Summary: They had found peace in each other. The war was over, love had bloomed, things were supposed to look up. It was not meant to be. In a desperate attempt to save his daughter's life, Harry Potter risks past and future. If history must be unwritten, then let it be unwritten. Time-Travel.

Chapter 1: Rewrite the Stars

Mr. and Mrs. Potter of Greengrass Manor were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

They lived a simple life in a quiet place. Their children, magics bless them, were rarely capable of leaving such quiet alone. This peaceful Saturday morning was broken by the sound of an argument, the clattering of eating utensils and an awoken toddler who had decided to join in on the fun.

Harry stood, grabbing his glasses from the bedside. When his wife groaned in defeat, he smiled, throwing his half of the oversized blanket over her. "I'll see to them."

He wasn't sure if she was giving him a thumbs up or a rude gesture, but by the time she would be able to untangle herself from the tiredness, he would be done.

Hopefully.

Out of the doors to their bedroom, passing the portrait of his in-laws with a short nod as they soaked in the Mediterranean landscape. Through the hallway plastered with blue flowers, enchanted to never fall out of their pots, and down the stairs into the entrance hall. To the right of it, a lounge to enjoy relaxation without needing to stray too far from the front door. Further to the right, the dining room in plain view, so they could watch their children eat while dealing with documents that should not be kept near volatile food fights.

And inside that dining room, motion.

A rather stout house elf picking up the spoons and forks that had been strewn across the floor in front of him. "Good morning, Moppy."

Moppy nearly dropped everything in his hands. "M-morn', my lord!"

Another spoon flew out of the kitchen, hitting Moppy on the back and Harry sighed. "Thank you for your hard work this morning. I'll go calm them down."

Moppy nodded, continuing the cleanup by hand. With magic, the house elf could be done in seconds, but any excuse not to deal with the mess in the kitchen was likely welcome.

'Miss Daffy and Miss Asty were always so easy to handle,' Moppy had once told him.

He would agree, but only because Daphne hadn't had much of a reason to get wine drunk when she was a child.

Using a small stepping stool, their daughter Astoria was at the same height as Teddy and twice as menacing with a spoon ready to be thrown. Teddy held a cutting board in front of him, taking swings like a beater when he thought Astoria would throw them. That explained the cutlery poor Moppy had to pick up outside.

Meanwhile, Lily toddled around and approved of the noise that the dishes made whenever she slammed shut a cupboard. His appearance caused the young girl to abandon her pursuit of what made the loudest bang and run towards him. She slipped over one of the spoons, leaving Harry to catch her with a flick of his wand and levitate her over to him.

"I didn't know we had that many spoons here," Harry said, drawing the kids' attention. Teddy had the decency to let go of the cutting board. Astoria and her spoon did not, hitting the boy in the head with her last throw. "I suppose someone is going to explain what you were trying to accomplish?"

"She keeps trying to steal my wand!" Teddy said, rubbing his head. He stood taller than most kids his age, certainly taller than the children at school. "And I told her she just needs to wait another year for her letter—"

Astoria, unable to let the accusation stand, crossed her arms. Young as she was, she managed to pull off the indignant pureblood sneer as well as her mother. It was almost sad her hair matched his. "You said 'squibs don't get wands'! I'm not a squib!"

"Alright," Harry said, shifting Lily from one side to another when she pinched his cheek. "I suggest we deal with this later and make a deal, alright?"

Teddy shrugged, letting his sister's accusation stand. He knew that Harry could tell who was lying.

"Mum's up in bed after a long and difficult week," Harry said, pretending to whisper. Ignoring the eyeroll of his eldest daughter, he pointed at the door. "So if you help Moppy clean up all the spoons, we'll go make some breakfast and surprise her in bed. Sound good?"

Astoria jumped off the stool and ran out, nodding. Teddy began collecting what was left on the kitchen floor.

"I could do this with magic," Teddy muttered. Harry grinned.

"That won't teach you a lesson, will it? Why I seem to remember a strongly worded letter by the headmistress last year about your attempts to cheat during detention—"

"Okay, okay! Please stop!"

"Why, I ought to write a strongly worded letter myself, maybe to the esteemed head of the DMLE—"

Harry leaned out of the way of a rather sloppily thrown silencing spell. "You can't solve all your problems with magic, Teddy. I want everything to be clean by the time I'm back."

Teddy grumbled, putting his wand away. His hair morphed into an embarrassed red. "One day I'll hit you."

Harry shook his head, turning around. By the smell, Lily must have decided to fill her nappy and run around with it unconcerned. "Not in a hundred years, kid."

"Da—er… Harry?" Teddy called out quickly. Harry turned his head. "Are you going to be here? T-this weekend, I mean?"

Harry nodded, smiling at how Teddy's eyes lit up. Usually when Daphne came home for the weekend, Harry had trips to make and people to meet. The last month he had spent with Luna dealing with an obscure library of books on all kinds of magics. While he was home more often than his wife, Teddy was unhappy to be left with what little time he had when he wasn't at Hogwarts without everyone.

Of course, he was also too proud to admit such a thing. Harry was more than happy to keep the boy's pride intact.

The utensil gathering went faster afterwards.

After a just slightly too-loud breakfast, involving slightly too-burnt pancakes, Harry found himself standing at the entrance of the Shell Cottage. Teddy's only real friend at Hogwarts was Bill's daughter, Victoire, which was reason enough to visit during the school holidays.

The fact that both he and Daphne were available together made it better. Usually, it was her alone that brought them during the weekend.

He felt a pang of guilt. It felt like small hands that wrapped their fingers around his heart. Of course, even if he was with his family this weekend, that did not mean his daily research would suffer. Bill was among the best Curse Breakers in all of western Europe.

Said man greeted them at the door with a bright smile and brighter hair. Teddy had his shoes off and was inside before Harry was able to say a word. Fleur came up behind her husband, raising an eyebrow.

"Your spawn seems to get more savage by the day, Potter," she said, looking at Daphne. Harry smiled, giving the woman a kiss on the cheek in greeting. "Hello, Harry."

"Of course," Daphne said, kneeling to grab the shoes and properly put them away. "Having to deal with Weasley children all the time rubs off on you eventually. I'm surprised he doesn't keep his hair red all the time."

Fleur laughed. The melody of an unconcerned mother. When Daphne stood back up, the woman wrapped his wife up in a hug. Daphne returned it gladly. Lily pushed away from Harry, demanding to be let down. The second Harry did, Lily sprinted into the home as well, forgetting to take off her shoes. Astoria was the only one left standing at the door, peering up at Bill.

"Hi, Uncle Bill."

Bill smiled at her, bending down to put a hand on her head. "Good day, Astoria. How are the language lessons going? Have you started French yet?"

"It's Miss Potter," the girl insisted, swatting his hand away. "I'm almost at Hogwarts! You better start treating me like a lady!"

"Your wife is a terrible influence on your children," Bill said, mock bowing to Astoria. Harry snorted. "Good day to you, Miss Potter. Would you like to join us for tea?"

Lady Miss Potter, always the connoisseur of all kinds of dried leaves as long as they were imaginary or with half a cup of sugar, shook her head, turning up her nose.

"I prefer the tea that Moppy prepares."

Fleur and Daphne were already inside, leaving their husbands to deal with the princess.

"I suppose that also means that a lady such as you doesn't want the chocolate frog you get for helping set up the table, correct?" Harry asked. Astoria had her shoes off before he had finished speaking, putting them neatly besides Teddy's and walking into the home of the oldest Weasley.

"Harry—"

"It's going to be a long day," Harry said quickly, his hand reaching Bill's shoulder to push him inside."Let's talk later, after dinner?"

"Let's." Bill nodded.

Molly, as loving as always, had arrived with a massive basket of snacks and sweets. George would not be coming today. Hermione's children were with her. Rose was young, barely five years old, and Hugo was two.

Hermione and Ron had… not quite separated. And while Harry was happy enough to stay at home and take care of the children, those two were career-mad. They both made time to catch up with him on the rare occasions they could—Hermione over his research and Ron over a couple beers—but each other? Well, at this point the only reason those two had remained married were because of Rose and Hugo.

There had still been a few weeks where he'd taken their kids to stay with him, when Molly was busy, but besides that, the only people that he was spending any significant amount of time with besides his own family were Bill, Fleur, and Luna.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Harry and Bill were close. Closer than he was with Ron these days, for sure. Once Daphne had joked with Fleur that their husbands seemed more married to each other than to them. Harry hadn't appreciated Bill's failed attempt to kiss him while the latter had a mouthful of potatoes.

Luna spent her time in Greengrass Manor with her husband when she wasn't traveling the world with him. Rolf was nice enough, and maybe just a little bit more eccentric than his wife.

That wasn't to say Harry had few friends. He had many, and many more who appreciated him wherever he appeared. Being a war hero would do that, of course.

"Are you alright, dear?" Molly asked, placing a concerned hand across his forehead. Harry smiled, pulling her hand away from his face. She was older now; the lines on her face were deeper, but the years had not been unkind to her. Being surrounded by so much family was healing.

Harry knew that.

"Yes, thank you, Molly," he said. He looked around as he stood up, making sure Lily was not getting caught up in whatever Teddy was planning near the stairs to the upper floor. "I'm afraid my hair isn't red enough to be mothered at the age of thirty."

"Nonsense. Just a bit of rub-in potions and we'll have that problem solved." Molly patted his head not unlike Bill had done to his daughter before. "You seem distracted."

Harry looked to the left. Daphne was sitting with Astoria, who was trying to make young Rose pronounce her name correctly. Fleur joined them, causing no small amount of exasperation in his daughter when Rose greeted the woman perfectly.

"Yes, I'm… I'm fine," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. Molly didn't look convinced, her lips pressed together into a thin line. She grabbed the sides of his head, forcing him to look at her.

"I know how you feel." Molly's voice was strained. "Like time is slipping through your fingers. Just another year and suddenly Astoria will be at Hogwarts, not even six years and Teddy will be out of school, ready to take on the world."

"No," Harry said. He bit his cheek, once more forcing her hands away from him, slightly more forceful than he meant to. "Yes. You know. It's not just that."

Molly's glance towards Lily caused her eyes to glisten. Not many people knew.

Of course, anyone who would ever be asked about Harry Potter standing in the darkest abysses of the wizarding underworld and inquiring about blood curses would deny such a thing.

Harry did not tell many people, but few people who dabbled in the dark arts were stupid. If anyone had ever pieced it together, none of them had said a thing.

When it came to trusting people, however, there was not one person besides Daphne he trusted more than the oldest Weasley boy. Because Bill understood. More than anyone, Bill understood.

"If you'll excuse me," Harry said, "I think I heard Bill call for me. I'll be in his study."

Molly nodded, once more unable to stop herself from touching his face. A short pat on his cheek and he was gone.

"Harry, this…" Bill looked over the written notes scattered across the desk. The ingredients. The glint of hope that shone behind Harry's eyes. "This is madness."

"Is it?" Harry asked. He was hunched over a table, his right hand on his face. He felt himself trace a fading scar from the bridge of his nose, down his cheek and onto his chin."Is this truly mad enough to work?"

"That's not what I said," Bill said, raising an accusing finger. Harry took a step away from the table, spinning around to meet the accusation head on, shaking his head.

"No," Harry conceded, waving his hands towards the notes. "But those would not be your first words if it wouldn't work."

"This will kill you." Bill's voice was a rushed whisper that rose just a bit too high for a man with such a deep voice. He shook, pointing at the drawn up page-long hypothesis. The fruits of countless hours of research. "It will destroy you! If not right after the ritual, then certainly in the years to come!"

"I'm still not hearing a 'no'."

Bill ran his hand down his face, roughly reaching around his mouth as if to stop himself from shouting. Harry could see his nails digging into the scarred flesh. The other hand came up to point once more, bidding him to wait so he could gather his thoughts.

"I understand," Harry said. He bit his lip, looking towards the door of the study they were sitting in. They could hear Teddy and Victoire laughing. Molly was telling them to stop whatever they were doing, but the two simply became louder. "So please, understand my position as well. What if it was Victoire?"

Bill's breath hitched. The Weasley's eyes darkened. Harry knew. He had attacked the one vulnerable angle. The fear that Remus had had when Teddy was born. That somehow the werewolf traits would appear in their children.

Harry moved to apologize, but Bill stood quickly, grabbing Harry by the shoulder. "You will die. It will work, but you will die."

Lily's joyful squealing laughter cut through the noise that Teddy and Victoire were making. Astoria joined in. Harry turned his head almost involuntarily, his eyes unfocused as he listened to the muffled sounds of their children playing. When he faced Bill again, his eyes were resolute. His lips were curled in a gentle smile.

"What is the life of one person for the lives of the most beautiful souls in the world?"

Bill embraced him and Harry's shaking hands patted the man's back.

Harry was no stranger to restless nights. Three in the morning saw him hunched over a large table in his study. Pages upon pages filled with highlighted paragraphs were sprawled over it, the colours radiating mockery.

It was a puzzle. One he had no solution for. One that, once upon a time, he would have called beyond his capabilities. He was not studious; he was not naturally talented. But he had one thing that could beat those things out, something that Hermione had told him would one day help him.

The sheer discipline, dedication, and audacity to look at something that hundreds of people had told him was impossible and say 'no'.

He roughly grabbed one of the pages, an autopsy report, if it could be called that. A dissection. The subject suffered from minor strokes throughout their lives—

His gaze set it on fire. Subject. The word appeared on many pages. Many reports.

Medical reports indicate—

Violent outbursts—

Pain akin to long-term Cruciatus exposure—

—death so cruel, the Killing Curse was once used to end the life of one subject who had begged to die.

More pages joined the flames. He would have set the entire table on fire had it not been for the arms that were wrapped around his back. Daphne leaned onto him, her face just under the back of his neck. Her skin was soft on his, and for a moment he was lost in it.

"Just because you're here this weekend doesn't mean you get to hide from me," she whispered. Harry swallowed his frustrations and worries, enjoying the warmth. He stepped away from the table, turning around and taking in the sight of his wife dappled by crackling firelight.

People had called her cold, unapproachable. To him she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Her grip around him was firm, loosening only so they could stand face to face. Despite her words, he could see her gaze moving towards the table. Her own worries. Her own shame. He put his hand on her head and hugged her tightly, her face pressing into his chest.

How could someone so warm ever be called cold?

Her breath hitched for a moment.

"I've… found something," Harry said. She went rigid. Her arms grip became uncomfortably tight. "Something you're not going to like."

"Then you haven't found anything."

"Far better than the alternative. Back when I made that deal with the Fae folk—" Harry started. She raised her hand, trying to put a finger on his lips. He turned his head, though not before kissing the tip. "Back then, one of them said something I chose not to understand, because all the interpretations of it weren't things I could accept as an answer. Because I knew you'd not like it."

"What?" she asked. Her voice was tiny. It mirrored his own whenever the weight of lies burdened him.

"If the curse can't be broken," he said, raising a shaky hand to her cheek. "Then...maybe it can be redirected. Trading time."

"No."

Harry and Daphne had made a promise. An oath. Something that they felt necessary for the sake of their family when they'd found out.

Harry would never be angry at his wife. Daphne would never be angry at her husband.

Which was why her rejection was not causing him to get upset. He did not react as he would have years ago when he was a teen.

"One life," Harry said. His voice was weak. "My life for the life of my daughter. It wouldn't kill me right away, but—"

"Our daughter," Daphne said, not in anger, but in desperation. "Our daughter who needs her parents."

"I would still be there," Harry said, trying to assure her. "It trades in time, a chronomantic ritual, I exchange all the years that I have left with all those she has, she will grow old and I'll be there to see her graduate."

"And bury her father when she's barely out of school? You're insane and reckless!"

"Daphne, please," Harry said, not in anger, but in despair. "I can't—"

"You can't." Her grip tightened. He could feel her fingers digging into his back. Her forehead rubbed into his chest as his shirt became wet with tears. "You can't. You can't. You can't. I can't watch you die like she did."

"Would you have us watch Lily die your sister's death instead, then?" This was the only way Harry knew how to be cruel—when he was trying to convince someone to watch him die for them.

"They're still of cursed blood; even if you decide to take the burden, one of their daughters will—"

"Will have more time, more research." Harry's voice was more forceful than he had intended it to be. "Just as we gave Astoria more time with our decision to have Lily. I will not accept what your parents did, Daphne. I will not see my daughter suffer."

"Then let it take me!" Daphne's grip loosened. She pushed him away. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose running. "I was meant to die anyway, my sister took my curse! Let me take Lily's!"

"I've already decided on this." His words were strong. Determined. He wasn't really asking for her permission, he was asking for her forgiveness. "I will destroy all the notes I have on this ritual."

"You arrogant—" Daphne's hand slapped against his chest. More followed with each word she spoke. "Selfish, miserable, death-seeking bastard—"

Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed, catching the next slap with his own hand. He pulled her hand up and rubbed his cheek into it. "I've been selfless for so long, I think it's high time for me to be selfish for once."

His voice broke. He couldn't see his face, but he imagined it was much like hers. Upset, with quivering lips and tears in his eyes.

"Some days," he said, pressing his forehead onto hers. "Some days I wake up unable to find a reason to stand up. Certain that nothing I do matters. But it does, because of you. We have lost too much."

Daphne opened her mouth. He could feel her breath on his face. He could see it reflected in her stormcloud eyes. That short moment when she wanted to argue. Where she had the words to stop him on the tip of her tongue. Where she saw the doubt in his eyes that this would truly be the best option.

Then she closed it. Closed her eyes, too, just for a moment. Just long enough, he thought, to imagine a world where she said no, one last time, and he listened.

Just long enough to know what she was losing when she chose not to.

Her left hand joined her right on his face. He smiled.

Lily Potter had once broken the laws of magic.

Lily Potter, second of her name, would break them again.

"I love you," Daphne said. Harry leaned in and kissed her.

Inside a small room in the back of the manor, further away from any others, Harry had finished the last of his preparations. It was spartan, with wooden floor boards, a lack of windows, and a single Lumos to illuminate it all.

The ritual was ready. It wasn't complicated whatsoever.

When people thought about rituals, they often imagined complicated incantations, specific setups on specific days, the blood of twenty virgins, the dried genitals of an angry troll—

Harry stood in a runic circle. Daphne stood outside, Lily in her arms. The girl, despite the late hour, was awake, somehow forcing herself to keep her eyes open despite the gentle humming of her mother.

Rituals, Harry had found, were often deceptively simple. In fact, the expectation of a complicated ritual was one of the main reasons that simple ones failed. Much like spellcasting, rituals required three things.

Magic, intent, and a catalyst.

Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken.

Harry shook his head, grabbing the ritual knife he had prepared. Daphne turned away her gaze when his hand hovered over the prepared cauldron. Her hands went over Lily's, shielding the girl's eyes.

"Blood of the father," Harry announced. The magics of the world listened. The knife ran down his arm, silently opening the wound. Ruby blood ran down into the liquid wishes that slushed in the cauldron. It was painless. He sighed in relief. A nod to Daphne brought his daughter closer.

He took her hand. Though her gaze was still shielded from what was happening in front of her, she grasped his thumb, holding on tight. The shaking of his hands stopped.

"Blood of the daughter," Harry declared. The magics responded. A single prick on her arm. A single drop, as he dared not take more. He could say it was because this ritual was supposed to heal her and he didn't want to ruin it with her pain, but he didn't need excuses like that. He just didn't want to hurt his daughter. Daphne stepped back, quickly sealing Lily's wound with a swish of her wand. "Feather of a phoenix."

Harry dropped his own wand into the cauldron. As it slipped from his hands for the last time, he felt a tinge of regret and affirmation. He would have no need for it anymore, and it seemed his wand agreed. The time had come. Daphne hesitated when he stretched his arms out to take Lily. He knew she had her doubts, but this was it. This…

He raised Lily, beautiful one-year old Lily, and slowly lowered her into the cauldron. The hazy prayers and liquid wishes rose up to meet her. The faint red glow around her proved, just as it had when she was born, that the curse was alive.

The smoke from the cauldron pulled, curling around him like claws. For a short moment, the world became aware of his intent. The red around her dimmed and moved towards him.

Lily cried. Not in pain, as the ritual should have been absolutely painless. A drop of blood fell on her. She was spooked, upset. The girl's magic went haywire, and Harry raised his hand to his face to find ruddy ichor rubbing off onto his fingertips. It was working.

The curse demanded sacrifice.

And he was long past its dues. He was certain he could suppress it, he just needed a bit of time to focus, keep it in check until his daughters grew up—

When Daphne rushed forward to take Lily, the girl's magic pushed her back. Accidental magic was ridiculously volatile, and not even Daphne, with all her experience as head of the DMLE, could break through whatever barrier the girl had created.

The house shook. Two voices cried out. Harry's eyes moved to the door in fright. "Daphne! The door!"

She rushed towards it, opening the door to find Teddy and Astoria spying. They were crying, unable to accept what they were seeing. Harry knelt, holding his daughter tightly. His finger ran under her eye, wiping away tears.

"If history must be unwritten," Harry declared, pulling Lily out of the cauldron, wisps of smoke following and pulling further at the edges of the curse, "then let it be unwritten."

Harry knelt, sheltering Lily under his body. He could see Daphne wrapping her arms around Teddy and Astoria.

The cauldron exploded.

"Harry." Teddy's voice roused him from his sleep. He sounded desperate, his hands on Harry's chest and shoving him. "Dad!"

Harry stood. Despite the haze and his unsure footing, he managed to stop himself from dropping Lily, who was lying on his chest. Astoria was lying next to him, and Daphne had somehow found herself leaning against the wall of the small bedroom.

The world came to a screeching halt.

This was not the ritual room.

In fact, this wasn't any room at the Greengrass manor.

No, this was, in fact, the room that haunted him in the few nightmares that Voldemort stayed away from. The childhood that had been taken from him. Somehow he remembered it with less blood on the walls. Harry put Lily down onto the bed, looking at Teddy with wide eyes.

"What happened?" Harry asked. Teddy shrugged. "Okay, we can… figure out what happened later."

Harry immediately checked everyone with all the diagnostic spells he knew. The fact that his wand had been lying under him when he'd woken up barely registered. Nobody was hurt, which meant the blood had to come from somewhere else. He cleaned it off them, moving towards Daphne. "Wake up Astoria."

Teddy did as he was told, not being gentle at all as he slapped his sister awake. Daphne stirred when Harry touched her shoulder.

"Daphne," Harry said, shaking her not unlike Teddy had done to him earlier. "Daphne, wake up."

She did, with a start, just as he did. She jumped up, too fast, immediately swaying like an oak in the wind—but her wand was still out and her eyes had still already cased the room. He held onto her, keeping her up and letting her regain her bearings. Astoria was slower to get up.

"Something went wrong," Harry said. Daphne paled, shoving Harry aside to check on Lily. The girl's breathing was normal. Her health was fine, but… "The ritual didn't work. She's still cursed, but—"

"I could have sworn we'd burned this house to the ground, Potter," Daphne said, her voice tight. She lifted Lily up, holding the girl tightly. "And if you can't explain—"

A loud shout. An angry patter of feet. The door swung wide open to reveal Vernon Dursley, clearly just out of bed, red in the face.

He didn't have time to say a word before two stunners hit him, Harry's a second slower. He smiled at his wife. She glared at him.

"We're in your childhood home, surrounded by unhealthy amounts of blood," Daphne said. "And somehow your uncle has come back from the dead. So please, Harry Potter. Explain."

"I have no idea what happened," Harry said, his fingers digging into his shirt. "But if I had to guess, I'd say Lily's accidental magic turned back time by messing up the ritual, she's—"

"Alive. I should've never let you do this, you irresponsible—"

Another angry shout. Harry grabbed Astoria and Teddy. Daphne nodded at him, holding onto Lily. With a crack, they were gone. Hedwig opened her cage, flying out of the window by the time Petunia had found her husband unconscious.

Later, when Ministry officials and Dumbledore appeared to ask the Dursleys what happened, Vernon gave one simple answer. A man with long black hair stood in the room, pointing a stick at him, surrounded by blood.

The bounty on Sirius Black's head doubled in size that night.