Ticket to Time Travel
“Potter. Malfoy. Nott. Longbottom.”
Nymphadora Tonks’s voice rang out at a rapid clip through the safe house.
Harry groaned into his pillow. He had only just fallen asleep, moments after returning following an all night surveillance of a known Death Eater haunt on the edge of Hogsmeade. He was exhausted, and he wasn’t the only one.
“Ugh,” Malfoy groaned from his bed on the other side of the room, the springs of the mattress squeaking as he shuffled around. “What time— Theo! What in Salazar’s name are you doing in my bed? Piss off! ”
Harry nabbed his glasses from the nightstand, righting himself as he sat up in bed, shirtless, finding Theodore Nott with his back against the wall, though one arm still desperately draped around Malfoy’s torso. There were always at least two of them sharing a room in the safe houses, as crammed as they were. But Harry was grateful for a place to sleep, even if it was Malfoy on the other side of the room.
“But Draco,” Theo said with his eyes still closed, “you’re so warm and this safe house is frigid.” He then opened his eyes, finding Harry probably looking completely delusional and out of sorts from the hour of sleep he had managed last night. Clearly, this didn’t dissuade him. “Potter, you look awfully cozy. Got room for one more in there?”
Harry grabbed his jumped from the floor and flung himself out of bed at that, pulling his trousers on over his boxers. “Nott a chance. Besides, I know better than to keep Tonks waiting.”
He knew their fearless leader had only a little ounce of patience, if that. Once she took over the Order of the Phoenix, Tonks held her underlings to a rigid set of standards. One of which was arriving in a timely manner when called.
Draco and Theo leapt from the bed, neither wanting to be the last to arrive, Draco throwing on a crisp white oxford shirt which remained spotless and free from any wrinkles with thanks to at least five separate charms, while Theo donned an old grey t-shirt which looked like it had been worn for a week straight, his dark curls absolutely mangled. Harry marched down the hall without waiting for the two of them, following the initial echo of Tonk’s voice until he arrived in the kitchen. Neville Longbottom was already perched on one of the old wooden stools, his cheek resting on his right palm, his elbow propped up on the table. His bloodshot eyes told Harry he too had been out all night on some mission or another.
The whole lot of them were beyond exhausted. It had been two years since the utter failure that was the Battle of Hogwarts. Two years since Voldemort and the Death Eaters had declared victory over the Wizarding World. Two years since Draco Malfoy defected from them and ran straight into the arms of the Order, with a wayward Theodore Nott in tow. It should have been simple, really. Harry die at the hands of his internal Horcrux’s creator then resurrect himself and kill said creator. Biblical, really. If only they had known about the web of immortality Voldemort had already created. The other Horcruxes they hadn’t know about then. The Philospher’s Stone he held in his figurative back pocket for safe keeping.
Sigh.
Since then, the Order had been meticulous in their pursuit of good over evil, striving to defeat the darkness and restore the light. They had luck every now and then. They did manage to destroy one of x number of Horcruxes, his Head Boy badge of all things. That had been their sole major breakthrough and they were desperate for more, anything to end the war.
Draco and Theo scrambled down the hallway, gripped the edges of the doorway, seeking purchase at they trying to push into the kitchen before the other. The both ended up stumbling onto the ground, right at the feet of Tonks. She shook her head.
“I expected more from you, cousin. Theo, my expectations are low enough that I will accept the effort you took to arrive here when I called.”
Theo looked elated at that, rising to his feet and squeezing his fist in victory. Draco, meanwhile, dusting off his pristinely pressed trousers from whatever dust coated the floor of their decrepit safe house.
“Now, gentle wizards,” Tonks said, the four of them lined up in front of her, attentive, listening. “We’ve made a major breakthrough this morning.”
She withdrew a sleek black volume from behind her back. Harry recognized it immediately.
“The diary?” he questioned. “How did you repair it? We’re not actually remaking Horcruxes now, are we?”
It was indeed a pristine copy of the diary of a young Tom Riddle. Harry would recognize it anywhere.
“It’s not that diary, Harry,” Tonks corrected. “As it turns out, Tom Riddle kept a number of diaries before his transition into Lord Voldemort. Granger found them beneath the floorboards of the Riddle House in her highly successful raid of it last night.”
Draco rolled his eyes, muttered something about an overachieving swot.
“This,” Tonks continued, ignoring her cousin, holding the journal up in front of them, “contains a major opportunity that we cannot wait for any longer. During the 1960s, Tom Riddle appeared to have a change of heart, according to his old diary. He fell deep into the ideals of love and peace so reminiscent of the time. Per this diary,” she opened it, reviewing a few passages, “he questioned whether he was wrong in believing in his pureblood ideals for quite some time during the decade. He wondered whether the unity of pureblood, half-blood, even muggle-borns and muggles alike was what the world should strive for in the future.”
Harry looked like he’d been hit straight with a stunner. “Sorry, Voldemort, what?”
“Technically he was still Tom Riddle during the time Harry. And it’s clear as day. This entire volume is devoted to his views of an alternative utopia where all muggles and witches and wizards and creatures alike lived in a prosperous love filled world.”
“You can’t expect us to actually believe this nonsense,” Draco countered. “The man lived in my manor for Salazar’s sake. The most hateful person of all time. I watched him murder people from all angles. There is absolutely no way.”
“There is a way, or should I say, there was a way,” she retrieved a second journal from the counter. “In the early 1960s, Tom Riddle believed he could be capable of love and so could the rest of the world. But then, ahead of the First Wizarding War in the 1970s, all of that shifted and he returned to his hatred of, well, everything but himself. Actually, he really did hate himself too. But I digress. Do you know why?”
All four of them shook their heads, too sleep deprived and mentally exhausted to even hazard a guess.
“The Beatles!” Tonks exclaimed.
The four of them looked to each other, trying to decipher what she meant.
“Do you mean Beedle as in the Bard?” Draco asked. “The darkest wizard of all time completely changed his ideals because of a children’s book?”
“No, no, no, not the Beedle, but the Beatles, the muggle rock band! Tom Riddle was obsessed with them at one point.”
Theo shook out his curls. “It’s barely sunrise and I already need an Ogdens. You mean to tell us that a wizard who detested muggles was obsessed with some lot of muggle musicians? Really Tonks, good one.”
“Not just any rock band,” Harry piped in, “they were the greatest rock band of all time. And the most famous at that. They were famous for their love of love. All of their fans became obsessed with them and a world of love and peace.”
Draco held up his hand. “How did they manage that? Did they waft batches of Amortentia into the air at their shows or something?”
“Don’t be ridiculous Draco,” Tonks said. “We’ve confirmed that, unfortunately, the Beatles were muggles in the true sense of the word. No magical blood in they veins.”
”But wait, how did Tom Riddle even find out about them, being in the muggle world and all?” Neville asked.
“According to his diary,” Tonks explained, “on November 4, 1962, to be exact, Tom Riddle wandered into the muggle London for the purpose of coordinating a trial attack but heard what he called ‘lovelier music than he ever imagined.’ When he sought the source of the music, he arrived at a concert being performed by none other than the Beatles. He was instantly obsessed. He continued to follow them over the years and, as he listened closely to their music and absorbed their lyrics, he thought perhaps he had gone about life all the wrong way. That he could somehow find love and preach it upon the world. It’s all right here in this diary.”
“But wait,” Neville interjected, appearing lucid for the first time that morning, “if Tom Riddle was so into all of this love and peace and what not, then how did he become so… Voldemort?”
“Well, funny you should ask.” Tonks flipped through a page of the diary, nearing the end of the volume. “Towards the end of the decade, the Beatles started to unravel. They had numerous quarrels amongst themselves and sought out side projects, culminating in their infamous break-up. As I read in the diary, that’s when Tom gave up any hope in love’s capability of saving the world and truly reverted to his old ideals, transitioning to Voldemort for once and for all. That’s why he began the First Wizarding War.”
Harry glanced as his Order members. Neville seemed to understand but Draco and Theo still looked terribly confused. Or curious, Draco probably deciding how we could get that type of cult following without resorting to magical means. The prat.
“And this is where the four of you come in, Kingsley!”
Kingsley Shacklebolt stormed into the kitchen, his robes billowing behind him. He held a tiny treasure box in his hands. He opened it once he arrived in front of them and Harry could scarcely believe his eyes at what it contained.
“A Time-Turner?!” Harry exclaimed.
The other three peered into the box with awe.
“Blimey, I wasn’t sure those even existed anymore,” Neville marvelled.
“Indeed Harry,” Kingsley confirmed. “I managed to smuggle it from the Ministry’s restricted stash before it fell into dark hands. It is the only one in our possession, quite possible the only one left in existence, and now our greatest hope of finally defeating Voldemort and ending this horrific war.”
Tonks stepped forward with a rather devious smile on her face. “Tomorrow morning, the four of you will go back in time to 1968, when the Beatles were in the process of recording the White Album, polyjuiced as the members of the Beatles themselves, to ease their break-up and prove to Tom Riddle that love really can conquer all.”