Chapter 3: chapter 3
Harry returned her stare, and for a fleeting second, was reminded of Daphne Greengrass, Slytherin's Ice Queen. "…So, what's the plan?"
"Well," she continued, "unlike your brother, even in the worst of situations, you made the best of it. You spent years absorbing all of Riddle's knowledge. That's a good thing."
Death jumped back in. "We're going to send your soul back in time to several years before you leave for Hogwarts. We want you to make sure Riddle dies, and we want you to make sure the prophecy is fulfilled."
"…What's to stop me being thrown in prison again?"
Fate smiled. "You must save Ginny Weasley."
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "I've no problem with that, but didn't you just say the headmaster manipulated events to send me to prison at the first possible excuse? I may dodge that particular bullet, but what's to stop me being sent on some other flimsy trumped up charge?"
Fate's eyes shone. "And this is exactly the reason why you're going to be our champion this time, Harry, and not John. You think things through. We already let John re-do the timeline once and he still failed."
"Wait, what?"
"Oh, sending him back required less intervention, and since he was already fighting Riddle we figured he might be able to pull it off."
"… But wouldn't that mean the non-fulfilment of the prophecy?"
"It would have been close enough for me to accept. But that's irrelevant. He failed."
"How did he die in the first time-line?"
"In the grave-yard at the end of fourth year."
"Huh… I did wonder how he got such good grades without trying, and how he seemed to instinctively attract witches to him despite his horrific personality, he had a four year lead on everyone, and already knew them."
"…"
Inside his head, the revelations were coming thick and fast. His eyes widened.
"Wait… That's why he let Voldemort kill him! He thought you would give him a third chance!
Death nodded, grimly.
"…"
"And… wait, that doesn't make sense…. He knew Ginny was going to die and let it happen anyway? I thought those two loved each other for years before they even came to Hogwarts!"
Fate looked sad. "In the first timeline the diary of Tom Riddle didn't abduct Miss Weasley until the end of the year, and your brother managed to save her. In the second timeline, John Potter's meddling caused Tom to accelerate his plans."
"Wow. He really messed that up."
"Indeed. And let this be a warning to you, Mister Potter." Her face became sterner. "Do not try to setup master plots based on foreknowledge, and do not worry about 'preserving the timeline'; acquire every advantage you can, as quickly as possible with the power you possess, while exposing yourself to as little risk as possible. Remember, even though we are sending you back, your brother has already gone back. We can't change that, so you're going to have to deal with another time traveller who also thinks they are our chosen. The life you know was in the second timeline, and when we send you back, it will be the third."
"Yes, my lady… er… if my brother saved Ginny in the first timeline, did I still go to Azkaban?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Dumbledore pushed him to provide false evidence that it was still you that opened the chamber."
"That… utter… fucker!"
"Mmmmhmm."
"So, how am I going to stop that from happening then? It seems the old goat is desperate for me to go."
"Well, in the first instance, you now have a good solid knowledge of how the political and legal system of the wizarding world works, and for the second… I am going to grant you a gift."
A gift?
Harry looked away from Fate and towards Death who merely smiled. "No, Mister Potter, not a deathly hollows style gift. I'm never making that mistake again."
Fate laughed. "Mister Potter, how much are you aware of your lineage?"
"Umm… I'm a Potter?"
"Figures you'd know almost nothing. Riddle didn't know after all." Fate walked Harry over to her throne and motioned him to sit down, which he did so, hesitantly. The woman then started pacing in front of the two men.
"Harry," she said eventually, "you know your wizarding world has a highly stratified political and legal system."
"Yes."
"So to grant you the chance you need to fight back against Dumbledore you need to be higher up in the system."
"Makes sense."
"I'm going to grant you a lordship."
Harry's eyes bugged, "Whaa… You're going to kill my father and brother? I mean, I don't really have a problem with that, but even then I wouldn't become Lord Potter until I'm seventeen."
"No no no, Harry. I don't have the power to intervene that much, if I did, I'd have just killed Riddle, and it is as you say; you still wouldn't ascend until you reached your majority, well, in theory anyway. No, what I'm suggesting is for you to take a completely different lordship."
Harry blinked, owlishly.
"There are three possible lordships you are close enough to being able to claim for my influence to work. Peverell, Gryffindor, and Slytherin."
Fate started pacing again.
"The Peverell and Gryffindor lines are closely linked to you through blood, and it would take only a slight modification of your blood to allow you to claim them. The Slytherin line could be yours through old family magics called the right of conquest, whereby the conqueror of the last of a line can lay claim to that line's family magics, provided they didn't initiate the conflict that led to the death of the line. This includes titles since they're based on family magics."
"So because I defeated Voldemort when a child… wait, wouldn't I have that last one anyway?"
"Riddle didn't truly die."
"Ah."
"But! That's exactly the kind of minor adjustment to magic that I can get away with. The difference between dead and not alive is close enough, and the age of your soul gives me enough wiggle room in regards to you being of age to claim."
She took a deep breath before continuing.
"Now, you're only getting one of them, so you're going to have to choose. Any thoughts?"
"Well, screw Gryffindor. I'm a Slytherin, through and through. So it comes down to Slytherin or Peverell. Peverell would grant me greater overall political acceptance. I wouldn't have to worry so much about being immediately labelled a Dark Lord by a third of the wizarding political elite…"—Harry stretched his chin—"…On the other hand, Slytherin would grant me immediate kudos with the very enemy that I'm trying to fight. Any death eaters or allies of Voldemort that I can bring to my side would be a double victory, simultaneously denying the enemy resources while boosting my own. With Peverell, I'd have to play a zero sum game with Dumbledore for allies—A moment of silence passed—Slytherin would also grant me special privileges at Hogwarts… I assume?" he finished, uncertain.
"A few, yes," Fate conceded.
"And it would also give me a mission to rally people around other than just 'defeat Voldemort'. The ideals and beliefs of Slytherin house are nothing like what they should be. Ambition and cunning does not equal evil and bigotry," he mused.
Fate smiled.
"Also…, and I think this is the real kicker, by claiming the tile of Lord Slytherin through right of conquest I can easily demonstrate that I am the true child of prophecy to who ever I please, whenever it is necessary."
Fate clapped, and Death just sat there, relaxed, and looking incredibly smug.
"Well done young champion, very well thought out. Your brother never demonstrated even a hint of similar strategic insight."
He smirked. "Well, he is a Gryffindor."
Fate raised a warning finger. "That's as well as maybe but remember not to let house rivalries detract you from strategic necessity. There are Gryffindors it would do you well to bring to your side.
"…Granger." The Dark Lord's memories of the brunette muggleborn were impressive. Hell, she practically carried his brother's team, despite being four years mentally younger than him.
"Yes her, definitely. But also remember my warning. Any advantage, as quickly as possible, for as low a cost as possible."
"Right. Not to mention she grows up to be hot as hell."
Fate frowned.
"I'd advise against falling into he same trap as your brother and collecting too many witches of questionable usefulness around you. They could easily become a distraction."
"Right. So I'll only collect the useful ones. And distractions… I'd prefer to call them strategic team building exercises." He tried his best to look as innocent as a pile of rags and bones can.
Death grinned from ear to ear while Fate looked resigned.
"Well, I've just spent twenty years in hell, yes? I'm not holding back on this second chance. I will do everything in my power to make sure the primary objectives are achieved, which at the longest should only take five to ten years, fingers crossed. I fully intend to make sure the final hundred odd years of my life are as satisfying as possible."
Death spoke up. "Mister Potter, so long as you achieve your primary objectives, I personally don't care if you become a dark lord and destroy the whole of Britain."
"I'd be a bit miffed, but couldn't actually fault you," Fate interjected, "so long as Riddle dies and the prophecy is fulfilled, you have a free pass.
"Excellent, because I fully intend to ruin a few people's lives."
The trio continued to discuss minutia and tactical and strategic options for some time, before Fate and Death waved Harry on his way and his soul was flung back through the veil.
On July thirty-first in the year 1988, eight-year-old little Harry Potter sat bolt upright, banging his head on his cupboard ceiling.
'Oww', he thought, rubbing his hand on his bruised forehead. He felt a metal band on his finger. Closer inspection revealed it to be the noble head of house ring of Slytherin house. A manic grin spread across his face like the opening to the gates of hell.
"Well, hello world, I'm baaaaaack."
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