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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Ministry of Magic, Auror Department, main room!" Albus Dumbledore shouted into the flames before he pushed his head through making a Floo call to the Ministry. As always the room was rather quiet. People thought the lives of Aurors were always spectacular and that they were always on the move, having one adventure after another. That wasn't the truth; a lot of the time they spent in the offices waiting for call-outs or tip-offs on dangerous, wanted wizards from people desperate enough for the rewards that came with finding a known fugitive. "Hello?" he called out to catch someone's attention.
"Can I help you?" droned a tired Auror, gazing at the fire expectantly. Usually those that Floo-called were in need of something, usually an Auror.
"May I speak to Auror Aaron Moody or one Philipp Prewitt?" Albus enquired giving the Auror a smile.
"Aaron!" yelled the Auror.
"What is it, Mallard?" Aaron shouted back, from somewhere at the very back of the room where dozens upon dozens of filing cabinets were stored.
"Who are you?" Mallard asked the face in the fire.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the Head of Gryffindor house and Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts, as well as Deputy Headmaster," Albus told him.
Mallard rolled his eyes when he looked away, just his name would have done well enough. "Dumbledore, he wishes to speak to you. Hurry up!" The main Floo was supposed to be used for those that needed help, actually it was used for all sorts of things when it shouldn't be. They abided by the rules only when the head Auror was there, or the Head of the Department of Law enforcement and the occasional time the Minister was in their presence… which admittedly wasn't often.
Cursing in annoyance, he grabbed what files he had in his hand and thumped them on his desk, before making his way to the fireplace. He couldn't understand why the Deputy Headmaster would get in touch with him, of all people. Kneeling on the floor, where a cushioning charm was permanently embedded so they didn't end up with sore knees, "Can I help you?" he asked, sounding professional despite the fact he'd not interacted with the elder wizard before.
"Yes, I hope so!" Albus said kindly, "I've been informed that you are on a student of mine, Hadrian Peverell's, case?"
"Yes." Aaron was still perplexed; surely Dumbledore knew that he wasn't going to be able to give out information.
