Hermione had warned him about bad things happening to wizards who meddled with time. Harry, however, was completely innocent this time around. He hadn't done anything at all, in fact. Not with the time-travel, or getting found by Potters, or even the kissing. He certainly hadn't been the one starting the kissing.

Sometimes, you reached a point where you felt old. Harry had reached that point a long time ago. He had held on though because he could never refuse his Ajal anything. This time, however, Ajal wouldn't be able to talk him out of it.

Gellert could see nothing but a bright future ahead of them.

Lily didn't remember a life different than the one she was leading now. Her mom used to tell her stories about a time where nothing was at it was now. Most of the days, Lily was enthralled by those stories. When she grew older, she learned that those were just that, stories. She lived day after day resigned to her fate until someone brought magic back into her life.

The war had taken more from them than they had realized. However, if one were to ask Lucius, he would readily tell them that the biggest thing the war had ripped from them was the ability to lie to themselves.

They had hoped that a war would have been enough to make them aware of the stagnant state they had let themselves fall into. Quickly, it became clear that it hadn't. Change isn't something that they are willing to face until there comes a day where they are left with no choice.

Harry had only ever wanted one thing: someone to care for him. He had never expected to get what he so dearly wished for quite this way though.

They were young, but that didn't mean they didn't know what they wanted. They knew, and Colin was willing to fight to keep what they had.

She was precious, and he, as a big brother, would do everything he could to protect her.

The Mirror of Erised was so much more than wizards thought. Wizards, however, were not meant to know its true secrets. He had thought that those meant to uncover all the mirror had to offer had long perished from the world. However, when a small green-eyed child stepped in front of the mirror and had a glimpse of what came after, he could do nothing but greet his youngest Child.

He felt utterly helpless as he watched those children, children he had sworn to protect, run up the stairs. Still, as he sat with those left behind, he couldn't help but hope that these children would bring back the laughter that had always been a part of his little shop.

In the end, Harry could do nothing but surrender.

He was ancient, weary, and everlasting. She was young, full of energy, and so fragile. No matter where he went, she would always find him.

It hadn't asked to be created. It hadn't asked to exist. But it existed, it was aware, and it would make the best of it. There were so many things for it to explore, it couldn't see itself ever growing weary of existing. That was, of course, before the blood and death and destruction. It had never asked to be created, and it certainly hadn't wanted this kind of life.

He had always known he was different. Then, his brother was born, and he knew his brother was just like him. They were as far from normal as one could possibly get. They embraced it, caring nothing for what others thought. They had each other and their dad, after all, what more could they need? Well, maybe a way to quench their boredom.

None of them were expecting it. Maybe they should have. After all, when one has to suffer through years of oppression, it is only natural to fight back. And fight back they did. In one single night destinies were shattered, and wizarding Britain would never be the same again.

Dreams, reality, who could say which one was which. Shouldn't reality be the one where you felt alive? Where your blood rushed through you in a wave of heat and passion? Shouldn't that be your reality even though you knew you were merely dreaming? The most heartbreaking thing he had ever had to do was to wake up.

Her live had been over the moment she had been caught, she just hadn't expected for him to take such delight in tormenting her after. He was a spider, keeping her in its web, to enjoy whenever it wanted to.

She was so vibrant, so full of life, was it any wonder he had fallen in love? Her sweet words, and tender touches were his undoing. He loved her, and he was sure that she loved him, too. Why then, was he left staring at the shattered remains of his heart? And was he such a fool that he would let his heart be taken once more?

He realized far too late what was truly important to him. And now he would spend his life, and his death, doing his best to prevent history from repeating itself.