Navigation through past and future: A Harry Potter Sequal

The tormentor had gone. But the scar remained. It had always remained there, stark, naked, reminding Harry of all the pain and agony that a piece of literature couldn’t tell you about. He had a sting within him, a diabolical nip that would penetrate deep within his skin and haunt him for the rest of his life. The sting of his parent’s death. He decided to change this.

It was his birthday and the man of bittersweet luck had friends over to celebrate with. After all was done, he sneaked into his bedroom and locked it up. He went into his coat pocket and pulled out what seemed like a normal watch at first but as he went about turning the key, he remembered how he had stolen the time turner from the Ministry of Magic. With each turn he made, he would go back a week and he went on twisting it all the while counting under his breath- seven, eight, nine. The night was young and Harry wouldn’t be stopped.

When the turns had rounded up, he found himself transported to a similar night but the mapping was unfamiliar. But he had come prepared for what may come. He pulled out his invisibility cloak and draped it around him. He would then walk about with swift steps to a street he followed on a map he had brought with him to help in navigation. On reaching, a point glowed on the map marked by an ‘X’. He immediately recognized the house it was pointing to but fought the urge to rush in. His brisk face had suddenly faltered and he found his legs crumbling under his weight. He bent down and pushed his right leg onto the ground, resting his head on it. He closed his eyes and tried to remember something. One would never know what flashed after his eyes as he suddenly regained the strength to move ahead. Nobody had ever seen him move like he did then. He was like a blazing moon that was going to eclipse the sun and prevent the earth of its fires. He reached the door of the house and the mark on the map turned red. He made his way in, unlocking the door and once again put on the cloak. Inside, he saw an infant sitting on a children’s bed, playing with a small toy near him. In a sunshot moment, he realized he was finally there. It was the night that Lord Voldemort had killed his parents. And he wasn’t here to exact revenge; he was here to right the biggest wrong of his life. As he saw the child drop the toy in his hand and start to cry, the most beautiful woman of his life walked in to pick it up. It was his Mother. A tear shed his eye seeing his mother for the first time in his life in flesh and blood and at the thought that he still couldn’t come in front of her. With a heavy hand, he lifted his wand and put a sleep paralysis charm on her. He rushed to catch her before she could fall to an impact. The little Harry started to cry but Big Harry had never been any happier. He kissed his mother on her forehead and lifted his head to search for his Dad as he put the same charm on him too. With this done, he put the cloak on all four of them and transported themselves using a marker to a desolate corner of the world.

As he got out of the cloak, lifting it halfway to see his parents once again, having saved them from the one who shall not be named, he knew he had won the battle that would never happen now.

He again started twisting the timeturner to return to the present. When the turns were made, in a flash he was back. He again used a marker to take himself back to his home but there wasn’t any. It was a burnt down vicinity with ashes forming all that was visible there. He tried to catch hold of the timeline but couldn’t. He turned to the Weasley family home to know about it. On reaching there, all he found out was disappointment. What used to be a playhome of kids was replaced with the silence of a morgue. He heard a creaking and approached in the direction. Sitting on a chair was old Mrs. Weasley, in tatters repeating the names of her children. Harry came near her ever so slowly not to scare her but nothing else would scare a woman who had seen her children die in front of her. She turned to Harry as if he was an unknown face and asked him what he wanted. Harry told her he wanted to ask her something. Soon, he found out the fate that he had himself woven for all. The Potter family had been killed by ‘him’ and nobody knew a Harry Potter. There was no longer a Dumbledore, no Professor Snape, No Sirius and there had never been a Hermione.

In his attempt to look back at his past with satisfaction, he had laid bare his present. He knew what was needed to be done but did he have the courage to do it? With trembling hands, he once again twisted the timeturner, one turn at a time, thinking about each moment that would have passed in this life. Once again, he was there, following nothing but a memory he had trouble recalling. At the entrance of the house, he hid himself behind the doorway as if waiting for a ghost. He waited and waited to see a figure appear out of thin air. It was Harry himself. He put him down with a spell and took his cloak. On entering the house, he immediately turned to the curtains to hide his ghost and himself. And then, he waited for the inevitable.

He came. He struck. With death in his eyes, Harry saw him kill his father and then turn to his mother. He saw all of it and couldn’t do anything. He cried in blood and he puked in blood at his destiny. His mother cried for redemption for her son and that was the last thing she ever asked for. The devil then turned to his nemesis, the child who they said would bring his ultimate doom. He turned his wand and roared in ecstasy- “Avada Kedavra”. The child got scarred but was unharmed. The Dark Lord couldn’t believe his eyes as he pointed his wand towards himself in utter disbelief.

At that precise moment, Harry got up from where he lay, picked his sword and pointed it into his direction- “Avada Kedavra” he cried in pain. Voldemort never knew what hit him as his body disappeared into a black cloud.

Harry walked in the heaviest of steps to the child who lived. He touched the scar on his forehead and then on his own. He knew his parents’ death was indeed a sacrifice and one that he had himself made. For he knew that the future was gloomy and the world needed a savior; for he knew that THEY would meet again.

This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

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