Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter and the Endwar Project
I don't own Harry Potter.
---------
Chapter 2 - Chaos Theory
Harry took in the contents of the room in surprise. In the exact center of the room were seven concentric circles etched into the stone, each one covered with hundreds of runes. In the center of the circles was a patch of stone six feet in diameter studded with gems and even more runes, the only bare patches being just large enough for his feet to fit into. On opposite ends of the room, technicians and scientists labored over stone pedestals.
"Sir, what is this?" Harry asked in confusion. Hawthorne sported a proud grin on his face as he explained.
"This is the Endwar Project," the elderly Unspeakable said. "It was commissioned for construction two years into the first war with Voldemort, as a tool of last resort. Even though he was defeated before it could be completed, we continued work on it, just in case. And it's a good thing we did, considering our current situation."
"Okay, but what does it do?" Harry asked, looking at the massive device uncertainly.
"This device basically acts like a giant time turner," Hawthorne explained. "The premise is that we would send someone back in time to change things." Harry furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Sir, I've messed around with time turners before," he pointed out. "Wouldn't the predestination theory negate any attempts to change the past?"
"Ahh, yes, time turners do have that particular wrinkle," Hawthorne agreed, "but the thing about time turners is that their maximum capacity is twenty-four hours behind. However, the Endwar machine is designed to send someone years into the past, and at that distance, the theory is that predestination would no longer apply. Instead, we believe that one of two things would occur: One, that the first change you would make would split that time stream from ours, thereby creating an alternate universe."
"And the second?" Harry prompted.
"And the second is that the first change you make overrides this time stream and everything about the future that we have come to inherit will be rendered invalid," Hawthorne continued. "Essentially, everything that's happened in the past twenty or thirty years will have never happened." Harry digested the information presented to him. A device capable of traveling years back in time; the opportunity to change things, to stop this war before it even started.
"What's the catch?" Harry asked. Nothing this good came without a catch. Hawthorne chuckled wryly and shook his head.
"The catch?" he repeated. "There are several catches, actually. The first is that this is a one-way trip: Once you step in, there's no going back." Harry shrugged dismissively.
"Not like I have anything to go back to anyway," he said dully.
"The second is that while each action you make has a chance of changing things for the better, there's an equal chance that it will change things for the worse," Hawthorne continued warning Harry. "The third is that no one except the Unspeakables can know that you're a time traveler, and even then, some can't be trusted." Harry hummed in agreement, thinking about Voldemort's spies in the Department of Mysteries. He thought about his decision for a moment before he turned to his superior.
"Things can't get much worse than they already are," Harry said, "I'll do it."
"Excellent," Hawthorne said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small object. He tapped it with his wand, causing it to expand into a standard-sized aluminum briefcase. "Here," he said, handing the container to Harry, "this has some essentials for your trip. A couple changes of clothes, a few gadgets that could help you and about a million pounds in Muggle and magical currency to get you started." Harry cocked his eyebrow at the one million pounds comment, but said nothing as he took the briefcase. Hawthorne led Harry to his proper position and gave the younger man a final salute. "Good luck, Potter," he said before stepping out of the circles.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, clutching the handle of the briefcase tightly. Hawthorne nodded his head, and the technicians began to toil at their respective work stations. With the dull groan of stone scraping against stone, the rings began to rotate on the floor. As the runes covering the rings and the gems surrounding Harry's feet began to glow a dull white, the smallest ring swung upwards, passing a few inches above his head. Seconds later, the second ring swung up in a different direction, revolving around Harry. As each ring began to revolve, the others would gain speed, until each one was spinning around him in a wild vortex of rock. The runes and gems glowed brighter until it threatened to blind everyone in the room, the rapid swings of the rings generating a deep, thundering hum that reverberated throughout the room.
In the center of the chaos, Harry had covered his eyes with one hand while using the briefcase in his other as a shield, the echoing hum rattling his bones. Suddenly, he felt his body growing cold. It began in the tips of his fingers and toes, and began creeping up his extremities. As the chill slithered into his torso, his breaths began to quicken, nearly on the verge of hyperventilation. The icy feeling crept all the way to the top of his head then, as suddenly as it began, it disappeared, along with the blinding light and deafening noise. Harry was only given a moment to wonder if it had worked or not before his knees buckled and he collapsed, unconscious.
------
JUNE 24, 1983 - DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES, LONDON, ENGLAND
"No, no, no!" one of the Unspeakables exclaimed to the rune carver knelt before him, nearly pulling his hair out in anxiety. "You're carving it four-point-seven-six-three millimeters away!" The architect gave the Unspeakable a look that lacked understanding, causing him to sigh in exasperation. "The runes need to be exactly four-point-six-two-five millimeters away, or else the mathematics involved will be completely messed up." The architect merely shook his head and bent down to erase the rune drawing he had made as a guide when an ominous hum behind him stayed his hand. He slowly turned around to see a small bead of light appear out of nowhere, a bead that was rapidly growing in size and brightness.
"Everyone, evacuate the room now!" another Unspeakable said, and everyone rushed out of the room, fleeing from the mysterious orb of light. As soon as the last person exited and the door closed itself with a slam, the orb of light formed itself into a vaguely human shape and faded away, revealing Harry Potter hiding behind his briefcase before almost immediately passing out.
The Unspeakable overseeing the Endwar Project ran to Hawthorne's office and knocked urgently on the door.
"Come in," the Head Unspeakable beckoned, and the second man burst in, panting for breath.
"Sir," the Unspeakable gasped, clutching his chest, "there's been a disturbance in the...you-know-where." This caught Hawthorne's attention, who immediately stood up from behind his desk and strode urgently towards the Endwar room, where two security Unspeakables stood guard. Hawthorne performed the complicated process to unlock the door and flung it open, wand at the ready. Looking down at the limp form on the ground, he quickly fired a disarming, stunning and an incarceration charm in rapid succession.
"Take him to the infirmary," Hawthorne ordered his subordinates. "Once we confirm his state, take everything on his person into the examination room." The Unspeakables nodded in understanding before one pointed his wand at Harry's bound form and levitated it away, the other two training their wand on him, his wand and briefcase in their other hands. As they passed by, Hawthorne noticed in confusion that Harry was wearing Unspeakable robes. Shaking his head, he closed the door to the Endwar room, automatically sealing itself.
------
"What's the prognosis?" Hawthorne asked, looking down at the still-unconscious Harry, who had been stripped and placed in a prisoner's robe, shackled to a hospital bed.
"Surprisingly well," Jennifer Hexlie, the head medical officer of the Department of Mysteries infirmary said, looking down at the notes on her clipboard. "Our guest here has intense physical and magical exhaustion, but nothing a couple potions and some rest can't cure. However, he has evidence of being through practically every trauma imaginable; I'm going to have to conduct more tests to be sure."
"We can piece together the man's medical history later," Hawthorne said, looming over Harry. "This man broke into a restricted area of the Department of Mysteries, wearing the robes of an Unspeakable, and we have no idea who the hell this man is." When Harry made no signs of movements, Hawthorne stepped back and sighed. "Alert me when he wakes up," he said before leaving the infirmary towards the evidence room.
When he entered, all of Harry's clothes and effects had been laid out on a table. The Unspeakable responsible for analyzing them was poring over his notes when Hawthorne appeared.
"Ah sir, I was about to call you," the younger Unspeakable said as he stepped aside for his superior.
"What do you have?" Hawthorne asked. The Unspeakable cleared his throat and turned towards the displayed items.
"Well, as far as we can tell, these robes are genuine Department-issued. The design, the materials, the charms, even the identification number sewn into the right sleeve is there," he said, showing Hawthorne the right sleeve, which had been cut open to reveal a small serial number that was sewn into the fabric. "The problem is, is that I checked our records: We haven't issued this number, and are not due to for another twenty years or so." At this news, Hawthorne's brow furrowed in thought. "Where'd you say you found this bloke, again?" the Unspeakable asked.
"That doesn't matter," Hawthorne dismissed quickly, waving his subordinate off. "What else did you find?" he asked.
"Umm, well his wand seems to be an Ollivander work: Holly wood with phoenix feather core, crafted around seventy years ago, but only in use for about twenty," the Unspeakable said, pointing to Harry's wand. "His glasses are also fairly unremarkable: Standard anti-scratch and anti-fog charms on all magical eyeglasses. However, there is evidence of several structural transfigurations recently. However, this briefcase is interesting." The Unspeakable pointed to the metal briefcase, which remained closed. "We dug into the enchantments, and saw that it's been fingerprint-sealed; only two people can open it. I also saw a safety protocol that showed that if anyone tried to break open, it would destroy all the contents." Before the Unspeakable could elaborate further, Hawthorne's communication mirror buzzed in alert. He activated to reveal the face of HMO Hexlie.
"Sir, you told me to call you when the prisoner awoke," Hexlie said.
"I resent being referred to like a common criminal!" Harry yelled testily in the background. Hexlie sighed and shook her head in exasperation.
"Right, I'm on my way," Hawthorne said.
"And bring my glasses with you!" Harry yelled before Hawthorne terminated the connection and turned to the Unspeakable analyst.
"Put all this in containment," Hawthorne ordered. "No one is to have access to this except myself." The Unspeakable blinked in confusion before nodding his head uncertainly and began packing Harry's things. As Hawthorne turned to leave, he paused and took Harry's glasses before leaving, figuring that he would be more cooperative if he had them.
------
When Hawthorne arrived at the infirmary, he saw Hexlie standing by Harry's bed while said wizard sat shackled to the bed, tapping his fingers on the handlebar impatiently while wearing an impatient scowl on his face.
"Jennifer, could you give us a moment alone, please?" Hawthorne asked. Hexlie nodded and left the two men, bringing the privacy curtain around them. Hawthorne cast a series of privacy charms and turned on Harry. "Okay, who are you, and how did you end up here?" he asked sharply. For several seconds, Harry did not answer; he eventually turned his head towards Hawthorne, squinting.
"Before I answer, will you do something for me?" he asked.
"Maybe," Hawthorne replied, crossing his arms.
"Give me back my glasses," Harry said. "I'll answer all of your answers truthfully, but I want to see the face of my interrogator first." Hawthorne considered the request; he eventually took out Harry's glasses and slid them onto his face. "Ah, that's much better," Harry sighed.
"Back to my original questions, who are you and how did you get here?" Hawthorne repeated himself.
"Who am I, and how did I get here?" Harry echoed. "Ah, that's a tricky one to answer," he continued, tapping his hands on the side rails of his bed. He considered his answer while Hawthorne rapped his fingers on his arm impatiently. "I am Harry James Potter," he finally said, "and I come from the year 2009 because of the Endwar Project."
--------
And here's the second chapter of Harry Potter and the Endwar Project. Hope you enjoyed it.
Don't forget to review!
---------
Chapter 2 - Chaos Theory
Harry took in the contents of the room in surprise. In the exact center of the room were seven concentric circles etched into the stone, each one covered with hundreds of runes. In the center of the circles was a patch of stone six feet in diameter studded with gems and even more runes, the only bare patches being just large enough for his feet to fit into. On opposite ends of the room, technicians and scientists labored over stone pedestals.
"Sir, what is this?" Harry asked in confusion. Hawthorne sported a proud grin on his face as he explained.
"This is the Endwar Project," the elderly Unspeakable said. "It was commissioned for construction two years into the first war with Voldemort, as a tool of last resort. Even though he was defeated before it could be completed, we continued work on it, just in case. And it's a good thing we did, considering our current situation."
"Okay, but what does it do?" Harry asked, looking at the massive device uncertainly.
"This device basically acts like a giant time turner," Hawthorne explained. "The premise is that we would send someone back in time to change things." Harry furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Sir, I've messed around with time turners before," he pointed out. "Wouldn't the predestination theory negate any attempts to change the past?"
"Ahh, yes, time turners do have that particular wrinkle," Hawthorne agreed, "but the thing about time turners is that their maximum capacity is twenty-four hours behind. However, the Endwar machine is designed to send someone years into the past, and at that distance, the theory is that predestination would no longer apply. Instead, we believe that one of two things would occur: One, that the first change you would make would split that time stream from ours, thereby creating an alternate universe."
"And the second?" Harry prompted.
"And the second is that the first change you make overrides this time stream and everything about the future that we have come to inherit will be rendered invalid," Hawthorne continued. "Essentially, everything that's happened in the past twenty or thirty years will have never happened." Harry digested the information presented to him. A device capable of traveling years back in time; the opportunity to change things, to stop this war before it even started.
"What's the catch?" Harry asked. Nothing this good came without a catch. Hawthorne chuckled wryly and shook his head.
"The catch?" he repeated. "There are several catches, actually. The first is that this is a one-way trip: Once you step in, there's no going back." Harry shrugged dismissively.
"Not like I have anything to go back to anyway," he said dully.
"The second is that while each action you make has a chance of changing things for the better, there's an equal chance that it will change things for the worse," Hawthorne continued warning Harry. "The third is that no one except the Unspeakables can know that you're a time traveler, and even then, some can't be trusted." Harry hummed in agreement, thinking about Voldemort's spies in the Department of Mysteries. He thought about his decision for a moment before he turned to his superior.
"Things can't get much worse than they already are," Harry said, "I'll do it."
"Excellent," Hawthorne said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small object. He tapped it with his wand, causing it to expand into a standard-sized aluminum briefcase. "Here," he said, handing the container to Harry, "this has some essentials for your trip. A couple changes of clothes, a few gadgets that could help you and about a million pounds in Muggle and magical currency to get you started." Harry cocked his eyebrow at the one million pounds comment, but said nothing as he took the briefcase. Hawthorne led Harry to his proper position and gave the younger man a final salute. "Good luck, Potter," he said before stepping out of the circles.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, clutching the handle of the briefcase tightly. Hawthorne nodded his head, and the technicians began to toil at their respective work stations. With the dull groan of stone scraping against stone, the rings began to rotate on the floor. As the runes covering the rings and the gems surrounding Harry's feet began to glow a dull white, the smallest ring swung upwards, passing a few inches above his head. Seconds later, the second ring swung up in a different direction, revolving around Harry. As each ring began to revolve, the others would gain speed, until each one was spinning around him in a wild vortex of rock. The runes and gems glowed brighter until it threatened to blind everyone in the room, the rapid swings of the rings generating a deep, thundering hum that reverberated throughout the room.
In the center of the chaos, Harry had covered his eyes with one hand while using the briefcase in his other as a shield, the echoing hum rattling his bones. Suddenly, he felt his body growing cold. It began in the tips of his fingers and toes, and began creeping up his extremities. As the chill slithered into his torso, his breaths began to quicken, nearly on the verge of hyperventilation. The icy feeling crept all the way to the top of his head then, as suddenly as it began, it disappeared, along with the blinding light and deafening noise. Harry was only given a moment to wonder if it had worked or not before his knees buckled and he collapsed, unconscious.
------
JUNE 24, 1983 - DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES, LONDON, ENGLAND
"No, no, no!" one of the Unspeakables exclaimed to the rune carver knelt before him, nearly pulling his hair out in anxiety. "You're carving it four-point-seven-six-three millimeters away!" The architect gave the Unspeakable a look that lacked understanding, causing him to sigh in exasperation. "The runes need to be exactly four-point-six-two-five millimeters away, or else the mathematics involved will be completely messed up." The architect merely shook his head and bent down to erase the rune drawing he had made as a guide when an ominous hum behind him stayed his hand. He slowly turned around to see a small bead of light appear out of nowhere, a bead that was rapidly growing in size and brightness.
"Everyone, evacuate the room now!" another Unspeakable said, and everyone rushed out of the room, fleeing from the mysterious orb of light. As soon as the last person exited and the door closed itself with a slam, the orb of light formed itself into a vaguely human shape and faded away, revealing Harry Potter hiding behind his briefcase before almost immediately passing out.
The Unspeakable overseeing the Endwar Project ran to Hawthorne's office and knocked urgently on the door.
"Come in," the Head Unspeakable beckoned, and the second man burst in, panting for breath.
"Sir," the Unspeakable gasped, clutching his chest, "there's been a disturbance in the...you-know-where." This caught Hawthorne's attention, who immediately stood up from behind his desk and strode urgently towards the Endwar room, where two security Unspeakables stood guard. Hawthorne performed the complicated process to unlock the door and flung it open, wand at the ready. Looking down at the limp form on the ground, he quickly fired a disarming, stunning and an incarceration charm in rapid succession.
"Take him to the infirmary," Hawthorne ordered his subordinates. "Once we confirm his state, take everything on his person into the examination room." The Unspeakables nodded in understanding before one pointed his wand at Harry's bound form and levitated it away, the other two training their wand on him, his wand and briefcase in their other hands. As they passed by, Hawthorne noticed in confusion that Harry was wearing Unspeakable robes. Shaking his head, he closed the door to the Endwar room, automatically sealing itself.
------
"What's the prognosis?" Hawthorne asked, looking down at the still-unconscious Harry, who had been stripped and placed in a prisoner's robe, shackled to a hospital bed.
"Surprisingly well," Jennifer Hexlie, the head medical officer of the Department of Mysteries infirmary said, looking down at the notes on her clipboard. "Our guest here has intense physical and magical exhaustion, but nothing a couple potions and some rest can't cure. However, he has evidence of being through practically every trauma imaginable; I'm going to have to conduct more tests to be sure."
"We can piece together the man's medical history later," Hawthorne said, looming over Harry. "This man broke into a restricted area of the Department of Mysteries, wearing the robes of an Unspeakable, and we have no idea who the hell this man is." When Harry made no signs of movements, Hawthorne stepped back and sighed. "Alert me when he wakes up," he said before leaving the infirmary towards the evidence room.
When he entered, all of Harry's clothes and effects had been laid out on a table. The Unspeakable responsible for analyzing them was poring over his notes when Hawthorne appeared.
"Ah sir, I was about to call you," the younger Unspeakable said as he stepped aside for his superior.
"What do you have?" Hawthorne asked. The Unspeakable cleared his throat and turned towards the displayed items.
"Well, as far as we can tell, these robes are genuine Department-issued. The design, the materials, the charms, even the identification number sewn into the right sleeve is there," he said, showing Hawthorne the right sleeve, which had been cut open to reveal a small serial number that was sewn into the fabric. "The problem is, is that I checked our records: We haven't issued this number, and are not due to for another twenty years or so." At this news, Hawthorne's brow furrowed in thought. "Where'd you say you found this bloke, again?" the Unspeakable asked.
"That doesn't matter," Hawthorne dismissed quickly, waving his subordinate off. "What else did you find?" he asked.
"Umm, well his wand seems to be an Ollivander work: Holly wood with phoenix feather core, crafted around seventy years ago, but only in use for about twenty," the Unspeakable said, pointing to Harry's wand. "His glasses are also fairly unremarkable: Standard anti-scratch and anti-fog charms on all magical eyeglasses. However, there is evidence of several structural transfigurations recently. However, this briefcase is interesting." The Unspeakable pointed to the metal briefcase, which remained closed. "We dug into the enchantments, and saw that it's been fingerprint-sealed; only two people can open it. I also saw a safety protocol that showed that if anyone tried to break open, it would destroy all the contents." Before the Unspeakable could elaborate further, Hawthorne's communication mirror buzzed in alert. He activated to reveal the face of HMO Hexlie.
"Sir, you told me to call you when the prisoner awoke," Hexlie said.
"I resent being referred to like a common criminal!" Harry yelled testily in the background. Hexlie sighed and shook her head in exasperation.
"Right, I'm on my way," Hawthorne said.
"And bring my glasses with you!" Harry yelled before Hawthorne terminated the connection and turned to the Unspeakable analyst.
"Put all this in containment," Hawthorne ordered. "No one is to have access to this except myself." The Unspeakable blinked in confusion before nodding his head uncertainly and began packing Harry's things. As Hawthorne turned to leave, he paused and took Harry's glasses before leaving, figuring that he would be more cooperative if he had them.
------
When Hawthorne arrived at the infirmary, he saw Hexlie standing by Harry's bed while said wizard sat shackled to the bed, tapping his fingers on the handlebar impatiently while wearing an impatient scowl on his face.
"Jennifer, could you give us a moment alone, please?" Hawthorne asked. Hexlie nodded and left the two men, bringing the privacy curtain around them. Hawthorne cast a series of privacy charms and turned on Harry. "Okay, who are you, and how did you end up here?" he asked sharply. For several seconds, Harry did not answer; he eventually turned his head towards Hawthorne, squinting.
"Before I answer, will you do something for me?" he asked.
"Maybe," Hawthorne replied, crossing his arms.
"Give me back my glasses," Harry said. "I'll answer all of your answers truthfully, but I want to see the face of my interrogator first." Hawthorne considered the request; he eventually took out Harry's glasses and slid them onto his face. "Ah, that's much better," Harry sighed.
"Back to my original questions, who are you and how did you get here?" Hawthorne repeated himself.
"Who am I, and how did I get here?" Harry echoed. "Ah, that's a tricky one to answer," he continued, tapping his hands on the side rails of his bed. He considered his answer while Hawthorne rapped his fingers on his arm impatiently. "I am Harry James Potter," he finally said, "and I come from the year 2009 because of the Endwar Project."
--------
And here's the second chapter of Harry Potter and the Endwar Project. Hope you enjoyed it.
Don't forget to review!
Sign up to rate and review this story