Chapter 1
He had done it. Finally, after all the hardships he went through to put this all together he did it. He found a way to travel back in time, and this time, he planned to do everything right.
He would not be the innocent and naive eleven years old boy, malnourished and abused, beaten down by his very blood kin just for the purpose of sending him to martyrdom by what he considered to be his Grandfather. No, this time, Harry James Pott- scratch that, for he would not be able to use his real name, he would do everything right.
He decided on this course of action two year after the end of the war with Voldemort, when on duty as an Auror he discovered a filthy Muggle beating a six year old boy because he did magic. His two colleagues were reminded in that very moment why, even after two years, his final battle against the Dark Lord was still spoken with fear and awe; he, a seventh year student against a Dark Lord. With only six years of instruction and precious spells picked up here and there from various libraries during the years, he was able to outwit and defeat Voldemort, it was truly awe-inspiring for the witnesses.
Now he completely lost control of his magic, which lashed out to the Muggle and reduced him a pile of trembling and crying mess. It was a scene that reminded him of Uncle Vernon, those times when he was unable to protect himself with magic, and receive beatings from his "family" because he was a wizard. He could not let this happen to another innocent child because of the ignorance of a Muggle.
Of course, none of his Auror colleagues remembered any of it, all they could remember was going there, obliviating the Muggle of accidental magic and be done with it. Instead, in reality they assisted to the brutal torture of the Muggle, then he obliviated all of them and took the child with him.
It was when he lost control of his power that happened, it didn't show at first, but while time passed he started to remember, he started to take control of his mind after so many years. He began to review everything that happened to him, from his very childhood to days ago and realized that his life was not his. Everything he did was not him, but a carefully constructed puppet by the very man he respected the most, the very man he named one of his children after. And then, even his love was not real, just a love potion and well placed compulsions. His friends, those he was prepared to sacrifice his life for, were just power-hungry and greedy mongrels ready to stab him in the back in a moment, now he remembered all the times he caught them talking about him and the plans they made, and then being obliviated of the knowledge.
It all started a chain of events he could not have fathomed a while ago. If he didn't have to take care of the child he would have fallen in depression, and even then, he spent nights drowning his sorrows in Firewhisky. He moved out of the house, for he could not even look to his wife's face and his children's, all of this was not real, he did not love her and the children, well, he loved them alright, but he could not look their way without being reminded that it was the results of something he never agreed upon after all. Then, when he finally found a proper family for the boy he rescued, he realized how much he came to hate everything, in the end those he hated the most in the past were the only ones who had been honest with him. They never faked to be his friends, never lied to him in the face, they always said what their goals were and they made it clear that he was their enemy if he stood in their way.
He started to almosr regretting killing the Dark Lord, for every time the old goat told him they were different, they were exactly the same. Both orphans, both unloved, both treated like crap by the Muggles, them, Wizards, treated like abnormalities by inferior beasts! By the time he entered the Wizarding World he was fascinated by it, it was the first time in his life that he felt at Home, a place where he could be himself and not fake his emotions. He remembered reading about the Dark Lord Voldemort and his plans to rid the Magical World of mudbloods. Yes, he could understand that mudbloods could not be trusted right of the bat, but they were magical nonetheless. It was the way they were brought up that was the problem, they were infected by the Muggles and their way of thinking, they could not understand the culture and the way wizards and witches lived because they never were explained to them. Yes, after a bit of education about the way this world worked and then they could be accepted in the society, which really needed new blood infused in the old lines, which were slowly but surely dying out because of inbreeding.
He had very much in common with Lord Voldemort and the same goad, but they wanted to achieve it with different methods. They wanted to be completely separated from the Muggles and the conservation of the Old Ways, for they could not forget their origins and roots, but he wanted to achieve it politically and peacefully, he would convince the others of the necessity of the separation from the beasts, they were thirsty of war, they could not remain in peace for long and if they continued to have contacts with them they would in the end get involved in their conflicts and lose precious numbers. Voldemort instead, wanted to become the complete ruler of magical Britain and his agenda consisted in the exile or kill of all those of impure blood, which was completely hypocritical of him, as he himself was an halfblood. He did not realize the importance that muggleborns have and so he went on killing sprees and targeted them mostly, but in so doing he caused the end of various lines of Purebloods like the Prewetts. When he would go back, he could not ally himself with him and had to proceed to destroy him as soon as possible.
That's when he discovered it, he, like Tom, was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin through his mother, who was adopted in her early days and came from a long line of squibs that were in the past cast off the family. Unlike Riddle though, he came from the male line, instead of the female line which married into the House of Gaunts and ended with Tom Marvolo Riddle himself. So he had the birthright of being the Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin and being a Parselmouth was not some fluke from having a connection with the wanker, like Dumbledore thought, it was in his very blood.
From that point forward he closed himself off society and retreated in the old Slytherin Castle he discovered from his new found properties in the north of Scotland, hidden behind so many wards that no one would ever find him. There he found five old house elves still bound to the family, them, like their fathers before them, had not seen hair nor hide of their masters for all their life and were overjoyed when he walked through the front doors. Apparently, the last master of the Castle was the grandson of Salazar, and after him no one ever came, since his granddaughter married a Gaunt and moved out, and his son was banished after being found a squib. The elves continued to take care of the Castle and every few years they would take in a baby elf to continue their work and being raised inside the property bonded them to the family, and even if no one ever came to renew the bond they instinctively knew that someone related to them was still alive.
In the Castle he found an impressive library, where he immediately went crazy with the amount of rare and expensive books he found and the portrait of his ancestor. Their first encounter was a little bit awkward, since he never received a visit in his Ancestral Home, as the only other portrait of his was inside the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts and he found it boring and useless to talk to a bunch of children who nowadays cared more about the purity of their blood than ambition and cunning, the most respected traits of his House; instead they behaved like a bunch of Gryffindors, always outspoken and not an ounce of cunning, he simply could not believe how his House had fallen so much, except for a couple of pupils every year, they were all idiots.
What followed were gruesome and tiring lessons, in the library in magical subjects –he simply could not fathom how much he missed in Hogwarts and how many things there were to magic that no one ever talked about- and etiquette, traditions and culture of the Magical World – "I won't have my descendant behave like a pig and not knowing nothing about his heritage"- with his forefather's portrait. It was during one of these lessons that he breached a topic he dared not talk about before.
"Grandfather, why is everyone talking about you hating mudbloods? And is it true that the basilisk in the Chamber was there to purge the school of them?"
The man in the portrait scowled, his aristocratic features -with his high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, angular jaw and those cold and calculating icy blue eyes- showing annoyance at his question.
"Of course I don't hate them now, but at the time you could not trust mudbloods, there were witch hunts and the little shits came to our school saying to the Muggles about some story about an apprenticeship with a Master and then when they learned all they could they went back to the filthy beasts and sold us out. They decided to save their sorry hides and condemn other magicals because they didn't want to die. That's why I didn't want to admit mudbloods in the school, I didn't trust them and every time one was admitted, they turned their backs on us and then mobs of angry Muggles came knocking at the doors of other student's families because they trusted them and were betrayed. I told this numerous time to Godrid, Rowena and Helga, but they were too compassionate, they could not understand how a child could do this when they were helped to control their magic. But I could see it in their eyes, they were greedy. With the knowledge imparted to them, they could rule the Muggles and no one would suspect a thing, they could live normal lives and live in luxury. Obviously the Muggles could not harm many of us, we had wards protecting the school, whose location is a secret because of redirecting and confundus wards surrounding the entirety of the valley, and the manors of many purebloods were well protected. In those times, Hogwarts was still small, it was known to all the purebloods of course, but halfbloods didn't know of its existence and the only way to learn magic was being apprenticed to a Master and they were very demanding and not always they would accept students, they were mostly scholars and didn't like company. To learn you had to belong to a family well instructed or go abroad traveling and learning the magics of other countries. That's how I learned for the most part. The Slytherin family was very respected and politically powerful, but I became what I am because I learned from others: wards and curse-breaking in the tombs in northern Africa, potions in France, dueling from the Romans and parselmagic from the Indians. Those who didn't have the fortune to be born in powerful families had an incomplete education, usually knew an handful of charms, a pair of curses for protection and a mal-suited wand if they had one, those were the ones who didn't survive the Muggles and were burned to death."
He paused to take a breath while Harry thought about everything told to him and there was one thing that struck him the most.
"You said something about parselmagic?" He asked a bit hesitantly.
Salazar regarded him as if he were retarded.
"Of course boy, you think being a Parselmouth is all about talking to snakes?!" He bellowed.
Harry shuffled a bit on his feet and looked at his ancestor embarrassed. "Err.. Yes?" He finished meekly.
The Slytherin Patriarch looked at him for a long moment in disbelief before he burst out laughing. It took a few minutes before he stopped and even then, he continued to laugh in front of the red face of the last Potter.
"There is more to parseltongue than talking to reptiles obviously. The Slytherins were famous in England and Europe because we were the only ones in this part of the world and we could do very little with the gift, even if what we did was astounding. In Asia I met a lot of locals who had the gift of parseltongue and they thought me very much. Our family focused in warding and defensive magics, but the Indians were able to heal and kill with ease using parselmagic. We were able to cast the most powerful wards and defensive spells because we cast them in parseltongue, doing so empowers the spell beyond imagination because you are using a magical language. The Indians instead bonded with a snake and then used it as a focus as you would a wand and then were able to heal almost everything, same thing with offensive magic, using the snake as a focal point they were able to compress their magical power and then release it in controlled burst of offensive magic capable of bypassing most shields. If you go looking in the library you will find all my notes and spells in parselmagic. If I remember correctly there should be a bunch of books in parselscript in the Chamber at Hogwarts."
"Parselscript?" Harry responded, his head spinning with all the ideas swimming inside.
"Why yes, I told you parseltongue is a magical language and as such it as a written counterpart. There aren't many languages able to focus our magic, but parseltongue and gobbledegook are the most powerful and the latter can be used only by the goblins."
"What about the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk?"
"The Chamber was built by me because I needed a place where Silvana could rest inside the school, the basilisk you slayed was my familiar and she grew an impressive size and I could take her with me no longer. So I built the Chamber under the dungeons of the Castle and inside I put a little study and library for my own use when I was with her. All those rumors about the 'monster of Slytherin' was just a joke between me and Godric, he was always boasting about that blasted bird of his and he would never recognize the beauty of my familiar. If what you say is true and you are a Potter than you are descended from Godric, I remember hearing that one of his grandchildren changed his name to Potter and the bird that saved you in the Chamber didn't do it out of his good heart, but because you are the descendant of his last Master."
"Are you talking about Fawkes? The phoenix bonded with the old coot?" He asked incredulously.
"If the bird is a fire phoenix then it should be him yes, even if he went by a different name. If what you told me about that man is true maybe he forced the bird to bond with him, or maybe he bonded with him in his youth and then changed and they were already bonded, it is even possible that he just enjoys being at Hogwarts and decided to help Dumbledore sometimes. Anyways about the Chamber, Silvana was not there to kill mudbloods, it's just her den so to speak. She probably obeyed that little upstart Riddle because he descends from me even if it is from the female line of the family not because she wanted to harm the students."
What followed that conversation was an intense study of parselmagic, he even went back to the chamber, carrying the portrait of Salazar with him, and he felt a little guilty seeing the sad look his ancestor casted the giant snake –"Do not feel guilty boy, she would have preferred death than harming a student, and she would have not attacked you in the first place if she had known about your heritage."-, but he continued through the Chamber and into the library, that was hidden beside the statue and opened to a specific sentence known only by Salazar, which explained why Riddle never found it. Inside he found the books mentioned by Salazar and took them with him back to the Castle.
It was two years since he took residence inside the Slytherin Ancestral Home, he learned a lot, he behave like a perfect pureblood Lord of House should, but it was a lonely existence. He was a master of transfiguration, his studies in obscure branches of magic helped his performance overall, he was able to cast the most powerful wards in parseltongue, able to heal the basic injuries and some. He found that, after getting rid of the connection with the Dark Lord –which incidentally was not an Horcrux like the old goat led him to believe, it was just a mental link caused by the failed curse and the second Avada Kedavra he took would have killed him if it weren't that he was the master of the wand Riddle was using, that fortunately refused to harm its Master- that he was somewhat of a prodigy in the Mind Arts and studied fervently to create the most safe Occlumency shields he could. Being a Master Occlumens had the side-effect of improving by leaps and bounds his recall and he was able to finish reading the library in little to no time, and then it was just a matter of months until he was able to cast everything inside, even the Dark Arts, which were explained to him by Salazar after seeing his reluctance on the matter. He still remembered the rant he had to listen to, which was then renamed "The Rant of the Century" because he had to sit, still and silent, for two and a half hours to his ancestor berating him for being "a close minded pig" and concluded with "being a Dark wizard does not mean you go on killing sprees to relieve some stress and it does not make you evil, but more dangerous and powerful against your opponent".
Even after years of solitude, he still had not forgiven his friends, and could not bear to speak to them again. He was too ashamed to try to reform a relation with his children, for after he escaped he basically made their mother broke, sure he left her the house but he took all the money with him, it was what she married him for so he took it away from her. He obviously set vaults for his children but it was not the point. Those he could relate to however, now that he shared their opinion of Muggles and mudbloods, could not be approached by him, because he was The Hero of the Light, he sent their husbands, sons and fathers to Azkaban and through the Veil, it was obvious which kind of welcome he would receive. So when he came up with the idea to travel back in time, he did not even stop to think it was impossible, everything to fight the boredom, for he longed for something to do. He longed for other people to speak with, the portrait notwithstanding.
He set out to complete this project of his, he studied runes more in depth, because it was the only way he could think of that would enable him to travel that far back, the researched rituals and with a word or two in the right ears he was able to acquire a time turner to further study the concept of time travel.
It would be three years of feverish study and research before he was able to say he did it. He was now 24 years old and was about to travel back in time, where he would do everything right.
That's when he realized, he could do nothing of the sort. He based the ritual and the spell on the concept utilized by the time turner but on a bigger scale, he would not be Harry James Potter, for there would be another Harry James Potter already in the world. He could not dispose of his younger self, for this would alter the timeline and maybe even kill himself. No, he had to become another person, so that he could kill Voldemort sooner and end his younger counterpart sufferings. But how?
He could be Lord Slytherin, but he looked too much like a Potter, there was no way someone would connect the dots and point out his relation with the Boy-Who-Lived. Worse, if someone realized he was Harry Potter from the future, they would capture him and milk everything he knew before throwing him through the Veil.
He set himself to find a way to change his appearance permanently, because every method he knew was out of the question. Polyjuice was unreliable, he was no metamorphmagus and even then there was the chance of him changing back to his base form. Transfiguration was a viable option, but it was not permanent, it would last maybe a couple weeks if he put a lot of power behind it, but a well placed finite from Dumbledore –who would no doubt sense the transfiguration- would ruin everything.
He found his answer in an obscure tome he saw in a shop in Knockturn Alley, it mentioned a blood adoption. It was a simple ritual really, it needed the blood of the parents and it would rewrite his DNA to match a possible child between the two. Now he needed the blood for the ritual. Salazar told him that he placed several vials of blood of his family members, even of himself, inside his potion cupboard –"you never know when you need blood for a potion" he said- inside unbreakable-chamed phials placed under the most powerful stasis charm he could manage. Fortunately, the charm had only began to fail and some of the blood was now unusable but the most was still fresh. Quickly renewing the stasis charm, Harry took the blood inside the ritual room of the Castle.
"Which blood should I use Grandfather?" He asked the portrait of his ancestor.
"You should probably use mine, which will strengthen the blood your mother passed onto you, this will awaken the traits common of the House of Slytherin and will overrode the looks of a Potter you currently have. For the other, you shouldn't use the blood you found there, in the tome it does not say anything specific about using blood of cousins but mixing blood too closely related is always a bad thing, look at how the rest of our family ended up. The Slytherins died out of inbreeding and the Gaunts were so much interrelated that they developed a mad streak which only became more visible and strong with the generations. You should find yourself a pureblood witch of another family, the Blacks maybe? Or a minor House should do, even a foreign one. After all, you would came out of nowhere so you should think carefully about your past and craft a believable story, which means forging documents and so on." He explained wisely.
Harry found himself researching the pureblood witches escaped from home, the dead ones and so on. He finally found the perfect mother of his new persona. Miranda Malfoy, pureblood, the second daughter of Abraxas Malfoy, sister of Lucius Malfoy, was sent to France during the early '70 to stay away from the war. She unfortunately died in 1978 and her body was not found. Recovering her blood had been an hassle, but he made it, several thousand galleons poorer, but he managed to get some of her blood from the goblins –who always take some blood from witches and wizards to check their identity when they go to take some gold from the vaults from time to time. It irked him a little that he would be "related" to the Malfoys, but in the end they had the same ideals and Narcissa was not so bad, even Draco demonstrated himself to be at least bearable later in life.
It was decided, after various discussion with Salazar, that he would use a very dark ritual to deage his body –because the blood adoption worked better the younger you were- because he wanted to go back to Hogwarts and help his counterpart. For this, he needed a woman who preferably died during the year of his presumed birth, 1978. The ritual was gruesome: he needed the fresh heart of a human, a criminal Muggle he found on the streets, and the sacrifice of a sacred animal, in this case he used a bat, which was symbol of Death and Rebirth. He had never felt so much pain in his life, even when Voldemort tortured him through his scar was not this painful. It felt like his bones were broken in tiny little pieces over and over again, he felt himself stretch and then shrink, his head exploded with pain and the worst part was that the ritual prevented him to pass out. After two hours of screaming and mind numbing pain worse than the cruciatus, he began to regain his bearings.
As soon as he was able, he stood up and conjured a mirror, he looked at himself satisfied of the results. He looked exactly like he did when he was thirteen, going to fourteen, maybe a little bit taller but he was okay with that, he cured his malnutrition and bad bones problems a while ago following a strict regimen of potions and he became taller than he was before. Now all he had to do was wait a few days and then do the blood adoption ritual.
This ritual consisted of a runic circle with the diameter or three meters, where he would lay down after the ritual part, to let his body rest. He entered the circle and placed himself in the center, where he mixed the blood of Salazar Slytherin and Miranda Malfoy in a silver cup, then he cut his wrists and waited for a few minutes to let his blood flow to the ground. He waited until he felt the dizziness connected to a major blood loss before he started. He began chanting the ancient spell, concluding: "I am Harry James Potter, no more. My name is Hadrian Abraxas Slytherin".
He chose this name because Hadrian was fairly similar to Harry, so he would not have a hard time to get used to it and Abraxas to reinforce his connection to the Malfoy family, after all, Miranda would surely name her son after her father, wouldn't her?
His father was to be Salazar Slytherin III, who fell in love for the beautiful Malfoy daughter and then married her in secret, because of the war. The two had a son, Hadrian, but unfortunately Miranda died in childbirth. Salazar III buried her body in their backyard and then took his son with him, traveling the world. He died in the spring of 1992, and Hadrian travelled back to Britain. It was a good background story, considering that he made in fact a world tour after the war and knew the magical cities very well. No one would question him about grandparents, everyone knew that the Slytherins were blood-purist and would never marry mudbloods or half-bloods and there was no spell that could reveal who his parents and grandparents were, just tests that revealed his closest relation to a family, namely Slytherin and Malfoy. He knew for a fact that the Malfoys had no family three like the Blacks, because, even if they were powerful and rich, they weren't a Most Ancient and Noble House like the Blacks and the Slytherin family tree was lost in the early times.
If someone questioned why his family never returned to Britain the answer was simple. Salazar fled the English Isles after he left Hogwarts, still enraged with the remaining founders, and he married a pureblood woman abroad, after all, his wife already died after giving him two son -one a squib- and a daughter. The rest of the family never wanted to return because of what they did to their Patriarch, he was the first to set foot in the Isles after a millennium.
After he said those words, he drank all the crimson liquid inside the cup and laid down on his back inside the runic circle. Initially, he felt a pleasurable warm feeling all inside, but then the heat began to burn and he began to scream, he felt his blood burn him from the inside, still circulating through his body.
The ritual was shorter than the previous one, only ten or so minutes of agony, and all was over. He laid on the ground panting, never wanting to get up.
"Well boy, you surely were a Slytherin before but now you really look like one." He heard the voice of his ancestor reverberate through the walls of the chamber.
He painfully got up and rested a minute or two on a sitting position before he felt sure he could stand. Then he collected his wand and conjured a full length mirror and gasped as he saw his reflection.
Before, he had messy raven-black hair, almond green eyes with a glow of power, high cheekbones and an angular jaw, not to mention the ever-famous lightning bolt scar on his forehead, which faded a bit after the connection was cut.
Now, he stood a bit taller than before, maybe 5'7", shoulder-length pitch black hair, which flowed down from his head, his eyes changed colour but retained the same glow as before, now were ice blue, unblemished forehead, his chin was a bit angular, like Salazar, and the jaw was well refined, his eyebrows were arched and all in all he displayed an air of aristocracy the same of his ancestor.
§I agree with you, Grandfather§ He hissed back and noted that it came easier to him to speak parseltongue, before he had to stop a moment and imagine talking to a snake, now it was as if he knew the other language and had no problem switching back and forth.
Now that he took care of his apparent age, his parentage and background story, he had to formulate a plan. The ritual to go back could be used to go back a decade or so and he decided to go back during the spring of his first year at Hogwarts.
Why? Because he wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone. The Slytherin Vaults had been previously emptied and generations of crazy Gaunts took care of wasting all the remaining fortune, so he would be broke. At the moment he lived off the Potter and Black money, but he couldn't take anything with him, maybe his wand because he used it for the ritual and the clothes he had on, but other than that he had to rely on the limited funds available to him in the small Vault his ancestor had the forethought to create in Slytherin Castle. With the Stone, he would be able to refill his Gringotts Vault and he wouldn't have problem in the future financing his political movements.
Furthermore, he calibrated the ritual to give himself the body of a thirteen years old, so he could be placed in fourth year at Hogwarts, where there would be no Chamber of Secrets scandal, of that he would have to make sure of. This way, he would be old enough to be considered a prodigy, he had no intention of dumbing himself down to the standards of the other students.
A couple of days later, he found himself inside the ritual room once again, defining the last touches of his plan with Salazar's portrait. He was a bit saddened that he could not take it with him, but he knew there would be another in the past.
"And remember grandson, plan in advance, don't let yourself be manipulated but do it yourself, cunningness, that's the word. I expect you to be sorted in Slytherin House obviously and make me proud. And for Merlin's sake get a blasted familiar!" They had talked about this at least a hundred times over. Since he would be going to the past, he hadn't wanted to form a familiar bond and then leave his familiar here, so he used a conjured snake to use it, but the effects were less powerful without a real familiar to use as focus.
"Yes, Grandfather. I will get a familiar and make you proud" Hadrian said to the portrait.
"Good, and a last tidbit of information no one nowadays seems to remember Hadrian" He paused for dramatic effect. For all his ancestor was, a dark wizard, a scholar and a powerful sorcerer, Hadrian thought he was a bit of a drama queen, not that he would ever tell him that. "Hogwarts Castle will respond to you once you enter its wards. Not because you are the heir of a founder or all that crap, I would have never accepted something like that, but because Hogwarts was the Slytherin Ancestral Home before I proposed to use it as a school. The wards and the school itself will recognize you, during the years the building became somewhat sentient and it will do what you tell it to do, it is your birthright after all." He finished with a smirk.
Hadrian's mind was spinning. Hogwarts Castle was previously Slytherin's? That explained a lot. How he never seemed to get lost inside the school, and the rare few occasions it happened he always found a corridor that would never be there the next time that guided him somewhere he recognized. The fact that the castle would understand he was the Heir was another piece of information he had to think about. If he was the heir, he could control the wards, he could prevent the wards to notify Dumbledore of its presence. Yes, this was something he would definitely think about in the near future.
"Thank you, Grandfather. To learn from a real Slytherin how to be one had been a wonderful experience" He finished with mirth and a bemused expression on his face.
"Wipe that expression from your face boy, I'm still the best at what our House is famous for, even if you come at a close second, now go and return the honor our House lost because of that idiot Riddle." He concluded and turned to leave before he paused for a moment and turned back.
§You have my blessing grandson, know that you have already made my proud, now its time to show the world why you never mess with a Slytherin. I wish you the best in your endeavor.§ He finished before he left the frame and probably traveled back to his portrait in the Slytherin common room.
Hadrian sighed, he would miss the old man.
He prepared meticulously the ritual, he could not afford to make a mistake, not when he had already invested so much in this project. He set the ritual circle, the runes this time carved in blood on the floor, another pair of Muggles as sacrifices –they truly were beasts, the think he discovered they did in their minds made their life forfeit immediatly- and he was ready to begin the ritual.
He stood, in the middle of the dark room, and began to gather the magical power needed for the spell he would cast. The power requirement was something that would prevent other wizards to do this, apart from the fact that no one even knew of it, the ritual needed someone on the power level of wizards like Dumbledore, Voldemort and himself and he had no intention of giving them something like this, he spent years developing the ritual and he would be damned if they got their hands on it.
He began chanting, the spell was composed of two parts, the final incantation and a pray to Magic itself to assist him. The ovation was about time, rebirth and change, things he would bring with him in the past. He began to feel the exertion of using so much magic in so little time. He felt his body being compressed from every angle in a manner nod dissimilar to apparition.
When he almost felt like dying, he shouted the incantation of the spell. "Reverto Tempus!"
As he felt himself losing consciousness, he knew that whether this worked, he did not regret doing it even if it meant dying for attempting it.