#because institutional bias starts at the top and she's quite frankly sick of it

[wellpresseddaisy]

But with the Dawn, a New Day is Born pt 1

I have 0 self control when it comes to a new AU. The title comes from the 1931 song Goodnight Sweetheart. I recommend the Bing Crosby version (and also his version of P.S. I love you from a similar vintage).

I probably wouldn't have written this without some enabling from @sneverussape so thank you, friend. Now we all get Harry being Very Confused by a Tom Riddle who mostly isn't a homicidal dick and a Ron who is going to do his level best to make Dumbledore regret taking up teaching. Hermione is going to enjoy the hell out of the library and not having to only research things to save people's lives.

Harry startled as Ron and Hermione melted out of the trees to stand on either side of him. They weren’t shades of themselves, they were solid…and he’d dropped the stone already, anyway. They were real and breathing and they were with him.

“What are you doing?” His voice shook.

“Dumbledore may be convinced that you’re the one he needs to kill, but we aren’t letting you do it alone.” Ron set his jaw in a way Harry knew. Argument was pointless.

“We’ve done everything together.” Hermione continued, her own voice shaking. “And we aren’t…well, three is a magical number too, isn’t it?”

“But you have families.” Harry insisted. Hermione, in his other side, mumbled something he only caught snatches of.

Steadfast in this fateful hour

I place my magic with all its power,

And the sun with its brightness,

And the snow with its whiteness,

And fire with all the strength it hath,

“Think my mum knows.” Ron tried to smile, but it twisted. “She sent her love, you know, for all of us. Said she’d make them understand.”

“Your mum?” Harry couldn’t finish.

And lightning with its rapid wrath,

And the winds with their swiftness along their path,

And Black Lake with its deepness,

“Yeah. She doesn’t want to…after her brothers…I reckon she knows us all pretty well at this point. Anyway, she loves us.”

And the hills with their steepness,

And the moors with their starkness:

      All these I place,

      With my friends help and grace

Between this world and the bringer of darkness.

They’d reached the clearing.

-----------------

After…after Voldemort accepted their triple sacrifice, after the green glow enveloped them, they tumbled together on the floor of Kings Cross, only it was much neater than Harry ever remembered it. So terribly white, really, from the lights to the tiles.

“I didn’t think there’d be an after.” Ron croaked.

“Neither did I.” Hermione’s voice quavered. “I hoped…”

Harry coughed, spat up something foul, and rolled to his feet. “What was that you were saying, Hermione?”

His voice sounded as raspy as his throat felt. Whatever he’d hacked up and spat on the floor pulsed there, thick and black and wet. Instinctively, he herded the other two away from it.

“A version of St. Patrick’s Rune.” Hermione admitted, flushing a bit. “I found it in the library at Grimmauld, tucked away in something ancient. Someone marked it as ‘for absolute life or death emergencies’ so I memorized it. I didn’t know if it would work for me. I’m not sure if it was meant to do…this.” She gestured at their surroundings.

He couldn’t say anything. There weren’t words enough in the world to say anything to Hermione and Ron, who loved him enough to walk with him into death. He launched himself at Ron with all the coordination of a drunk Niffler. Ron caught him, pulled him close, and Hermione crowded in from his other side. They stood for a moment, just breathing, just holding on.

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.” Harry tried to tamp down on the ridiculous urge to cry as he mumbled into Ron’s chest .

(Even in the after…after he couldn’t be as tall as he wanted, which was a crock in Harry’s opinion.)

“As if we would do anything else.” Hermione huffed. “We’ve walked with you every step of the way and we aren’t abandoning you now.”

‘You’d probably muck up your…after by feeling guilty without us.” Ron pointed out, patting his back. “D’you think we’re waiting for a train?”

“The three of you,” a voice that reminded him of an annoyed Dumbledore came from behind them. “Are not supposed to be anywhere together.”

They turned as one, Ron trying to shove Harry and Hermione behind him. Harry decided that actually, Ron could take this one.

“I am meant to be meeting Mr. Potter to discuss his options.” It was Dumbledore, if you’d known him in the 1930s. Harry remembered the pictures.

“Huh, no wonder old Grindy went for him.” Ron mused.

Harry tried to muffle the semi-hysterical giggles that threatened.

Hermione thumped her head against his back. “Do not tell him what you think of his plans. Do not tell him what you think of his plans.” She whispered.

“But, as we seem to have had a change of plans, Mr. Potter’s options are no longer what they once were. You will no doubt be happy to know that Mr. Longbottom ended Nagini right before the three of you created a magical backlash that took out the Death Eater encampment and the Acromantula colony.” He spoke as sternly as Dumbledore ever did.

“Good on Nev.” Ron cheered. “You said something about options?”

Death, Ron discovered, took away pretty much all the terror of Dumbledore being upset with him. What was he going to do, dock points? Could people in the waiting room, if that’s what this was, have high blood pressure? Had anyone ever tried?

“I am no longer allowed to discuss options. That has been decided by…others. While I am not pleased with this disruption in a delicate plan, I am proud of your loyalty to one another and to the world you lived in.”

“Well we weren’t daft enough to let Harry walk off to his death. Figured we had the best chance of joining him and it wouldn’t be the same if we weren’t together.” Ron shrugged. “So, we just hopped on that next big adventure.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth, shut it with a snap, and then turned on his heel and stalked off, muttering something under his breath about the sanctity of life after death being lost on Weasleys.

“I hope he has to spend all his time with Great Grand Aunt Wilhelmina and Great Grand Uncle Bilius. They were in his class at Hogwarts and it would serve him right.” Ron muttered, making both Harry and Hermione snicker.

“I suppose now we wait?” Harry asked. “I wonder if a train will come.”

No train came and no one was quite sure how long they waited after Dumbledore stomped off in a huff. Pocket watches didn’t work, wherever they were. It was sort of pleasant, though, not having anywhere to be. Hermione still had her beaded bag, and after a little while she produced a non-magical deck of cards.

“Anyone for rummy?”

They played fourteen hands of rummy and three of hearts before they were interrupted again, which was just as well because Hermione and Ron were bickering over Hermione counting cards. Harry worked on ‘improving’ his own hand from the deck while they were occupied. They never noticed, not when they really got going.

“Beg pardon?”

They whipped around, staring at the young woman just stepping out of a doorway that didn’t used to exist.

“Are you here to take us with you?” Harry asked unsteadily.

“That…it isn’t an option yet. What you three did…well, you upset any number of those much higher up than me.” The woman chuckled. “In any case, they’ve decided to send you…sideways a bit. Finish your unfinished business.”

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked.

“You’re going to be sent…elsewhere. It’ll be 1941, and…it gets a bit complicated here, I’m afraid.” She sighed. “There’s only so much we can do when we get an, er…special delivery like you three. How to explain this? Well, you’ll keep your current memories because there are limits and we aren’t interested in playing dolls with people. You’ll have an…overlay, I suppose, of your 1941-current memories. I’m afraid before Hogwarts won’t be much fun, but we have to explain the twitchiness since we aren’t in the business of wiping people’s personalities away. You’re going back as firsties. That was a non-negotiable. As I said, you made quite a few people upset.”

“Will we be ourselves?” Hermione seemed to be absorbing everything they were told.

“You and Mr. Potter will be Harry and Hermione Perhalion. Mr. Weasley will be Galahad Weasley.”

“Why don’t I get to keep my name?” Ron looked disgusted at the thought of being Galahad.

“Because we can only change the essential nature of a Weasley so much, we aren’t making any of you have new faces, and the Weasley family isn’t slated to have a Ronald for a few generations yet.” The woman answered sternly. “We do try not to meddle too much, unlike certain teenagers.”

“You said we had unfinished business?” Harry picked up where Hermione left off.

“None of you finished school or did any of the things you might have done. And you, Mr. Potter, are actually going to feel the feelings you bottled up on your last go-round.” She poked him in the chest. “No more hiding behind anger. No stuffing everything into the feelings barn.”

“I…what?” Harry stared.

“Do any of you read the…bugger but that one’s in the future. Never mind that. It was from the New Yorker.”

“Oh, my parents like the long-form journalism.” Hermione said brightly.

“Yes,” the woman replied slowly. “They would.”

“Is my unfinished business now a quest to change my name?” Ron asked acidly, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The woman snapped.

“My name is now Galahad. I can’t help it.”

The woman raised her hand and snapped and all Harry knew was darkness.