(HP) When Time Isn't Enough

Prologue

It was purple and it was vile and it was likely to put him through hell. It was the first time he'd go through such physical pain, but he figured it couldn't possibly be any worse compared to the pain he had suffered emotionally.

After losing both of his parents, Scorpius James Malfoy-Potter couldn't imagine anything that could hurt him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

He looked over to his mentor-the one person he considered his family. He sat next to him, supporting his upper body on a cane as he leant forward. His once jet black hair was grey. The voice his dad once explained as smooth was gravelly and weak. His body was destroyed from years of torture. He shook with every move he took. Severus Snape was the walking dead (on the days he could walk), and he was more than worried for the youth before him.

"Yes, Uncle Sev. I need to do this," Scorpius reassured the potions master.

However, when he looked down at the bubbling glass in his hand, he couldn't hold back the look of fear on his face.

The potion was new. No one had made such progress in the potion world. Everyone who tried was killed by the Death Eaters.

It was a potion designed to take a single person back into the past for an unlimited amount of time.

Scorpius was the only person to successfully brew any potion with such capabilities in secrecy. Luckily, his dad was the one who patented it and left it for him. All Scorpius had to do was tweak it until it was perfect for what he wanted.

"I don't want anyone else to live through what we've seen," Scorpius continued, more for himself than his uncle.

He had seen so much death. All of his friends, his parents, his sister-they were all gone, never to come back to him.

Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world, had perished. He had fallen to the evils of Lord Voldemort only three months before the potion was finished. In a harsh battle taking place within the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort slowly and deliberately stomped the thirty-seven year-old to death. The remains were given to his pet snake to eat.

Albus Dumbledore, the only man Voldemort ever feared, had taken his own life after being captured by the Death Eaters. He refused to allow them to torture any information out of him and bit off his tongue the moment they threw him into a cell in the Malfoy Manor. That had taken place nineteen years ago, long before Scorpius' time.

The other members of the Order of the Phoenix steadily lost their lives.

"Your papa would probably be prouder of you for that one," Severus sighed.

Scorpius gave him a weak smile. "And dad?"

"He'd think you were insane for going through with this."

"He'd know the truth then."

The concoction continued to bubble so far away from any source of heat. He brought it up to his lips and paused.

"Remember not to reveal anything that'll threaten lives."

"I know."

"Good luck."

"Thanks," Scorpius breathed before throwing back his head, downing the entire glass.

Other than a bitter taste in his mouth, he didn't feel any different.

The teen looked around his surroundings. He and Severus were in what was Albus' office. The old trinkets and glass objects had all been shattered. Hogwarts might have been the only place other than the Potter household that was untouched by Voldemort's hands, but the Death Eaters certainly did know how to destroy a place.

His family home was still there. It was sealed off to the rest of the world. Scorpius couldn't imagine the heartbreak he'd suffer if the home he grew up in was tainted by the Dark Lord. He didn't have very many happy memories of his parents and he really didn't want them to be destroyed.

Scorpius' thoughts were cut short when he started to feel queasy. All of the glass objects started to reform around him. He blinked his emerald eyes to clear them. Piece by piece, they started to restore to their previous lustre. Focusing as much as he could, his eyes darted to Severus. He was still the same broken man.

Severus was speaking to him. He could see that mouth moving, but no sound was reaching his ears. He felt the hand grab at his shoulder moments before the cobwebs disappeared from the corners. Some of the men and women in the portraits returned.

The potions master disappeared from the room completely before Scorpius lost the ability to see.

And then there was the pain.

It tore at him, as if he was having his limbs ripped from his body. He had never lost a limb, but he could easily hear the bones popping and snapping out of place. He couldn't hear his screams, though.

He knew, however, that he did what he hadn't done for months, and that was cry out for his papa. Scorpius knew the words came from his mouth before he could stop them.

And that was the last the teen registered before everything ended.