Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Darn.

A/N: Yeah, yeah. Another story. I told you, I have a lot of ideas. I don't really have this planned except for in my head, but I plan on changing that.

This is cannon up to the end of Harry's 5th year. After that, it is AU. Yeah, it is a timetravel story, but if you are confused by how it could be cannon, you'll have to read. It is kinda hard to explain. Starts somewhere in the beginning of Harry's 6th year. Yet again, enjoy my madness! Come on, you know you love it!

Chapter 1 - Another Pleasant Detention

"Come, Potter," Snape hissed the moment Harry entered the classroom. Harry hesitated, but he followed. He wanted to ask where exactly they were going, but he didn't dare. He just hoped that Snape wasn't planning on using some random body part for a potion.

In reality, he deserved whatever Snape did to him. He went a little too far. I really need to learn to control my temper, he thought. But around Snape, it was hard. Snape tormented him. Hated him. Harassed, belittled, provoked. . . it all fit. After the incident last year, though, Snape actually had a reason to hate him.

Harry had never really hated Snape. Just the way he treated him. How he treated everyone: Sirius, Neville, Hermione . . . It was no use resisting, really. Snape would never change. Which means that Harry would have to.

Harry started becoming suspicious when they reached the Entrance Hall.

"Sir, where are we going?" he asked. Snape ignored him. "Sir, I'm not supposed to leave the grounds . . ."

"Like that has ever stopped you before, Potter," the man hissed, and Harry started to actually get frightened. Were they truly leaving the grounds? Where was Snape taking him?

"Professor Dumbledore . . ."

"Has approved of this little . . . outing," he said, nastily, and Harry stared wide-eyed at his professor. Snape knew that Voldemort was after him and wouldn't stop at anything. So why would the headmaster agree?

Harry tried to calm himself. He didn't know if they were leaving the grounds. Snape hadn't actually told him where they were going. Following Snape, Harry tried to think of what kind of detention would involve leaving the castle. The only thing he could think of was his first year . . . the Forbidden Forest. Harry stopped when he saw that was indeed where they were headed.


Harry just shook his head. He couldn't go in there. Too many . . . the spiders, the centaurs. . . Death Eaters. It was too dangerous. He didn't want to take unnecessary risks. Not anymore. He had enough deaths.

"Potter! Surely you couldn't be afraid," Snape taunted. Harry just continued to shake his head. How could . . . why did Dumbledore agree to this? "Potter, you will be entering this forest, willingly or not." Harry turned his attention to his professor. Snape surely wouldn't . . . yes, he would. Harry started walking again. He wasn't going to be forced.

"Look for the alphima plant. When you find it, I want the whole plant, roots and all. Put the plants you find in this," he handed a black bag to Harry. "And to make sure you don't get in trouble . . ." Snape snapped something on Harry's wrist.

"Ow! What . . .?"

"A tracking device, in case something happens. Knowing you, something will happen. Always looking for trouble!" Snape hissed.

"I don't look for trouble!"

"Of course not," Snape said, sarcasm strong in his voice. "Poor, spoiled, perfect Potter would never go looking for trouble."

"I am not spoiled!" Harry shouted.

"Of course you are. You get everything you ask for, Potter. I'm sure your relatives treat you exactly as everyone does here," he hissed.

"Yeah, if everyone was you, Professor, then yeah, I suppose they do treat me as everyone here does. And I suppose I was spoiled. They certainly thought I was. I mean, they were so generous to allow me space in their perfect home . . ."

"You are so unappreciative, Potter. I'm sure they gave you the world," Snape hissed. Harry continued as if Snape didn't say anything.

"They allowed me to eat every few days. I was allowed to play Harry Hunting with Dudley. Hell, I was even allowed my own cupboard. And I only had to share it with the spiders that also decided to take up board there." Harry's voice was so full of sarcasm and resentment by the end of his rant that Snape just stared at him. There was no way what the boy just said was true. No, he wouldn't believe it. Potter was just looking for attention.

"Look!" he yelled at Harry, then walked away. Harry just stared after him. He couldn't believe what he just told that . . . git. In an attempt to forget it (because Snape obviously had . . . for now), he started looking for the plant. He did know exactly what it looked like; they studied the plant not too long ago in Herbology. He was glad he didn't have to ask the greasy git what the plant was.

An hour later, Harry was shivering, cold, and tired, but his bag was almost full. Two more plants and he wouldn't be able to put anything more in it without harming the plants. He bent down to dig out another specimen when he heard the crack of a twig behind him. Thinking it was Snape, he ignored it. Snape would only torment him since his bag wasn't full enough.

"And who do we have here?" a very familiar voice questioned. Harry was up with his wand out immediately.

"Lestrange," Harry hissed.

"Potter. I was hoping for this chance. You'll die tonight, Potter. I don't care if my Lord wants you for himself. I have you right here, and you aren't going anywhere. Ala Kalmi!" she screamed. Harry didn't hesitate to throw a stupify her way.

The alarm on the necklace around Snape's neck rang. Snape automatically tore it off, and disapparated with it in his hands, wondering what the boy was able to get himself into.

The second Snape apparated to the spot the necklace brought to, the alarm stopped. He expected some dark creature to have cornered Potter, but the boy wasn't there. But someone else was. Snape walked over to the body laying on the ground.

"Bellatrix LeStrange," he hissed. He checked to see if she was alive, then bound her, taking away her wand. Irritated, but glad the boy decided to run for once, Snape grabbed the necklace again, disapparating. He apparated to the same exact spot. This in itself was cause for panic. It meant the boy was here. Alive. But he wasn't there. He sent an urgent wand-message to Dumbledore.

Harry woke up to Dumbledore's face, and moaned. He attempted to get up, but it hurt too much. He noticed he was still in the forest. Wait . . . still? Harry tried hard to remember what happened. Detention, LeStrange. . .

"Professor, what . . .?"

"Well, I was happening to be strolling along when you appeared. What, I'm not so sure," Dumbledore answered. Harry eyed him suspiciously. One does not just stroll in the Forbidden Forest. "Now, you seem to know who I am, but I am afraid I do not recognize you." This startled Harry.

"Professor! It's me! Harry!"

"I am sorry, but I do not know anyone by the name of Harry."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Harry started, but then looked more closely at Dumbledore. Something was different about him. He looked the same, but he seemed . . . younger. "Professor, what year is it?"

"Why, 1976, of course."

"What! How is that possible!"

"What do you mean, my boy?"

"It can't be 1976! It's 1997!"

"No, I am afraid not. It truly is 1976. It seems we have a little problem."

"A little! I think this constitutes as a little more than a 'little problem'!"

"Yes, yes. Now Mr. . ."


"Potter? Who are your parents?"

"James Potter and Lily Evans," Harry answered slowly.

"This is turning out to be a little more problematic that I originally thought. At least you don't look to be their son."

"What do you mean? Everyone always said I look exactly like my father."

"Perhaps in your time you do, but here, you do not. Come, I do believe you need to go to the infirmary," Dumbledore said, looking over the boy. "Introduce yourself as Harry Woshda, my boy."

"Severus, what happened?"

"I am not sure. Every charm I cast says he is right here. But he is not." Dumbledore looked at the stop Snape pointed to. This spot seemed oddly familiar. Like . . .

"Potter? Who are your parents?" Dumbledore paled.

"Severus, do you remember anything about a boy name Harry Woshda?"

"What? No, I have never heard of him. What does that have to do with Potter?"

"Why can't I remember?" Dumbledore asked himself quietly, then turned to Snape. "I think I may know what happened to Mr. Potter." He cast a location charm again. It indicated he was in the infirmary. The last thing he remembered about the Harry Potter/Woshda.

"How is that possible?"

"I believe, my boy, that Mr. Potter has traveled to the past. 1976, if I remember correctly."

"You are healed, Mr. Woshda. You may leave, but do not do anything strenuous." Harry nodded, then walked to the Headmaster's office.

"What am I going to do, Professor?" Harry asked the man.

"You are in sixth year, correct?"

"Yes . . ."

"Then, until we can figure out how to get you back to your own time, you will attend school as Mr. Harry Woshda."

"But. . ." Harry protested. "I don't think I can handle being around my parents." Or, more specifically, his father. His father, who was a reckless bully, or so it seemed. Harry didn't want to confirm this.

"I am sorry, but you must stay in school." Harry sighed. Fine, he thought. I just won't be in Gryffindor.

"Am I going to be sorted?"

"Of course. At supper tonight, we will announce your arrival. I will say you were at a school in the States until recently. You may make up the rest of your background so it will be easier to remember. Until then, I believe we need to get you some things, like clothes and school supplies."

"I don't have any money."

"Don't worry about that. There are school funds for situations like this."

"People have come from other times before?"

"Not when I have been here, but I have heard of it. It will take some research, but I am sure I will be able to send you back to your own time."

Two hours later, Harry was standing in the doorway of the Great Hall, listening to Dumbledore's speech.

" . . . been home schooled. Mr. Woshda," Dumbledore nodded at him, and Harry walked toward him, the sorting hat, and the stool. He was extremely uncomfortable with everyone staring at him, but he was used to it. Finally, he made it to the front of the Great Hall. He sat on the stood and put the old hat on his head.

"Mr. Potter. So I see I have already sorted you. But that was in a different time, and here you are a different person. Not much different, though. You would do decently in any house, but Slytherin or Gryffindor would suit you best. Hmm . . . this is hard. Being in Gryffindor for the past five some years has shaped you. But . . . yes. You will do great things in SLYTHERIN!" the hat yelled. He heard cheers from them. Of course the rest of the students wouldn't be happy about adding another Slytherin to the house.

Harry sat at the end of the table and added food to his plate. His body welcomed the warm food. He was beginning to think no one would talk to him, which at the current moment was fine, when someone sat down next to him.

"Lucius Malfoy," the boy introduced himself. "I am in seventh year." Harry just stared at him for a moment. This was Malfoy. Act Slytherin, you fool! He yelled at himself.

"Harry Woshda. Sixth year." Malfoy nodded, then left. That was weird.

After supper, Harry didn't know what to do. He was the last Slytherin out of the Great Hall, and he stood in Entrance Hall, not remembering how to get to the Slytherin dorms. Harry was about to find Dumbledore when he heard a voice behind him.

"Lost already?" Snape! Harry turned around.

"Yeah. I don't know how to get to the Slytherin dorms. I kinda forgot to ask." Snape nodded.

"I am going there now. I'll show you. I'm Severus Snape, sixth year." It was weird . . . Snape being civil. Okay, it was a much younger Snape, but still.

"Harry Woshda. I'm also a sixth year." They walked in silence for a while.

"Do you like Hogwarts so far?" Snape asked.

"It seems nice."

"You'll probably get lost at first. The stairwells move, so sometimes it is hard to navigate to classes. You get use to it, though." Harry nodded, not knowing what to say. There was something about Snape. He's not bitter, Harry thought.

Snape stared at this cup of tea, remembering. But not remembering enough. Woshda. Dumbledore asked about him earlier. . . was Potter him? Why didn't he look like himself? Why couldn't he remember anything past meeting him?

He needed to talk to the Headmaster.

"Severus, you're supposed to help me with my potions," a girl said flatly as soon as Harry and Snape entered the common room.

"Yeah. Just let me show Harry the sixth year room, Selena," he answered just as flatly. Selena looked at Harry.

"You're that new kid."

"Yes." Harry didn't know what else to say to that.

"Selena Snape, fifth year."

"Harry Woshda, sixth year," Harry replied. He wondered how many times he was going to have to say that. Did everyone here introduce their year with their name? Then it hit him.

"Are you two related?"

"Siblings," they both answered, smiling, a total change from how they were a few seconds earlier. Harry nodded. Even on this younger Snape, it was weird to see him smile. I'll have to start calling him Severus, Harry thought, not knowing what to think about that. It seems he didn't know what to think about anything lately.

"Come on, Harry, I'll show you our dorm." Harry followed down a small corridor, then down a few steps, into a room. "That looks to be your bed. It wasn't here before," Severus said, pointing to a bed in the corner. There were eight other beds. "So, do you have your timetable yet?" Harry nodded, and took the piece of paper out of his robes.

"Hey, we have the same schedule. You're not taking any extra classes?"


"Well, that's good we are in the same classes. I'll be able to show you around, so you can't get lost." Harry smiled. He just couldn't believe that this boy was going to grow up to be his hated Potions Professor. Which reminded him. . .

"So, what are the teachers like?"

"Well, Professor Slughorn is our Head of House – have you met him yet? – and our Potions professor. He's all right, I suppose. Professor Eiken is the current Defense teacher. Stay away from him, he has a prejudice against Slytherin. Chances are we'll have a new one next year. They never last more than three terms. McGonagall is the Head of House of Gryffindor and teaches transfiguration. She doesn't like Slytherin very much, but she doesn't treat us too unfairly. Stay away from the Gryffindors, though. Sprout's interesting. If you are good at Herbology, she'll like you. Flitwick is a little too energetic for my taste. He teaches charms."

"Hmm," Harry replied.

"Yeah. Well, I better go help Sel before she comes and hexes me." Snape – Severus – left. Harry was surprised that most of his teachers were the same. Only defense and potions were different, and reasons for both were obvious. Harry sighed and started unpacking his books, putting them on the shelf right next to his bed, something that Gryffindor didn't have.


"Harry. Harry! Come on, it's time to get up!" a voice called.

"Ugh. Come on, Ron, let me sleep."

"I'm not Ron, I'm Severus. Come on, before I spell cold water on top of you." This did catch Harry's attention. "Come on, breakfast is almost over."


"Yeah, damn," he answered, then sat down on his bed, which was right next to Harry's, and picked up his book again. Harry shook his head and changed.

"I'm ready, let's go." Sn–Severus raised an eyebrow, but got up.

"You might want to get your potions things. We probably won't have time to come back, even though potions is here in the dungeons. You slept very late."

"Oh, shut up," Harry mumbled, but got his potions stuff.

Breakfast went all right. He met a few more people, but most of them weren't interested in getting to know Harry. Oddly, Harry was happy about his. People were treating him as an actual person, not as the boy-who-lived. After breakfast was another matter, though.

"Snivellus, have a lanky now, do you?"

"Shove off, Potter," Severus said. Harry stopped breathing. No, he thought.

"Planning on teaching the new kid your Snivelling ways?"

"I told you, shove off."

"No, I don't think so, eh Prongs? I think our fun as just double," a younger version of Sirius' voice said. Harry got mad. They didn't even know him, and they were planning on harassing him.

"Go be gits somewhere else. You aren't wanted here," Harry said.

"It speaks!" Harry glared at Black (he couldn't think of this boy as anyone else), then turned his attention to the two Marauders who haven't spoken anything yet: Moony and Wormtail. He got his wand ready; he had a feeling he was going to need it. But he wasn't going to be teased in anyway. He had enough of that before he started Hogwarts.

"Yes, I do speak," Harry said. "I don't see them speaking. Do they speak? Or are they dumb?"

"Why you slimy little . . ." Black and Potter had their wands out.

"Little what? So you can gang up on us, make fun of us, but we can't fight back? I don't think so. If you even try to hex me, or Severus, I'll hex you into oblivion. And don't think I can't. I probably know more hexes that all four of you put together."

"Yeah right," Potter said, but was starting to sound wary.

"Yes, right. Now get out of my sight. I don't want to see you again unless you plan on being civil." Harry continued down the corridor toward the dungeons. Severus followed, eyes narrow at Harry.

"You can obviously take care of yourself." Harry looked at Severus and shrugged.

"I don't like people who torment someone just because they exist," Harry said flatly, but his voice cracked near the end. Severus noticed, but didn't say anything about it.

Remus sat staring at the book in is lap. The memory came suddenly, unexpected. Woshda stood up to them. And he seemed genuinely mad. But that, and Woshda's sorting, was all Remus could remember about him.

They arrived at the potions classroom, and Harry groaned.

"What, don't like potions?"

"It's not that I don't like them. My Potions professor at my old school didn't like me. In fact, he hated me. Did everything in his power to show it," Harry said, not believing that he was saying this to the future aforementioned professor. "During my first year, no matter how well I did something, I would get the same grade. So I just . . . stopped trying." Severus just smirked at him, so Harry glared back.

"We'll have to fix that," Severus whispered to Harry once they sat down. "By the end of the year, I'll have you loving potions." Harry just smirked at shook his head, wondering how in the world he befriended his future greasy git potions master. Perhaps because he is one of the few who are talking to you. Slughorn entered. All Harry was able to think was that the name fit.

"So, we have a new student, do we? Well, I've never had a new student start late, but hopefully you'll do fine. Now, we will be brewing a light sleeping drought. Who can tell me what is so difficult about this potion? No one? Mr. Snape, how about you?"

"The potion is difficult because it is a light sleeping drought," he said, as if it were the most obviously thing in the world. "Adding too much or too little in wrong proportions of certain ingredients could be dangerous to the drinker."

"Correct, five points to Slytherin. You were all suppose to read the fifth chapter, pertaining to sleeping droughts. Mr. . . Woshda? Have you read this chapter?" Harry turned to the fifth chapter. He actually had. Recently, too.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, closing his book.

"Good, good. Okay, books away, everyone. The ingredients are on the board. You have forty minutes to order the ingredients and write the directions. I want silence. Begin."

Harry stared at the board. I should know this, we worked on this potion like . . . what, two days ago?

Thirty five minutes later, Harry was sure he got the order of the ingredients correct, but he wasn't sure about a few steps. Something didn't seem right about adding the raot juice. If he remembered correctly, the best way to fix raot juice was to use a dull blade, but it didn't seem to fit in with the book.

"Okay, hand in your parchments, then you may leave," Slughorn said. Harry handed his in after Severus and walked out with him.

"Well, that was easy," Severus stated. Harry looked at him as if he was mad.

"You sure you don't belong in Ravenclaw? It wasn't too hard, but it wasn't easy!"

"You overreact, Harry," was all Severus said.


"What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about?" Severus asked.

"He just wanted to know how I was fitting it. My old school was about the same size, so I don't know why," Harry answered, the irritation clear in his voice. It was a very unnerving meeting. He looked at the cauldron in front of Severus. "What are you doing?"

"Experimenting," Severus answered, his irritation matching Harry's. Harry raised his eyebrow.

"Ookay. I figured that. I mean, what exactly are you trying to brew?"

"Oh. People usually don't mean that when they ask that question. I'm trying to work on a pain numbing potion. One you can apply to the skin."

"Oh. That could be useful," Harry said, actually interested. It had a lot of possibilities.

"Yeah, but I can't get it to the right thickness without the thickener reacting somehow with some other ingredient."

"Hmm. I wish I could help."

"Do you really?"

"Yeah. Potions theory interests me, to a point. It's the patience of actually brewing from directions that I lack. That, and a teacher who was willing to teach me."

"Like I said, we'll work on that."

"Right. I'm going to bed. The others will be up soon. I don't know what they were doing, but it was annoying."

"Most of what they do is annoying. Night."


"So you think that Woshda is truly Potter."

"I know, Severus. He introduced himself to me as Harry Potter."

"And I befriended him. How did that happen?"

"I suppose because you were kind to him. He always had the tendency to be loyal to those who were kind to him. I'm afraid he hadn't had a lot of kindness," Dumbledore said sadly. "I should have check up on him before he came to Hogwarts."

"What do you mean?" Snape asked.

"You'll have to ask him yourself. I promised not to tell," was his answer.