Chapter 1
What if when Harry Potter died at the battle of Hogwarts, he never met Albus Dumbledore? In fact, he never met anyone? What if he woke up in New Orleans...
Harry blinked and opened his eyes. That was a surprise in itself as the last thing he remembered was being killed by Voldemort. Shit! Voldemort! He was still alive! He had to do something..... Hold on, where was he?
Looking around, he determined that he was in a small grove in the middle of a forest. It wasn't the Forbidden Forest though, it was very different. Suddenly he realised that he was hot, he took off his heavy outer robes quickly then paused to think.
He clearly wasn't dead, as he was quite sure dead people didn't feel hot. He also wasn't in Hogwarts or the grounds. In fact, it didn't feel, or look, like he was in England at all...
Then he felt something in his pocket. He took it out to realise that it was a brand new, silver,mirror. On it was engraved, in faint letters, 1908, Louisiana. He was very confused. The mirror was immaculate, there was no scratches, dust, chips or marks. It had to be new, but why would anyone put 1908 on to a mirror? Maybe it was someone's birthdate... but you wouldn't give a 90 year old a mirror, would you? Louisana... If he wasn't mistaken, that was a place in America. Why-
His train of thought stopped there as, while he had been thinking, he had unconciously flipped open the mirror and then looked at his reflection. Well, he said his reflection, but he had black hair, green eyes, circular glasses and a lightning bolt scar. The figure reflected had none of those, instead having dark brown hair that fell in neat locks across his face, bright red-brown eyes, thin-framed glasses that were pushed down below his eyes and no scars whatsoever.
He was pretty sure that he didn't have slightly pointed teeth or pointed ears either.
He pulled on a few strands of his hair as if to prove to the reflection that his hair was black and then stopped. His hair was decidedly brown. In shock, he went to check his glasses before pulling them off his face, now in a slight panic. He looked at the thin-framed glasses that had been sitting on his nose just below his eyes and confirmed that they definitely weren't his usual. On top of that, he could see perfectly well without them, which was new. He ran a finger over his forehead, searching for the raised zigzag of his famous scar, but found nothing. Very much panicking, he traced his teeth, even they felt sharper than usual. He had no way to check his eyes or ears, so he had to presume that what the mirror showed was truth.
Forcing himself to calm down, he realised that he couldn't be a whole new person as his facial shape and structure were the same, as was his skin tone. What had changed?
A sick feeling formed in his stomach as he thought .... What if the date on the mirror wasn't 90 years ago? What if it was the current date? No. That couldn't be right. Time-travelling that far back was impossible..... But the facts remained. He had been hit with Avada Kedavra. Now he was alive. Who could say that time-travelling was impossible if coming back to life from the dead wasn't?
Then he remembered. Before he had gone to face Voldemort, he had possession of the Resurrection Stone. Draco Malfoy had won the Elder Wand from Dumbledore, and Harry had disarmed him, making himself the master of the Elder Wand. The Invisibility Cloak had been his since first year...
To his memory, no one had collected all three Hallows before, who could say if travelling back in time was what happened instead of dying when someone hit you with the Killing Curse?
What did he do now? Voldemort wasn't even born, Dumbledore would only be 30 or so and wouldn't know him, none of his friends existed, hell, his parents weren't even born yet!
He supposed he could go and find the current ministry of magic and see if he could get back to his own time, or stop the war before it ever happened, prevent Merope Gaunt from sleeping with Tom Riddle sr?
Then another thought came to his mind.
I have been hit by the Killing Curse twice! I have survived Voldemort, basilisks, Tom Riddle, triwizard tournaments, Voldemort again, pink toads, Voldemort a third time... The list goes on.
I have fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters since I was 11. It's probably time for the Wizarding World to deal with its own problems.
I look different, and no one even knows who Harry Potter is. All I need is a new name. He thought on this for a while before recalling reading something in one of his history books. Apparently, the god Zeus had been called Alastor, meaning the defender of men.
Alastor. He liked it. For a surname... Well, there was only really one option.
He grinned. Harry Potter, Boy-who-lived, has officially quit. This was going to be fun.
Unbeknownst to Harry, the moment he chose his new name, 2 things happened. First, his eyes turned a tiny bit more red, his teeth a tiny little bit more pointed. Barely noticeable but still there.
And second, on the mirror he had placed back in his pocket, another line of engraving appeared on it's silver surface.
Alastor Hadrian Black
1908, Louisiana
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Hope you enjoyed! Updates will probably be a bit irregular, just to warn you.
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