Chapter Text
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the characters associated with that universe belong to J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic. No copyright infringement intended. No profit made from this fiction.
A/N: Note that this Snarry is not part of the Promised set of stories. It stands on its own.
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He'd turned when he heard the curse. Known he was doomed. Despite rumors to the contrary, and there were many, Harry Potter had no special protection against the killing curse, and he was too well aware of it. He'd begun to draw his wand as he heard the words, turned to see a Death Eater where none had been, tried to dive out of the way. But there were two people with wands pointed at him. One of them looking at him a little sadly... Molly Weasley - the matriarch of the Weasley clan. Other than Sirius, she was the closest thing to a parent he'd ever had. Dumbledore had been a mentor, but Molly had been almost a mother.
He felt the curse hit him, felt the world twist and shift, images and sounds assaulting him too fast to process. He'd felt this before, in his third year at Hogwarts. He could guess what it might mean, but hoped desperately to be wrong. He bit his bottom lip and looked up. The Hogwarts castle soared into the sky, intact against the night. Something was very wrong. He should be surrounded by rubble, by people. Molly wouldn't have done this to him. She couldn't have. He heard the footsteps behind him. Not subtle, nor quiet. Just loud and big. He didn't turn around. "Hello Hagrid," he said quietly. It was a comfort, a small one, to hear those familiar footsteps.
The sound of boots stopped suddenly. "And who'd ye be, that comes onto Hogwarts property without a 'by your leave' or nothin'," asked the man whose sheer size gave away his ancestry.
"Forgive me, but I cannot say more than this," said Harry. Hagrid had not recognized him, and that boded ill. He was too likely to have been right in his guess. Had Molly really done THAT to him? "I urgently need to speak with Albus Dumbledore."
"The headmaster is very busy, an important man."
Harry turned and looked at Hagrid. A younger Hagrid, and it showed. A knot began to turn in Harry's stomach. Time travel was dangerous, Hermione had drilled that into him quite thoroughly. At the moment he was glad he had not cut his hair from the lengthy unkempt mess he'd allowed it to become in his self imposed exile at Grimmauld Place, and his ample bangs still hung covering his scar. Fortunate, perhaps, though he could guess no one was looking just now for anyone his age to be bearing that mark. "A very great man, Hagrid," said Harry. "Nonetheless, I must see him."
Hagrid made a grumbling noise and headed in the direction of the castle entrance. The wards on the castle tickled his consciousness and then welcomed him, which brought a strange look from Hagrid. They strode through the courtyard and into the castle proper, continuing up the changing staircases, circuitously, until they reached the gargoyle at the entrance to the headmaster's office. Hagrid looked at Harry for a moment, still hesitant, and before he could proceed Harry looked at the gargoyle and gave the password "Sherbet lemon" then stepped on the stair as the gargoyle spun, raising him up into the headmaster's office.
Dumbledore stared at him oddly when he entered the office. Peered deeply into him as though trying to see into his very soul. He looked much as he had that very first time Harry had seen him in the great hall all those years ago. Except that hadn't happened yet. Not for Dumbledore. Not if Hagrid didn't know him. Harry ignored Dumbledore's deep looks, finding them somewhat comforting, and simply nodded at the phoenix who stood on its perch in the corner. "Hello Fawkes," Harry said in a whisper, and then finally looked Dumbledore in the eyes, "Headmaster."
"And who might you be?" said Dumbledore, oddly calm, though his wand sat on the desk in easy reach.
Harry glanced around the office. He hadn't been in this office in over a year, and yet oddly this was his very first visit. He settled on telling his once mentor the truth, of a sort. "I am not sure how much I can say, headmaster. A Death Eater cast the killing curse upon me, but somehow a dear friend thwarted the attack. She... she must have known somehow. She cast me into the vortex of time to keep the curse from striking home."
"You fear a paradox?" asked the headmaster. "Time travel isn't a trifling matter, and it is good to be wary of it, but you shouldn't be too concerned. Few people are truly central to the tapestry of time. Most can bear the stretching of their pasts and futures a bit."
"Most can, Professor." It was a declaration. There was certainty in his voice.
"I see," said Dumbledore, the intensity of his quiet gaze suddenly even stronger. "You have reason to fear? You are young for such a responsibility."
"I am, yes. And I do. How much I do not know. I fear I did not excel at magical theory when I was a student. But a friend of mine was once gifted with a time turner... a friend who understood such things well, and she did her best to explain the risks."
"This friend must have been wise beyond her years to have been trusted with such a thing."
"The best in her class, professor."
"You seem comfortable here," said the old wizard. It was a statement, but the question implied was clear.
"It's almost like home, sir," said Harry.
"But students so seldom see the inside of this office. Only the worst of the troublemakers..."
"And surely most never had the password, either, the backdoor password, the one that doesn't change. I was never just any student," said Harry. He hesitated. "If I was I'd not have such a fear of provoking a paradox. Forgive me. You always guarded your secrets close to your chest, even from me, and I have learned that from you, I think. This feels like home because, well, we had lessons together, private lessons, just you and me in this room." Dumbledore's face looked surprised, the bright blue eyes sparkling with thought as he looked piercingly at the boy. Harry looked down, he was going to have to tell the headmaster. "Would it surprise you if I told you I endured the killing curse once before?" It was twice, well, now three times, but Dumbledore didn't live to see the later attempts.
Dumbledore's eyes widened. "That's not possible."
Harry lifted his bangs up to reveal the scar. "Endured it, sir. And survived it."
"Harry..." the headmaster's voice was scarcely more than a whisper and Harry felt the weight of his gaze upon him truly.
Well... at least he was in his own lifetime. He'd expected that, something Hermione had said to him once... that time travel outside one's lifetime was off, almost like being inside a memory in a Pensieve. "It doesn't seem wise to use that name, sir."
"No, you are certainly right about that. The scar is not proof, though it is certainly convincing, if for no other reason than the possibility is absurd."
"You always liked absurd things, professor. What would you take as proof?"
"Where are you now, at this moment?"
Of course. Dumbledore was secret keeper for his location, so no one could know. "Not the test I'd use," he mumbled. "How old am I?" asked Harry, meeting the headmaster's gaze. "I still do not know the year."
"You would be three years old."
"At the Dursleys then with my Aunt Petunia, no doubt shortly to be moved into the cupboard under the stairs. Though in fairness, anyone in the order could have shared that information with me, so it doesn't prove all that much except that whoever I am, I was trusted."
Dumbledore looked at him oddly, as if trying to look through him.
"It will not work, professor, unless you are willing to force me in ways that are dangerous. I was trained by an expert to resist such intrusions, and more often than not the intruding was being done by Voldemort."
"Trained well. Who?"
"Professor Snape. There is no one better."
"You could let me see the truth," said the elderly wizard.
"No, professor, I cannot," said Harry, his voice touched with bitter regrets. "But even if I could, even if I was willing to take that chance, I would not do it."
"Why?"
"Because I know the time and date and manner of your death, sir. And those are things that no soul should be burdened with."
"I am grieved to learn that my life will be so short," said Dumbledore sadly.
"I am sorry, professor. He is not gone. He will return. There were many grievous losses. Too many."
"What can I do, my boy?"
Harry sighed. "If anyone can figure out a way to send me back, it's you."
"It's likely not possible. People do not use time as an escape for a reason. But I will try," said Dumbledore hesitantly. "And what will you do in the meantime?"
Harry smiled. "I understand you're always in the market for a defense against the dark arts professor. Riddle's curse will only allow me a year, but that will be enough to learn if you can send me home."
Dumbledore looked at Harry oddly, doubtfully. "You're awfully young to fulfill the needs of such a position."
"Expecto Patronum!" said Harry, pointing his wand. The silvery light formed immediately into the shape of a stag and bounced around the room, looking for danger before fading from existence.
"A fully corporeal patronus? That's an Auror level..." Dumbledore looked at Harry. "How?"
"You cannot possibly think that Voldemort did not use every resource at hand to kill me once I reentered the wizarding world."
"And consequently that you had need to learn every defense," finished Dumbledore. "Very well, but you cannot go by your proper name."
"My middle name is James, like my father, so I'll use Jamie, alright?" said Harry. "And mum's name, Evans, it's a common enough name not to draw too much notice. I can't pretend at being a Weasley, I don't have the coloring for it, and maintaining a glamour would quickly become tiresome. And Potter, Black, and Peverell would all draw notice, I fear."
"You know about the connection with the Pev..."
"I know you hold two of the three deathly hallows, professor," said Harry. "A cloak passed from father to son for generations beyond imagining."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "You know far too much for your own good."
"That's exactly my problem," agreed Harry sadly.
"Very well. I will see you at start of term, then, in two months. Where will you go in the meantime?"
"It is best that my whereabouts are not generally known," said Harry. "I will send an owl if there is a need, and will arrive with the students on the Hogwart's Express."
"Harry..."
"Do not use that name, even here, sir. It's Jamie. Jamie Evans. I must spend this time getting used to that name." Harry sighed. "Please professor, find a way to send me home. When I left there was a death eater throwing killing curses. Yes, I was the target, but next he could strike someone else. And there were people there I would not see lost."