The world was in chaos, utter and complete chaos. Wizards and Muggles both were dying at an astonishing rate. The Dark Lord didn’t discriminate at all anymore. He killed anyone he felt like killing and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. The dark form hiding in the shadows of a pile of rubble that was once one of the many shops of Diagon Alley pondered what went wrong with the world he now dwelled in. It wasn’t something he should be doing given the fact he was now on the Dark Lords hit list. God forbid that another half blood dwell upon the earth at the same time he did.

Things steadily went downhill the moment Albus Dumbledore’s body fell off the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts with the green flash of light reflecting off the old man’s glasses as he went flying off the edge of the wall. Not long after the old man’s death the child everyone else in the wizarding world counted on to save them fell while completing whatever task Dumbledore left him with. The Dark Lord wouldn’t tell any of his willing followers what it was the boy was searching for, but he could tell what ever it was, it terrified the Dark Lord. He still believed that that day turned the Dark Lord into the utterly insane creature he was now. The boy’s death was horrific and in the end not even he could watch the tortures the boy endured. No one deserved that fate. Not even the boy’s father.

While he hid from his former master in the ruins of Diagon Alley he pondered how to fix this mess he found himself in. If he could he would go back in time and change the choices he made. He knew that with Dumbledore still alive that the world would be much better. Well England would be anyway. The Dark Lord would soon be turning his eyes towards the rest of Europe once he finished decimating the human and non-human population of England. As these thoughts ran through the thin dark clothed man’s head, he moved silently through the shadows of the ruined shopping district into the remains of Muggle London. He cautiously made his way to his highly fortified home hidden in the rubble of what was once St. Mungo’s hospital. No one would think to look for him here. Well at least none of the few survivors of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Whether those that supported Dumbledore’s side would think to search this old crater filled with concrete rubble is another story all together. All he knew was he had to go to ground while the odd thought that entered his brain bloomed into something usable. He certainly hoped whatever it came up with would insure his survival. Not that it was much these days, thanks to his foolish choices.

Once safely ensconced in his hidden home he set a magical fire in his makeshift hearth and wondered, not for the first time, if it was worth all the effort. After all there were hardly any people left alive in the whole of England and Scotland. He wasn’t sure of the status of those in Ireland. He scrounged in the corner for the last bit of food he had in his possession and silently ate as he pondered the odd thought he had in his mind. It wasn’t until hours later that he realized that he might be able to alter what happened, but he felt he needed to go back farther than he thought he might. He didn’t need to alter his actions that led him to the Dark Lord, but alter the life of someone else. Once his plan formed in his mind he delved the recesses of his memory and recall all the texts he needed. Then he had to find the lone surviving copies of those texts. He was sure that the Dark Lord hadn’t destroyed all of Hogwarts in his madness. Some of the most dangerous texts were stored in a highly secured room in the dungeons and he knew those damp corridors very well.

The journey to Hogwarts was harrowing to say the least. He wasted several days going to ground and hiding from those searching for him. Each of those times required him to remain hidden for several days. By the time he safely reached the ruins of Hogwarts it was three months after he first set out. There were several close encounters with the few remaining Death Eaters who were tracking is apparations and one nearly fatal one with on of the remaining Weasleys. He couldn’t see clearly which of the three remaining Weasleys it was and had no interest in confronting the tall redhead. It took him several hours to find a safe way into the ruins and several more to find a clear way into the dungeons. He eventually resorted to lowering himself into the dungeons using a levitation charm. Luckily the magic containment charms were still intact on the castle and no one could tell that he was there.

Traveling through the empty damp halls brought back memories for him and not all of them were good. He reached a very familiar door and he hesitated a moment before opening the door. The images the flooded his mind as he surveyed the room behind the door nearly overwhelmed him though he subconsciously noted that not much changed in the room. It looked the same as the last time he saw it. He closed the door before he wasted more time wondering what might have been and returned to his search for the library storage room. It was many hours later and dozens of wrong turns to find the heavily shielded and spelled door that house those books deemed to dangerous for the students to even know they existed. He knew the password and unerringly made his way to the shelves that housed the books he believed he needed. He settled down on the floor after jamming his wand into a crack so that he could read the pages easily. He had no idea how much time had passed as he read through and discarded book after book. He was making slow progress as each book he read mentioned the next on his list as a reference or a suggestion for further reading.

Whether it was hours or days later he finally found the spell he was looking for. Unfortunately the power that it needed would give him away and virtually invite the Dark Lord to visit him. He debated and viewed all his options and he knew despite the number of times he examined his plan for a way out for himself that he wasn’t going to survive the inevitable confrontation with the Dark Lord, but if all went well he wouldn’t have to worry. If everything worked the way he planned then he would know the moment it started to unraveled the tapestry of time and change history. He read through the directions one more time and then pocketed the book and retrieved his wand from the floor. He retraced his steps and returned to the first room he entered. We made his way through the few scattered bits of ceiling on the floor to the desk in the far corner of the room. He gingerly sat in the chair and pulled four sheets of parchment out and a surprisingly still usable bottle of ink and began to write.

One was a list of what he needed to do, two were letters to himself and the last was a letter to the Potter boy. The three letters, once they were written, were spelled to either appear under certain conditions or to resemble the boy’s mother’s handwriting before being stuffed into parchment envelopes. He double checked his list and went to gather the items he needed to cast a spell circle for the ritual he was about to undertake. He would have to move quickly and set up in the only space in the Forbidden Forest he could think of that would be suitable for the spell. He regretted that the time spell he chose had to be cast outside. The ruins of the school would have bought him enough time to finish casting and to find a way out before he was chased down by the Dark Lord or the few Death Eaters that had escaped their master’s madness for a little bit. He’d have to take his chances and prayed to the gods he abandoned long ago for their help in setting things right.

He made slow progress back to the main floor of the damaged castle and then sought another way out of the building. He ran across the featureless grounds until he reached the burned out hut that the half-giant once lived in and then slowly eased into the shadows of the Forest. All the old trails were grown over, but he managed to slink his was through the thin gaps between the bushes until he reached the clearing he had chosen. He carefully began to drizzle the ground quartz onto the clearing’s grass and slowly a circle began to form. A mixture of herbs and magnesium formed the runes that would boost the power he summoned. He carefully made sure he did everything right, using the book to double check his work several times. He pocketed the book and carefully stepped into the circle he painstakingly drew on the slightly damp grass. Once inside he withdrew the two letters he wrote and placed them at his feet and drew his wand. He took a deep breath before starting the long and convoluted Latin phrases, making sure that he didn’t change the tempo of his chant or mistakenly mispronounce any of the words. The power that built with in the circle was greater than he imagined and it lit the clearing so that no one could see him in the center of the clearing. It was a good thing since not long after he started his chant he heard the distinctive crack of displaced air that heralded the arrival of someone via apparation. He knew who it was without being able to see the form.

He could feel the Dark Lord circling his position, but he doggedly continued his chant and by the build of power he felt as he did so he could tell that the spell was almost finished. He glanced down at his feet and saw the two envelopes glowing brightly and as he said the last syllable of the ritual he saw them disappear from the clearing. He took a moment to pray that he did it all right before turning his attention to the Dark Lord.

"So my traitor finally shows his face." The Dark Lord hissed, his manic eyes glowing brightly in the gloom. "What did you think you were going to accomplish with that little light show?"

He didn't bother answering the man he once swore to obey. He stood tall and looked the bastard in the eyes, though not without reinforcing his Occlumency shields. The Dark Lord battered his mind against his barriers, but failed to gain purchase and moments later he found himself screaming under the agony of the Cruiatus curse. The Dark Lord held him under that painful curse for several minutes and each minute felt like he was going to die. As suddenly as the pain started it ended and he lay panting on the ground before struggling to his feet to face the monster he shared the clearing with. The Dark Lord stared at him with a malevolent look in his eye. The deformed, self-styled Lord began to cast yet another spell, but stopped as an eerie feeling swept across the clearing. The Dark Lord responded with a slightly panicked look, but he felt like crying out in joy. Recent events were beginning to blur and he held his hands up to the sky and did something he hadn't done for a long, long time. He laughed.

Time was unraveling as events in the past were altered and like any good Slytherin he gave himself something as he tried to right his past mistakes. He gave himself a son. To the boy he gave something the young man never had. A Father.