A/N – Hello again! I'm back with another Balm of Time story and, as previously, it has been heavily inspired by Back to the Future. I love getting reviews but please don't ask me about the actual time travel aspect of things, I use the same model as Back to the Future because it's easy and I figure if it's good enough for Stephen Spielberg then it is good enough for me. I'm a fan fiction author not a scientist, so suspend your disbelief and just enjoy the story... it's only been written for your enjoyment and mine. I know it's not long, it's really more of a prologue than a chapter, but I hope you enjoy it and I hope you leave a review for me.
One more bit of housekeeping, I don't know how often updates will be as this is still a work in progress. I can only promise that it will be completed... one day.
Chapter 1 – History never repeats
Rosalind watched in dismay as the Neo-Death Eaters continued to poke and prod at her father and her head pounded in agony. She had tried everything she could to save him, but nothing had worked, and she knew, with every particle of her being, that if she didn't think of something he would die within the hour. Just as he had the first time around.
Once he was dead a plague of these Neo-Death Eaters would descend upon her grandparents home, where so many of his loved ones were gathered for his 21st birthday, and they'd kill them all in one fell swoop. Even Dumbledore, who had been somewhat of a recluse since the second downfall of Voldemort, had been in attendance and had met the same fate as everyone else.
Her own mother had survived only because she'd been waiting at home for him to return before going to the party. They had a clock in their living room which showed his whereabouts, much like a clock which had once lived at the burrow (or so she'd been told).
Right now, she knew, her mother had stopped what she was doing and was staring transfixed at the clock which showed that her husband, Harry Potter, was in mortal peril. Her mother had often said that she used to find great comfort in that clock because, no matter how dangerous the mission seemed, it only ever showed him as being at work. Today would be the first time that it spun to Mortal Peril and she knew, that her mother, Hermione Potter, would continue to sit and stare at the clock, unable to move or think, until the hand fell off entirely.
She glanced at her watch again, there were only a few minutes left before her father's life would be ended and as much as she hated to see him suffering (the death eaters now making liberal use of the cruciatus curse) she needed more time, but she'd already had more time than she should have, thanks to a certain potion.
She thought back to the events that had lead her here, searching for some clue, some lose thread to pull that would allow her to unravel this horrible mess and start over. But she found none.
She'd been in the past for six months; it was as much time as she could have because the potion didn't allow travel back further than the moment of conception. In that time she'd joined the Auror's and chased down every lead she could find, desperately searching for something that would show people here what was about to happen. But there was nothing.
She had never quite believed her mother when she'd said that there had been no clue of the revolution that had been brewing beneath them. She should have known better, her father wasn't the most famous and feared Auror ever because he overlooked things.
She'd tried to use her position as a fellow Auror to become friends with her dad, she'd hoped that she could influence him to see what was happening and maybe together they could avoid this. But that hadn't worked either. She was a junior Auror and he was simply too well known and too busy to have much to do with her. Not to mention that he was utterly suspicious of new people, six months was no-where near enough time to work her way in to his trust.
She'd even considered just telling her parents the truth but she'd believed that she could fix this herself and by the time she'd realised how wrong she was it was too late.
She fidgeted under her invisibility cloak, feeling helpless and wretched, and glanced once more at her watch. In another minute he'd be dead and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it. He was surrounded by Death Eaters and, if the rumours were true, the Dark Lord was about to re-appear. It was widely believed that Voldemort had insisted on killing her father himself. The odds were too overwhelming; if she revealed herself she'd just end up dead along-side him.
Her stomach twisted with guilt at the thought of what would happen if she died as well. It was a hopeless situation.
An ironic smile twisted her lips, her father should have been perfectly safe then. Uncle Ron always said that her dad was at his best in hopeless situations. Whenever things seemed to be impossible he would charge in and somehow manage to fix everything. A lump formed in her throat. Her dad had always been the one to save people, she should have known that if he needed saving himself then the situation was beyond all hope.
She felt like such a failure, she was certain that if their situations were reversed he would know exactly what to do. If he knew what she did, he would have found a way to fix this.
Then Voldemort appeared and she knew that she had to act, she couldn't let this happen again. Like a lightning bolt to the brain she suddenly knew what she could do. She didn't know what the consequences of her actions would be, but she did know what would happen if she failed to act. If she did nothing her father would die, her grandparents would die, her aunt and uncle, and everyone else that had mattered to her parents, would all die. She couldn't just stand by and let that happen.
'Well, well, Harry Potter, I suppose that you never expected to see me again.' Voldemort was saying
Harry spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor before replying politely, 'Tom, this is an unpleasant surprise. You came to wish me a happy birthday, I suppose'
But Rosalind barely paid them any attention, she was too busy pulling the stopper of her hip flask (as quietly as possible) and once it was out she took a sip of the potion before returning the stopper to its place and the flask to her pocket.
'I am glad that none of my loyal followers told you of my return, I did so want it to be a surprise.'
As they continued to talk she made her way closer to where her father was being held. She wasn't sure if it was going to work because everything she'd ever been told said that both travellers had to take a sip of the potion. But she was almost certain that no-one had actually tried what she was about to attempt and, if it was going to work, she only needed to get one hand onto him and hold on tight.
Harry laughed, but there was no mirth in it, 'You certainly succeeded there, if you don't mind me asking Tom, how did you survive?'
She was right next to him now, wedged in tightly so as not to give her presence away to any death eaters. He must have known she was there, he must have been able to feel her pressed up against him as she was, but he gave no indication that anything was amiss.
The dark lord laughed, 'No, Harry, I'm not going to give away all my secrets. I have learned a lesson that you failed to, I don't trust anyone.'
From her close proximity to her father she saw his eyes narrow, 'someone I trust has betrayed me somehow?' he demanded.
The dark lord simply laughed in response, 'Not to trust anyone isn't the only lesson I learned from our last encounter. This time I'm not going to waste time talking to you, or even torturing you, I'm just going to kill you.'
The Dark Lord raised his wand but, before he could even draw breath, Rosalind made her move. She grabbed her father's arm as tightly as she could and apparated away to the only place she knew, without a doubt, was safe.
She took him to her mother's library.
She took him, back to the future.