappeared into the rubble of a nearby house as a dark figure walked down the ruined street.

The figure in the leather jacket stopped in front of one of the ruined houses. Bending down, he picked up a piece of metal that had once been nailed to the gate. Looking at the metallic representation of the number 4, the figure walked up the path towards where the front door used to be. Dropping the metallic 4, the figure stepped through the doorway and sighed. Harry James Potter had never expected, or intended, to ever return to Number 4 Privet Drive. Yet here he was, wading through the rubble of the house that had once belonged to his Aunt and Uncle, about to end his life.

Clearing away bits of plaster and charred wood, Harry began to set up the prisms. As he did this, a voice in the back of his mind started to speak up.

"You do realise the chances of this little scheme of yours actually working aren't that great, right?" said the voice.

"There's still a chance…" thought Harry.

"And there's an even bigger chance you'll just die," replied the voice. "I mean, face it, the chances of your essence actually being sent back in time and merging with your past self are miniscule."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Harry retorted. "There's nothing left. Hogwarts is a pile of rubble, The Burrow was reduced to ashes, Grimmauld Place is a ruin just like here, everyone I've ever known and cared about is dead. Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Mr & Mrs Weasley, Hagrid, Sirius, Dumbledore, Luna, Neville, Ginny…"

He stopped in mid-thought, knowing that the voice of doubt had no answer.

As he placed the last prism in place, Harry caught a glimpse of himself in the broken mirror that had once hung proudly on the wall beside a family picture of the three Dursleys, which also now lay on the floor. Looking at his reflection, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the boy who used to cover his scar with his fringe and hope that no-one would recognise 'The Boy Who Lived'. Harry looked at his reflection and sighed – that Harry Potter was gone. In his place stood a man who had fulfilled his destiny and defeated the man who had caused all the destruction around him but had lost everything in the process. He took a picture from his pocket and compared it to his reflection. His hair was a lot longer and ragged, like Sirius's had been, his face was marked by numerous Hex scars and his once brilliant green eyes were no longer as bright. The colour in his eyes had been dulled. No one should ever see what these eyes have seen, thought Harry.

Getting back to his feet, Harry checked the calculations before casting an Energising Charm on the prisms. The crystals began to glow, sending out threads of light as they did so. When the threads of light met, a bubble of energy formed around Harry. He could feel the power behind the field as it pulsed around him. The gateway was almost open. Now there was just one thing left to do. Harry took one last look at the picture in his hand. Beside his younger self sat a girl whose death still felt like an open wound. Ginevra Molly Weasley had died right before his eyes – he had failed to keep her safe, just as he had failed everyone else. But not this time, thought Harry. This time, it's gonna be different. He took one last look at the last picture of himself and Ginny that had ever been taken before putting it back in his jacket pocket. As he did so, he heard a beep come from his watch. Looking at it, he saw that it had just gone past midnight. Holding down one of the buttons on the side, he smirked as he was reminded of the date.

The field's power began to peak around Harry, who had just turned 30, as he held out his wand right in front of his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Harry uttered the fatal words.

"Avada Kedavra."

The green light flashed before his eyes. Harry felt a sudden chill flow through him and sunk to his knees. That wasn't so bad, thought Harry as he watched the bubble around him begin to destabilise. However, Harry immediately realised that he shouldn't have been able to think that. At this point, he should have been dead and his memories should be hurtling backwards through time.

But they weren't.

Something's gone wrong, was Harry's last thought as the field collapsed inwards and engulfed him.