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Toujours Pur

Summary:

Someone new has come. Someone necessary to this world. Someone... someone chosen by Fate. A jaded and more bitter Harry Potter arrives in another dimension, in the middle of Black Family, politics, a new year at Hogwarts and a new family full of dysfunctional figures.

Notes:

  • Inspired by [Restricted Work] by (Log in to access.)

Chapter 1: Time, mystical time

Chapter Text

TOUJOURS PUR

BY

M ANGYBLACKDOG

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. This is merely a work of fanfiction.

࿐࿐࿐

"Harry, please do consider it at least." Hermione bit her lip, glancing at him in concern.

Standing next to her, Ron looked worried, even harried. His face was pale with deep shadows under the eyes and his clothes were freshly transfigured-drab and grey like all of them wore after Mrs. Weasley's death.

"Look mate, it's really dangerous for you here-" Ron took over from Hermione, as she sniffled, a tear cascading through her pale face. 

Their portkey glowed, a warning sign as the clock ticked on and Ron, giving up all attempts at subtlety, choked on a sob.

"Harry, please-" he begged, running a hand through his ginger hair and Harry couldn't help but let a tear wobble down his chin, as he thought of what he was about to do.

"I'm sorry," he replied as sincerely as he could, with his tear stained face visible in the dim light of Grimmauld Place. 

He squeezed his best friends' hands, stepping away firmly to see both of them spinning away as the clock struck nine. 

His fist closed on empty air, as he suddenly felt so achingly alone. With a sigh, he let his hand drop to his side, making his way down to the basement while thinking about how all this had gone wrong in the first place. 

After defeating Voldemort, he would have thought it'd be easy, it was anything but. Most of the Death Eaters had been captured, but it had taken only a few days for the Snatchers, sympathizers and the beasts to take control again. They had their share of running the country, and didn't want to give up their privileges again. Attacking when everyone had fallen into a remnant of relaxation shouldn't have been that easy after a war, but with a third of the population on their side, taking control was no difficult fear.

The known Order members had been the first to be assassinated, starting with the Weasleys- All except from Ron and Bill were killed as a whole only weeks back. His thoughts strayed to Ginny and her wild looks, Ginny who had taken down six people with her, until the rest had overpowered her. He shivered, thinking of her corpse, in a pool of blood-

Shaking his head, he directed himself to something that didn't make him want to cry. 

The rest of the Order Members had been sent away by quick portkeys after trying to fight these murderers and coming out the worst. The last of them had been Hermione and Ron, who had badgered him persistently to come with them to Australia, but he had to decline. 

It wasn't a twisted sense of duty, like Hermione thought, nor the fact that he wanted to fight them. No matter what the scared public thought, these wizards weren't his responsibility and he didn't know the way to take them down in a fight. What they lacked in skill, they made up for in brute numbers. No matter how much he striked down they could choose a new leader, and wouldn't even bat an eyelash at it. 

But that didn't mean he had to play fair. 

A smirk spread on his face at the thought and he pointedly didn't think of how Slytherin this plan was. 

The steps down felt like they took hours for him, though it was only a few minutes. But his project would be completed today and he was so excited.

Crossing the ward line, he stepped over it, feeling the shiver that ran over him as the magic permeated into him. 

The basement was roughly structured, dark with chains when Harry had found it. He had guessed correctly that it had been a dungeon, but renovating it hadn't taken more than an hour. With a few rightly placed freshening charms and transfigured tables, he now had something akin to an inventory. 

On the front table were stacks of books piled upon each other, so many that Hermione would have devoured them. He felt a flash of guilt for not showing them to his bushy-haired friend but then suppressed it. This was something he needed to do himself and Hermione; even Ron would discourage him from the idea. 

There were trinkets and different objects placed on the second table while the third was his special project. 

Resting on the wooden tables and peppered with cushioning charms was a glistening time turner, which Harry had appropriated from Professor McGonagall, when the time turners had not been destroyed.

Harry had never considered a career in runes, but he may as well after this, because he had turned the time turner into a time machine which could as well turn time twenty years back. 

He had worked three months on it and it didn't let him down, and today, well today was the day he was going to test it for the first time. This was the last time he'd see Ron or Hermione, like they were- they could be erased from history entirely or be completely different people when he met with them again. 

He wiped his sweaty hands on the navy jumper he was wearing and then double-checked the things he was supposed to have on hand.

Magically enlarged truck-check

Clothes and food-check

First aid kit-check

Potions kit-check

Polyjuice-check

Photo Album and his old Firebolt-check

Backup wands-check

He rechecked it again. Oh God he was turning into Hermione.

The thought didn't bring a chuckle like it usually would have- seeing as he wasn't sure he would ever see her again. 

With a deep breath he wrapped the chain around his neck.

BOOM

The sound of the explosion jolted him out of his anxiousness, as he could hear the nearby windows shattering inwards. The ground trembled as he stood on his jelly legs. 

"Kreacher!" He called out and the old house elf appeared in front of him with a popping sound.

Instead of the usual litany of insults he'd taken to expecting whenever he called the house elf, Kreacher merely bowed to him, head scraping the floor. 

"Master called,?" He creaked out in his mellowing voice and Harry grabbed the nearest chair when another explosion shook the building.

"Kreacher-what's happening?" He asked worriedly as the house elf scowled. 

"Half-breeds attacking Mistress's House, shame on the filth, not fit to lick Mistress's boots, oh no-"

Harry tuned out his mad ramblings when the wards collapsed as he gasped, feeling it wash over him.

He was the controller of the House' wards, so he could feel where they are aiming now, on the keystone which held the expansion charms of the house on it. If that collapsed, Harry would be done in- he would be squeezed like a bug once the walls closed around him.

"Kreacher- Duck!" He shouted as the sound of shoes echoed from the stairs and the green bolt of light shot out from a wand. 

Unfortunately, Kreacher didn't listen to his advice, as he toppled over backwards, dead to all the world. 

Harry, feeling trapped, clutched the time turner, which was still looped around his neck, spinning it around in the hope that it would work, no matter if it hadn't been entirely completed.

Another bolt of light cut through the chain, leaving it to smash on the nearby table, and Harry cursed. 

The intruder laughed.

"How does it feel now, Potter?"

"You're going to die," he repeated gleefully.

But Harry wasn't listening to him as he dodged another spell and stooped low, clutching the time sand in his hands. The shards of glass impacted on his skin, blood spurting from them, but he didn't pause, trying to spin the knob of the time turner with one hand. 

Not much was known about the sand that was in the time turners. Unspeakables constructed these and were fiercely protective of its secrets. A well known fact in the DoM was that time sand was made out of a variant of phoenix ashes, and it was wrapped in all kinds of protections so that human skin did not make contact with it. Harry, not knowing of this, did the only thing he could. He scooped up the sand into his hands.

The time sand slipped seamlessly through his fingers as he cursed himself, trying to cup the most of it in his hands. He could hear his heart thundering in his chest as the intruders slammed fresh bolts of magic upon the expansion wards. The shards of glass were still punctured in his hands as he fiddled with the broken time turner and the sand fizzled around him. The last thing he saw was the faded green and silver banner that was embellished with cursive that spelled

"Toujours Pur,".

And then he was gone, whirling around time and space itself.