A Second Chance
It was the Light's last chance at winning the war and Minerva McGonagall was going to take it. In exchange for her life, one man was to be sent back to the past to change everything. Enemies beware, because Harry James Potter has a vendetta. SSHPLM
Main Relationship Focus: Harry Potter/Severus Snape/Lucius Malfoy
Genres: Action & Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance and Suspense
Rating: M for violence, sex and language
Warning: Slash, threesomes.
Disclaimers: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Warner Bros, Bloomsbury. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Timetravel! Plus Lucius and Severus are deliciously sexy, I couldnt' choose, so Harry gets them both -grin- Enjoy!
I: The Principle of Equivalent Exchange
Minerva Branwen McGonagall came into the world with a strong cry on 11th July 1930 at 4.32 am, on one of the longest days of the year. Second born to Kieran and Hera McGonagall, Minerva was a precocious child with a fondness for transfiguring things wandlessly.
On the knee of Kieran, the young girl learned the secrets of the McGonagall dynasty and on Hera's, Minerva learned the secrets of womanhood and the crafts of the McAllister family. Both parents knew that their young daughter was going to be a powerful woman when she grew up.
Minerva turned heads whenever she went. She had a straight, proud nose and striking blue-grey eyes, inherited from her father, just as her silky raven locks and flawless alabaster skin were her mother's. The attractive mouth, its lower lip slightly fuller than the thin upper, was all hers.
Her younger school mates saw her as the ever helpful and fair Prefect, later Head Girl, and her year mates had the privilege of knowing the girl underneath the glossed-over visage. The students of the 1947 graduation class knew Minerva McGonagall as the beautiful, intelligent girl who had a passion for Quidditch having played as Chaser and Captain for the Gryffindor Team.
Transfiguration Mastery Class of 1947-52 knew Minerva McGonagall as the eye-catching, hardworking and prioritized Apprentice who received her Mastery with Honours in an unheard of period of four years. Soon after, she was offered the position to teach the students of Hogwarts in Transfiguration by her former Transfiguration Professor, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Best known as the stern but fair Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Europe's finest magical institute, Professor McGonagall was well-respected for being a hard and effective taskmistress. As one of Europe's best Transfiguration Mistresses, Minerva had a reputation to keep as she returned every year to the Academy of Mastery to be one of the examiners for aspiring Mistresses and Masters of Transfiguration.
Everyone born after 1942 and went to Hogwarts knew Minerva McGonagall as the tall, scary-looking Transfiguration Professor but who actually was really nice inside once you knew to hand in your Transfiguration essays on time and kept yourself out of general trouble.
Slytherins came to associate her with scrupulous fairness despite her being the Head of Gryffindor, the Ravenclaws looked forward to her demanding classes, and the Hufflepuffs preferred not to irritate her but knew that she was one of the best teachers, while her Gryffindors knew that their Head of House would be there whenever they needed her to be.
Responsible for the molding of the next generation's Aurors, Healers, Ministry Officials and Quidditch players, Minerva took her job seriously and with her nurturing nature, taught them the skills they would need in future the best that she could.
Anyone who had the pleasure of working with the formidable woman knew that Minerva had more than a few tricks up her sleeves, especially when it came to dueling and strategizing. As a partner in battle, Minerva was someone whom they could trust their life with.
Known to even less people, Minerva held the position of the second-in-command of the Order of Phoenix; a group led by Albus Dumbledore, whose efforts centered on ensuring the defeat of the current Dark Lord, Voldemort. Vital to the group's war effort, the powerful witch's position was acknowledged and never questioned.
Only five people have seen her as a ruthless avenger when she methodically recited lethal transfiguration spells and watched it all hit Lester Jameson without as much as a flinch. The Death Eater had been the murderer of Michael McGonagall, Minerva's beloved older brother. It took the young woman, twenty-five at that time, seven long years to find out who her brother's executioner was and track him down to enact her revenge.
If they held a tally in the Order of the Phoenix headquarters for killing Death Eaters, Minerva's name would be right behind Alastor Moody's. True to her nature, Minerva was a fearsome lioness when provoked and loyal when needed. There had never been a more formidable witch.
Twenty-five years into the war with Voldemort, Dumbledore died and left the mantle of leadership to Minerva, his deputy. At sixty-seven and in her prime, Minerva stepped up as the Headmistress of Hogwarts and Leader of the Order of the Phoenix. After Harry Potter's graduation from Hogwarts in 1998, it had been a full-out war with Voldemort ever since.
People were killed and minds were lost.
It has been ten years since the civil war officially broke out and now, at seventy-seven and in the year of 2008, Minerva McGonagall found herself standing in the middle of the Headmistress Office with the alarms going off.
Hogwarts's legendary wards have finally been breached after twenty-years of effort on Voldemort's part. Minerva's blue-grey eyes glittered with determination as she calmly drew a pentagon around her with white chalk.
Only the methodological scratching of the chalk against the floor was heard as none of the portraits or herself made a sound. Solemn eyes of many different colours held respect, regret and resignation.
Then there was silence.
Minerva completed the pentagon and stepped out of the drawn ritual platform around the chair behind her desk with a feline grace. Waving her wand, the locks on the cabinet behind her chair sprang open when she muttered the password set in Welsh. The cupboard was curiously empty save for five vials.
In transparent glass, vials held a substance that swirled a hypnotic silvery golden. It was an ethereal sight and Minerva allowed herself to be captivated for a few moments before levitating the vials out of the polished mahogany cabinet and onto the neat, statuesque oak desk that was hers for the past ten years as Headmistress of Hogwarts.
With a long finger, Minerva traced the outline of the shimmering vial slowly. These five vials were the lifework of Draco Malfoy-Weasley, Hermione Granger-Snape, Ginerva Zabini, Susan Longbottom and Luna Lovegood-Zabini. The woman's lips curved in a soft smile as she reminisced. All of these people belonged to the most brilliant but jaded generation she had ever taught. Just like the three generations before them onwards, they were all hardened by the violence and matured too quickly from the war; Minerva knew how exactly it felt.
Susan and Luna lost their lives protecting civilians from a particularly vicious Death Eater attack soon after the completion of their last resort. Hermione then lost her mind after hearing the news of the painful death which her beloved husband, Severus Snape, suffered. Blaise and Ginerva Zabini threw themselves into the resistance efforts in bid to take their minds off their deceased wife. Then Neville Longbottom, the resistance's botanist and sole Potion ingredient supplier was found poisoned in his workroom, foaming in the mouth having ingested a leaf of a plant genotype he was modifying. There were rumors of suicide.
After Albus's death, Minerva took over Harry's training and over the two years worth of dueling and teaching, the pair developed a familial bond between them. Minerva saw Harry as the son that she never had and Harry, the mother that he never got to know. Now, she barely saw him with the attacks on the rise.
She had been there for them for more than half of their lives, first as their Transfiguration Professor, later Mentor when she stepped up and taught them the skills that helped her survive the previous war, and finally, Leader as she led them in their resistance. Childless, her students were her own life and blood as she welcomed new First Years and sent off graduates into the merciless real world. Having gone through so many obstacles and tests with this particular generation, the woman felt a special kinship for these students, now adults.
Seeing them in the hopeless situation of war broke her heart everyday.
For four years, it has been a stalemate and it was taking its toll on their side. Their ranks were thinning and Voldemort was gaining on them slowly but surely. Just two weeks before, their last spy in the Ministry was killed.
Catastrophe followed tragedy and victories were hard to come by. Wizarding England was now a place where no one firmly on the Light side was willing to risk their lives walking on the streets. The Ministry has been taken over completely.
England was now Voldemort's puppet.
She was glad that Albus never lived that long to witness the very thing that he had spent his life trying to prevent and Minerva never ended a day without wishing fervently for the war to end.
The Headmistress of Europe's once finest academy of magical education caught her reflection in the window looking into the partially destroyed Quidditch field. War showed on her face in the forms of a long scar cutting down her left eye and cheek, her now completely snow white locks and a permanently etched frown on her brows.
Minerva placed each of the five vials on the points of the pentagon and when she had done so, the witch settled into her high-backed chair, looking very inch the regal witch that she was. Then her blue-grey eyes gazed resolutely out of the glass window, looking into the Forbidden Forest. Footsteps and cussing could be heard outside her office; Minerva smirked but regained her calm expression when the door blasted open.
The familiar faces of Rabastan Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Theodore Nott Sr., Alecto Carrow and Bellatrix Lestrange came into view as the quintet stepped into the circular office.
"Mister Lestrange, Mister Malfoy, Mister Nott, Miss Carrow and Miss Lestrange, how nice of you to pay your old Transfiguration Professor a visit." Despite being middle-aged adults and out of Hogwarts for the last two decades, the older woman behind the oak desk managed to make them feel like students.
Lucius inclined his head in greeting as his metallic coloured eyes glittered while Rabastan and Theodore looked in away in shame. Alecto and Bellatrix, already too far gone, cackled as they rubbed their hands with childish glee and their wild eyes glittered with malevolence.
"Shut it, McGonagall. We'll get the last laugh after we've disposed of your dead body." Bellatrix snarled and Minerva arched an eyebrow. The emaciated woman, who never recovered from her stay in Azkaban, lunged at the older witch but was stopped from getting to Minerva when Rabastan grabbed her arms.
Suddenly, Bellatrix froze and relaxed. Alexis and Theodore stepped aside to allow for a tall figure to pass. Minerva widened her eyes slightly but that was already enough for the newcomer.
"Ah, Minerva, aren't you glad to see me?" A rich, seductive baritone caressed Minerva's ears and she gritted her teeth in reply, "Riddle."
Voldemort was no longer the snake-like monster he once resembled; in his place was the handsome man with black hair streaked with white at the sides, an aristocratic face and flawless pale skin he would have been if he had aged normally. However, instead of his previous blue-grey eyes, the Dark Lord retained the ruby orbs he acquired during his transformations.
"You could have been on the winning side as my Queen, Min." The witch looked away in shame. Minerva shared a year of passion with the handsome man before her during her seventh year in Hogwarts. They had been the Head Boy and Girl of their school life; both had been brilliant, diligent and had bright futures before them. Tom and Minerva were in love with each other and the young woman had thought that she found her soul-mate. That was until she found out that he had been dabbling in the foul, the Dark Arts.
"I'm still glad that I'm not, Tom."
Defiance burned in her icy depths as she stood up to be at eye-level with her former flame. Tom Riddle smirked and shook his head, "Ah, Min. Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor. How I used to love your feistiness."
Minerva glowered but then remembered her place and recollected herself, "And how I used to love you."
The Dark Lord barely contained a flinch and he knew that she knew that too, judging from the Headmistress's hard, knowing glint in her dignified gaze.
"I supposed you're here to kill me?"
Tom inclined his head and smiled as genially as he possibly could. "I suppose I am."
"May I have a private moment with you?" Bellatrix and Alecto started protesting but Tom silenced both his female minions with a cold stare. "Leave."
When they were alone, Minerva gave her former lover a smile, Tom was still struck by the simple beauty behind the rare facial expression despite the scar and the aging.
"I did love you once and probably, to some extent, still do. You were someone I honestly believe I could have spent the rest of my life with. We could have had a family, intelligent little girls and boys with black hair and green or blue-green eyes running around the house. We could have accomplished the impossible together. You could have been someone great and revered, not someone hated and feared. You had my heart, body and soul. Instead, you threw away all that to dabble in the foul. You became a monster and I no longer could see the Tom that I came to know and love."
Minerva was pleased to see that her nemesis had gone pale and his eyes were wide but he sobered as his eyes flared a dangerous crimson as he retorted.
"I was naïve then, I didn't know what real power was and when I tried my first Dark spell, I got a taste of immortality. You were the naïve one; you couldn't see what we could have accomplished together. I rule Wizarding England with you by my side as Queen. We could have been immortal!"
Minerva smiled sadly and softly intoned.
"You still don't get it, do you, Tom? I don't care for immortality, everything comes with a price and for you, and it was your humanity. We are mortals and we are meant to die when the time comes."
The man couldn't bear to hear anymore. Every word that the woman before him stabbed at his almost non-existent heart.
"Enough, now you die."
The five vials glowed eerily but Tom did not notice as he was too busy glaring at Minerva. "Avada Ke –"
Minerva smiled triumphantly as the vials burst and evaporated into an ethereal silvery mist. Tom stared as the mist swirled around the witch, making her seem even more like her namesake. Suddenly, Minerva pointed her wand to her chest and whispered with exultant determination.
A wave of pure Magic engulfed the room and Tom fell back from the sheer power. Then everything seemed to be in slow motion as Minerva hit the floor in an elegant arc. Even till the end, Minerva McGonagall was smiling.
Operation Fortunas was a success.
"My lord! Are you alright?" The shockwave of power was felt for miles away. Bellatrix and Alecto simpered while Rabastan helped the Dark Lord up. He brushed his robes imperiously and drawled. Lucius's grey eyes glittered with interest when his gaze rested on the remnants of white chalk surrounding the fallen Headmistress.
"Of course, let's leave."
Despite Minerva's death, Tom still felt a nagging feeling that everything was not what it seemed.
There was a heavy silence even as the portraits returned to their frames and sad eyes reigned. Only one stayed on to observe the confrontation between the Headmistress and the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore was damned proud of his protégé. He was not wrong to choose her, to mold her into what she was today. Her presence will be missed but in times of war, many things are necessary. He learned that during the war and a half he had participated in before his necessary death. Albus then surprised every other portrait by smiling with a wicked twinkle in his baby-blue eyes as he said.
"They will soon learn that they should have never hurt a lioness's cubs…"
Harry stretched, wincing slightly as he heard his bones pop and scratched his chest before looking out of the makeshift headquarters' window with tired verdant eyes. Stationed in Essex, Harry could not do anything but to wait for orders from above despite his rank as a commander. As the main target of the other side's attentions, Harry had to jump from one location to the other in prevention from being caught. It really pissed him off.
He had been fighting for the most of his life, starting when he was just a mere one-year old babe and now he was already twenty-eight. Much to his chagrin, Voldemort still was not dead and to be honest, their side was not faring that well either. Recently there had been lesser opportunities to topple the other side, although Order of the Phoenix HQ in London had come up with a Last Resort. Another thing that was kept a secret from him even though he was part of the Last Resort; all he knew was that they had weaved a spell into him, tying the spell to his magical core. The result was a magnificent tribal tattoo smack in the middle of his toned chest.
The years hardened the young man, giving him the eyes of a sixty-five year old war veteran. Harry sighed and looked onto the floor. So many friends and comrades were gone. Hermione's mental instability following her husband's death, Ginny and Blaise's workaholic habits, Draco's reluctance to speak to anyone after Ron's murder… He really had no idea whether they could win the war or not, at the rate they were going…
Harry scratched his chest again, where his tattoo was and he realized that the tattoo was warm. Then Hell broke lose when the tattoo flared up.
Unimaginable pain wrecked his body as Harry gritted his teeth. Silver and golden swirls danced in his vision, he felt himself being physically constricted as the swirls were sucked into his body. Was this another attempt on his life? How did they find him? Was there a mole amongst the ranks?
He cannot die now! The war was not over!
Unable to take the immense pain any longer, Harry screamed for all he was worth before remembering that he was not alone in the building. He bit his hard to stop the scream and blood streamed down his chin.
The magic and pain flared up once more and Harry slid into blissful unconsciousness with a million 'sorry's on his mind.
Seamus Finnegan shot up the stairs like a bullet when he heard a terrifying scream from his friend's room. Eyes wide and adrenaline fueled, the Irish wizard blasted the wooden door open and rolled into the room with his wand in his hand. Serious blue eyes scanned the vicinity.
But there was no one in the room.
Where was Harry? He was in the room only a few moments ago, Seamus had just visited him himself. Worry creasing his brows, Seamus went to report to the HQ but not before sending a prayer to God requesting for his friend's safety.
God knows he would probably need it.
Coming Up Next: Realizations and Planning
MY EXAMS ARE OVER!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!
Now I can finally concentrate on writing! So exciting and I'm going to revamp Constantine's Heir :D
Be prepared, because there are more to come…
As almost everyone knows, I had a poll up in my profile and gave the voters four choices of fics that I had in mind and A Second Chance won by an overwhelming 75%! So true to form, I started writing the fic! I am really excited about this, I know that time travel had been done countless of times but I hope I can put a fresh twist to this plotline! And introducing a new threesome: Severus/Harry/Lucius. Don't worry, there will be no Chan!
And there's a new poll, check it out on my bio – big smile –
Until next time,