7th November 1993. Hogwarts.
Ares was eager to get out to the Quidditch pitch. He felt slightly giddy at the thought of watching himself play the game he had been banned from since his fifth year.
As the players came out, he couldn't stop himself from sending a tripping hex at Cho Chang for fun, and to make it fair, he sent one at each of the three chasers for Gryffindor. After all, that much hotness on one team had to be illegal.
As soon as Hooch blew the whistle, both teams rushed into action, although the Dark Lord only had eyes for his younger self, eager to see if he played any differently from how he remembered.
Harry made a few feints and dodges before he spotted the golden globe seconds after Ares.
He set off, and Cho followed close behind, having spotted it herself.
As the snitch flew higher and higher, clouds began to form heavily, and a cold presence appeared.
Not happy with dementors ruining his experience, Ares aimed his hand upwards as if cheering and let loose a spell with as much power as possible, 'aetherius exilium!'
He watched the see-through spell fly upwards and collide with Harry, effectively turning him into an anti-Dementor charm.
They refused to get close, but Harry didn't seem concerned as he raced for the snitch, not realising that Cho had flown away in fear of the evil creatures long ago.
Harry grabbed the snitch, only to be surprised by how close the dementors were and fall off his broom.
He started hurtling down.
Ares felt his eye twitch.
Why was his past self so danger-prone? did he have some kind of curse?
He didn't bother trying to save him as Dumbledore came to Harry's rescue.
Ares could not help but be irritated by how the game had gone; Fudge would need to do something about that.
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9th November 1993. Minister of Magic's Office.
Cornelius Fudge had thought it was terrible when Dumbledore had stormed in here and made his displeasure known about the Dementor incident.
He was more like a cloud drifting along in the sky than the storm that had arrived just now.
Lord Peverell had looked incredibly calm, so Fudge had known something was wrong as that meant he was using his Occulmency to keep himself in check; at least Dumbledore had expressed his anger.
"My dear Minister, you have truly and royally fucked up! I don't appreciate having my son nearly lose his soul, nor does Lucius. We have both decided that it would be best if we suspended any further donations to your re-election campaign until you deal with the menace of dementors. If not dealt with by the end of the week, I will deliver a speech on the subject in the Wizengamoat, and I am afraid you won't come off well in it." Ares said with a voice that cut like a knife.
Fudge could only nod as the man turned around and began to leave.
"Please, Lord Peverell, accept two tickets for your son and yourself to the Quidditch world cup in my box," Cornelius begged.
"That will not be necessary, Cornelius; however, if you resolve this well, I might invite you to my box," Ares said with a small smile and left.
'His box?' The minister thought.
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11th November. Hogwarts.
Albus had been amazed when Cornelius had decided to send the Dementors back to Azkaban and replace them all with highly trained Aurors until he heard about the incident with Lord Peverell from Kinglsey, who had heard it from Amelia.
Albus was grateful to the man and would express his thanks the next time they met.
When they got to know each other better, the man might like to join the order.
A passing thought but an interesting one.
With all the law enforcement around, he was no longer afraid of Sirius and only hoped he was caught soon.
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Peverell Manor
Same time
Sirius couldn't help but sneeze suddenly as if someone had been thinking about him.
He had been amazed when he had woken up and been told he was in the mysterious Lord Peverell's manor. What quickly followed was Dobby, a house elf showing he was in charge by forcing the man to drink several disgusting potions.
He was then told that he would meet a mind healer for regular sessions.
It had been a week since the daily meetings began, and he could already feel the difference, not to mention he was looking a lot better, with his natural skin colour returning. He looked skinny, but a few significant house elf-cooked meals would fix that.
He was keen to see the boy who had saved him again and his father but had been told they were busy and were to return in a month.
He had waited thirteen years in jail. He could survive staying a month in luxury.
After all, he was allowed out in public with glamour and looked forward to getting rid of thirteen years' worth of blue balls.
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11th December 1993
Ares was heading back to his home for Christmas, wanting to get involved with the Wizarding world and catch up with the latest news after being secluded at Hogwarts.
He felt sorry for Harry, but there wasn't much he could do and Ares was sure he would prefer staying with his friends.
He didn't feel like taking the eight-hour journey to Kings Cross, so instead, he just walked to Hogsmeade's outskirts and disappeared with a small pop.
He appeared in a comfy chair next to the fireplace in the sitting room of his manor, ageing himself up as he did so.
The crackle of the fire was incredibly soothing as Ares fell asleep.