Chapter Text
Harry Potter stood on the edge of the abyss, his gaze fixed upon the crumbling remnants of a world once filled with magic and wonder. The air hung heavy with a sense of despair; the echoes of past glory now drowned out by the deafening silence of decay. What had once been vibrant communities now lay in ruins, their once bustling streets now nothing more than deserted pathways haunted by the ghosts of happier times.
Decades had passed since the first signs of decay had appeared, but for Harry, it felt like an eternity of watching his world slowly wither away. The old were the first to feel the effects, their bodies wilting and fading as their magic consumed their very life force. At first, it was believed to be the result of magical exhaustion brought on by the relentless attacks of Death Eaters, remnants of Voldemort's reign of terror. But as time wore on and more lives were lost, Harry came to realize that the true cause ran much deeper. He at first thought the fall of Dumbledore and the rise of Tom Riddle had caused it, but his research showed that it started far before then… far before even Tom Riddle rose to power the first time.
Through years of research and many years of losing those he loved most; Harry had uncovered the truth. Dumbledore's pursuit of power and control, under the guise of acting "for the greater good," had sowed the seeds of destruction. His unwavering belief in his own infallibility had blinded him to the consequences of his actions, leaving behind a world on the brink of collapse. The man wasn't a horrible person, he was just so ignorant of the world around him and so secure in his own ability and knowledge that he suffocated all that he didn't understand.
X
After the final battle, when the cheers of victory had faded into the somber silence of mourning, Harry found himself at a crossroads. Harry had defeated Voldemort at 17, as everyone assumed he would.
It was professed, so why wouldn't he?
Yet, after the dust had settled and he carried the scar of yet another killing curse, what was he to do? He had done what was expected of him, but now that everything was over and he carried the physical and mental scars of war, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered within him.
It took a few days, but after the adrenalin of the final battle had settled, Harry embarked on a journey of rebuilding. The castle and the magical world lay in ruin and he was now on a quest to restore the foundations of the world he had fought so hard to protect. His first task was to rebuild Hogwarts, the stone halls that had once been his home.
With magic thrumming in his fingers and flowing through his veins, Harry poured his heart and soul into the restoration, meticulously repairing every stone and restoring every tapestry to its former glory. Months passed as he worked tirelessly, along with a few others, and when the task was finally complete, Hogwarts stood once more as a beacon of hope in a world still healing from the wounds of war.
If a bit more protected and now intertwined with the same magic as those who helped rebuild.
As the new school year dawned, students were welcomed back to Hogwarts for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Hermione, the always diligent student and researcher, returned for her final year.
She was determined to achieve the NEWTs she had been studying for since fifth year. She had convinced Ron to join her, but Harry resisted the pull and avoided the guilt his closest friend attempted to put on him about not graduating.
He was happy for his friends, but his chest didn't quite feel right with the thought of going back to Hogwarts as a student after all he had been through. He also didn't feel quite right when thinking of himself as an employee of the ministry. He had once thought he’d be an auror, but that was before he knew what hunting dark wizards entailed. He couldn’t imagine doing it for the rest of his life.
And he was tired.
But he wasn't sure what to do now, after the students were safe and the walls secure.
So, while his friends pursued their own paths, Harry knew it was time for him to seek out a new adventure.
X
It was at that time Harry decided to go to Gringotts, in an attempt to aid them and repay them for his many transgressions during the war. He’d been resolutely avoiding them since stealing a dragon and blasting through the ceiling.
They had rebuilt the building but were working towards securing a new method of safety and ensuring the vaults deep beneath their keep. Apparently three wizards stealing a cup and a dragon meant horrible things for the bank’s security manager.
At first, they spurred him and his attempts at gaining forgiveness for his actions.
But Harry was earnest, and contrite. He continued to show up every day and offer the most menial help to the goblins who would accept it. Slowly but surely, the goblins came to trust him, recognizing his sincerity and dedication. In return, they agreed to teach him and the arts behind goblin warding and curse breaking. This agreement did not come lightly. They would only do it if he signed a contract to work for them. So, he did, signing a ten-year contract and fully devoting himself to this new career.
Harry took to his studies with a fervor, and despite his vague understanding of magical theory he was able to understand the intricacies of goblin magic, warding, and the spells needed for curse breaking. He learned quickly, his mind absorbing the teachings of the goblins and the others on his team like a sponge, yet he struggled with using his old holly wand.
He found it was a bit slower than it used to be, sluggish in almost a way that had him coaxing the magic from the wood.
Despite his past “loose” understanding of magical theory, wand-lore remained a mysterious and elusive subject for Harry. He had always considered it just one of those things that was just “magic”. He knew, tangibly, that there had to be a study for the subject, as people like Olivander didn’t just “appear”.
Or did they?
The intricacies of wand construction and compatibility were foreign to him, and his struggles with his old holly wand only seemed to deepen his confusion. It worked so well for certain spells that came easy to him, yet struggled for others, especially the complicated ones, that took layering and magic from deep inside, the ones he was currently learning.
However, Harry was not one to be deterred by a challenge. Determined to find a solution, he searched in each new magical town to discover different wands and the materials within that might suit him better.
His new job allowed him to travel, which added to his search because he now had the opportunity to talk to different wand makers in other countries. They added a bit of their own knowledge and beliefs of the craft. After much trial and error, Harry eventually stumbled upon a few wands that seemed to resonate with him on a deeper level of understanding.
On his travels, he gathered a few, and each wand possessed its own unique qualities, from the ancient Elderwood wand from Africa that seemed to pulse with raw power to the delicate Rosewood wand from Brazil that responded to his every command with precision and grace. He purchased a dragon-hide wand holster from a peddler in Romania to keep his wands close at hand, ensuring easy access in times of need.
Yeah, sure having multiple wands was frowned upon, and sometimes even illegal.
But he found,
He didn’t really care.
X
With each passing year, Harry rose through the ranks, eventually leading his own team of curse breakers and traveling the world in search of ancient artifacts and lost knowledge. He became one of Gringotts' most valued employees, his expertise and dedication earning him the respect of goblins and wizards alike.
As Harry sat down to sign his new contract with the goblins, a sense of déjà vu washed over him. It had been a decade since he first entered into their service, yet it felt as though no time had passed at all. His surroundings had changed. Diagon Alley was once more thriving. Gringotts had undergone renovations. New faces had joined the ranks of the bank, the ministry, and the shops he frequented. But Harry remained largely unchanged, frozen in time while the world around him continued to age and evolve.
His friends had laugh lines in the corners of their eyes. Neville had a few specks of grey peppering his hair. Faces became less school faced and more adult, grown.
It was then that Harry first noticed something different about himself. Despite the passage of ten years, his appearance remained frozen at the age of seventeen.
While yes, his once boyish features had hardened into those of a seasoned warrior, his hair grown long and unkempt, his skin was weathered by the weight of his many experiences facing the darkness the world held, this could be attributed to the 8 months he spent fighting during that time.
It took a while of comparison, but Harry realized he held no signs of aging—no wrinkles, no greying hairs. Harry remained trapped in a perpetual state of youth, a reminder of the life he had left behind in the forbidden forest. His magic may have aged, but his physical form remained untouched by the passage of time.
As Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror, a sense of unease settled over him. He had long accepted his immortality, the result of his sacrifice, but the realization that he would remain forever trapped in a perpetual state of youth was a sobering one. It was a reminder of the life he would have to leave behind, of the friends and loved ones who continued to age while he remained unchanged.
X
Five years had passed since Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley exchanged vows in a simple, yet heartfelt ceremony held in the quaint backyard of the Burrow. The sun had cast a warm glow over the gathering, illuminating the faces of their closest friends and family who had gathered to witness their union. Although the guest list was modest, each attendee radiated with love and joy for the couple.
For Hermione, the absence of her parents weighed heavily on her heart. They had never been able to be recovered after what had happened during the war, and their now permanent absence left a void that could never be filled. Yeah, she checked on them, sometimes making trips to Australia to watch them from a distance or calling their new dental practice just to hear their voice, but the pain was there.
Despite this, surrounded by the warmth and acceptance of the Weasley family, Hermione found a small bit of solace and belonging. In the eyes of the law and in her heart, the Weasleys had become her family in every sense of the word. Harry had heard all about it in the near book she had sent him prior to the ceremony.
Hermione and Ron exchanged vows beneath the apple trees in the Burrow's backyard, the love they shared seemed to transcend all the hardship they had both endured. It was a bond forged in the fires of adversity, strengthened by years of unwavering support and companionship.
Meanwhile, Harry Potter had been continents away on a mission. Tasked with thwarting the dark ambitions of a rising necromancer in South Sudan, Harry had missed the opportunity to witness his friends' wedding firsthand. He was devastated, despite trying everything to get there in time. At first, Ron was angry and Hermione disappointed. Even Mrs. Weasley had sent a long letter filled with comments about the ceremony and how much he was missed.
Each word stabbed him in the heart.
But, upon his return, Harry was met with a letter containing dozens of photographs of the joyous occasion, carefully secured within his portable Gringotts box with letters from Ron, Hermione, Luna, Bill, Neville, and George. Ron had worked through his anger and knew that Harry would have been there if he could. Hermione, always supportive. Though separated by miles and obligations, Harry was still treated as family, and it made his heart heal just a little bit. But there was still something that kept him from smiling fully.
As he traced his fingers over the photographs, committing each joyful moment to memory, he knew that his visit home would have to stop soon.
For Harry, the notice of his aging process, or lack thereof, was a cruel irony. He had been raised like a lamb for slaughter, poised to send himself to death, and that was the one thing he couldn’t have, at least by normal standards.
But rather than dwell on the inevitability of his own demise, Harry chose to embrace the time he had been given, to make the most of the eternity that stretched out before him. Embracing his newfound immortality, Harry forged a new path for himself, working closely with the goblins. He’d liase with the ministry occasionally, giving aid when needed in finding wayward dark witches and wizards. He sometimes even took bounties for foreign countries, helping them with little problems they had issues solving. It was a busy but satisfying life.
X
Harry felt himself turning into Hermione a bit, now that he had the need and the ability to research anything and everything he could. His range of subjects varied greatly, aided by the many people he met in his line of work. Which made the first instance of him meeting someone plagued with an unknown magical condition that much more confusing.
It was in Britain, surprisingly enough.
Kingsley Shacklebot was young by wizarding standards but wasting away as if he was a muggle 80-year-old man.
He had requested a visit from goblin healers to solve what the wizarding healers could not. Studying the ailment was difficult, as Kingsley’s magic waxed and waned like the tide. They worked with him for a week before it became impossible, the small amount of magic left within him stuttering like an underfed flame. So, they left, taking their research and notes, but not before Harry had to hug Kingsley’s wife and tell her there was nothing they could do.
He was dead in a week.
And then they continued to be called by individuals affected by what was now deemed the newest magical plague.
For 5 years.
As Harry continued his travels, his heart weighed heavily with the burden of witnessing the devastating effects that the origination of which remained unknown. Sickness didn’t stay in one country, or one type of magical being.
Long ago, dragon pox had been a scourge upon the magical world, but even that paled in comparison to the horrors unleashed by this insidious disease. Dragon pox left individuals with hardening skin and rigid bones affected by scales of the dragon until their bodies could no longer function. This new affliction, however, struck at the very core of their being, consuming them from within until there was nothing left but a shell of their former selves. Their magic ate them up from the inside out, many wasting away until a husk was left.
At first, it had seemed that only the most aged were vulnerable to the disease, their weakened bodies unable to withstand its relentless onslaught. But as time passed, the plague spread with alarming speed, claiming victims of all ages, from the elderly to the middle-aged. It was a relentless force, sparing none in its path except for squibs and children under the age of seventeen. It wasn't lost on him that the children left unaffected were those who had yet to reach their magical majority.
Despite his vast knowledge and skills, Harry felt powerless in the face of this unseen enemy.
He knew how to bring down the most brutal of Dark Lords, but sickness? That was beyond his abilities...
He had never been well-versed in magical medicine, and his attempts to aid the afflicted were often met with frustration and despair. All he could do was offer what little assistance he could, transporting the sick to the nearest healers and providing what comfort he could in the form of pain potions and soothing words.
But as the death toll continued to rise, Harry found himself haunted by the faces of those he had been unable to save. Each loss weighed heavily upon him, a reminder of the fragility of life and the ever-present shadow of death. And as he continued, surrounded by the echoes of grief and suffering, Harry vowed to do whatever it took to find a cure for this sickness, to bring an end to the suffering that had consumed so many.
Even in the chaos and danger of his chosen profession, Harry never forgot the true purpose behind his new quest. With each victory and each artifact recovered, he moved one step closer to uncovering the truth behind the decay that threatened to consume the magical world. His research on the issue never stopped, and the closer he felt he got to the answer, the more Harry knew that his journey was far from over.
It was only just beginning.
X
As Harry stood amidst the ruins of his world, a sense of grim determination settled over him. He knew that he could not undo the mistakes of the past, but he could work to ensure that they were not repeated. With the knowledge he had and the allies he had gained during his adventures, he would strive to save what had been lost, to reclaim and protect the magic that had now all but faded into obscurity. And as he gazed out into the desolate landscape before him, Harry vowed to never again let the darkness prevail…
X
Thirty years had passed, and he had defeated many dark wizards and collected many ancient magical artifacts for study. As magicals continued to fade from the world, ministries and magical governments took a harder grasp on magical communities around the world. Despite many efforts by the ICW and others to stem the tide of darkness, the forces of oppression and fear continued to tighten their grip on the magical community. The ministries and magical governments, desperate to find a scapegoat for the plague that ravaged their world, turned their sights on those with non-magical heritage, blaming them for the decline of magic.
Muggleborns and half-bloods were treated as slaves for the workforce, their magic considered to be stolen from those who had died. They drove muggleborns and half-bloods into the shadows and treated them as nothing more than slaves to be exploited. They used them for cheap or free labor, berating them and sometimes outright killing them due to their blinded beliefs. With each passing day, the restrictions grew more severe, the freedoms of magicals eroded by the fear and paranoia of those in power
They assumed the plague was due to the muggle influence affecting their way of life. Not entirely wrong…
With each passing day, the magic that had once flowed freely through the land grew weaker, its energy disappearing into the void without a conduit to sustain it. Harry knew that without intervention, the magical world would soon be lost forever, consumed by the darkness that threatened to engulf it. The once vibrant and bustling magical world was now a mere shadow of its former self, its essence slowly fading as its inhabitants turned their backs on the very thing that had once defined their existence.
Once busy streets now stood empty. Windows of long running shops were boarded closed. With all of the pressure from the ministries, more magicals left the community, swearing off magic and set to live as squibs for the rest of their lives in the hopes of avoiding a death from the plague
He knew that without intervention, the magical world would soon be lost forever.
Harry watched from afar as his friends and loved ones fell victim to the merciless plague. Ron and Hermione, once his closest companions, were taken by the disease just ten years after their joyous spring wedding. They died lying next to each other, holding hands as their magic burnt out, hearts stopping in shock. Their two children, left orphaned and alone, clung to the fading remnants of their family as Molly and Arther kept them close, before the heads of the Weasley family succumbed to the disease themselves. The Weasley lineage slowly dwindled into oblivion…
It was a letter from Romania, stained with dried blood and a fading magical signature, that brought home the true gravity of the situation. The rest of the remaining Weasleys attempted to avoid the inevitable but in the final words of Charlie Weasley, the last of the Weasleys, Harry saw a reflection of his own despair and determination. For twenty-eight long years, Charlie had fought against the spread of the disease, hoping that being surrounded by the large and unyielding magical creatures would aid in keeping it at bay, until he too succumbed to the inevitable fate that awaited them all. There in Romania they had a safety refuge full of children and teenagers at the reserve who lived there full time and who were now left with what remaining adults could fight the plague the longest.
Until the dragons started dying too…
As the last remnants of hope began to fade, Harry knew that he could no longer stand idly by and watch as his world crumbled around him. With each passing day, the magic that had once defined their existence grew weaker, its essence fading from the land like a dying flame. But Harry refused to let it go quietly into the night. He continued to fight, attempting to do everything he could to stay the disease, from potions, to rituals, to pushing his magic into dying… but nothing worked.
It took 30 years for the magical community to fall completely.
X
Deep within the bowels of Gringotts, amidst the ancient chambers and winding passageways, Harry Potter stood at the heart of a ritual circle, surrounded by the flickering light of torches and the solemn gaze of the goblins who had agreed to aid him in his quest.
The goblins had been quick to lend their support, recognizing the dire situation facing the magical world and the need for drastic action. They had lost many of their own kind and vast sums of money in the wake of the plague, and they knew that something had to change if they were to have any hope of survival. Nothing they were currently doing was stopping or even slowing the spread of the disease. They were able to discover the source, but turning off a domino effect after already starting is little more than impossible. Which brought them to one conclusion…
They had to stop it before it even started.
With the goblins assistance, Harry had designed a ritual unlike any other, drawing upon his knowledge of magic and his experiences regarding the oddities of magic to create a means of traveling back in time.
He also spent months breaking down the rune scheme of a pensieve and the array of a time turner, researching the obscure subject that was messing with time. Creating the ritual had been a risky endeavor, tinged with a large amount of uncertainty and danger, but Harry knew that it was the only chance they had to set things right.
It took two months of preparation before the ritual could take place.
And, as the final preparations were made, the goblins provided Harry with the necessary paperwork to ensure his identity and position in the past. His new name, Hadrian Peverell, was chosen for its ties to his own lineage, a nod to his ancestral connection to the Peverell lordship. Harry hated it but at least it wasn’t THAT different.
The goblins had also taken care to alter his magical signature, ensuring that he would not be detected by any family tapestries or self-updating books upon his arrival in the past. The paperwork they had created also contains a letter from the goblin king to himself to secure Harry’s position.
With his belongings and entire fortune packed tightly in his shrunken trunk and his wands secured on his wrists, Harry stood ready to embark on his journey. His mercenary curse breaker robes billowed around him, a symbol of the life he was leaving behind in pursuit of a greater cause. He knew he’d never be back. And despite everything he’d lost and the weight of his decision, there was a fire burning in Harry's eyes, a determination that could not be extinguished.
And so, as the ritual began and the magic surged around him, Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the unknown. He knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges and obstacles, but he refused to falter.
With the support of the goblins and the strength of his own resolve, Harry Potter, now known as Hadrian Peverell, stepped into the swirling vortex of time, ready to rewrite history and save the magical world from its inevitable demise.
X
Stepping into the unknown, Hadrian felt the currents of time swirl around him, pulling him back through the waves of history. The world blurred and shifted, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself in a familiar but unknown situation.