Custodarium by Tina48

Chapter 2

By the following morning, Harry made two significant observations:

One: The wizarding culture wasn't as dynamic as the Muggle one. People dressed more or less the same, the Three Broomsticks looked the same, Butterbeer and accommodation cost the same.

Two: He was still in 1943 and almost certainly not dreaming.

Well, fuck!

It must have been the Room of Requirement, Harry mused over his breakfast. Maybe it could bend not just space, but spacetime... Maybe it would take him back if he asked nicely.

But Harry was reluctant to ask, because as soon as he made peace with the thought of being thrown fifty-five years into the past, he was hit with an overwhelming temptation to change the future. He thought about the dream, the world never tainted by Voldemort. What if his little trip was that world's only chance?

He knew little about time travel or the nature of time in general, but he was quite certain that if he had changed the future too much, he wouldn't be able to go back to where he came from. He also remembered Hermione explaining the grandfather paradox to him and Ron once in third year – it was entirely possible that if he changed the future enough, he would get sucked into the paradox and disappear.

His heart sank – if he succeeded, he would never see Ron or Hermione again and possibly die...

But they would get to see him! His future self would grow up playing with Ron, getting pranked by the twins, being called "cub" by Sirius and Remus, being loved by his parents, looking up to Dumbledore... Maybe even Snape would be a smidgeon less grumpy in that future. Maybe, if he managed to reconcile with Lily over the years, Harry would even get to call him Uncle Sev.

Harry choked on his toast at the thought and earned himself an alarmed look from a middle-aged witch sitting at the neighbouring table. Fair enough, he had just choked on his food laughing while also looking like he was about to cry at the same time.

He was wearing his formal robes, a pale green shirt and black trousers, a rather timeless look; definitely better than his usual muggle T-shirt and jeans would have been, but he still felt underdressed compared to the wizards in the streets in bowties and vests.

...Which lead to another issue: if he did choose to stay, what the hell was he going to do? If his calculations were correct, Tom Riddle would be starting his sixth year in a few days, and Harry was no cold-blooded assassin to go throwing deadly curses at sixteen-year-olds... Okay, not intentionally. He was a nobody here – no family, no history, almost no money.

If he was going to do this or at least buy himself more time to decide, he should find himself an ally.

The first to cross his mind was Dumbledore; he would understand, he would try to help... But he probably had his hands full with the ongoing war against Grindelwald just about now and whatever Harry did (and almost inadvertently messed up), he didn't want to ruin the man's prospects.

He tried to gather what little he'd known about his family history – his grandfather Fleamont Potter was born in 1905 and he would now be building his Sleekeazy Hair Potion empire. His wife Euphemia should be a bit younger, but still well into her thirties. Harry had been told they'd had trouble conceiving a child, gave up, then were taken by surprise when Euphemia got pregnant with James in 1959.

They were both presumably Gryffindors and Fleamont's father, Henry Potter (Harry wasn't sure whether he'd been alive by 1943), was known to have argued in favour of aiding Muggles during World War I – they seemed to Harry like a nice sort.

Besides, he was dying to meet his family. To have a family.

Recent Potters (before James and Lily went into hiding) had been known to reside in Upper Flagley, a small wizarding community in Yorkshire, so Harry decided to try his luck there. He paid for the services of the Three Broomsticks (leaving himself with the total of ten galleons and five sickles) and stepped into the fireplace.