'HP: Dolen Amser'
Chapter One
- Seat Back Forwards -

A/N: I don't own squat, save for the plot.

Tonkslover94 did this with 'Second Chance'. This is quite similar with different nuances, house, and plot-line. Thanks goes to him for letting me take his idea and throw it in a spin cycle.

Dolen Amser is 'Time Loop' in Welsh.

Initially set in the summer before Sixth Year, before heading to the year before the First.

GoodReason!Dumbledore, OnTheFence!Snape, Unbound!Harry, Happy!Harry, Honks!

Harry's head was on fire, and he couldn't help but groan as he drifted into consciousness. He could discern a sterile environment, and felt that he was in some sort of hospital. Internally, he bemoaned the fact that he was yet again waking up under the care of healers, before he remembered the duel.

Voldemort got past the wards at the Dursleys!

His moaning, then sitting up sharply drew the attention of two individuals. Harry couldn't tell who or even what sex they were. The non colour grey of their cloaks, and the obscuring hoods they wore made it completely impossible. "No, don't tell me. Department of Mysteries?" he deadpanned.

"Indeed, sir," one of them said with a distorted voice.

The other one handed him a potion. "Drink that, and you should feel more centred. It also has a pain potion mixed in, so your headache should pass soon."

Sniffing it first, Harry guzzled the potion. He smacked his lips at the odd flavour. "Citrus?" he mumbled, then felt the pain slowly depart. "Oh, that's better."

"I've been told by a few muggle born and half bloods that it reminds them of Sprite?" the other one said. "Now, we need for you to take this one so we can get a few answers."

Harry sniffed the small vial he was handed, and shook his head. "I'm not taking veritaserum without knowing what the devil is going on."

The two looked at each other, then sat down on opposite sides of the bed. "That's understandable," the first one said. "We found you in the middle of Little Whinging, Surrey, wearing little more than sleeping clothes and holding your wand. The magical traces that were in the area indicated a temporal anomaly that we couldn't readily identify."

Harry blinked. "Time Travel?" At their nods, he shook his head. "Okay, here's the big question: What's the date?"

"March twenty first, nineteen ninety," the second one said. "Would you please take the serum now? We need to verify your identity, and see if we can send you back."

Still gobsmacked, Harry absently poured the small vial onto his tongue. The feeling of peace went through him, and he felt like he was being imperioused. Pushing that back a bit, the questions started coming.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter." Interestingly enough, he was able to hold off on his hyphenated last name of Potter-Black. Still though, the two Unspeakables gasped a bit.

"What was yesterday's date for you?"

"July 30th, 1996." More rapid inhales.

"How did you travel in time?"

"I don't know."

"How long have you known that you are a metamorphmagus?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Explain why your hair is changing colours."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

A mirror was placed in front of him, and he could see that his hair was a shocking shade of light blue. "What colour is your hair?"

"Somewhere between sky blue and lavender?"

"How long have you known that you are a metamorphmagus?" the first one asked again.

"About two seconds."

"You didn't know about that ability?"


"What happened to you yesterday that involved magic?"

"The clock struck midnight, and I was saying Happy Birthday to myself like I do every year since no one else cares, when the front door was blasted in. I thought it was my uncle at first."

"What happened then?"

"I heard Vernon shout 'Get out of my house!' before he started screaming in pain. I forced my way out of my room to see Tom Riddle using the cruciatus on my uncle. Petunia screamed from the kitchen."

"Who is Tom Riddle?"

"Lord Voldemort."

There were more sharp inhales. "How do you know that?"

"The phrase 'I am Lord Voldemort' is an anagram of 'Tom Marvolo Riddle'."

"Do you know anything more about him?"

"He's a half blood, born to a near squib Merope Gaunt and a rich muggle, Tom Riddle."

"What happened after your uncle was tortured?"

"Tom used the killing curse on my aunt to quote 'shut her up', before I tried to hit him with a disarming jinx."

"Were any of his followers with him?"

"No. I can only assume that the blood wards prevented it."

"Wouldn't they prevent him from entering as well?"

"I doubt it. Pettegrew used my blood to create the homunculus body that Tom's using now."

There were hushed whispers that Harry couldn't understand, before the questioning resumed. "Did you duel Voldemort?"


"What happened?"

"After trading a few hexes, and dodging two torture curses, he tried to hit me with the killing curse. Like it did before, I hit the spell with one of my own – a stunner instead of a disarming jinx – and that strange cage thing happened again."

"Describe the cage."

"Golden, it started where our spells hit each other and surrounded the two of us in the living room. Dumbledore said that it happens because our two wands use phoenix cores from the same phoenix."

"Interesting. What happened next?"

"He must've been prepared for this, because he brought out a second wand and hit me with another spell."

"Do you know what it was?"


"Can you describe it?"

"I saw a flash of green, before a golden ray hit me in the gut. Hurt like hell."

"What happened next?"

"I saw a room of white and talked to my godfather."

"Who is your godfather?"

"Sirius Orion Black."

More hushed whispers. "What did you talk about?"

"He said that my scar was an accidental horcrux that Tom had just eradicated. He then told me to have fun, and that I had his permission."

"Permission for what?"

"I don't know. I woke up here with a splitting headache."

"Give him the antidote."

Harry tasted peppermint, then blinked rapidly. "What the hell? I barely remember seeing Sirius, much less talk to him!"

The second one held a placating hand out. "Calm down, Mr. Potter, and we'll try to explain."

The first one spoke up. "We found remnants of a magical block on your core. Tell me, do you feel tired at all?"

Harry blinked, looking confused. "No, and that's weird. I'm always tired."

Nodding, the first one spoke again. "That coincides with our theory. I can only assume that the second spell tore the block apart. The release of your magic must have reacted violently against the cage that you described. Since Phoenixes are immortal, I can only assume that the colliding energies tore a hole through time and pulled you through it."

"What about Voldemort?" Harry asked, quite alarmed. "Was there another body?"

"There was a left hand found not far from you," the second one said. "It could have been from a homunculus."

Harry's grin was feral. "Now that's one hell of a self fulfilling prophesy. Take that, ya bastard!"

"Prophesy?" the one on the left of the bed asked. Harry gave up on figuring out which was which.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "There's one in the Hall of Prophecies that basically said I was the one that had to kill him. Or, he would kill me. It was a bit ambiguous on that part." His smile actually reached his eyes.

The one on the right shook their head. "Don't celebrate just yet, Mr. Potter. From our point of view, that hasn't happened yet."

"Way to kill the mood, there," Harry said with closed eyes. "What else do I have to do?"

"Well, we can't just send you back. We could put you in stasis, but there's no way of knowing if that will work with you or not," the one on the right said.

"Why not?" Harry asked, opening his eyes in a scowl.

"You're magical core is quite large, Mr. Potter, and would fight it," the one on the left said. "That was why we tried to determine how you arrived. If it was an actual spell, we could have arithmetically reversed it. As it is though, this looks like a rather spectacular accident."

Harry's hair turned a deep scarlet as he laid back on the bed, swearing. "Bloody buggering shite! What the hell else?"

"You could simply finish school," the one on the right said. "You finished your fifth year, yes?"

"It was my OWL year, yeah," he nodded. "Don't suppose you know a way of retrieving the results?" he asked with a hopeful expression.

The one on the right chuckled. "Sorry, no. However, we can give you a refresher so you can take them again."

"Wonderful," Harry said in a flat tone. "More tests. Wait, does that mean I get to go back to Hogwarts? How would that work?"

"We would set you up with a false identity," the one on the left said. "If you give a magical vow to not change history, that is."

"And if I don't?" Harry challenged.

"We simply hold you in the DoM for six and a half years so you aren't tempted to cause a paradox," the one on the right said. For a voice that was distorted, it sounded awfully smug.

"No way," Harry shook his head, which now sported a dark blue head of hair. "Not being cooped up for that long. I'd have flashbacks of the damned cupboard, and try to break out within a year. What do I have to do?"

They looked at each other at the mention of a cupboard, then the one on the left handed Harry his wand. "Simply hold your wand vertically and say the following: I -your name goes here- do solemnly swear on my magic that I will not try to change history as I know it. This I vow. Then there's a flash of light that seals it. If you break the vow, you lose your magic."

"No pressure," Harry deadpanned. Thinking about it, he had an idea. Doing his best not to smirk, he held his wand up. "I, Harry James Potter, do solemnly swear on my magic that I will not try to change history as I know it. This I vow." He then ended that with a silent lumos maximus.

Not feeling anything abnormal with himself, he looked at his wand rather oddly, then lumosed the tip of his wand verbally. "Weird. My wand doesn't feel right." While honest, he hoped that would distract from him not using Black on the end of his name. A prank of literal historical proportions, he was sure.

The one on the left reached through the obscuring charm on the hood to rub 'his' chin. "Might have something to do with your magic not being blocked now."

"Is that why I can think more clearly, and not be quite as depressed as I think I should be?" Harry asked.

"It's possible," the one on the right said. "Would you like a new wand, Mr. Potter? We can have one made for you."

"Sure," Harry nodded. "No idea how I'm going to pay for it though. I have a feeling the goblins won't recognize me. I could prove it with blood, but I think that would cause problems for my eleven year old self when he gets there."

"We can set you up with an account under an assumed name, Mr. Potter," the one on the left said."

He nodded with a smirking grin. "Okay. I'll pay you back in six years."

"Don't do that," the one on the left said.

"Do what?" Harry asked.

"Change your face to look like Sirius Black," the one on the right said.

Harry shook his head and tried to focus on what he remembered in the mirror. "That better? Didn't realize I was doing it."

The one on the left looked at the one on the right. "We're going to have to tutor him on that ability."

"I would agree," the one on the right said. "For now though, what name would you like to be known as, Mr. Potter?"

It came to him in under a split second. "James Aries Blake," he said with a grin. "Call me an orphaned muggleborn, from a stray squib line in the Black family and it'll work." He paused and looked at the ceiling. "I seem to remember a Jim Blake in my first year, now that I think about it."

"What house?" the one on the left asked.

He tilted his head. "Hufflepuff, I think. He had a yellow tie, so it would have to be, wouldn't it?"

"That shouldn't be a problem, Mr. Blake," the one on the right said. "Now if you'll excuse us, we can get the paperwork started. The medi-witch will bring in something for you to eat. Do you want breaky or lunch?"

"Breaky's fine, thanks," Harry said with a grin.

After they left Harry Potter, the two entered a side room and pushed their hoods back. "Well Andy, what do you think?"

"It's definitely Harry Potter, Croaker," Andromeda Tonks said. "What's so damned scary, is that he doesn't even realize he's morphing."

"Reminds me of your daughter," Croaker said while writing up some request forms.

She had a pensive look on her face. "That's what troubles me. He's going to be in her year this fall."

"Do you think there will be a problem?" he asked. "He could even get some pointers from Nymphadora."

"Hence the problem," Andromeda said. "She's never met someone like herself before. What really scares me, is the possibility that she will look at him as boyfriend material."

Chuckling, Croaker looked up from his desk. "Andy, there are mothers the world over that would love to have The-Boy-Who-Lived as their son in law."

"She's too young!" Andromeda protested loudly.

"Which is why I think you would make a decent role model for him," Croaker said. "Did you catch the hints he gave about his home life?" He continued when she nodded. "I don't think anyone else could teach him as well as you or her. Besides, you already know the steps for metamorphmagus self control."

"I'm too young to be a grandmother!" she shouted.

Laughing riotously, Croaker shook his head. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Andy. We'll set him up at the Cauldron. I want you to be his tutor. We can set him up to retake his OWLS in May at the Ministry."

Nodding, she looked away somewhat subdued. "Do you think he was abused by his relatives?"

Grumbling, Croaker went back to the paperwork. "I'm certain of it."

"Don't forget to look up James Blake, just in case there's one at Hogwarts already," Andromeda said.

Harry stared at his reflection. It was almost three months since his backwards jaunt, and he didn't recognize himself. He could if he focused on what he used to look like, of course – his base form – but the inside of his head was vastly different as well. He just wasn't as depressed as he used to be. It could be the fact that Sirius was alive now, but there was something intrinsically different about himself.

Yes, he still berated himself over the DoM fiasco that got Sirius killed, Hermione severely injured, and Ron somewhat 'brained'. Luna and Neville held themselves up rather well, despite the situation. Ginny was a surprise powerhouse with her reductor spell, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that.

All the same, looking at the ersatz reflection of a younger Sirius in the mirror he was practising, he couldn't help but wonder at the strangeness of his life. He had to force himself not to march down to Surrey and blast Vernon and Petunia into paste. Pushing the thought of his ten year old self to the back of his mind, he tried to focus on his reflection.

It was truly odd to have Tonks' mum be his tutor. She'd only been told his pseudonym, and ended up calling him Jimmy during their sessions, much to his annoyance. He hated lying to her – especially since she called him a distant cousin – but he didn't have a choice in the matter. That was the only thing that really stank about the situation.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. While he didn't have to worry about his younger self's first year just yet, he did worry about having to deal with Quirrel. From what he'd read, Quirrel was the muggle studies professor for this year. He was grateful that he didn't have to put up with that class.

And speaking of classes, he decided not to take CoMC or Divination. Instead, he was spending most of his time going through arithmacy and runes courses. Reviewing for his OWLs was a bit frightening. With the block and horcrux gone, he found that he had a near eidetic memory. It wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it was too damned easy to think lately. His focus was instinctual.

Other than the metamorphmagus lessons that Mrs. Tonks taught, she was getting him accustomed to occlumency the right way. Snape's version gave him a resounding headache, and after reading about the process… Well, he wanted to hex Snape's bits off. Ironically, occlumency made learning about his metamorph abilities that much easier. Compartmentalizing his thoughts and emotions enabled his appearance to be that much more stable.

He still had mood hair though, much to his consternation.

For his face, he was able to hide his now extremely faded famous scar, and settled on a similar look to a younger Sirius. Never could get the eye colour right, though. Instead of the storm grey eyes, he had to settle on an odd shade of blue. It didn't make any sense at all, since his eyes used to be green. Still, that off shade of blueish violet was the most stable. He tried red once, but that was too much like snake butt, and was rather startling to look at. Freaked Andy right out when he did it in front of her.

That was something else that threw him. His sense of humour was out of control. Instead of being sullen and moody all the time, he joked and punned like mad. It was fortunate that he could hold his new look, as he spent a lot of time in the Alley, cracking the shop owners up.

His new wand was a bit of a wonder. Thirteen inches of mahogany with a double twisted core of griffon and phoenix feathers, it resonated better with his magic than his old wand did. His control over spells was more fine as well. Just how much did that block and bit-of-Voldie keep him down?

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he tried to settle his hair – only to give up and let it be a shoulder length light blue. His last OWLs were today, and he didn't want to be late. Arithmacy and Runes were moderately difficult in his opinion, and he'd wowed the charms practical with his patronus.

And, that was another thing that had changed. Instead of Prongs, Padfoot leapt out of his wand. There was a thought about how Sirius' naming him the Black Heir might've changed things, but Ink – the Unspeakable that was on his right when he first woke up – told him that his patronus could change over time. Then there was the whole unbound core that could've done something about it.

If he didn't know any better, he would've thought Ink was just as surprised at his patronus as he was. That was interesting.

Entering the Ministry, Jim Blake let the guard mark his wand before heading toward the testing area. The theory shouldn't be a problem. He was actually more worried about the practical, mostly because he found out the day before that one Alistair "Mad Eye" Moody was going to be giving it.

"All right, Jimmy?" a feminine voice sounded out from his right as he entered the main waiting area.

He grinned when he saw her. "Sure thing, Mrs. Tonks. Piece of cake."

She frowned at him. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Andy?"

Harry snorted. "As many times as it takes you to call me Jim, looks like."

They chatted and bantered for a while, before he was called in.

"That was a complete waste of time," Harry grumbled as he came out of the testing room.

Andy looked up from her book, and was thrown by his jet black hair. "I think you underestimate yourself."

"That's not what I meant," he said as he stopped next to her. "That was so easy, I'm not sure how I thought I'd miss anything."

Andromeda stood with a smirk on her face. "Are you saying you aced it?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Harry nodded with a frown, before he perked up with a grin and light blue hair. "Lunch? My practical is at one. I'm buying."

Coming into the testing room for the DADA practical with a hand on his wand, Harry didn't immediately see Moody anywhere. Drawing from his arm holster, he muttered, "Homenum Revelio."

A blue outline appeared to his far right, and he immediately threw a shield up. It deflected a disarming jinx, and Moody's laugh filled the room. "Excellent! Oh, I'm going to enjoy this."

Seeing that Moody had both of his real legs, Harry was never more scared in his entire life. Screw Moldyshorts, Mad Eye was insane!

"Well?" Andy said as she saw Jimmy stumble out of the room. She stifled her chuckles at the sight. Knowing Moody like she did, there was no doubt as to what went on in there.

Harry stared at her with a hollow expression and limp black hair. "That man… is a nightmare! How in the name of Merlin is that maniac not sectioned?"

Losing control of her snorting, Andromeda started laughing. "He's like that. Makes him the best Auror we've got."

"I believe it," Harry said. "Can I go home now? I think I broke my spleen."

Doing her best to not laugh and failing, she had to ask. "Did he get on to you about your hair?"

Said hair switched to light blue as he perked up. "He told me that it was distracting and a perfect target."

"Anything else?" Andy asked with a skewed smile.

"Said to look him up after I graduate. Apparently, I'd make a damn fine auror."

Andy gaped at him. "He complimented you?"

"Shocked me as well!" Harry shouted with a large smile.

The remainder of the summer was spent in a routine. Wake up at 5:30 and run; breakfast; study till noon; spend a few hours in the DoM; fool around in the alley till six; then have two hours of tutoring with Andy.

August 15th had Harry dancing. He'd passed all of his OWLs with distinctions in DADA, Charms, and Potions. He had double E's in Arithmancy and Runes, but that was all right. He was more focused on Wards, and EE's were fine for that. Transfiguration had a 'simple' O. McGonnagal would've been proud if he could tell her.

The one thing that he tried to put out of his mind, was that he knew that Tonks was Andy's daughter. He never brought it up, and she hadn't either. Which was fine for both of them. While he didn't know why she was pensive about it, he hadn't noticed since he was just as concerned with it for different reasons.

September 1st was a complete ruckus. Harry'd saved up enough galleons for a three compartment trunk that had a runed shrinking charm. For that alone he was grateful, as he simply pocketed it. One compartment was solely for his new clothes and school uniform. The second one was for his books, while the last one had his potions supplies.

A few days prior, Harry's heart was broken when he found a young Hedwig in the Emporium. She flew to his shoulder immediately, but he had to put her back. A quick word with the proprietor, as well as a few galleons, ensured that Hagrid would buy her next year. He ended up leaving without any sort of animal due to guilt.

So, it was a harried Harry that did a double-take when Andy and Ted showed up at the station at the same time he did… with Tonks in tow. She was literally gaping at him with wide eyes at his light blue hair.

"Hello, Mrs. Tonks, is this your husband and little sister?" Harry asked with a grin.

She was stuck between a scowl and a smirk. "It's Andy, Jimmy,"

"Jim, Mrs. Tonks, I've told you…"

"…and yes. This is my husband Ted," she continued without a blink, "and our daughter, Nymphadora."

"Mum!" Tonks shouted in protest. "How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that?"

"She'll never learn," Harry said. "I don't know why I bother, honestly."

"Too right," Tonks said with a nod. "And mum! You never told me he was a metamorphmagus! Why Not?"

"Hello, Jim," Ted said, shaking Harry's hand. "Andy's told me a lot about you."

"Everything's a lie," Harry deadpanned with wide eyes. "I didn't do it. Nobody saw it. You can't prove anything." Andy and Ted smirked while Tonks started laughing riotously.

"Oh, I like him," Tonks said. "Can we keep him?"

"I dunno," Ted said. "There's no telling where he's been."

"Oi!" Harry baulked. "I'm clean and don't wet the floor, thank you very much. No nits either, I'll have you know."

"All right, all right. Settle you three," Andy said. "Jim, you have a good year. Now let us alone while we embarrass our daughter."

Harry nodded. "I'll write as often as I can, Mrs. T. Good to meet you Mr. T. You don't like aeroplanes, do you?" he asked with a grave expression, before turning to leave. He was grinning his face off as he entered the train, hearing Tonks laugh like mad at the pun. This was going to be a good year.