An Eclectic Catalogue of Ideas

Prologue

If there was one thing to know about George Weasley, it was that he loved his family.

Fred was family.

Harry was family.

Even Percy was family, the smarmy prat.

In the wake of Voldemort's defeat, things didn't change as much as they could have. George knew that. He hadn't really been paying attention. At first, he was dealing with Fred's death, or trying to at any rate. If it hadn't been for Harry and Ron, he didn't think he'd have ever gotten past it. And then, he and Ron focused on the store.

Ron was actually a really good businessman, which surprised George. But while he wasn't paying attention, while Ron helped with the store, while Harry and Hermione attended Hogwarts for their final year, things were happening.

So many laws had been passed during Pius Thicknesse's tenure, and they had to be voted out by the Wizengamot.

A Wizengamot that had been gutted by various laws.

Laws that blocked so many with a Wizengamot seat from taking that seat. Due to blood purity. Due to money. Due to lack of support. The list went on. And then, Kingsley Shacklebolt was voted out of office by the Wizengamot, and Amos Diggory became Minister of Magic.

That's when the gloves really started to come off.

It started in a trickle. Kingsley wasn't rehired by the Auror department. Diggory started to replace various heads with people loyal to him. It was slow but sure, and Diggory had a lot of support in the Wizengamot, though he didn't know why at first.

You see, the problem is Voldemort had had too much time. Time to destroy an already corrupt system. Killing him stopped the immediate conflict, but it didn't stop his ideas. The Wizengamot were in the hands of people who truly believed in blood purity or just wanted power, and they moved to consolidate their power.

And Diggory helped them for one reason.

Harry Potter.

Diggory hated Harry Potter.

He had never forgiven him for the death of his son.

George realized later that business as usual had returned to the Ministry. That Diggory supported the conservative faction that had once been led by Lucius Malfoy and was now led by Theodore Nott.

In return, Diggory got Harry Potter.

No more than six months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry found himself arrested by the aurors and charged with a variety of crimes. He wasn't even allowed to truly defend himself and he was sent to Azkaban for life. Guilty on all charges.

He heard from Percy that Diggory smiled when he watched the sentence being handed out.

The people, so tired from the war, accepted it. After all, he was convicted. He had to be guilty. It was Harry's Fifth Year all over again.

Britain's people were sheep.

George Weasley loved his family. But some part of him hated the people of magical Britain.

Harry was lucky, in a way.

Ron and Hermione were arrested as well, and Diggory didn't care about making them suffer before dying. He just wanted to punish them for being Harry's closest friends. To punish Harry by destroying those closest to him. They received the Kiss.

He still had nightmares about the night he visited the hospital, where they were placed afterwards. Their faces. Nothing was left. They were empty shells.

Things began to grow darker once more. Muggleborns lost more of their rights, and many left the country. It wasn't a war now, it was just politics. And because it didn't affect them, again, people just accepted it. They were tired of war.

And then George heard from Percy. Heard that Diggory had told Harry about his friends' deaths, and that soon, a dementor would 'go rogue' and administer the Kiss to Harry.

And that is when George made a decision.

It was time to do something. He would not be a sheep.

HPHPHPHPHP

George stood looking over the water at Azkaban. Beside him were Neville and Luna. He needed them as he couldn't produce a Patronus anymore. And in Azkaban? A Patronus was definitely needed. He looked towards the couple, "You two ready? You can back out."

"No. No we can't," Neville stated. "Ron and Hermione didn't deserve what they got. Harry doesn't deserve this, nor what's coming to him." Luna merely nodded, her gaze lacking its usual dreamy quality. "We have to save him."

"We won't be able to stay in Britain if we do this," George warned, one last time.

"I and Neville have already moved our money to the United States. After we save Harry, we're moving there. Where do you plan on taking him?" Luna asked.

"France. My brother Bill is staying with the Delacours, I'm pretty sure they would be willing to help Harry," George explained.

"They would," Luna said. Her eyes went distant, "Your brother Bill has always been loyal, and his wife's family support him. He'll need that soon."

Neville's brow rose at Luna's words, but he simply nodded, accepting what she said. He was used to her odd statements. "So, how're we working this?"

"There are only three guards on Azkaban at any one time, in addition to the Warden. With the war over, they don't seem to think they need more. They depend on the Dementors. Percy told me when they will be changing shifts. We will disable the three new guards, and I have polyjuice brewed: enough for six hours for each of us. Percy also gave me the code phrase so we can verify our identities to the guards going off duty. Once they're gone, we go in, stun the warden, go to Harry, and rescue him. And leave. Easy peasy." He knew it might not be that easy.

"That sounds too easy. But you did say they're overconfident due to the war being over," Neville said with a frown.

"Well, that's the information I was given. If it's wrong, we're probably screwed," George said prosaically. "But I need to do something. I can't let someone else in my family die."

"We're with you," Luna said to him, as she took Neville's hand. She whispered, too low to be heard, "Even if we fail, it's the right thing to do."

Soon, the guards appeared, and a trio of stunning spells took them down. George moved towards the dock and knelt, carefully stripping them naked and taking their things. He moved them to a nearby shed and placed each one inside. Cutting a lock of hair from each, he approached the dock. It was time.

Using the polyjuice, each changed into their new clothes and took the boat over to Azkaban. Arriving, a man called, "Who goes there?"

"Aurors. We're here to take over. Pass phrase is 'Yellow Seven'," George called.

"Come on in, then," the voice said. When they arrived, they saw three people standing there. "Glad to get off the island," the speaker said. "I hate Dementors."

"How're the prisoners? Any trouble?" George wondered.

"Nah. They just whimper and cry for the most part. Potter is still silent, he hasn't spoken for a while, not since we moved a pair of Dementor outside his cell full time," the man said with a laugh.

George barely stopped himself from killing the man. He nodded, "Well, we'll take over. You three have a drink and relax." He waited for them to take the boat and heated into the prison, flanked by Neville and Luna's patronuses.

It didn't take them long to find the warden in his quarters and stun the man. Locking his door, the moved to the maximum security section. There were a lot of Dementors wandering the area. George's mind kept replaying memories. Fred. Ron and Hermione.

Finally, they reached Harry's cell. The Dementors outside took one look at Neville's bear and Luna's hare patronuses and floated down the hall, fleeing. George moved to open the door and knelt by Harry. "Harry. Harry, wake up."

He saw Harry's eyes open, but they didn't-- couldn't?-- focus. After a few seconds, he managed to whisper, "George?"

"Yes, Harry. It's me. Come on. We're getting you out of here," George said. He tried to help Harry up but he couldn't stand, so George gestured with his wand and levitated him out the door. He said to Luna and Neville, "We have to leave."

"All right," Neville said. They made their way down the steps to the courtyard. And stopped.

Standing in the courtyard were aurors. Over ten of them. "Put your wands down!" the leader ordered them.

"Aw, stuff it, Dawlish," snapped George as he carefully set Harry on the cobblestones near the doorway and walked into the courtyard to draw their focus away from Harry. "What brings you here?" Beside him, Luna and Neville followed, pointing their wands at the aurors.

"Your brother," drawled Dawlish. "Fool didn't realize that the Minister has a legilimens on staff. It didn't take long to discover what your plan was, and he didn't even realize it was happening. He'll be joining you here, soon."

"Right," George said. He suddenly snapped his wand forward in an arc, and a purple cutting curse sprayed outwards. Dawlish blocked it with a shield charm, and battle was joined as the trio spread apart, batting away the occasional curse. It reminded George of the final battle.

Spells continued to fly, and more than one of the aurors went down. "Hah!" George called, "We didn't fight Voldemort for nothing, while you sat on your arses!" More spells came sizzling back and forth, and finally, he heard Luna cry out. He glanced to the side and saw her arm dangling, shattered by a spell. She was holding her wand in her other hand, but it was obvious she was in trouble.

It didn't help that the courtyard was so bloody cold. There were too many dementors around. George noticed Dawlish's gaze flicker behind him and he turned. Harry lay near the doorway still, but hovering over him was a Dementor.

It was Kissing him.

"NO!" George cried out, turning to rush towards him. A patronus. He had to produce a patronus. After all of this, he couldn't stand there and watch Harry die.

The choice was taken out of his hands as light seemed to explode out of Harry. The sound of a screeching dementor could be heard as George felt the impact as the explosion hit him.

And then he knew nothing at all.

HPHPHPHPHP

George woke up. Looking around, he found himself back at the shop. How...? What was going on?

"Hello," came a deep voice, a resonant bass rumble. Whirling, George turned and came face to face with a tall black man. He looked a little like how Kingsley might look if he were very old, with distinguished features and a closely-cut gray beard.

"Who are you?" George asked.

"You know who I am." For a single instant, George saw the man's face flicker, becoming a skull before returning to its austere appearance. "I had a question for you. Why did you try to help my Chosen?"

"Your Chosen? You mean Harry?" George asked.

"Yes. He is the last Peverell. He is my Chosen," Death stated.

"Because he is family. He and Ginny never worked out, but that doesn't matter. He always stood by us, and we stand by him," George said. "What's all of this about?"

"You died; that's what it's about. When the dementor tried to devour my Chosen's soul, there was a backlash. Foolish creature. His soul is... protected by his heritage. I'm afraid said backlash caused an explosion that leveled Azkaban."

"His heritage?" George asked, before slumping, "So I didn't save him. And now Luna and Neville are gone, too."

"Yes. The story you wizards tell is wrong, but it's based upon truth. Long ago, a Peverell lost his daughter to me due to illness. She was his only child, and he loved her with all his heart. He performed a forbidden rite, and did something extraordinary. He brought her back to life, and in doing so shattered his very soul. It is the first and only time such a thing happened from love, rather than hate and malice." Death casually sat down, watching George. "It was unexpected. It impressed me. I took pity upon him and bound the remnants of his soul into three items and passed them onto his line. At some point in the future, I hoped one of his line would have the power to reunite them so he could pass on. From that point on, the Peverells were my Chosen, and aided me in fighting those who would cheat me, cheat death. There are many ways to avoid dying. Most involve heinous acts that I simply cannot allow."

"Three items. You mean the Hallows?" George's mind was whirling.

"Indeed. Unfortunately, only a descendant could reunite the Hallows, and so his soul remains sundered," Death stated.

"And you said Harry is the last Peverell," George realized.

"Yes. He could have been strong enough to truly reunite the Hallows. To not just hold them, but to own them. Unfortunately, he was bound in chains of ignorance. One who should have nurtured him instead prepared him to be a sacrifice. Your friend is dead. And the soul of Emeric Peverell will remain forever sundered." Death paused. "Unless."

"Unless?" George asked quickly.

"Unless you make a choice," Death said. "You acted when you did not need to. You could have been happily married and had children of your own. A life of your own. You instead chose to act to save my Chosen. You sacrificed. This gives me... leeway."

"Leeway?" George wondered, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"I offer you a deal, George Fabian Weasley. You will be sent back in time, your soul merging with your younger self. You may try to help my Chosen. In doing so, you gain the opportunity to save others as well," Death stated.

"Why me? Why don't you send Harry back?" George asked.

"I'm afraid my Chosen is... broken. Even before his time in Azkaban, he was dealing with his issues rather more poorly than most thought. He had been systematically tortured nearly his entire life. Abused throughout his childhood. Each year in school, he had to deal with yet more torment with no real help from his teachers. He fought a war almost entirely alone. Azkaban simply completed what was begun when he was one year old," Death stated. "You are the one who planned, who stepped forward first. The choice is yours."

"If I agree, you send me back? How do I know what to do? I mean, I know some stuff, but I don't know what Harry was doing that final year of the war..." George noted.

"You will be given a gift. One shard of the soul of Emeric Peverell. Your sacrifice makes this possible. You will be able to use it to call forth the spirits of the dead, including my Chosen's. It will not work for you as well as it would for he, but it will be enough."

"You mean I'll have the Resurrection Stone?" George's voice was laden with disbelief. "But if I go back in time, Harry won't be dead. Nor will any of the others."

"He will not be. But you will not be entirely of that time period. There will be a... resonance to your original time. You will be able to call a temporal echo of sorts. I suggest gathering as much information as you are able, as the echoes will start to fade as you change things."

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" George asked.

"I will say what I am allowed. The ring the shard was a part of is still a factor; I cannot touch it even with your sacrifice. He does not need to die to remove that which rests upon his brow; the answer lies in the lore of the land you call Egypt. It is not a true anchor. The blood protections were useless. They are based on love, and he had no love in that home. Do not trust Albus Dumbledore. He is not a malevolent man, but his arrogance, his belief in his own infallibility have created much heartache for many, especially my Chosen. He would say differently, but he lacks empathy. He deliberately placed him in an abusive home. He knew what was happening. And he did nothing, sending him back year after year," Death said. "You know Occlumency. Improve it. It will be needed."

"When would I go back?" George asked, "If I chose to."

"You may return to any time when my Chosen hovered on the brink of death, on its very cusp. Thus, when he was six years old and his Uncle went too far in his beating of him. At the end of his first year at Hogwarts. At the end of his second year. At the start of his third year. At the end of his fourth year..." Death trailed off, "I don't believe you'd wish to return to a point after those dates."

"... I really want to hex someone. Harry nearly died that often? I knew that he was in danger at Hogwarts, but that much?" George shook his head, thinking.

He made his choice. "I'll do it. I want to go back at the end of Harry's first year. That'll let me help Ginny, and have the most impact on him, help him the most. I'd go back to when he was six, but I really couldn't do anything at that point, I was only eight. I didn't even have a wand yet."

"So be it," Death stated.

Suddenly, George felt like he was falling from a great height, motes of light flaring around him like stars. And then he woke up gasping, sitting up in his bed in Gryffindor Tower. On a bed near him was Fred, and he couldn't help it. George started to cry, softly, before wiping his eyes with the his sleeve. It would not happen this time.

As he looked around, he heard something land on the floor. Looking down, he saw a small gray stone laying upon the wooden surface. Etched onto its surface was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. He bent down to pick it up, sliding it into his pajama pocket. He picked up his watch that rested on the table near his bed, trying to settle himself. Looking at the time, he rose to his feet, moving to pick up the Map as well. Leaving a note for Fred, he quickly changed and headed out of the room. He had some plans to make before breakfast.

It took some time, as George had to pause and refer to the Map to avoid Filch's patrols. Eventually, George found himself walking down the seventh floor hallway, pacing back and forth. Once a door appeared, he pulled it open and stepped inside the Room of Requirement. He looked around, considering. It looked like his bedroom at the shop. Perfect. He sat down, looking at the stone, and turned it three times in his fingers. And spoke.

"Hello, Hermione. I have a few questions to ask you."