Harry is the Master of Death and Lord of Time through his joining of the three Hallows together. During a duel that wasn't going well, he jumps to the 1940's and has a talk with the true Master of Death. Can have prevent the destruction that will oc...
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1940
Harry slowly regained consciousness. The very familiar ceiling of the Hospital wing greeted him, disorientating and bewildering him further. It had been quite a while since he'd been at Hogwarts; it was no longer his home. Grunting in pain, he shoved his hands down on the mattress to get himself into a sitting position. He hissed softly at the strain it immediately put his protesting ribs under; maybe he should have remained lying down. His gaze travelled the length of the hospital wing... well, it was the hospital wing ― of sorts. It was different; the layout was not the same. Instead of twelve beds against the wall on each side, with a cabinet for potions and personal effects next to each and of course curtains to draw around them, there were what appeared to be double the number of beds, with old-fashioned privacy screens, like the ones he'd seen in old movies he'd glimpsed while cleaning as his aunt watched something on the TV. They weren't set along the wall, they were placed in rows along the way instead. Why so many beds?
He waved his hand, mentally thinking 'Tempus' and the time materialised in front of him, showing him the time and date. He needed to figure out how long he'd been out of it. The date made him gulp, and just like that the conversation he had with 'Death' came to the forefront of his mind, causing him to gasp in astonishment. It had been real; bloody hell, he was back in the nineteen forties, and Voldemort was fourteen years old! He was in his third year of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had gone to great lengths to 'make sure he had the means at his disposal to destroy Voldemort'. Which only meant viewing his memories; Dumbledore was a disgusting, lying hypocrite. Just thinking about him started Harry panting outrageously; he forced himself to calm down. It was very easy with his occlumency shields; centring himself, he relaxed completely.
Had there been some sort of epidemic in the magical world during the forties?
'No, there is no outbreak; this is the way the current Medi-witch prefers it.'
'How can you get through my mental shields?' Harry inwardly grumbled.
'Need I remind you that I am Death? I can go wherever I please.'
Harry shook his head, he sounded far too smug about that. 'Are you going to be in my mind all the time?' He definitely didn't like that, this was very distracting. He could barely concentrate on real life, and it was something that made him extremely nervous and twitchy. He'd been looking over his shoulder for so long that he couldn't completely relax and let his guard down.
'No, I am much too busy,'―the war with Grindelwald saw to that― 'I only came because you needed me. You've been unconscious for a month; it took them that long to remove all the curses that were on you.'
