Thrown Back.

Some events in HBP and DH are changed/ignored. Dumbledore is alive, kind of, and Remus is alive. The dates are an esstimate, I have no idea if they are right or not, as they make sense one way but not another. Edited: 7-8-09 Eastern time

Chapter one: Arrival

Hogwarts, 1998, or after the Final Battle

The battle had just ended a few days ago. Fred, Collin, Snape, and many others now lay dead. Tonks was in critical condition, Pomfrey wasn't sure if she would live or not. Harry shook his head once more to clear himself of those thoughts as he headed to the Quidditch pitch.

Harry had no real reason of going to the pitch, after all, Quidditch was over. But flying was as much of a calming activity as fun for him. Besides, he wanted to try out that broom Madam Hooch had shown him. But unfortunately, Harry never made it to the pitch.

***

Hogwarts, 1977 (I think), near beginning of seventh year

James was laughing to something Sirius had just said, as was Peter. Remus was smiling, as he was not one given to full blown laughter. Also, it getting dark, so Remus' werewolf senses were helping in making sure no one got injured, not that it was really needed as they were on a well beaten path. Remus glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye: something that sparkled in the moon light. He turned, and started through the slightly longer grass to the object.

"Remus?" It was James.

Remus didn't respond, but continued walking, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the object.

"Moony? Where are you going?"

This time, Remus turned his head to answer Sirius, "I saw something-" he stopped abruptly as he stumbled over something. A body. It was a boy with hair of undeterminable color, emerald green eyes, and a barley noticeable scar under his bangs. He was scrawny; he looked like he could be a fifth year, but something about his face made him seem older than he really was. Remus estimated he was around their age.

The other Marauders crowded around the boy. "Is he dead?" Peter asked nervously.

Remus looked the boy over, "No."

"Dumbledore…"

The four Marauders started at the unexpected voice.

"Need…to….see…Dumble…dore…" the boy rasped out through uneven breathing.

James and Sirius stared at each other, surly his boy needed to Hospital Wing?"

The boy sat up, his breathing evening out, "I'm fine." He stated before anyone could voice the suggestion of the Hospital Wing. Remus looked him over once more, noting that there was nothing wrong with him. "Fine," he allowed, "We'll help you." He offered his hand to the boy to help him up, "I'm Remus Lupin."

The boy took the offered hand, his breath hitched as he heard the name. His eyes reflected his surprise. Only Remus noticed it.

"James Potter," James offered his hand as well.

As the boy stood up, Sirius gave a lopsided grin, "Sirius Black."

"The white sheep in the Black family," James added, grinning as well.

Peter moved into the boy's line of sight, "Peter Pettigrew," he said. The boy's eyes flashed with some emotion at his name.

The boy's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He closed it again, and opened it. This was way too weird.

***

Hogwarts, 1977

Harry was, to put it mildly, shocked. He was in the Marauders time! And only five minutes ago he had been heading to the Quidditch Pitch in 1997. Not only that, he seemed to have lost his glasses, making it very hard to see. At least he knew how he got there. Kind of.

Something on the ground had caught his attention, a gleaming black stone: a pendent. After a minute of looking at it, he reached down and picked up the stone, noting the thin chain it was on. He had stood, contemplating it for a moment, before his hand moved it placed it over his head. The stone felt cold, than warm, against his skin. Thirty seconds later, he found himself falling through air, landing beside the lake, when his eyes opened, he could make out bleary forms that had resemblance to people he knew. He had rasped out his need to see Dumbledore, and the first boy had spoken his name. Remus Lupin. Moony. The only good Marauder alive in his time. The other boys; James Potter, Prongs, his dad. Sirius Black, Padfoot, his godfather. And Pettigrew. The traitor. It was enough for him know where, if not when, he was.

Hogwarts, in the times his parents had attended.

Harry had forced the four boys to leave him at the entrance to the headmaster's office alone, luckily they did with little argument as Dumbledore came around the corner soon, with McGonagall.

"James?" Dumbledore asked, surprised, as he could swear he had just seen the Potter heir in another corridor.

Harry shook his head mutely, marveling over the condition of well being this times Dumbledore was in. His Dumbledore still did not have complete use of his right hand. He recovered from his shock as McGonagall stared down on him, "No, sir."

Dumbledore frowned, then smiled, "Good, because I just saw him less than a minute ago. But, the question remains, who are you?"

Harry hesitated, "I will tell you, but it is not something that can be discussed in the openness of a hallway."

"Very well then," Dumbledore moved to the gargoyle that protected the entrance to his office, "Chocolate Frog." The gargoyle jumped aside, allowing the three access to the spiraling staircase.

Once in Dumbledore's office, he sat down behind his desk, motioning for Harry and McGonagall to do the same. It felt strange to Harry, surreal, to be sitting in the chair he had sat in so often this past year, or was that would be sitting in?

Harry cleared his throat, "My name is Harry Potter. I'm…James Potter's son." McGonagall gasped, while Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "I'm from the future," Harry continued, "1998, to be exact. I can from the year that would have been my 7th, but because of the war I missed it." There, that didn't give too much away. "I know what made me come here, but I don't know how or why, nor do I know how to get back to my time." He finished.

Dumbledore frowned, "Well, it seems that the best thing for you to do would be to attend school here again."

"Seventh year?" Harry asked.

"You said you missed it, it shouldn't be too hard." McGonagall responded

Harry shook his head, "Not at all, Professor McGonagall. It actually might help me, do a year of school where I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived."

"The Boy-Who-Lived?" McGonagall questioned.

Dumbledore interrupted, "If it has too much importance in the future, don't tell us." Harry nodded his agreement. "However, your name is a bit obvious, and your looks."

Harry nodded again, "I know. One thing though, I refuse to change the color of my eyes, and my scar won't go away. Stupid curse scar. So the best bet is the hair."

McGonagall nodded now, "Yes, I would suggest blond or red, as brown is too close to black."

"Red," Harry answered immediately, thinking that blond would make him look too much like a Malfoy.

McGonagall got out her wand and made various motions with it. A few seconds later, Harry stood with dark red hair instead of black. "What about your name?"

Harry looked thoughtful, "how about…."

Five minutes and a Sorting Hat session later, red haired, Evan Pretter exited the Headmaster's office with the help of his invisibility clock. Of course, that factor was unknown to the two professors.

Harry will almost always be refered to by Evan in the narritive. In some conversations, he will be called Harry.

This chapter is short, the next one is a bit longer, I think. I've made nurmours changes to this chapter, and if I missed something, I'm sorry.