DitzyDizzyDessy101 here

I am finally publishing this story (but i doubt any of you knew their was any sort of wait involved)

Just a note: If you're one of those people who like to skip ahead to where the timetravelers are introduced to the school, start reading at Chapter 3; if you prefer not to read until they meet the Marauders, this happens near the end of that same chapter.

And, just because I'm so nice, I've planned a special surprise for you!


For real, actually...

Okay, here goes:

True / False:

1. This is a book, not a fanfic.

2. J.K. Rowling is a fourteen year old kid seeking entertainment.

3. You have never heard of Harry Potter because it is nothing but a half-formed, undeveloped idea and the author has absolutely no talent—at all—in writing.

Form a brief statement of what you've learned in regard to the above questions.

Stumped? Ha! You failed! Back to kindergarten for all of you! As any five year old will tell you, numbers one to three are all false, and the statement is: DitzyDizzyDessy101 is not JK Rowling and has no claim to Harry Potter. Duh!

Can't think what else to say here, soooo


Forging Reality

by DitzyDizzyDessy101


Prologue, taken from DH. Beginning of story takes place immediately after: 'He was lying face down on the ground again. The smell of the forest filled his nostrils. He could feel the cold hard ground beneath his cheek, and the hinge of his glasses, which had been knocked sideways by the fall, cutting into his temple. Every inch of him ached, and the place where the Killing Curse had hit him felt like the bruise of an iron-clad punch... He had expected to hear cheers of triumph and jubilation at his death, but instead hurried footsteps, whispers, and solicitous murmurs filled the air. "My Lord... my Lord..." It was Bellatrix, and she spoke as if to a lover.'

He stirred, crawling to his knees and climbing stiffly to his feet. None of the Death Eaters seemed to notice, as they were all crowded around Voldemort, who apparently had been blasted off his feet. Harry turned to where Hagrid was bound to the tree, and saw the half-giant's shoulders heaving with silent sobs. He crossed the few feet to him and gently placed a hand on his arm; felt him wince away, and murmured, "Hagrid, it's me, Harry."

Hagrid's face jerked up, his eyes desperate and drowning in soundless tears. A spark of disbelieving recognition lit his eyes and he mouthedHarry? ; as his face split into a wide, tear-soaked grin, his jubilation broke the silencing spell, and he half-shouted, half-sobbed, "You're alive!" He struggled against his bonds, ripping them off with his newfound strength and joy, and wrapping Harry in a tight, bone-crushing hug.

Harry paused a moment to return the hug, then somehow managed to slip from his friend's embrace and spin around to face Voldemort, reaching for his wand.

Voldemort had stood up, shaking off the worshiping Bellatrix as she clung to him. His eyes burned with anger and –could it be?—fear; his lips mouthed his silent question.

"You don't get it, do you Riddle?" Harry said, his voice low and quiet. "You think just because you never want those words pointed at you—just because you're afraid of death—means that death is the worst thing!" He could see the crowd around him lean forward to catch his every word, could practically feel their repulsion to what he was saying and yet their fear of missing anything, but Voldemort's face was the only one that mattered anymore. "You are a fool, Riddle, because you've dismissed from your life everything that can make you truly feel—and so everything that can make you most powerful!"

"Surely you jest, Potter!" Voldemort jeered, his red eyes wide and burning. "It is when humans feel that they become weakest! Power is in stopping emotion, cutting yourself off from regret, love, sorrow, pain, so there is nothing to hold you back!"

"And yet it was love that made my mum die for me and save my life, causing you that unbearable pain and leading your leeching followers to pretend you'd never existed! Love for my mum that convinced Snape to join our side and betray you to Dumbledore, no matter the risk! Love for all the world that enabled Dumbledore—and me—to go calmly to our deaths so that you could be defeated!"

"But you did not die!"

"I meant to! You'll never learn, will you?! Love might not keep one person from dying but it both lets them face death with dignity— rather than hiding behind horcurxes and unicorn blood—and gives them hope and strength in the darkest of times!

"Do you remember, Tom Riddle, those years when you were alone and servantless—chased out by love? What about those years in the orphanage when you were deprived of love—do you remember asking yourself why your mum and dad weren't there to coddle you, to wake you from your nightmares and tell you everything would be alright?"

"Enough!" Voldemort screamed, his eyes gleaming scarlet. "Lies, all of them! I never needed love because I was better—stronger—than the others! And I ask you this—is your mudblood mother any better off because of her great love? Is Dumbledore? They're both dead at my hand and no love—however strong—is going to bring them back again!" His rage exploded, touched with a tinge of denial.

Harry shouted back, "Yes, they are infinitely better off! They may be dead but their memory lives on! Your power may be able to destroy life, but only love can create and nurture it—as you should know!" He forced himself to calm down, refusing to allow his fury to dominate the exchange.

"How about this, Riddle," he said, a plan forming in his mind. "How about we put it to the test. Your power against mine, your greed and fear of death against my love."

Voldemort's eyes gleamed in the reflected firelight, so that there appeared to be tiny flames dancing in them. Harry could only guess what he was thinking until he hissed, "What do you suggest?"

"A duel, but two things first," Harry said, pushing his luck, "The terms have to be equal." He could see Voldemort frown, even beneath his perpetual snakelike glare. "The snake dies."

"NO!" Voldemort's eyes widened, shining a deep scarlet. "I won't allow die for the sake of a contest with an foolish child!"

"Don't. Allow me to destroy your horcrux so that, when the story of your defeat gets around, they won't say you were too much of a coward to face a seventeen-year-old kid on like a man!


Voldemort's furious hiss could have been a part of the cackling fire, almost lost as it was in clamor that arose from the surrounding Death Eaters.

Encouraged, Harry mocked further, "Imagine what they'll say about your reign, Tom Riddle: so afraid of death he attacked a powerless one-year-old and his wandless parents, but couldn't even pull that off right. For the next 12 years, not only was he thwarted again and again by that same child, but his own followers didn't bother trying to find him.

"He claimed to have gone further than anyone in the quest for immortality, but an old man and three kids tore apart his defenses in less than a year!

"And that same boy managed to survive the attempted murder yet again because of a stupid mistake on your part!

"And, facing death at last, he cowered behind his last snake Horcrux, afraid a sev—"

"ENOUGH!" Voldemort's scream was livid with hatred and fury. "We'll do your little test! And then in all the years to come, no one will dare call me a coward!"

"My second request," Harry wondered for a moment if he had gone too far but knew it was too late to turn back, "I get to send word to my friends." He saw Voldemort about to refuse and quickly marshaled his thoughts into an argument. "They won't take part or anything. But I can't let myself just fall into Death Eater hands after you die, can I?"


A few minutes later, Harry and Voldemort bowed to one another. Nagini's bloodied carcass lay discarded where it had fallen, and Harry's patronus had disappeared into the night.

Gripping his wand tightly, Harry straightened and poised, ready to begin.

And suddenly it did.

The air was aglow with curses flying. Although his determination was focused on one target and his thoughts centered around the duel, his mind swam with images of Ginny laughing, Ron grinning awkwardly, Hermione trying to look stern and not smile... Amazingly, these helped him to think more clearly than he ever had when face to face with death.

The battle became a tangled mess, and Harry no longer knew what curse he used as he shot it. The glow of the curses, the leering face of Voldemort, the memory of his friends... He didn't know which curses he shot and which his adversary did.

"Reducto!" --"Crucio!" -- rescuing Hermione from the troll -- "Stupefy!" -- "Flagrate!" -- "Incarcerous!" --Mrs. Weasley embracing him -- "Avada Kedavra!" -- Sirius flying away on Buckbeak -- " Avis!" -- "Petrificus Totalus!" --"Crucio!" --private lessons with Dumbledore -- "Densaugeo!" -- "Locomotor Mortis!" -- Ron and Hermione snogging –- Harry and Ginny snogging –- Ron leaving them –- winning the Quidditch Cup –- finding out who Nicholas Flammel was –- Hermione punching Malfoy –- Bill and Fleur's wedding

The battle slipped from verbal to nonverbal, but it was no less fierce. Suddenly, though, Harry's expelliarmus and Voldemort's avada kedavra met mid-air once more. There was a sound like an explosion, like a thousand bombs going off at once.

Harry felt himself thrown backwards by the shock of the impact. His wand was connected to Voldemort's by a golden beam. As he rolled to a standing postion, he saw the his adversary, too, had been knocked off his feet. The noise continued, like gunshots, and despite the beam's golden appearance, the surrounding area was devoid of any light, as though it sucked the very light out of the air leaving a dark emptiness. A few flickering shadows from the dying embers of the fire cast the only light there was.

As he steadied his wand, he felt a wave of panic—and yet, at the same time, he felt as though he were in control and all powerful. The beam emitted a particularly loud explosion.

His emotions changed in an instant. He felt... lighter. Sure of himself because of his character, not power. Scared, but not of death because death was nothing to be afraid of. Scared for everyone else. The people who would be hurt by the monster before him. Scared for his friends, who, if his message hadn't reached them, wouldn't know what happened to him. Or who would try to come to his rescue but would be hurt in the process. Who would have to go on with out him.


He was suddenly repulsed by what he had been feeling. Who cared about them? He might die. He couldn't let that happen. He had to win,needed to win. If he failed, all would be lost.


He didn't care if he died—he had to protect his friends, and everyone else.


Steady yourself, he told himself firmly, you are stronger than this, more powerful then him. Be in control! You mustn't die! If you do—


His friends—


He must survive—


The people that would die—


He would die!


The families that would be ripped apart—the people that would be hurt—parents and kids all alone—


A blinding light flashed. The noise resounded this time, echoing as if it had all of space and time to bounce around in. The sound didn't die, but no new explosions joined it.

Blinking away the continued glare that obscured his vision, his eyes were drawn to three familiar figures running towards him, their eyes wide with fear and their lips soundlessly mouthing his name.

Suddenly, the beam split into silver and green. Both ends flew wildly in the air like brandishing whips, until the silver end twirled towards him, the green in the opposite direction. The silver wrapped around him, and then, lost in its blinding light, he felt as though water were rushing past him—heavy, but neither cold nor hot, and if he had stopped to think about it about it, he definitely wasn't wet.

Then everything went black and he knew no more.