You Were Only Seventeen

With the ring in tow, he left the Riddle house and apparated to the Forest of Dean once again.  There were noticeably less leaves on the trees, and the air was chillier, but the place was otherwise the same as when Harry had travelled 20 years into the past last week.

Now all he had to do, once he collected all the other horcruxes, was to somehow acquire a goblin made sword, sneak into hogwarts and kill the basilisk without dying(how hard could it be a second time), destroy all the horcruxes, and then come up with a plan to kill a newly mortal Voldemort.  

This would be so much easier with someone to actually talk to.  If not to go over the almost non-existent plan that Harry had and come up with a more concrete one, then to at least comment on how terrible this situation was.

Instead of wallowing in an empty loneliness feeling and yearning for friends that could never exist, Harry stood up and apparated to another seedy motel, not too far away from the last one.

He non-verbally confounded a random front desk lady again, wand hidden in the right sleeve of his robe, and checked into a clean but ugly motel room.  Harry could hear the residents on either side of his room, screaming and fighting, and the carpet had some weird stains, but Harry had never been happier to sleep in a bed that wasn’t covered in dust and in a place where Voldemort hadn’t murdered his parents.

Since Harry had noticed the odd looks he had been given, equally because he hadn’t taken a shower or even brushed his teeth in over a week and because of his robes, which he notice when looking in the motel mirror were starting to look like the rags of a homeless-man with a weird taste in clothes, Harry put on his invisibility cloak and walked through the outskirts of london, searching for a department store where he could steal some clothes and toiletries.

He found some second-hand muggle clothes that actually fit him at a nearby Oxfam plus some toiletries and junk food at the Superdrug in the same retail outlet.  Harry had almost forgotten these places existed, since he rarely accompanied Aunt Petunia when she shopped.

Harry was almost tempted to pickpocket some money and then buy the clothes the normal way, only because he wanted to have an actual conversation with a human being, but decided against the idea.  It was too risky and not worth it.  

With a sigh, Harry apparated behind the motel, in a grassy area obscured by high bushes and a brick wall.  Even if somebody heard the crack of apparition amidst the noise of the busy motorway behind the motel, they wouldn’t see Harry for he was wearing his invisibility cloak.  With no Hermoine to tell him not to do something stupid, Harry knew that it didn’t hurt for him to be too cautious.  

After taking a shower, finally brushing his teeth, changing out of his dirty robes and casting a scourgify on them, and eating a meal of mars bars, Harry settled into bed.  He thought about his vague plan for how he would defeat Voldemort in this time when his parents were alive, Sirius was alive, and Dumbledore was alive even.

Though they weren’t the same people Harry had known, hadn’t gone through the same experiences, which in retrospect was a good thing.  Still though, a huge part of Harry wanted to apparate to the gates of Hogwarts and rattle them, yelling for Dumbledore and telling the man who Harry simultaneously loved and hated everything he knew about the future.

Harry came to the same conclusion he had a million times that week.  If he told Dumbledore everything, the timeline would change, maybe for the better, or maybe for the worse.  He didn’t know how it would change though.  People might die before their time, or Voldemort might discover Harry’s knowledge of the horcruxes before he could find and destroy them all.

Until all of the horcruxes were destroyed, Harry couldn’t risk Voldemort hiding them in different places and creating more.  For now he knew that Tom wouldn’t be making more until 1981, as long as history played out the same way, and Harry wanted to keep it that way.

As much as he yearned for Dumbledore’s guidance, the same longing for a concrete plan that had overcome him during the past year when everything had been so hopeless, Harry knew that for now, he was on his own. 

After the horcruxes were destroyed though, Harry had every intention to somehow find the order and tell them everything.  About how Peter was the traitor, about what would happen and Voldemort’s identity.  

Hopefully, Harry could make a difference in preventing his parents death.  At the very least he couldn’t make anything worse than it already was in the future. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning brought Harry to Hogwarts.  It was ironic that the man who Harry had always put 100% of his trust in, up until that last year, was in the same building as him, Not even 100 feet away at one point according to the map.

Harry had so many questions for Dumbledore, about his past with Grindelwald, the Deathly Hallows, Harry’s past status of a horcrux and why Dumbledore hadn’t bothered to tell him about it, instead entrusting that information to Snape of all people.  He knew the Dumbledore of 1979 wouldn’t be able to answer them.  He was more likely to kick Harry out of the school for trespassing.

While Harry resented the man for not giving him the full picture, he didn’t blame him, and ultimately understood the reasoning behind his actions.  Dumbledore would never be the old, all-powerful, and wise headmaster with a twinkle in his eyes, no flaws to speak of, to Harry again, but the man never was and it was unfair of Harry to expect that out of him.

Hearing Aberforth talk about the tragic tale of Ariana, gave Harry perspective into a man who knew what it took to take down someone like Grindelwald.  He made sacrifices, sacrificed himself even, and a part of Harry wanted to be bitter over the fact that Dumbledore had sacrificed Harry in his grand plan to take down Tom Riddle.  

But another part of Harry was glad that Dumbledore had had a grand plan, even though it hadn’t worked in the end, because he didn’t have one, and at the rate he was going before being hit by Riddle’s killing curse, all of his friends were bound to end up dead.  Taking down Voldemort was the main priority, and Dumbledore knew that.

Killing a man who had gone through great lengths to become immortal proved to be a difficult task.  Harry wasn’t naive.  He knew by now from personal experience that death was an inevitable part of life.  Dumbledore knew that too, obvious from Aberforth’s tragic tale of Ariana, so he had no qualms of sacrificing people for the greater good of taking down a madman, who if he remained in power, would eventually kill everyone anyway.

That led to another thought about Dumbledore’s final plan, of having Harry sacrifice himself to destroy another part of Voldemort’s soul, but that wouldn’t destroy Voldemort though, just make him mortal.  Harry wondered what Dumbledore’s plan to defeat the actual human Voldemort was.  

The answer came to him, and with it a possible reason for why and how Harry had ended up in 1979 instead of dead.  

Dumbledore constructed his death in such a way that Snape would be the true master of the elder wand when he died.  Harry had seen Snape and knew that with the elder wand and the trust of Voldemort, he had the biggest chance of killing Tom Riddle.  Snape had only been waiting for all of the horcruxes to be destroyed so that Tom couldn’t escape as a weird spirit thing again.  

Except Snape wasn’t the master of the elder wand when Dumbledore died. 

Harry had learned enough about wand lore during the past few months that he knew Draco, with his expelliarmus disarming Dumbledore back at the end of 6th year, was the true master of the elder wand.

Draco was, but Harry is, or at least Harry was back before being hit with the killing curse in 1998.  At least he now had a theory of how he had time travelled.

When Harry took the wands of Draco, Bellatrix, and Wormtail, the allegiance of Draco’s wand changed to him, or at least part way changed to Harry according to Ollivander.  

That meant that the allegiance of the elder wand was split halfway between Draco and Harry.  When Voldemort cast the killing curse, instead of killing its owner, the Elder Wand, for whatever reason, sent Harry back to 1979 November 2nd.

Harry had no idea how his theory worked or if it was even true, but it was the only idea of how he time travelled that made sense.

Mulling over these thoughts, Harry apparated into Hogsmeade right before dawn, wearing his invisibility cloak.  Like a week ago, he unlocked an empty Honeydukes with an alohomora and made his way to the damp passageway that led to Hogwarts.

He peered at the Marauder’s map.  About a dozen students were ambling about the Slytherin common room, probably getting ready for an early morning quidditch practice, while a couple of students roamed the corridors, all with unfamiliar names.  

The house elves, represented by dots so close together that their names were indistinguishable, were busy in the kitchens, no doubt preparing breakfast. 

The teachers were still in their quarters though and Filch and Mrs.Norris were pacing the astronomy tower, no doubt looking to catch a snogging couple.  Harry assumed he’d go unnoticed under the invisibility cloak on the walk to the room of requirements at least for another hour.  

After climbing out of the one-eyed witch statue, Harry was once again in Hogwarts.  Light from the newly risen sun came from the windows that lined the outer wall, shafting over the stone walls and illuminating portraits and suits of armour.  

It was odd walking through a Hogwarts that wasn’t a battleground.  For a second, Harry could almost believe that the past few years had been a dream and that he was walking towards the great hall for breakfast.  

Then reality came crashing back as soon as he glanced down at the marauders map, making sure that the dots with unfamiliar names weren’t anywhere near him.  He made sure to walk close to the walls so as to be less likely to bump into anyone.

The Hogwarts he walked down was nearly the same as the one Harry had known, except with a few subtle changes.  A couple of the portraits and paintings were unfamiliar and, as Harry turned into the corridor where the DADA classroom was located, he noticed that the walls looked cleaner than when he had gone to school, as if they had been freshly painted.

The tapestry was still there though, revealing a short cut to the 7th floor.  Harry clambered up the stairs, remembering to avoid the vanishing step.  After passing the fat lady, who was wearing a different dress than he was used to, it was a straight shot to the room of requirements.

Before he turned into the corridor, Harry checked the map again.  Luckily the Gryffindors were all in their dormitories, with a few located in the common room.  No Ravenclaws had ventured out of their tower either.

Once standing opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet, Harry paced outside where he remembered the room of requirements being, back and forth three times.  He thought, ‘I need a place where everything is hidden.’

The door materialised and Harry quickly walked into the room, shutting it behind him and letting out a breath of relief.  His plan to find the horcruxes was going so smoothly, unlike any plan Harry had ever executed before, so he found himself fearing for something to go horribly wrong.  He imagined a teacher bumping into him or Dumbledore passing by him and somehow reading his mind.

Harry tore off his invisibility cloak and turned around to look at the familiar piles of junk that rose up towards the cathedral-like ceiling.  He stared at the familiar alleyways that formed a labyrinth in the room, trying to remember the specific one where Ravenclaw’s diadem was perched on top of an old warlock’s bust.

He remembered a stuffed troll and the vanishing cabinet that Draco had spent nearly all of sixth year repairing, though that would be on the first floor at the moment.  

After staring at the few winged catapults and fanged frisbees that were hovering over broken vials of potions and books, perched precariously on broken furniture, Harry found an alleyway that looked familiar.  

He walked through the alleyway, past some rusted swords and a bloodstained axe, only to stop when he spotted the familiar stuffed troll.  Harry smiled to himself as he remembered the way to the diadem.  This was really too easy.

Turning right, Harry walked past a pile of broken dragon egg pieces, trying to spot an acid-stained cupboard, or the bust of an old warlock with Ravenclaw’s diadem placed on its head.  

He backtracked when the piles of junk looked vaguely unfamiliar.  Harry berated himself for not remembering to turn left.  Thinking back on that day in 6th year, Harry remembered turning left at the vanishing cabinet.  With no marker though, it was hard to tell which specific alleyway he went down.

Harry ended up going down 5 different alleyways until he found the right one.  Each time, he would walk, either long enough to know that the path wasn’t the right one, or finding a dead end.  

He couldn’t help but laugh at Tom Riddle’s arrogance.  Here were items, each one probably telling an untold story of someone who discovered the room and needed something hidden.  Yet Voldemort, surrounded by junk that proved otherwise, thought that he was the only possible person to discover the room of hidden things.

Finally, Harry found the diadem, still perched on top of the old warlocks’ bust.  He picked up the thing and inspected it.  The jewels were as discoloured as ever, but Harry could still faintly make out his reflection in the big blue jewel placed in the centre.  A silver eagle's head sat on top of the centre jewel and the sides of the diadem acted as its wings.  Etched on the bottom read the words, ‘Man’s Greatest Treasure is Wit Beyond Measure.’

 Harry weighed the risks of wearing the diadem.  On the one hand, it might possess him, or influence his thoughts, like the locket had done, but it apparently also bestowed wisdom on the wearer.  With no Hermoine and Ron to help him sort out the mess he was in, Harry was in desperate need of some wisdom.

‘Fuck it,’ Harry finally thought.  Sue him, he was curious and had too much time on his hands.  Before he could put the diadem on his head, a familiar voice came from behind him, “Potter?”

Harry turned around, dropping the diadem onto the ground with a clank.  Standing a few feet away from him, in the same place as he had a few hours before Harry had time travelled, was Draco Malfoy.

What the actual fuck…

They just stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like hours.  Harry studied Draco, wondering why he was here, how had he also time travelled?  It had something to do with the elder wand.  Harry just knew it.  

Maybe Draco had time travelled the same way that Harry had.  Voldemort was pissed off enough at his family’s incompetence before he had struck Harry with the ol’ avada kedrava.  In the weeks that followed, Draco might have angered or threatened him enough to warrant Voldemort killing him personally with the elder wand.  Except Draco was at least a partial owner of the elder wand so he was transported to 1979, same as Harry.

Or maybe Voldemort had figured out the flaw in Dumbledore’s plan.  Harry remembered Voldemort killing Snape with Nagini because he thought the man was the true master of the elder wand.  The same thing probably happened with Draco.

That led Harry onto a whole other train of thought.  There was an entirely separate timeline that didn’t just cease to exist when he had travelled to 1979.  Harry had abandoned his friends, who all probably thought he either died or escaped like a coward.

Draco’s appearance, as Harry looked at him closer, was proof of this theory.  He still looked as pale as ever, but also older.  There was a certain weariness in Draco’s eyes that Harry had seen in Remus, Sirius, nearly all of the older order members.  He saw the same weariness when looking in the mirror.

Huge bags covered the area under his eyes and his blonde hair was a dull colour and matted to his forehead.  Harry heard his heavy breathing, Draco sounded like he was going insane, and didn’t miss the way his hand was shaking as he pointed his wand towards Harry.

There were also a couple of unfamiliar scars that marred his skin.  Some looked fresh while others looked at least a couple of months old.  Harry wondered how long he had stayed in the continuing timeline that Harry unknowingly abandoned before being killed by Voldemort.

It couldn’t have been that long, for despite all of the difference, Draco looked like Harry remembered him.  The same pointed face, grey eyes, and slytherin robes, though these robes appeared to be a couple of sizes too big, as the sleeves were rolled up in order to fit.  

The biggest difference was the shabby and desperate quality Draco had that was much different to his usual wealthy and put together appearance.

“Wha-How are you here?” Draco’s voice shook with emotion and he looked as though he had seen a ghost.

“I should be asking you the same question,” In fact, Harry had a million questions for Malfoy.  

He saw Draco’s eyes flash from disbelief to mistrust, “Who are you?” He took a step back and raised his wand higher, allowing Harry to get a closer look at it.

Harry’s eyes widened as he recognized the wand, bumps throughout the line of wood.  His theories were proven correct, but Draco’s possession of the elder wand also raised more questions.

Was Draco Voldemort?  The uneasy feeling of mistrust, the feeling that the other shoe that Harry had been waiting for was about to drop, overfilled him.  Draco could have time travelled, but Voldemort could have disarmed him, killed him, and then also time travelled with the elder wand.  He could be tricking Harry right now.

Without taking his eyes off the supposed Draco, Harry picked up the horcrux and held it in an iron grip.  He pointed his wand towards Draco and said with equal mistrust, “Who are you?”

“First tell me who you are,” Draco demanded.

Harry felt the urge to scoff, but kept his voice even, “I don’t think I will…” a thought about how he could tell if Draco was Voldemort or not, which he was starting to doubt, sprung upon him, “Tom Riddle.”

Draco gave him a bewildered look that quickly morphed back into a guarded suspicion.  Harry noticed it though, and the theory that Draco was somehow Voldemort in disguise went out the window.

 “How do you know about this room and why are you masquerading as a dead person?”  Draco finally asked after a moment of silence.  The expressions that flickered across his face were unreadable, but Harry could tell that he was deep in thought.

“I’m not masquerading as a dead person,” Harry replied.  He contemplated drawing out this back and forth questioning, only to make sure that the person in front of him really was Draco Malfoy, but decided against it because he was growing impatient and the thought of having someone who was from his time, enemy or not, was starting to excite him.

“Listen,” Harry began, “I’m 98% sure that you’re Draco Malfoy.  I’m guessing that Voldemort,” Draco flinched at the name, “Killed you with the elder wand, or rather tried to kill you, and instead of dying you ended up in 1979, November 2nd.”

Draco was now eyeing him with disbelief, “How do you-” realisation dawned on his face, “The same thing happened to you too, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Harry said softly.  He was eyeing Draco warily, unsure of how he would respond.  In all honesty, he looked a little unhinged.  He went from mistrustful, to disbelieving to now smiling like a maniac in less than a minute.  Now he was laughing in a way that reminded Harry of the Newspaper clip of Sirius after Peter had escaped after killing 13 muggles and betraying his parents.

The laughter continued.  Harry stood there, waiting for Draco to stop.  After a few minutes he interrupted, “Draco?!”

Draco faltered for a moment before laughing again, though less maniacal.  “This is just-This is just so fucking stupid,” he kicked a broken chair.

Harry was still freaking out over the fact that Draco of all people was now stuck in time with him.  He didn’t know how to deal with whatever was going on with his former rival.

“Here um-”

Draco continued kicking a pile of broken furniture.

“Listen!” Harry shouted.  Draco stopped, sitting down on the dusty floor, so Harry continued, “So you’re definitely Draco, my Draco from my time.”

“I fucking guess so,” he drawled, “I hate my fucking life so fucking much, Merlin’s beard,” laying down on the dusty floor, Draco said in a resigned tone, “I fucking give up on life.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic swearing, but he had the urge to swear like a sailor right now too, so didn’t judge.  “But you definitely know me as Harry Potter?” He continued, “Right?  So you’re from my time?”  

“I don’t know Potter,” Draco responded, “Are you from my time?  You supposedly died but you’re here-on all accounts I should be dead too-I don’t fucking know,”  He sighed defeatedly and made no movement to get off the floor, “I guess this is my life now.  I just can’t believe I’m stuck with you of all people-actually this is exactly what I should have expected.”

Draco started mumbling to himself, something about Bellatrix and his parents.  Harry still wasn’t sure that this Draco was his Draco.  He was so used to living in a time when nobody knew that he existed, knew of the events that would transpire in the years to come, that it was hard to come to terms with the fact that suddenly he wasn’t the only person in 1979 who belonged in another time.

“Our third year,” Harry said, causing Draco to look up at him and stop mumbling, “What magical creature did you whine about for the entire year?”

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment, then a small smile crept onto his face, “A bloody Hippogriff.  Salazar, I was a fucking prat,” his smile turned fond, “What I wouldn’t do to go back to those days…”

Harry nodded in agreement.  Then he realised the gravity of the situation.  Draco Malfoy, the death eater, Harry’s formal schoolyard rival, a living person with the same knowledge of future events as Harry, was also stuck in 1979.

 He sat on the floor, underneath the old warlock bust, deciding whether to be overjoyed or wary of this new development.  On the one hand, the fact that he wasn’t completely alone at this time filled Harry with a great sense of relief.  But while he knew it was Draco and not Voldemort laying on the ground a few feet away, Draco was still on Voldemort’s orders last time he checked, albeit reluctantly.

“Fucking hell,” Harry announced, glancing at Draco.  He nodded in agreement.

They sat there in silence for what felt like hours, horcrux in Harry’s hand forgotten.  He had no idea how to even start to ask Draco all of the questions he needed answered, or if Draco even knew of them.  Harry was almost certain that Draco didn’t know how he ended up with the elder wand.

“How long have you been here for?” Draco finally asked.

Harry started out of his stupor, “About a week.”

“Same,” Draco’s usual sneer was gone, replaced with weariness.  It was almost sad.  Draco’s pride and spirit over being a Malfoy, the knowledge the world was practically at his fingertips, that Harry had witnessed slipping away ever since the end of 5th year was completely gone.

Silence reigned again, until Draco turned to look at the diadem next to Harry, “What is that thing anyway?”

Harry responded with a question of his own, “Why did Voldemort kill you?”

“Wha-well it’s a long story,” Draco narrowed his eyes, “Do you seriously think I’m still a death eater after being fucking killed by that bastard?”

“You were the last time I checked,” Harry looked around the room, pulling up a memory of the last time he had been in the place, a confrontation over the diadem, Crabbe casting fiendfyre, a desperate escape on some old brooms.  He could still make the brooms out, leaning against a pile of broken caldrons. 

“The last time I checked you were a dead body being paraded around.”

Harry shuddered at the image of his body being paraded around Hogwarts after his death.  So did life continue on after he died?  Is it still going on?  Could he come back to the future?  What happened to Ron, Hermoine, Ginny, the Weasleys, and the Order after he died? 

“What happened after I died, Malfoy?”

“Why should I tell you?,” Draco folded his arms, “You obviously don’t trust me to tell me about that stupid diadem, and to be honest, I don’t trust you.  How are you even here?”

“Like I said,” Harry replied, “When Voldemort’s killing curse hit me, I arrived here.  If the same thing happened to you, which I’m starting to doubt since you refuse to tell me what happened after I died in our alternate timeline.”

“What in Merlin’s name is an alternate timeline?”

“It’s-,” Harry wasn’t exactly sure how he came up with the term.  He vaguely remembered some American movie that Dudly liked where it was used.  “The timeline that we left which, if you’re actually telling me the truth, is still running simultaneously while we’re here in the past.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Saying it outloud, it made no sense to Harry either.  But nothing about this experience made any sense, the only thing that did was his task to track down the horcruxes.

“Yeah well,” Harry ran a hand through his hair, “Cut me some slack. I've only been here for a week.  What have you been doing?  Hanging about the room of requirements and what, stealing from the kitchens?”

Draco’s silence confirmed Harry’s suspicions.

“And what have you been doing?  What’s your big plan to destroy the dark lord that obviously failed in the future?  Or was this all part of your plan?”  The words sounded sarcastic at first, but Draco’s tone turned desperate.

He sat up, turning from resigned to excited in seconds, “It would be so much easier to kill him now, with all of our future knowledge.”

Harry contemplated Draco’s motives.  He doubted that he was Voldemort, but the nagging voice in his head that sounded like Mad Eye Moody screamed, “Constant Vigilance.”  Voldemort could be pretending to be Draco right now, acting like he was on Harry’s side to manipulate him into spilling his plan.

But now that Voldemort knew that Harry knew about the horcruxes, wouldn’t he just kill him?  Harry’s instincts were telling him that Draco was not in league with Voldemort, but Harry also hadn’t noticed that Barty Crouch was manipulating him his entire 4th year.

“Why do you want to kill Voldemort?  What made you change sides?  Because I know for a fact that you were under his orders just a few hours before I time travelled here.” 

“Yeah,” Draco laid back down, unbothered by the dusty floor, “A load of shit happened in the months that followed the battle of fucking Hogwarts.”

Harry leaned forward in anticipation of finally hearing some news about his friends and family, whether that be good or bad, he had to know.

“But why should I tell you, since you don’t trust me enough to tell me your plan on how to kill the dark lord, and how that diadem is involved.”

Harry groaned in frustration, “Bloody-just tell me what happened, then I’ll tell you my whole plan to take down Voldemort which is probably going to end poorly, like the last fucking attempt.”

A contemplative look passed over Draco’s face, until finally he announced, “Okay fine, I’ll tell you everything I know, but then you have to promise to tell me your entire plan afterwards.  And I want in.”

Harry immediately nodded before thinking thoroughly over what Draco was proposing.  He didn’t really care what he had to tell Draco, or that he had to ally with him in the fight against Voldemort, as long as he received information of what had happened to his friends and family in the future.