Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the sole property of J.K. Rowling. I am not in any way affiliated with Ms. Rowling or with Warner Bros. Entertainment. I merely borrow her world for a short time to play around in, and receive no monetary compensation for doing so.

Spoilers: This story takes into account everything in the Harry Potter series up to, and including, book 5. There are no spoilers in this series for HBP, and my own version of sixth year (one of them anyway) can be found in the companion piece to the Healing series.

Healing

Part One

The final battle between Harry Potter and the Dark Lord Voldemort was a spectacular sight to the Muggle, or non-magical, witnesses from the neighborhood in Surrey. The spectacular sight was one they would never remember. By dawn they would either be dead, killed by Death Eaters, or on their way to work as though nothing had happened, memory charmed by The Ministry of Magic. Figures in robes and cloaks shot beams of light at each other. There were creatures there that were thought to be mythological: giants, elves, centaurs, vampires, and some they had no names for.

The Muggles had been awakened in the middle of the night by a loud explosion at Number Four Privet Drive. The summer after Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Witchery the teenage wizard was betrayed by someone close to him. Determining exactly who had done the betraying would have to wait. As soon as Voldemort had attacked the wards surrounding the house of Harry's uncle and aunt, Albus Dumbledore was notified that something was horribly wrong. He gathered every member of the Order of the Phoenix and alerted the Ministry to send every wizard they could find.

The Muggles watched as the hooded and masked figures surrounded the suburban house. Other figures in robes appeared out of nowhere to fight off the attackers. The fight was like no other they had ever seen. These people were fighting by pointing sticks at each other and shooting jets of light out of the ends of the sticks. The lights were coming out in all colors of the rainbow. The muggles all felt a shiver creep up their spines at the sickly green light that felled anyone it hit instantly. They kept their distance, not wanting to get hit by the light. One of them flinched when the light headed their way, only to be stopped by some invisible force.

What shocked them most was when the teenager they thought was a dangerous criminal was the only one to exit the house to fight the invaders. When they saw him wield a stick of his own they were further surprised. Some of them assumed that the Potter boy had killed the Dursleys their sleep. Others thought he was protecting his adoptive family and felt with a pang of guilt that they had misjudged the boy. They disliked the Dursleys in general and considered that perhaps Vernon and Petunia had been lying all these years. After all, they thought Dudley was wonderful and that boy was monster. Mrs. Figg was not at all hesitant to inform anyone who would listen to her that Harry had been horribly mistreated by the Dursleys and was no criminal. She kept a mental list of every Muggle who was watching for the Ministry.

They saw creatures and humans dying on the immaculately trimmed lawns. What they didn't see was the terrible grief etched on Harry Potter's face. The sixteen-year-old wizard had seen a friend die two years ago. He watched his godfather's murder one year ago. Just this year he was unable to help as he witnessed the death of another boy who he thought was his enemy and killed for the first time. The truth was discovered too late. This evening he saw several people he loved fall. The muggles watched the sixteen-year-old battling with his own stick. They were amazed to see attacker after attacker fall to the teenager and jets of green light. He moved faster than anyone else on the field and the jets of light shooting out his stick came at an astonishing rate. The light that hit him seemed to have no effect.

One of the attackers was particularly frightening. The black cloaked figure was tall and thin. His face had two slits instead of a nose and red snake-like eyes. Almost from the beginning of the battle this frightening figure was fighting with the oldest man the muggles had ever seen. He had long flowing white hair and his white beard reached his waist but moved as a man in his twenties would. The fight between the two was mesmerizing. When one of the green jets of light hit the old man the muggles became even more afraid. A few of them saw the change on Harry Potter's face as he engaged the snake faced man in battle. The grief hardened into hatred and determination as Harry battled the Dark Lord.

Those nearby were amazed that Harry was taunting Voldemort. When the Dark Lord finally attacked, The-Boy-Who-Lived was ready. He shouted his curse at the same moment, triggering the connection between their wands and springing his trap. The golden cage spanned out from the two wands, encasing the two wizards who had so much in common yet were so very different. Harry was also ready for this. He whipped another wand out from the sleeve of his robes and shouted. Avada Kedavara! The beam of green light that shot out of the wand was so bright that some of the Muggles shielded their eyes.

Voldemort was consumed by the glowing green light that flowed from Harry Potter in a continuous stream. His body was lifted off the ground and the green light pulsated around him. The area was plunged into darkness as both wizards dropped, the green light extinguished. As the Dark Lord Voldemort fell a wave of pure energy shot outwards, knocking everyone in a ten-block radius to the ground and breaking windows in the immediate area.

Minerva McGonagall stood, surrounded by carnage. She immediately began to magically bind any surviving Death Eaters. The dark wizards did not fight, in shock from the death of their Master. A few disapparated and would have to be hunted down, but that was what aurors were for. Other members of the Order and Ministry employees were doing the same work as her. There were a few Ministry officials who gathered together the Muggles who had been spectators to the battle. She saw a bright flash as the Group Memory Charm was cast. Arabella Figg directed the Ministry wizards in returning the Muggles to the proper houses. The squib was appreciated by the wizarding world for the first time in her life. Minerva's throat closed as she came upon the body of her closest friend, her mentor and colleague.

"Oh Albus," she choked out as she kneeled by the headmaster's body, "you didn't see it. You didn't see Harry win."

She remembered with a gasp the events she spoke of and started to search frantically for her student. With so many people there the diminutive boy would be easy to miss. She pushed past wizards and witches; her eyes wide open for a glimpse of messy raven hair and bright green eyes. She inquired of everyone she saw if they had seen Harry. Soon word spread that she was looking for him. With all the Death Eaters who they captured bound and guarded, a full scale search for the savior of the wizarding world began. Minerva reached the front yard of the Dursley home. The despicable family had stayed inside the entire time, only venturing forth once quiet descended.

She stood beside the corpse of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort. Shaking, she reached out and verified for herself that he was dead. The grass around him was broken and bent down in a circular pattern, expanding out from the evil wizard like a ripple in water. She crawled to the spot where Harry had stood as he cast the final curse of the second war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The pattern in the grass remained the same. Harry had never hit the ground.

Memory charms cannot be reversed by magic. They do not heal with time. On vary rare occasions extreme shock is the only thing can recover the blocked memories. As Minerva searched, almost in panic, for any sign of Harry Potter a dam in her mind broke and the events of twenty years ago flooded into her mind. She stopped in place as though she had hit an invisible brick wall. Molly Weasley approached her, examining the face of the Deputy Headmistress, now Headmistress, with the practiced eye of a mother of seven.

"Minerva, what is it? Where is Harry?" Molly asked. She saw hope and relief in the Scottish woman's face.

"I don't know where he is, but I know he'll be back," she said. No one else could get a word out of her that evening. No one would have believed her if they did.

Minerva returned to Hogwarts and stood before the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Albus Dumbledore's office, now her office. It moved aside without a password to reveal the moving spiral stone stairs. She stepped on and walked into the office, greeting Fawkes. The phoenix flew to her shoulder, as it never had before. She stroked his feathers and his song lightened her heart. She sat at the desk to wait. There was an envelope on the desk addressed to her. She opened it and pulled out the parchment. The headmaster's familiar script was etched across the pages. She began to read.

Minerva McGonagall walked out through the main doors of Hogwarts. This fall would see her twenty-first year as Professor of Transfiguration. She still remembered the day she had moved into her staff quarters at the castle where she had been a student only two years before she began to teach. When she had received the invitation from Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, to join the Hogwarts staff, she had replied instantly. He had vacated the post of Professor of Transfiguration to lead the school. Minerva McTavish was ecstatic when she told her fiancé William McGonagall the good news. She wiped away a tear at the memory of her deceased husband. He had fallen in the fight against Voldemort early on in the war. He was one of the first victims, a talented young auror in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She walked across the castle grounds as the morning fog lifted off the lake in the bright summer sun. This would be her first year as Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. The Potions Professor who had held the position retired after the previous spring. His only child had been killed in the war and he had decided to move back to America with his broken-hearted wife, as far away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as they could get. The war between the sides of light and dark was tearing apart the wizarding world. It had been ten years since You-Know-Who had started to gather followers and there was no end in sight. While the Ministry fought and rallied the country, everyone understood that the real resistance was at Hogwarts, with Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard You-Know-Who feared.

Minerva turned away from the lake and towards the quidditch pitch. Her route took her next to the cottage where the groundskeeper and Keeper of the Keys lived. She then walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest and across the quidditch pitch. Occasionally one of the centaurs would venture to the edge of the forest and greet her. Once she even saw one of the rare unicorns that lived in the forest. The truly dangerous creatures did not come near the edges, as they were afraid of Albus. Minerva was constructing a syllabus for her fifth year students in her mind and tripped as she walked along the edge of the quidditch stands. Turning to see why, she saw a pile of black robes. The crumpled figure in black school robes open over cotton pajama pants shocked her.

She rushed to the side of the still form and felt for a pulse. It was there, though faint. Gently rolling the child over, she received yet another shock. In the dim early morning light the boy looked exactly like James Potter, the seventh year Gryffindor that would be Head Boy this year. She would have thought it was James had the boy been taller and his hair solid black. Racking her brain she remembered that James was an only child, the last of the Potter line. Despite the white hairs interspersed in the black his face was that of teenager. She stood and took out her wand to conjure a stretcher for the injured boy. She and Albus could identify him later. Now she had to get him to Poppy's care.

Once Madam Pomfrey assured her the boy would survive despite numerous dark curses, Minerva turned to fetch the Headmaster. Albus must be informed of the strange child found injured on the castle grounds. With reports of Death Eater attacks every week witches and wizards were being more cautious than usual. At Hogwarts, though, it was assumed you could let your guard down. Minerva had noticed the Gryffindor colors on the neck of the boy's bloodied robes. She knew all the students in her house and this was not one of them. She opened the door to the hospital wing to find Albus standing there, about to enter. There was no surprise there. The Headmaster always knew what was happening in his school. Minerva suspected that half the house-elves worked purely as spies, reporting everything to the kind white haired wizard. There were also the portraits, suits of armour, ghosts, and various statues in the castle that could inform the old man.

"Minerva," he began, "I hear you had a bit of a shock this morning."

"Yes Albus," she said as she led him to the child's bed. "This boy..."

At that moment the boy woke. When he opened his eyes Minerva was shocked for the third time in only one hour. The eyes were a dazzling emerald green. Only one other person she had ever met had eyes of that color. This child had the same eyes as Lily Evans, another seventh year Gryffindor and this year's Head Girl. The eyes lit up with a sparkle exactly like the one often seen in the pale blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore when he saw the headmaster.

"Albus," the child exclaimed happily. "I thought you were... I saw you... then I must be dead too." His face changed to an expression of sadness and his gaze shifted to meet her eyes. "Minerva! I thought you had survived." He took in his surroundings. "If I'm dead what the hell am I doing in the Hogwarts hospital wing? Haven't I spent enough time here?" He went into a fit of coughing and a hand went to his forehead. His muscles contracted with obvious pain.

The headmaster's brow furrowed in deep thought. He handed a vial of some healing potion to the boy, who grimaced and swallowed it in one pull between coughs. His coughs quieted and he rubbed the odd cut on his forehead as though it itched. "You are not dead child, and neither are we. Professor McGonagall found you on the grounds this morning."

The boy's expression mirrored the one Albus had worn moments earlier. His face suddenly cleared and he began to laugh. "That was one hell of a nightmare this time then. I thought it was summer, and Voldemort," Minerva flinched, "killed you. Then I killed Voldemort in the front yard on Privet Drive and woke up here. All the muggles from the neighborhood were watching and the whole Order was there to fight Voldemort." His laughter faded as he saw Minerva flinch for the third time. "What's wrong? You stopped flinching at his name last year."

"There seems to be some confusion here. You know us quite well, but neither one of us knows you," Minerva said.

The boy's eyes widened. He looked around quickly and saw his wands on the bedside table. He grabbed the one made of the lighter wood, holly Minerva thought, and held it in his lap, poised for use. His eyes shifted back and forth between Minerva and Albus suspiciously.

The headmaster spoke before the boy could do anything rash. "What is your name?"

The boy eyed Albus thoughtfully before speaking, "Someone must have obliviated the both of you. I'm Harry Potter, you know, the-boy-who-lived," Minerva gasped and covered her mouth with her hand in reaction to the surname.

"I am pleased to meet you Harry, though to be honest your surname does not surprise me. With the exception of the eyes and your height you are the mirror image of James. What relation are you? I have been under the impression he is an only child." Albus did not respond to the accusation of memory loss or the boy who lived comment.

"He was an only...what is the date?" Realization seemed to be dawning on the boy.

"Was, you say? Today is the thirty-first of July, 1977." All color drained from the boy's face and his hand on his forehead tightened.

"I haven't even been born yet," he said in horror before slipping back into unconsciousness.

"Albus, what is this?" Minerva managed to speak.

"I think it is quite clear Minerva. Somehow Harry, whose parentage is quite obvious even if they are not yet dating, was transported back in time after I died and he killed Voldemort. There is no need to fear his name Minerva. Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself. Anyway, Harry said you stopped fearing his name in the future, so you might as well save yourself time and stop now." Albus said.

Minerva laughed, "But then I would be changing the course of history Albus. Harry remembers when I stopped flinching at You-Know-Who's name." She was feeling a bit better. Time travel was unusual in the wizarding world, but not unheard of. The Ministry did have a select number of time turners that could send someone back a number of hours. This boy had to have traveled at least eighteen years, though, and that was very rare. "I wonder how he got here... and how we will get him back."

"He will have to stay here until we find a way. He is young enough that he must still be a student. He will have to be disguised, though. His resemblance to Lily and James is too uncanny. How shall we do that..." the headmaster smiled at the challenge.

"Isn't it obvious Albus?" Minerva said with a chuckle. "Give him blond hair and blue eyes. Alexander can brew a potion for that, or you can yourself. He may look like a smaller version of James with the eyes of Lily Evans, but his facial expressions are yours. I believe your future protégé is in that bed."

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