Custodarium by Tina48

Chapter 3

Harry's acceptance letter arrived the next morning along with a shopping list. He'd be allowed to attend sixth year N.E.W.T. level classes, though he'd have to arrive earlier on the 1st of September to demonstrate his abilities and (re)sit his O.W.L.s in June to be eligible for N.E.W.T.s the following year. He had signed up for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology and Potions. He was fairly confident in everything but the latter; fortunately, Fleamont had offered to help him review the potions they were most likely to ask about.

Granted, Harry didn't know if he'd even be here, exist, by June... Myrtle Warren would die in June if he didn't interfere. Now that he had more time, he pondered his course of action:

He could just kill Riddle (again) and be done with it, but there was a major hole in that plan. If he killed the Heir of Slytherin and for some reason didn't get sucked into a time paradox, he would likely spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. Worse yet, if he tried and didn't succeed, he could end up in Azkaban without even changing the future. Harry decided to set murder aside as the last option.

Second option: he could come out as a time traveller and share his memories with the wizarding authorities, but what if, as soon as he opened his mouth to say it, the subsequent time paradox would catch up with him, making both himself and his memories disappear before he could prove anything?

No, that wasn't ideal either.

A crazy idea found its way into his mind.

He could try to lead Riddle off the evil path by... befriending him? Or the contrary, giving him something to hate more than Muggles? Maybe both? It would be a dangerous game, but the idea of pranking the baby dark lord made him grin every time it crossed his mind.

Harry was strangely tempted by this approach, not only because it avoided the possible paradoxes of the first two, but also because deep down he'd felt sorry for a lonely orphan, forced to spend the summers without magic, World War II raging behind his windows, then having to fight for his place in a rather exclusive society for the rest of the year.

Shitty summers and tough school years? Harry could relate.

...But friends with Voldemort? It was mad, it was barmy, it was completely bananas, it was-

The right thing to do. It was what Dumbledore would have wanted... It was what Harry wanted in his heart of hearts. Plus, if he succeeded and didn't disappear, he would be able to make a life for himself here.

Thus, Harry had spent the rest of August 1943 shopping for school supplies, bonding with his grandparents, dusting his O.W.L. skills, reading up on New Zealand and strengthening his Occlumency shields. The meditations lulled him to sleep each night and before he knew it, it was the 1st of September.

He exchanged goodbyes with Euphemia and side-along Apparated with Fleamont to Hogsmeade, his shrunken trunk in his pocket. From there, they walked to the castle gates where they were greeted by Headmaster Armando Dippet. The headmaster stood straight and tall even in his old age, wore traditional robes, long grey hair and a short beard, looking less grandfatherly and more authoritative than Dumbledore had.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, it is a pleasure to see you again on these grounds. And this must be Harry. Welcome to Hogwarts, young man, I am sorry it is under such dire circumstances."

"Thank you for having me, sir," Harry returned politely. After a quick exchange of pleasantries and a goodbye to Fleamont, the Headmaster led Harry to a classroom with his N.E.W.T. level selection of Professors gathered at the head table.

Harry choked at the sight – Dumbledore was there, alive and well! No, you can't afford to get all emotional now, he told himself, but he suddenly became very nervous.