1965
When the time turner stopped spinning and world was still around him once more, Harry looked around to see that the time room in the DOM looked exactly the same. He snorted at the irony; the time room was untouched by time. Casting tempus, Harry saw that it was still late April, but the year was indeed now 1965. He dropped the time turner on the floor and crushed it under his foot and banished the remains. He had no further use for it, but he didn’t think that having a duplicate time turner was something to leave just laying around.
That dealt with, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak out from the mole pouch he had attached to his torso under his shirt and put it on before exiting the time room. As he made his way out of the Ministry, he noted the year’s style and transfigured his clothes to match. Once he was in the apparition point, Harry disapperated to Diagon Alley. Like the time room, Diagon was the same, save for a few decorations on the shops and, of course, the twins’ shop not yet occupying a building that now looked to be an odds and ends shop similar to Borgin and Burke’s. Harry wondered if the only large change he was going to find was going to be the people he would be interacting with.
Harry didn’t remove his cloak until he had made it to secluded corner just outside of Gringotts. Once inside the bank, Harry made his way to the line to speak to a teller. Looking around, a few differences between the times was clear, but for the most part, Gringotts looked just as unchanged as the time room and the rest of Diagon Alley. A part of Harry was comforted by the fact that his knowledge of places would be largely unchanged, while the rest of him wondered how long it took for things in the Wizarding World to change; it would explain why they seemed stuck in Victorian times and held onto their prejudices.
“Next.”
Harry snapped himself out of his thoughts and approached the teller. He was slightly surprised to see Ragnok. The Goblin had been Bill Weasley’s co-worker. Bill had introduced him to the Goblin when Harry was going to apologize and explain to the Goblins why he broke into Gringotts. Ragnok had been essential to providing Harry a way to make up with the Goblins that didn’t lead to his death.
“Master Ragnok”, Harry hid his amusement at the teller’s obvious shock at the recognition and respect he was showing, knowing that the Goblins were not used to very much respect coming from wizards, “it seems I require assistance due to a little… time issue.”
Ragnok studied Harry for a second, called something out in Gobbledegook, and left the desk, “Follow me, please.”
The time traveler silently followed the Goblin. Ragnok led him out of the lobby and into an office with the name Ironclaw embossed on the front. Harry was only slightly surprised that Ragnok recognized him as a Potter and had taken him to the Potter account manager. Inside the office sat a younger version of the dark-haired goblin he had met less than a month ago; behind him hung war axes that Harry recognized as Goblin-made. The rest of the office had floor-to-ceiling shelves, some of which had books, the others occupied by various other weapons. Ragnok said something to Ironclaw in more Gobbledegook. The two conversed for a second before they turned back to Harry.
Ironclaw studied Harry the same way Ragnok had done before and said, “Mr. Potter. That is correct, yes?”
“Indeed. If I may, Master Ironclaw?” at the Goblin’s incline of his head, Harry continued, “As I am sure we both know, my arriving here is problematic as I don’t yet have a valid identification and can, clearly, be recognized to be of Potter descent. I have come seeking aid in obtaining an identity as well as a way to alter my appearance to something a bit less problematic to my ancestory. I am, of course, expecting to pay a price for your services.”
“You have no intention of returning to your original time?”
“Unless the Goblins of my time… misspoke, which I do not believe they did, no magical being has yet found a way to travel forward so it would be rather pointless of me to seek a return to my time.”
“I see. And were the Goblins of your time aware of your future traveling?”
Harry smirked slightly, “I am sure you, Ragnok, and Griphook had some of ideas of my intentions when I asked, but we did not have a direct conversation about it, no. Though they did off-handedly provide me with the interesting knowledge that Gringotts has helped establish identities for accidental time travelers in the past.”
He almost laughed at the look on the two Goblins’ faces when he mentioned that he had asked the future them. Ironclaw narrowed his eyes, obviously assessing him and Harry looked back coolly. He knew that, should the Goblin believe him, telling Ironclaw that future Goblins, including his future self, did not stop him would ultimately shed a little light on what was occurring in his time without going too far into detail. He also knew that not many wizards respected the Goblins enough to consult them, which would hopefully convince them of Harry’s candor and genuine respect. After another moment, Ironclaw said something else to Ragnok in Gobbledegook to which the other Goblin responded and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. Ironclaw then turned his full attention back to Harry.
“Considering your heritage, it will be quite simple to provide you with an identity using Peverell as your surname. I can do this on the condition that I remain the account manager on your vaults with 20% commission of any investments made on your part as well as provide you with a permanent appearance changing potion for a fee of 20 galleons.”
Harry tilted his head in consideration, “10% and 10 galleons”
The account manager smirked in a way that Harry knew was excitement. He knew very few wizards were bold enough to haggle, as he had been until Bill informed him of some of the Goblins’ customs.
“18%, 18 galleons.”
“15% and 18 galleons, for the previous stated and the full title of Lord Peverell.”
Ironclaw grinned, “Agreed. Your new name and birthdate?”
The time traveler told the Goblin after a small moment of consideration. Wanting to remain the same age officially, he calculated 1946 to be the year he would have been born to remain almost 19 and changed his birthday to a day later in a small fit of paranoia over keeping his birthday. He also wanted to honor his parents in small ways, so decided that he would use a name similar to the one he was leaving behind and would make his middle name honor his mother. That decided, he told the Goblin, “Hadrian Evan Peverell, born August 1st, 1946.”
Ragnok then approached the desk, passed the parchment to Ironclaw, who read the parchment nodded and passed it to Harry. On Ironclaw’s nod, Ragnok headed towards the door.
“A pleasure meeting you again, Master Ragnok. May your gold flow,” Harry told him.
Ragnok stopped, turned to look at Harry and grinned, “And may your enemies tremble at your feet. Pleasure meeting you, Lord Peverell.”
Harry smirked slightly and watched the Goblin leave before turning to read the parchment. When he saw that the deal was exactly as they agreed, he signed it with the blood quill Ironclaw had handed him. The Goblin took the parchment back and placed it in a drawer. He then snapped his fingers and a potion appeared in his hand. He then pulled out a knife and passed both items to Harry.
“The potion needs three drops of blood and then it will alter minor features, but enough so that you will not be immediately recognizable as a Potter. You will, however, still look like a distant relative of the branch of Peverell that the Potters married into.”
The wizard cut his finger and squeezed three drops into the potion, healed the cut and cleaned the blade. He then knocked back the potion. After a moment of a strange tingling, Harry – now Hadrian – summoned a mirror and looked at his appearance. After blinking a few times, he removed his glasses and was happy to find that he now had perfect vision. Turning his attention to the mirror, he was even happier to see that he still had his mother’s eyes. His hair was still black but was no longer a rat’s nest, his cheekbones a bit higher and, with his jawline, slightly sharper. His scar was now completely gone, instead of just being faded like it had been after defeating Voldemort. Hadrian banished the mirror and turned back to Ironclaw.
“Thank you, Account Manager Ironclaw.”
“It has been a pleasure, Lord Peverell. Is there anything else you require?”
“Just Hadrian is fine. Is there anyway to provide my new identity with a DADA Mastery and a few Newts? I would also like to see the accounting of my new vaults so that I may familiarize myself with them as well as make a small withdrawal.”
Ironclaw pulled out a file, “Of course, Hadrian. I insist you refer to me as just Ironclaw. Here is a listing of your vaults and properties. As for the Newts and mastery, we can have one of our Defense Masters test to see if you have the skills the Wizard Ministry requires for the Newts and mastery and, should you pass, we will be able to file the Newts and mastery in both Gringotts and secretly with the Ministry. We would just need to come up with a background to where you have been and why you didn’t attend Hogwarts to file them with. Gringotts, of course, will have a note of your time traveling. If you would allow me to, I can have a Goblin retrieve whatever funds you require while you are tested.”
Hadrian smiled and agreed with the arrangements.
When Hadrian left that day a few hours later, he walked out with Newts in Herbology, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Muggle Studies, and Arithmancy and Ancient Runes (both of which he studied with Hermione’s help during his eighth year) and a Defense Mastery. He also had the locations of a few different properties he now owned, and his pockets a thousand galleons heavier. For the next month, he settled into his new home – a large cottage with four bedrooms and three bathrooms, a potions lab that Snape would envy, a library Hermione would drool over, a beautiful kitchen Mrs. Weasley would love, and a sitting and dining room – in Herefordshire.
Then, when the May Wizengamot session rolled around, Hadrian was introduced for the first time, aligning his seats neutrally. Hadrian recognized the blonde hair of what could only be Abraxas Malfoy, the dark eyes and hair, and pale skin that he remembered on Arcturus Black’s portrait on the Black family tree, and a man who look eerily similar to the photo he had seen of Frank Longbottom that he presumed was Neville’s grandfather, and of course a man who looked very similar to how he and James had looked was Lord Potter, but otherwise he would need to be introduced to the other seat-holders. The members of the Wizengamot all watched him in curiosity when he was announced, many of which introduced themselves afterwards. Hadrian refrained from making any alliances over the next few sessions, much to some lords’ displeasure – like LeStrange, for the dark, or Prewitt, for the light – but began to acquaint himself with them and their views; A few – mostly Lords Malfoy and Black – surprised him by respecting his neutral status, even as they shared some of their views and learned some of his.
It was in November, now 19 years old, that Hadrian began to feel restless. For the most part, it had taken only him seven months to establish his identity as well as become fully adjusted to the time. He had traveled back to 1965 thinking it would take closer to a year and a half to do so. As a result, he now had over a year of spare time before he could guarantee a placement of a horcrux.
In other words, Hadrian was bored with nothing but the Wizengamot to occupy his time.
It was in boredom that Hadrian found himself making his way to the Gaunt house. He had no guarantee that the Gaunt Ring would be there yet, but he figured making the trip might take some of the boredom away.
Which is why Hadrian was currently able to stare at the Ring sitting in his hand. He had removed the curses surrounding the Ring, as Dumbledore should have had the presence of mind to do before Hadrian had gone into his 6th year, before picking it up. Looking at what he knew to be this timeline’s resurrection stone, he wondered if anybody would appear if he used it, considering he was from a different time. He was too afraid to find out – whether he was more afraid of seeing them or of not, he wasn’t sure – but it did make him realize how much of a loaner he had become since time traveling. In the last eight months, he had made a variety of acquaintances, but has yet to truly connect to anyone. He hadn’t made a single friend to disrupt his isolation. It was a rather sad thought.
The time traveler sighed and shook himself of his maudlin thoughts. He pulled the basilisk fang he had brought with him from 1999 out of his mole pouch, set the Ring down and stabbed it. As expected, the artefact screamed as the inky black soul left it. He stored the Ring and fang in his mole pouch and prepared to apparate away; one down, four to go, Hadrian thought.