One Shots

Don't Forget the Sun

And yes, it could be because of my upbringing, how I was never taught the rights and wrongs of the world. I was too much like my mother and not enough like my father. Which was worse, when you think about it, I was stuck in between. Not really knowing who I was and who I am going to be years from now. It was a tricky situation. That's why I had to do this.

Breaking into Hogwarts would be easy, I charmed the carriage to drop me just over the Quidditch Pitch, no harm done, right? I would pick up the remnants of the time-turner that I had so carefully hidden in the dirt. And how I managed to get away with it, without the officials searching is because I made a duplicate. I made it myself. I more clever than Harry fucking Potter made me out to be. I'm capable of far more than rotting in a prison cell. In a few days from now, I am going to be the past.

And maybe then, a story will be told about me.

I grasp onto the golden metal, the blade cutting lightly into my finger, just enough to draw blood. I lick the pain away. I can't tell if I like pain or just like the thought of making myself suffer. I know I deserve it. That's what I can picture my guardians, Euphemia Rowle and Rodolphus Lestrange saying as they tower above me. And then again, I am still that kid that was kept in a cupboard, begging for air as the dust overtook my lungs.

I am nothing but a keepsake anymore. That rings in my ears as I murmur, "Reparo." It was quite enough that no one heard except me and that is evident as I watch the time-turner slowly morph back into its original form.

It's beautiful in a broken twisted way, just like me. And believe me when I say, I'm not out for myself. The only forgiveness I am going to earn is if I change the past. That's the truth and it always has been. I realised that the night the Chosen One stared at me dead in the eyes. He gave me a soft expression that stood out that he had been there before but the difference is, he rose to the occasion and for me... well– I simply did not.

He wasn't so perfect. I would soon see that for myself as I wrapped the time-turner around my neck. I watched as dials turned and I thought of my intentions once more.

"June 19th, 1995."

I chanted again, "June 19th, 1995."

I had five days before the war started, it had to be five, The Prophecy had been clear on that subject. Which meant Five days for the ones who had suffered, that's what the lengthy document had said. Or at least how I had interpreted it. The task wasn't going to be easy, it never was. But I was determined and when that happens, there's nothing stopping me.

The sand dropped into the hour glass.

I gasped.

*

The next day Delphi awoke to the sound of chattering beside her, laying, stripped in a hospital gown, next to the all too familiar faces.

She groaned, dragging her fingertips to the side of her shoulder before her eyes moved back to the people in front of her.

"How long was I out for?"

"Two days," Hermione cut in then rolled her eyes, "now, tell me, have you ever apparated before?"

"What?" Delphi questioned, confused.

"You were splinched," Ron explains, sitting at the end of the hospital bed. "My guess is you weren't very good."

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaims, hitting him on the shoulder, earning a wince in response.

"So..." Delphi turned her glance to be met with Harry Potter, his green eyes staring back at her own. "Who are you?"

Delphi opens her mouth to respond but quickly decides against it.