FicWad

This story contains violence, death, and heavy sexual material (beginning in chapter four, and with a warning so that those under the legal age don't have to read it). If you are one of those who cannot cope with such things, you are advised to click the back arrow. I don't want anyone complaining that I didn't warn you.
Premise: An aged Harry Potter takes a leap off the bridge of time. What he finds when he comes back to a past reality is entirely different from what he remembers. Enemies will be made, battles will be fought, and the the entire world will face destruction. Oh, and did I forget to mention beautiful women aplenty?


Chapter One: Back in Time

A swirl of colors and feelings surrounded me as I traveled backwards through the sands of time. I wasn’t worried, even despite the danger time travel presented. I had lived a full life, perhaps too full, and if I died along the way to begin a new one then so be it.
It was getting harder to breathe, and the little strength I still had in my body was slowly being depleted by the strenuous magic that kept me alive. I wouldn’t be able to take much more of this before my magic was exhausted and the time vortex collapsed. Squinting, I was barely able to make out the second hand on my watch. 80 seconds. Ten more seconds until I could withdraw my magic.

Each second seemed like an eternity as I found I could no longer breathe and the air I had in my lungs had seemingly evaporated. A black tunnel began to cloud the edges of my vision and the bright colors surrounding me began to dim.

Just before I pulled back the magic, a nebulous cloud of darkness spread out from a speck of nothing just in front of me. It sought to cut off my only escape route by destroying the colors which, before now, I had not realized to be the fabric of reality.

“No!” I mouthed, drawing my power back into my body. Slowly the whole scene began to dissipate and left me lying face-down on top of a highly uncomfortable sofa. Taking a deep breath, I began to sit up but had to lie back down again as thousands of white fireflies danced in front of my vision, sending a pulsing head-ache directly to my brain.

“Ugh,” I moaned, moving my fingers and toes to ensure that they were all still intact. “Didn’t expect it to be that bad.” Closing my eyes felt fantastic and addictive, but I knew I couldn’t allow myself to go to sleep – not while the vortex warp was still open. Reaching a pale hand into the pocket of my star-covered robes (a tribute to my friend and mentor, Dumbledore), I pulled out my wand and waved it in a complicated motion, murmuring a synonymously complicated spell at the same time. I didn’t bother to look at the place I had dropped from… there was no need. As I finished the spell, an overwhelming silence met me, even though I hadn’t realized that it had been anything but silent before, and the only sounds to hear now were the creaking of an ancient couch as I shifted upon it and my own breath. Rubbing my forehead (an action left over from my childhood), I once again sat up. This time I was met with more success and was able to survey the room I was in. It was old and dark, much as I had remembered it to be. Dust had gathered on the sparse furniture in the room, as well as on the floor. Cob-webs hung from the ceiling in a pattern very familiar to me. The basis of my time-travel spell was, after all, built upon it. Sighing, I stood up and made my way to the door, not perturbed at all by the creatures that scuttled across the floor away from my presence. I knew that there was no reason to be scared of them, considering that even the largest animal would be terrified when faced with the wards I had built specifically to keep anything not human that could have held the slightest bit of danger to me away. They worked by a variant of the legillimens spell, and my reverse-engineering of it was one of my greatest prides and accomplishments. Some might say that the time travel spell was more significant, but I knew better – nothing can match the complexities of the mind, human or otherwise.

Banishing these irrelevant and distracting thoughts, I opened the door and made my way down the hallway. The room I had been in was one of the unused rooms in the Black manor. To see the place in one piece again was a marvel. Voldemort had torn down all of the things that linked me to my past, including this place and many others.

Hogwarts was the only exception.

Hogwarts was always the exception.

Voldemort had never been able to take it. Not through the ministry, not by brute force, and not by destroying its population. It had always stood, a safe place against the storms of fury and hatred unleashed by the world’s greatest dark wizard. I smiled at the memories. It was a half-smile, almost a sad one, as I realized that I wouldn’t be able to visit it. There wasn’t enough time.

I had to stifle a laugh as I realized the irony in that statement. Here I was, a time traveler, and yet there was not enough time to finish what had to be done.
There never would be.

Once again, I had to banish my thoughts. I could not afford to be distracted. Walking quickly but quietly through the kitchen door, I made my way to the cabinet under the sink and opened it silently. I was met with the sight of a sleeping elf, a tattered blanket covering his skeletal form and a picture of a handsome, young man laughing at the photographer cradled in his arm. Eleven and a half inches of holly and phoenix feather whipped through the air as I laid a heavier sleep upon the creature. There was no need to disturb his rest. Reaching in, I lifted out a golden locket crested with the symbol of Slytherin. It seemed heavier than it should have been, given its size, but I had been expecting this. With my mind, I sent out a mental probe and was met with a fury of overwhelming darkness. It attempted to ensnare my own mind, but I withdrew before it could do so. Satisfied that the locket was indeed a horcrux, I slipped it into my pocket and conjured another identical to the one that pulsed angrily in my robes and lay it down gently in its place. Closing the cabinet, I stood up and winced as I felt the bones in my back groan at the action. Old age, it seemed, was closing in on me.

Conjuring a mirror, I observed my reflection critically, almost despitefully. My green eyes were as prominent as ever, the shimmering light on the end of my wand making them stand out oddly on my face. My cheeks were beginning to sink into my face, and the first wrinkles of age had made their treacherous way onto my forehead and under my eyes. My hair had turned gray long ago, but it still retained a hint of its original color at the top. My face was white and pale from the magic I had used not ten minutes ago, as well as long years of intensive theorizing in my study and little sunlight to go with it. Overall, the contrasts of my face were nearly shocking. Despite all of this, I still gave off an air of authority so much like Dumbledore had. In many ways, I mirrored Dumbledore more than anyone else ever had before, but at the same time, I contrasted sharply against him. Dumbledore had always been the hero of the light, the benevolent benefactor and grandfather to all. I, on the other hand, had not been afraid of the less tasteful tactics. That is not to say that I had delved deeply into the dark arts. I liked to think that I was smarter than that. No, I had merely scratched the surface of them. I learned what I needed to, and then bailed out before a bomb went off.

Banishing the mirror, I continued on my way. My next stop – Tom Riddle’s cave.

oOo

Rather than swimming through a mile or so of rough, freezing water, I levitated myself over it. This was quite simple for one of my skill, as was it for Dumbledore and Voldemort. Why the man had not done it my first time still perplexed me… but he no doubt had his reasons. Despite my skill and aptitude for magic, I was still nowhere near Dumbledore’s level of intelligence. I doubted that anybody was.

As soon as I touched down upon the rocky shores from Tom Riddle’s past, I made my way quickly into the cavern.

“Lumos.” I was surprised when nothing happened. I could feel my power running out of my core and into my wand, but there was no affect. Frowning, I pumped more power into it, seeking to break the enchantment keeping the light from existence. I struggled for several moments before I finally overcame it, a bright flash of light accompanying my success. Triumphant, but also somewhat confused, I continued on, running my hand along the wall, much like Dumbledore had some ninety years ago. Although, to be accurate, in this time it had not happened yet. Very soon, though. Very soon.

The technique I was using was called pinging. Using my magic, I could bounce it off of the walls and, if there was other magic lying there, the magic I was sending would be absorbed, thereby alerting me to its presence. The only limitation was that it required physical contact with the object. Any further away and the signal would’ve been too small to feel. Soon I came upon the magical door. Reaching once again within my robes, I pulled out a small vial of blood and uncorked it. Splashing it upon the door, I waited patiently for the results. The rock melted away like smoke, and I was able to enter the larger cavern. This place had an ancient feel to it, although most wouldn’t notice it. One had to be very in tune with magic to be able to sense such a thing. What exactly had Voldemort stumbled upon? Shaking my head, I continued warily.

Soon enough I located the chain on which the enchanted boat was attached. Pulling it up, I was disgusted to see that a rotten arm, no doubt from one of the inferi, was lying inside of it. I levitated it and allowed it to drop into the dark water. Climbing in, I tapped the boat with my wand and began to move towards the island in the center. The unnatural silence of the place was beginning to unnerve me, but I pushed down the fear with practiced ease.

With a bump, the boat hit the shore and I climbed out, carefully avoiding contact with the water. Walking to the pedestal, I looked at the contents with hatred. The lime green potion was a very dark and very dangerous concoction indeed. I had researched it not long after Voldemort’s defeat, and what I had found had horrified me. It forced a person to live through his worst memories. In my own case, this would be exceedingly detrimental, considering that a good percentage of my life was made up of nothing but terrifying memories. This was not the only affect it had though. It also served to drain a person of vitality, though it would not kill them. It would put the person down just long enough for the inferi to come and take care of the rest.

Fortunately, I had a way to overcome all of these affects. Waving my wand, I summoned the very same goblet that Dumbledore had, or rather would, summon. With my left hand, I grabbed another vial, this one full of a silvery colored smoke like substance. It behaved much like liquid might, but at the same time, it was like smoke, translucent and slightly blurred around the edges. This was a memory. And a dark one at that. I poured the memory into the goblet, which I in turn poured into the pedestal. A slightly hazy effect took over as the potion became occupied in a loop of the memory. Next I conjured a small rat and put it into the cup as well. I dropped the rat in and then watched it struggle for a bit under the life-sucking liquid. By the time it finally stopped, I knew that the liquid was inert. Reaching in with the goblet, I lifted it to my lips and drank (the mouse had disappeared as soon as I stopped supplying magic to it. Impermanent conjurations had many uses). It was surprisingly tasteless, but I supposed that many dark potions have a tendency to be so; veritaserum is a prime example (some think that veritaserum is a neutral potion, but it is in fact dark, as is anything that twists the mind to its will). I reached down for another drink and gulped it down, hating every moment of it, knowing that it had likely been the cause for Dumbledore’s premature death. Soon I was finished with the horrid stuff, and I scooped up the fake locket and replaced it with the real one from my pocket just as something cold and slimy grabbed my leg.

“Shit!” I cursed, having forgotten the inferi which infested the place. “Incendio!” Fire bellowed from my wand and crisped the horrifying creatures into ashes. Any talented user of magic can shape elemental spells to their will, and the fire spell is no exception. I used my mind to carefully manipulate it into a gigantic, burning phoenix straight from hell… I found the thought of a demonic Fawkes quite amusing.

“Take that you stupid shit!" I paused as I analyzed what I had just said. "Damn. I’m starting to sound like a hyped up teenager again.” Shaking my head, I ran to the boat and hopped in before tapping it. This time the boat surged across the water as my magic propelled it at incredible speeds. I reached the opposite bank in no time and scrambled out, lowering the boat back into the lake and then hiding the chain with the same method it had been hidden before. I sighed as I saw the lake go back to its usual calm, almost as if it had never been disturbed.

“Voldemort certainly did have his quirks. Why would he enchant those inferi to come after you only while you’re on the lake? Surely he isn’t so shortsighted...” I paused as I heard a loud thump sound through the air. It jarred my teeth and set me on edge for another fight. Warily, I used my flaming whip to light the cavern.

“Oh. That’s why.” I said calmly as I stared straight into the eyes of a flying dragon headed towards me faster than I could run. Not only that, but the lack of spark in its eye told me that it wasn’t a living creature – It was another inferi, only this time one of massive porportions.

“Why the hell didn’t we go through these things the first time?!” Using the flame whip, I wildly swung it about in arcing circles of destruction, cutting deep into the rock. Unfortunately, the beast seemed unperturbed by my show of power, and it continued flying towards me rapidly. Sighing, I pointed my wand at it and pronounced clearly.

“Avada kedavra.” The green flash of death burst from the end of my wand and flew straight into
the creature's gaping maw. It crashed into the water and sent a tidal wave of water towards me. I shielded myself from it and looked on impassively. I hated that spell. It always left a sense of despair deep down inside of me, something that took a hold of my soul and threatened to rip it to shreds. I turned my back upon the place and made my way to the shore once again, using a second vial of blood to reopen the door.

I apparated to a random location in England, and then to the Shrieking Shack. Tomorrow would be a long day, and I needed my beauty rest.

oOo

The next morning came bright and hatefully early. My weary old bones from the last night’s little adventure protested mightily against me standing up, but it was unfortunately necessary. Surveying the room brought back memories. Painful memories. The room was in a severe state of disrepair, and the only lighting it had was that which came through the window. The only furniture, what was once a wooden chair much like you would find in any classroom, lay shattered about the room, almost as if a giant beast had ripped it apart. Or several giant beasts. I took a step towards the shards and rested my hand on one, using the same pinging technique I had used the night before. I felt no echo, meaning that magic had been used on it. It was likely that the chair had once been held together only by the combination of a hundred reparo spells overlaid on top of one-another, strengthening the effect of the household charm into something more like an enchantment. Over the years, however, it had dissipated into nothingness, leaving behind only a whisper of the original spell.

A whisper that contained the combination of three people I loved more than anything else, as well as that traitor, Pettigrew. In the end, however, Peter had done the right thing… and he had lost his life for it.

Turning on the spot, I apparated directly to Diagon Alley, not worrying that people might recognize me. Even if I did have my obscuring wards turned off, chances are that nobody would even take a second glance at me. My face was nothing special when you compared it with someone like Dumbledore.

As soon as I appeared, I could tell that something was wrong. There was no laughter from young children, no shouting from overbearing mothers, and no cursing from drunken fathers. It was silent. Totally and utterly silent. Peering around, I saw hundreds of people just standing around slack-jawed, many with a copy of The Prophet. Nobody talked, nobody even seemed to breathe. Walking up to an elderly looking gentleman with a handlebar mustache, I asked what the problem was. He looked up at me in disbelief, but handed the newspaper in his hand up to me all the same. The moment I saw the headline I cursed.


November 21, 1997
Article by Rita Skeeter
Dumbledore Dead!
Last night at approximately one o’clock in the morning, the venerable Headmaster of Hogwarts was hit by the killing curse. Incredibly, reports say that the curse was thrown by one of Dumbledore’s very own teachers, and the entire world lays in shock that…

I didn’t bother reading the rest. I knew what had happened.

“But god damnit, it shouldn’t have happened!” The old man in front of me (although there was no doubt that I was older than him) didn’t seem perturbed by my outburst. He merely looked off into the distance as if seeing something I couldn’t. Shaking my head, I returned the paper to its owner and walked off down the street, ignoring the unnatural silence. No one so much as whispered. I could understand their silence. It was a combination of fear and shock. Now that the most powerful light wizard on their side was dead, what could they do?

Shaking my head in amazement, I continued on my way towards Knockturn Alley. How had this happened?! I had drained the potion from the pedestal! The man should have been perfectly fine.

Upon reaching the considerably darker alley, I was awoken from my reverie by the sounds of yelling. I realized quickly, however, that these were not the sounds of panic. Rather, these were the sounds of rejoice. The dark wizard population was rejoicing at this one monumental defeat of their mutual enemy. Something cold and hard clenched in my stomach, and adrenalin rushed into my veins. I needed somebody to beat the shit out of.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a pick-pocketer grabbing a man’s money bag from his robe skillfully. He grinned as he hefted the item before turning around to run away.
“Accio theif.” I encanted it coldly, without remorse for what I was about to do. The accio spell would usually not be able to summon a human, but my anger overcame this obstacle, drawing the man towards me at the speed of a bullet. Bending my arm into a V, I whipped around and slammed my elbow directly into the thief’s skull the moment he came within striking distance. A resounding crack echoed throughout the alley. I grabbed the money bag and looked for the man it belonged to. Seeing no one, I turned around to continue on my way… but was met with the smug visage of Lucius Malfoy.

“Thank you for your service, Mr…” He was silent for a moment, and his face dimmed down a notch or two when I didn’t give my name. “Well. I’d be thankful if you would give me my money back.” I jammed the bag into his chest. The look on his face at not being sucked up to as usual was greatly amusing, but I turned around and continued on my way, paying no mind to the sputters and demands for me to come back.

Soon I came to my destination – Modrop’s Bookshop. The place didn’t look like much, but I knew better. Inside was a library nearly a quarter the size of the one located at Hogwarts (that's pretty damn big), and with a book content far more dangerous. Opening the door, I stepped inside and looked around, seeing if it was different than it would be in the future. It wasn’t. Rows and rows of bookshelves went back quite a ways, and it was obvious that there was an expansion charm on the room. Whoever had done that had done a hell of a job with it. In front of me behind a desk sat a short, stocky man with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. He looked utterly disinterested.

“’ow may I help you?” He asked, not bothering to use proper language. I frowned, but continued unperturbed.

“I would like a book entitled ‘Vox non comopositus’. Do you have it?” The man shrugged and reached for an index of all the books.

“Le’s see here. Vox non lascivious, Vox non opus, Vox non compositus. Yup. We got it. It’s in… section 3B, right o’er there.” I nodded my thanks and made my way to the location he had indicated. I found the book easily, and discreetly slipped it into my magically expanded pocket. Unfortunately for the man at the desk, I didn’t have the money to buy the book – I would have to obliviate him.

Walking over, I pointed my wand at the man and, before he could react, muttered the spell. As soon as I did, I was pulled into his memories.

First and foremost were his outer thoughts, in other words what he was currently thinking of. This happened to be a scene that involved him and several beautiful women sucking his giant dick. I highly doubted this to be a real memory, and that he had created it himself, but I left it intact. No need to erase anything unnecessarily, even if it was disgusting. I pulled myself in a bit further and found what I was looking for; my conversation with him and my entrance into the shop. Adjusting my grip on his mind, I began to slowly crush the memorie into a tight ball. It took a good deal of mental effort, and also left me open to attack from an outsider, but I was able to successfully crush them into the size of a period. It was unlikely that he would ever find them, especially considering his lack of education.

Finished with the necessary tasks, I slipped out of his mind and lay a light sleep over him before stepping outside back into the dirty light of the alley. Looking back, I lay an enchantment similar to a timed bomb. It would go off at twelve o'clock midnight (after the man had left), and would cause the magic surrounding the place to collapse into a condensed, superheated ball before exploding and destroying everything within this section of Knockturn Alley. To prevent hundreds of innocent (and hundreds more not so innocent) deaths, I set a timed shield up as well. This was a more complex process, and took me the better part of two minutes to finish. After I was done, I apparated back to my safe house, the Shrieking Shack. Setting the book upon a conjured table, I immediately analyzed it with several spells I had learned from an old auror years ago. The book glowed a cherry red mixed with a slight hint of green. Having confirmed its dark origins, I immediately set the thing on fire.

“Two down… and a lot more to go.”