Chapter One

The Boy Who Traveled Through Time

"Is Draco alive?" she asked, a mother's worry lacing every syllable of her words. "Tell me, please, Potter. Is he alright? " She whispered these words into his ear, urgency ringing, bleeding into her tone.

Never mind how twisted and evil her son was, she only wanted him back.

Harry took a moment to look into her eyes, gazing at her pale face, admiring the strength he saw there, not the beauty. He almost hesitated saying those words, words that could relieve her of her pain and sorrow, simply because he wasn't sure if it was wise.

In a moment she would tell Lord Voldemort that Harry Potter was alive. In a moment he would be back where he started, taking up arms against an enemy that he had no chance of defeating. An enemy, who, ironically, was one of the last remaining relatives he had, seeing as both of them were descendants of the Hollow brothers.

Destiny must have a sense of irony.

"Narcissa, our Lord wants to know the state of the Potter boy. Tell us if he lives or dies, it cannot be that difficult!" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed in the distance, appearing to strain to keep herself from moving nearer to his body, if only to tear it apart.

Harry gripped his wand, the urge to curse her overtaking his common sense, and breathed in, calming himself. He gritted his teeth, hoping that he had the strength to keep from letting his feelings control him, and to prevent throwing himself into another unplanned problem.

This wasn't the time for error. If he made one mistake, everyone would suffer, and perhaps worse than before, because he knew that then they would all take up arms once again, only then it would be their last stand.

Narcissa Malfoy stared at him sadly, eyes threatening to break into tears, but she held it in. If she revealed her feelings about this matter, it would seem to be treason. "Please tell me, I beg you!" she whispered. Her face was inches from his own, so close, he could smell the scent of blood, sweat, and misery, mixed in with malice for the people around her.

He closed his eyes, let out a breath and decided that he needed to tell her this, only so that he wouldn't feel guilty cursing her later, after she betrayed him. "Yes," he said. "He is alright. We saved him." His green eyes challenged her, daring her to tell the Dark Lord.

Narcissa sighed, looking relieved, and she knelt down and touched his pulse, on his neck. For a fraction of an instant Harry almost stabbed the blond mother with his wand, but allowed her to do what she was doing so that he could get back a bit of his power. It probably wouldn't be enough to battle the hordes of evil around him, but perhaps he could cause a distraction to let others escape.

The blond woman touched his cheek, caressing it as a mother should, and maybe something more. "So young," she muttered. Harry almost shivered, hearing the coldness in those words. He was young, the same age as her son, yet he was fighting against an evil man with everything he had.

He knew in his heart that when the day was done, he would die. Whether it was Voldemort, the Death eaters, or an enemy he made along the way that did the deed, this was the end of the road for Harry James Potter. Harry's sweaty fingers wrapped around the wand in his hand, and he brought it close to his chest, for in the next instant, the female Malfoy would declare to the world that Harry Potter was alive.

Harry was about to attack. Until-

"He is dead," she said, turning her ashen face in Bellatrix Lestrange's direction. "Harry Potter has left us." She looked at him, one last time, before looking back away. "Forever."

"Finally!" the evil witch in black shrieked. "My Lord, he is dead! Dead! Little Bitty Potty is dead! Wheee! You killed him my Lord, you slew him! Ha! Hahahaha! Bellatrix laughed. Her voice broke, cracking with every breath she took, and yet she laughed, despite the pain in her gut from wounds inflected by the Dark Lord himself.

Her eyes darted to the back of her head, and drool slipped through her mouth. Anyone watching moved away from her. There was no doubt that the woman had gone mad a long time ago. The fact that she didn't make any attempt to hide her insanity only added to her repulsiveness. "Potty is dead! Potty is dead! Ickle Potty shot in the head! Hahah! Hahaha! See how are Master triumphs, Cissy?"

The dark eyes of predator looked at her sister. She wiped the saliva from her mouth, watching for any sign of weakness from Narcissa, seeing if the sister she held dear was lying to her. The blond looked back at the brunette coldly, blue eyes looking back at brown. Bellatrix smiled. "My Lord, are you not pleased?"

Lord Voldemort did not say a word during this encounter. His frozen snake face fell to the corpse of Harry Potter, who lay curled at the foot of the field, where Narcissa hovered over him. She looked defeated. Voldemort's mouth twisted into a crooked smile, his slitted eyes narrowed, and he chuckled. It became louder, so loud it shook the spines of his victims who huddled close to each other, sending fear to anyone who heard all.

"This was your savior!" he shouted, pointing to the boy, who Narcissa still held, in her arms. "You expected this-" Spit flew from his mouth, as if the word tasted bitter in his mouth. "To defeat the greatest wizard of all time."

He shook his head. "Oh, what fools these mortals be," he said, smiling like the snake that he was. "To quote the mudblood poet that these vermin are so fond of."

"Now all that is left is to burn the body," he said. He raised his wand, letting out a flame whip that transformed itself into a giant serpent. It wrapped around in the air, and opened its maw directing itself to the body of Harry Potter.

However before the whip could strike the boy, a great roar thundered across the field, sending people running. "Spiders and Centaurs! Both are attacking!"

Lord Voldemort directed his whip to a nearby horde that got out of the flames' way, and scattered to fight the Death Eaters. The people in the crowd who had, moments ago, given up in the face of this enemy now ran around in a fray hoping to save their lives. The Dark Lord was one thing, but blood-thirsty spiders that could eat you alive was completely another.

Hermione, Ron and Hagrid tried to get past the storming crowds, to get to Harry's body, but everyone was in a melee of panic, making that hard to accomplish. "Death Eaters! To me!" shouted Lord Voldemort. "Do not be afraid, my minions, they are but spiders!"

The enemy of the evil one closed in on Lord Voldemort, their panic telling them to strike down the serpent before he got all his power back. Ronald Weasley was leading the way. Lord Voldemort didn't even wince, when the ground transformed around him into another beast, instead sending it forth through the crowds. Ron was too busy keeping the giant reptile at bay to deal with the Dark Lord, and Hermione followed.

Bodies were smashed, blood oozing from the carcasses of the innocent. The Death Eaters followed their Lord's example sending out killing curses here and there, most of them hit, and those that didn't made many scatter. "We have to fight back! Harry would have wanted us too" Hermione shouted, from the heart of all this.

This wasn't the time to play the game of chance, so the crowd sent back spells just as dark. Many weren't very good at it, but with the fear and rage they felt at this moment, at the death of Harry, many found a side of themselves that they didn't know was there.

The hostages of Lord Voldemort were scattered and there was no real order in their groupings, some of them fought back, but most just died from the attack of the spiders.

Eventually, the centaurs were attacking the Death Eaters, and so were the civilians. Lord Voldemort was slowly pushed back, but that wouldn't be for long, since he would get all his power back soon enough.

Harry, in this chaos, hid himself under a cloak of invisibility and shielded anyone he knew.

He saw the crying form of Andromeda Tonks kneeling over the dead body of her daughter. Harry felt something pierce his soul seeing that. He turned another direction and saw Molly Weasley directing her children further into the battle.

He turned another direction and witnessed all his professors coming into the fray, trying to defend the weak and helpless, who far outnumbered the defenders. Everyone was fighting now, now that the weak were filtered, and even with his death they hadn't given up. It gave him power, it gave him purpose and Harry would see the death of the Dark Lord through at this moment. Believe me when I say, I'll end this.

Full power or not, Harry was going to destroy this man, this monster of a snake, who threatened to destroy everyone precious to him. He had watched Voldemort block dozens of killing curses with ease, he had watched him stomp over his enemies as if they were ants, but Harry was not afraid. He is only human, I can beat him.

Harry was shielding, and dodging all of his enemies, under the cloak that protected against everything vile. It was when he was near the platform, where the Dark Lord stood, that he removed his cloak.

The Dark Lord looked at the boy in surprise, then smiled like the animal that he was. His eyes stared at his own, looking into his mind. "You still survive, Potter?"

Everyone paused when they saw that the Dark Lord had stopped raining fire on the battlefield. They watched in awe as the teen they previously thought dead stood in front of the man, unyielding, like a knight. Harry raised his wand to do battle. "You won't win." The simple fact made the Dark Lord scowl.

He was sure the boy was in the afterlife, how could the Killing Curse not work? The least it should have done was brought him back as a zombie.

"You aren't the Master of Death." Lord Voldemort looked at the boy with fury, then held it back, getting control. He wouldn't play into this teen's game. He was the Dark Lord, he did not just play, he won. "You will never succeed, I will stop you."

The crowd wasn't sure what to make of this. In one hand they wanted Harry to win, on the other they begged him to step down. How could a boy younger than almost all of them defeat such an invincible-seeming force? Such courage and bravery was not seen often in the wizarding world, not in a world of racism, specism, and ignorance.

This was a world where people could turn their backs on you in an instant, where men clung to the old ways and did not let go. This sort of self-sacrifice was something the people were not used to. Seeing it before their very eyes, it was almost like miracle, almost like a new kind of magic.

"Very well." The Dark Lord stepped forward. He smiled in contempt at his foe. "This will be the last time, boy."

Harry didn't say anything. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, he would scream- not in fear, but in rage- and never stop. The person before him had done much to make his life hell, and Harry was more than willing to return such a favor.

"Good bye, Harry Potter."

The first thing Harry saw when he opened his eyes was the vast blue sky.

It went on forever, only hindered by a few clouds that breezed gently across, like balls of cotton. His body felt as if it had gone through a storm, as if a blizzard had frozen it, then defrosted itself into the fires of hell, then torn him apart in a cyclone.

Harry had no second guesses about what happened.

He died.

That was both plain and simple. The killing curse had hit him and torn him out of the mortal realm. Now the question had become: where was he?

This must have been the afterlife, the great adventure that Sir Albus had always talked about.

He couldn't get up, one more try and he gave up. When his strength returned he would try again.

Harry couldn't move his hands or feet, nor did he want to. He bent his neck to the side and saw that he was on a street, to be more specific he was in front of an alley, a very filthy one. Harry wondered if he should find this place familiar since it seemed like he had been here before.

A part of him told him that it didn't matter, that this was just any old place, London was filled with slums. He should be focusing on what was really important.

His death.

For now, he was alright looking at the clouds. Harry did that when he felt the pressure the world had always given him in his life, or previous life, technically. Now that he was dead, he wondered if all the worries he had were pointless.

"Did Voldemort win?" he whispered. He threw a killing curse at the Dark Lord as well and he had watched it strike the man, watched as his wand flew out of his hands and into the forest. "I am sure I touched him, the green ray was the last thing I saw, surely that must have been what he saw as well."

He hoped Neville had destroyed the snake. That was all that was left. If the snake survived, the nightmare would repeat itself, and Harry Potter's great sacrifice would be for nothing.

He was now the boy who was killed, he was sure of that. The orphan didn't need to know what his new title would be, but if he had to guess, it would be the boy who defeated the Dark Lord the second time. Hopefully someone wouldn't need to defeat him for a third win.

The clouds were gathering in the sky, and Harry wondered if rain would come soon.

On days like this his aunt would make him go outside and garden, it didn't matter how stormy the outside world looked, it was the best time for certain plants to absorb water, and her dear old nephew was the boy for the job.

"Sadly, I think I might miss her as well," Harry said to himself.

The orphan smiled at the image of what the Dursleys would do now that he was gone, he wondered if they would actually hire someone to clean out the gutters, they were too cheap to pay someone to do that, after all.

He wondered about his friends, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and all the rest. They were so important to him, they were closer to him than the clothes on his body, albeit considering that the clothes on his body were mostly Dudley's it probably wasn't much of an analogy.

He rolled to the side and tried to crawl into the alley. He wanted to get into some shade before the storm came. His slow crawling hadn't alerted anyone on the streets, yet, since they were all looking for shelter. It said a lot about the morals of the people of London when they just ignored a half-dying boy on the curb of the street.

I can barely move. He felt numb. I just want… to...

Harry closed his eyes, and for the second time that day, all that covered him was darkness. Like the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs, like the darkness in the chamber of secrets, like the one in his soul, sinking into his mind, like liquid poison from the scar that was a Horcrux.

No. Not this time.

In an instant he opened them. If he let the darkness take him again, he wouldn't have any more control of his life, he wanted to know where his next destination was. Whether it was heaven or hell, he would face it.

Slowly, energy returned to him, power that came from his very soul, a soul tainted by evil. Harry Potter ground his teeth together and fought through the pain.

He had been bruised and battered, but wouldn't stop here. This wasn't the ending that he was hoping for. C'mon, Potter. What would Luna say if she saw you now? Probably something retarded.

He stood up with both feet, straightening up into the heaven, his knees strong. Harry breathed in, trying to fill his lungs with life. He hated the way he was just then, so weak and powerless, always letting others fight for him.

The first time he fought his own battle and he died, but he took down his enemy with him.

At least, he hoped he had.

He made his way into the alley, the darkness becoming less oppressive. He started seeing things clearer for the first time since coming here. This was a place he knew of, a place of safety, sanctuary. "But there's something off about this place," he muttered. "It looks like Number 12, but I don't remember these bins being here."

Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Hidden in the darkness was the manor that was the last thing Sirius had left him. He never had the time to come for a proper visit, but maybe now was the time. "When you're dead, maybe you go to a place that looks like home." He walked there, slowly limping his way along. His feet hurt so much; the pain went up his spine and into the base of his neck. "Maybe Sirius is there?"

The Resurrection Stone of the Hollow indicated that his godfather was indeed dead, or at least that is what ghost Sirius had told him. If he was in heaven, maybe he would meet the man here as well. He mentally tried to find the house and in an instant the walls of the House of Black came into view, opening like a flower in bloom. Like vines they wrapped around the shadows, and pushed out into the open, the tinted windows looking down at him, knowing who their master was. The house became more clear, and the vision of the house that once haunted his dreams, visions of Sirius, came again to him now, more vividly than before.

But he wouldn't back away; he feared coming here for the memories of his god father, yet wanted to come here for the house itself, for the promise that it kept. "Harry, if you want, maybe, that is, if you wanted to live here... with me..." That's what Sirius had said.

Harry closed his eyes, shutting out the man's voice. Sirius had never lived long enough to fulfill that promise, would he? And it was his fault!

He got as far as the front step, before his feet took him closer to the entrance. The black door told him that he would need to have a key to open the front, but he didn't have one, naturally. He looked underneath the rug to see if Sirius had kept any spares; up until this point in his life he would just ask Kreacher to let him in, however he couldn't sense the elf anywhere, and to him that was strange.

He never realized how close the poor fellow felt, he was like a rope that tugged at his conscious when he got near this home. Harry decided to knock, then paused, and then figured that it wouldn't hurt. It took a moment to make that decision, but afterwards he trembled at the thought of who might be awaiting him.

What if the Death Eaters had somehow managed to infiltrate this place too? That idea did not sit well with Harry; it wasn't like it was that hard to do, not with all their resources, and Snape telling Lord Voldemort all their secrets. Harry still had a difficult time grasping that the man had been on their side all along, or at least, that is what he liked to believe.

Harry waited, and no one came out. He turned the knob on the door and let himself into the home. It was black and dreary, just as he expected it to be. Mrs. Black, naturally, didn't know what an interior decorator was, and if she did she would probably have killed any who got near her home.

The orphan's entrance didn't trigger any alarms, which was strange, since the place was known for its expensive wards that kept intruders at bay. Maybe someone just didn't charge them?

After a moment he looked around and saw that there were foot prints, muddy foot prints, on the floor. Harry followed them, suspicious of whomever they could belong to, for whoever it was did not leave or clean their shoes at the door, and the Painted Lady, Sirius's mother, had this unfortunate habit of yelling at anyone who made a mess of her home.

To be fair, she yelled at just about anyone- it probably wouldn't matter if they were Mr. Clean, with enough suds to tsunami the place into a sterilized hospital ward.

"Hurry, his family could return any moment." Voices echoed through the hallway. Harry could sense the panic, and worry in the tone. But it was the kind of worry a villain would produce, when someone was about to catch them in the act.

Whoever was in the house, was not supposed to be here. "What do you think it would look like, if that fool of a son showed up this instant?" A grouchy voice said.

Harry walked silently, getting closer to the voices. He put a spell on his feet to ward off the noise and moved faster, to reach the two voices before they had a chance to escape. Whatever the two were doing, it probably couldn't be good. Of course, many people in the wizarding world were up to no good.

Aside from that, this was his house, and if intruders were in his home, then it meant that perhaps an Order member was in trouble. Even if most of them were probably six feet under.

"We have been trying for the past hour, why don't we just kill him? The Master said that would be the best option, if he couldn't be convinced to join our cause." Harry hid behind a couch. In the living room he could see two hooded figures, both in black. The skull mask probably didn't mean 'beware of poison,' so Harry easily guessed who they were.

There was a tall man sitting on a chair, in the center of the room, gagged and bound with rusty metallic chains. His eyes were shadowed, and there was blood seeping down from his nose and dripping onto the floor.

Another mess Kreacher would have to clean up.

Harry reached up around the side of the couch, to get a better angle when he shot the two down. Snape's slicing hex was about to come in handy. The Potter briefly groaned thinking how all the Dark spells he knew came directly, or indirectly, from the greasy git. Serpensortia and sectumsempra, Snape probably had a fetish for S-sound spells.

"The Dark Lord is not a patient man, Carrow," the taller of the two said. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting. If we don't return to him within the hour, there will be trouble. I, for one, would not wish his vengeance, nor his wrath upon me. If we cannot complete this task he has given us, if this fool of a man does not join us, we should simply kill him."

The atmosphere in the room darkened. "But he is one of us; Orion Black, he is of Noble blood, why do we do this when it is our cause to bring families such as his back into the wizarding world? I do not like this, Dolohov, I do not like this at all. Say what you will about the Dark Lord's wrath, but to kill a political supporter-,"

"He is not a supporter of our cause, fool, he only cares about his own. His agenda can shift like the tides of the ocean. I will not sink with the ship, we cut him now, we cut him down, and we leave his family to the dogs. His fortune, we may not be able to access, not completely, but he does have three unwed nieces." The man smiled. Harry could not see it but he knew the type, the kind who fed off the anguish and misery of others, and grinned in glee at their pain. Just like Uncle Vernon.

"What a coincidence that this House happens to contain three orphan girls, each at the ripe age to join our cause." He hovered over the bleeding man, who resembled an ancient Sirius, yet angry, bitter, and broken, even more so than the Sirius Harry knew. "Don't you think it would be marvelous, if say, Orion Black, the Head of the Black Family were to die while casting those protective wards he is so fond of, or, hit by lightning, fell off the roof?" His partner did not look happy at these running comments. "The Prophet would not bat an eye, considering the man's strange behavior as of late. Don't you think, Mr. Black?"

Harry tried to shift through his memories, seeing if the name sounded familiar. Then he realized it did, that was the name of Sirius's father. Sirius told him during his fifth year about the man who created defenses in his own home to ward off against the Dark Lord, when he realized how far the evil man would go to achieve power.

Orion Black died of some strange accident while Sirius was in school, or maybe he died during the same year as Regulus? Harry wasn't so sure, but what he did know was that the man was being broken down, weakened, such that the Imperius Curse would be easier to cast on him.

The fact that this aged wizard was able to hold off his attackers so long was astonishing, and judging by how much blood the old man had lost, as it poured to the floor and slipped through the cracks of the hardwood, Harry assumed he probably wouldn't live very much longer, or if he did, would live life as a sack of dry skin.

If Harry didn't do anything, that is.

But he was too intrigued to face off with his foes without a bit more information. For all Harry knew this was just some elaborate trap, and Sirius did mention that most of his family had gone dark, so helping one of Sirius's family members might not be a good idea, if Harry wanted to live that is. Forgive me, sir, but I don't think I can trust you. Not just yet.

"Can we move this along, we'll try the Imperius another twenty times, if we can achieve control over this man, his money and resources would be a great asset to us," the shorter of the two, Carrow, said. "I would not like to kill an old wizard, not like this." He stepped behind Orion.


Harry watched in fascination as the room brightened with the light of the Imperius Curse, only to darken to the same nasty glow that illuminated its puppet.

Orion Black opened his dark eyes and stared ahead of him, his shaggy black hair crowning his forehead and going down to the back of his cloak. He looked around the room, his eyes desperate, searching for something, or someone to help him.

It was then that his pleading eyes found Harry's own, looking back at him. At that moment Harry knew he had to attack. "Reducto!"

Harry jumped out like a cat, landing in a crouch as the curse fired at his enemies. He crawled to another couch, hiding behind it.

The Blasting Curse was one of the few spells they went over during the DA meetings, it was useful, though not very effective unless the caster was close to his opponent, since the spell itself wasn't very accurate and caused a lot of damage. The real danger was that it could easily backfire at the caster.

Harry realized that too late as a piece of shrapnel stuck him in the arm and put a gash on his right hand. Why does this always happen? For once can I not be hurt trying to save someone?

Harry rolled out of the way of a sickly green curse that almost took his head off, and instead went to the back of the room, and dissolved a table. "Who is that? I thought you said there was no one in the house!" The shorter man said, sounding panicked. Harry guessed he should be considering that the two were worried that re-enforcements were going to arrive at this place any time soon, or at least the man's family would be here, which was strange considering that Sirius's family had been dead for years.

"Apparently there was a spy, in the house, after all. We can't let him escape, lest he alerts the rest of them of our plans," Dolohov said. "Come out, or the old man will be no more. You only place him in more harm the longer you spend fighting us. Do you want us to torture him? We can do that, we have done it before. If you truly wish to retrieve Mr. Black, you best come out, coward."

"Not bloody likely," Harry muttered. He wasn't stupid enough to fall for a dumb baiting trick, he was scared of course, and he wouldn't just jump into a situation and get himself killed trying to save himself and the other person, whoever it was, not after all that had happened to him.

You would think that being in so many dangerous situations would have taught a boy a lesson he wouldn't ever forget, considering all the people who died for his cause, trying to keep him safe.

Harry ran up the stairs, avoiding red curses that split the staircase to pieces; like knives cutting through pieces of wood, it wasn't a clean cut, more like jagged rough trims that sent shrapnel on his back. Harry turned to avoid a giant wave of lightning that burst a few of the light bulbs as the static discharge overpowered the fuse, and set the ceiling on fire.

The two men chased after the boy, while the man tied to chair just screamed through his gag, at the fire that was quickly consuming his house.

Harry opened the door to the Black Family tree and found a room full of dangerous artifacts. He used a summoning spell to bring him a sword and then blew that sword to other side of the hall, where one of the men had half his arm impaled by the blade. "Watch out, that was a powerful Repulsion Charm, no mere student can pull that." Dolohov created a shield. "We can assume it isn't that good for nothing Sirius Black, it must be a family guard, or an associate that we are not aware of- he is too strong to be a spy."

Harry sent a stream of fire into the hall, hearing the yelp from the two men, then dumped oil out to make the flames larger. He sent a different flame spell that wrapped around the edges of the stair case of another, which lead to the third floor, and used the heat as a distraction to jump downstairs; hoping that one of them wouldn't take a shot at his back as he fell back to the first floor.

The two men were again on his trail, but Harry wouldn't go down that easily and now that Orion Black was in front of him, he decided to untie the man and let him make an escape. "Here, sir, please go and find safety elsewhere. Do you happen to have a Portkey anywhere?"

The man nodded, still looking shaky, his bloodshot eyes strayed to a portrait hanging on the wall. Harry ran for it and brought it back to the man. "Sir, please, we have to go!"

The man opened his mouth to speak and touched the Portkey with his trembling fingers, he said words Harry couldn't hear, since at that moment the boy was flung out the window by a powerful Bludgeoning.

Harry looked through the hole in the wall, his body feeling the effects of several broken ribs and saw that Orion Black had ported out of there. "Blast! That was my ticket out of here as well," he muttered. Harry couldn't blame the man since the two were running towards him as soon as he was battered to the side of the street, but a little more bravery from the old Black would have been helpful.

Harry looked around for anything to use as a weapon, and finding nothing that could be of service, decided to run outside of the wards around Grimmauld Place, until he had enough strength to Apparate out of the area.

A teenaged boy, wearing robes, running away from two equally crazy looking men, also wearing robes, was probably going to attract the attention of the authorities very soon, if not this instant, considering there was a car with a fat police man stepping out, holding his baton.

"Stop! Thief!"

Who said that these days?

Harry ran around the fat man, and prayed that the two Death Eaters would not simply curse the fat man, plow through him, to get to Harry. Though he shouldn't have expected any less, and he felt trickles of blood splash on the back of his neck, meaning the man had been turned into pulp right behind him.

"Dolohov, this isn't part of the plan! Let's leave!" The shorter man screeched. "We are breaking enough secrecy rules! There are enough witnesses to connect this to a conspiracy!"

"Don't you get it? We cannot leave without at least showing some kind of result, I do not want to feel the taste of his torture curses upon me. If you do then that is your fault, I myself will not be treated like a common foot soldier. I will apprehend this enemy and bring it back to the Master."

Harry didn't stop to look behind him, the more distance he could make between him and his would-be captors, the better. He did, however, warn various people to run, while he himself, looking like he just left an asylum, did just that.

People were looking at him strangely, and not many did as was instructed and swiftly paid the price with a green light hitting their chest, or a powerful hex ripping their heads off. All the while Harry just dodged and moved out of the way. If he could say one thing about Oliver Wood, it would be that he was thorough in training Harry to avoid Bludgers.

Apparently Quidditch really wasn't such a waste of time, since it taught you to react swiftly to anything that was coming towards you at a hundred meters per second.

"He keeps moving! Dolohov, you must have something! The boy is far too quick for his own good, is he under some kind of spell?" Harry mused how even Dudley had helped him achieve this speed.

Harry-hunting made his legs move about the same speed as a sprinter; the only difference was if he stopped he would get a half dozen kids twice his weight wailing on him till a teacher came by and told them to go bother someone else.

Harry figured it probably wasn't the most fun game in the world, that was for sure, but it did build character, while breaking down bones. No, time to think about that now. The teen took a turn into an alley, and climbed over a fence.

The two grown men were at his heels, instead of climbing the fence they simply blew it apart and continued to chase him. Harry felt stupid for not thinking of that; so much for his plan. Luckily, he could feel that his power was returning to him, the power he felt from being near the Black House. If he just held on a bit more he might have enough strength to Apparate.

Just a bit longer. But where would he go? Death Eaters were everywhere, and no place was safe. He slipped on some stray garbage, but pulled himself up in time and shoved himself into the crack of a very narrow alley, hoping that Dolohov and Carrow would think he went another direction.

His plan succeeded, fortunately, and he crawled out of the narrow passage and ran in the other direction. "Dolohov, he is over there!" Well, that plan didn't work out so well.

But it didn't have to, because at that moment Harry knew he could Apparate again, and he knew exactly where to go. He pushed the magic out of the core of his body and imagined the destination, he chanted the three magical mental exercises when one is about to teleport and popped out of there, and thought he would be all right, but then a hand reached him, and was pulled into the same tight squeeze Harry was forced to go through. He could see the smaller man, his angry face, almost like some crazed weasel, looking at him with satisfaction. "I got you, boy."

The teen was glad that it wasn't Dolohov. He pushed his energy through to the man, while they remained in a vast moving world of matter and particles; only when they reappeared in the real world did Harry pull out his wand and below one of the most dangerous curses he knew.


The man's arm almost came off, which said a lot since it still had a sword gash from the previous fight, sadly it wasn't his wand arm, and the man didn't seem deterred. Harry could see the circulatory system underneath the slashed arm, the dribble of blood that was slowly flowing from the cut.

He suspected the man had some magical protection against cutting hexes and such, and Harry was about to be proven correct as he saw Carrow push his wand into this wound and heal it.

Only it did not heal. That's not going to work, Snape's spell has only one cure. Harry didn't get a chance to gloat, as he looked around him, seeing the frozen people who just watched the two in horror. He had teleported to Diagon Alley in hopes of hiding himself, but alas, it seemed that the place was packed.

He didn't get a chance to wonder how strange that was, since the Dark Lord was about, and the last he had been here it was like a grave town. The short man sent a blue hex that slashed the ground beneath Harry. The boy suspected that he was going for more, but with his balance shifting, with the dead weight of an arm, the man could only hope that he would tire out the boy before he had lost any more blood.

The cut Harry gave him was growing rapidly. "What is this curse? Why won't it heal? Who are you, boy, what kind of dark spell is this? You can't be one of Dumbledore's. He would never allow someone so vicious into his fold."

Carrow caught Harry with a spell that paralyzed his non-wand arm, Harry ducked into a nearby store. He looked around and noticed it was the book store he bought his school supplies, it even had the same skinny man who had gotten him Hagrid's monster book in his third year, though he didn't recall the man being as afraid of Harry as he was right now.

Harry ducked behind a shelf as an explosion of flames ignited the desks of the shop, where people would rest to look over the literature they wanted to buy. "Curse you, stop running!"

The youth rolled into a crowd of girls, who looked at him with dread. One of the girls, a short, somewhat plump lass, with red hair shrieked when Harry pushed out a spell that flung the girls to the other side of the store, where they crumbled onto the floor. "Prewitt, watch out!" someone shouted, though Harry didn't know who.

It was just in time too, as a jet of blue fire covered the place the girls had just been standing around, and the flames, unlike the last one, seemed to have a liquid feel to them, since they dripped into the papers of the books like hot molten lava and vaporized it into melting powder.

Harry knew he couldn't keep dodging for long, since he was only putting the people around him in further danger and decided to go for the offensive when the man's guard was down. The problem was that his opponent was older and probably much more adept at Dark spells then Harry, so he would have to outsmart the man.

Harry went through the list of spells he knew in his head, and found that he was a short a good deal. Aside from a disarming spell, a few paralyzing spells, a cutter, and the Imperius curse, Harry didn't really know anything that might actually help him.

He knew a few transfigurations, but those wouldn't help him, unless he somehow combined them with a spell he already knew!

While the man was blasting the book shelves, sending tons of people fleeing from the rampage, Harry crawled through the mess, and into the back of the store where he turned the splinters of wood into needles. Careful not to be seen, he levitated them into the sky, right above the man and held his breath, hoping Carrow wouldn't discover anything. It wouldn't take much for the older man to simply look up and notice a dozen long spikes coming down at him, with the acceleration of 9.8 meters a second.

Good thing physics would come in handy today, not that it took much math to deduce that if something long and pointy fell from the sky, you were a shish-kebab, minus the fire.

"You, girl, tell me where he is!" The man summoned one of the girls Harry had blasted to the walls, the one with an extraordinarily large bust, now that he had time to observe her from his vantage point. "He saved you? Why? Why would he do that? Tell me, girl, where is he? I swear if you don't start talking, you're about to feel what the flames of phoenix taste like." He shoved the wand up to her throat, threatening to jam it in there.

Harry gripped his wand, he wouldn't make a move, but he wanted so much to save the girl. The teenager started to sob, and Harry almost lost his nerve right there.

Girls who cried always got to him, it touched a special spot in his heart, despite the fact that most of his romantic life consisted of girls either trying to make him jealous or girls outright calling him an arse, which he found unfair. He wondered if Cho even counted as a girlfriend? Heck, did Ginny?

"Useless! Stop babbling, girl, did I ask about your day? Did I ask if you felt sad about your situation? Do you think I care if I have to kill you? Would crying make me torture you any less? Can't you see I am trying to find someone and you wasting my time is going to make me really, really, angry!" Before the man could cast a spell to sever the teen's neck, Harry let go of the levitation charm holding the needles up in the air, and allowed them to fall onto the man's head.

One of the needles caught the girl on the hip, and she clutched it, tears falling down her face. Harry noticed she wore a Hogwarts dress, with a prefects badge, he guessed her age now to be near his own, though she looked a lot older with the ridiculous pair of bulges, pushing through her dress shirt.

A red stunner toppled the man to the floor, but not completely since it wasn't powerful enough to send him into shock. The man drew his last breath and sent a green ray of killing curse, in Harry's direction, and Harry, for a moment, almost didn't make it.

He didn't have to, since a book shelve caved in to block the beam.

The boy jumped over the shelf and surveyed the damage done to the place. There were people now coming out from hiding, and they watched him with fright. Harry couldn't blame them, since it wasn't every day that two wizards, wielding weapons to kill, duked it out in some random book store.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked the plump-looking witch. He promptly realized that she wasn't as fat as she originally appeared. Her waist was somewhat thin, and her legs, at least the one that wasn't so damaged by a needle that hit it, were long. She had brown eyes, even if one of them was closed, since the man gave her a firm bruise at that particular point.

Harry removed his cloak and wrapped it around the girl, since the needles had ripped some of the fabric around her own. Her pink, flushed skin was covered in sweat. Whoever she was, she seemed to get nervous very easily, though it could just be the near-death experience, rather than her endocrine system itself.

"You there! Halt! You are charged with suspicion of Dark Arts, as well as public endangerment, unhand that maiden and drop your wand, good sir!" A tall man, wearing Auror's robes, pointed his black wand at Harry. Harry did as he was told and hoped that more Aurors would arrive here soon, to clean up any other messes that might come there way.

Dolohov was still an issue and if Harry had to guess, that man would be on him soon. But then a thought occurred to him: weren't the Aurors under the control of Lord Voldemort?

As the tall man, whose hair Harry couldn't decipher, since he wore a long pointy hat, came closer, Harry reached for this wand and sent a stunning spell at the law official. The man fell backwards, in shock, and Harry picked up the Auror's wand.

He turned to face everyone in the book store; if they were afraid of him before, they were practically wetting themselves now. It probably didn't help that he was covered in blood from the men Dolohov had turned to pulp in a previous battle, and the fact that he stood over a voluptous, or at least that's what it looked like, girl, like an angry demon, wasn't going to make them feel any more secure that these people weren't suddenly going to strike.

"Look, I am not trying to harm anyone." Harry tried to say this in as passive as a voice possible, but he found that there was a raspy tone to his sound, that even made himself shiver. All of that running must have done something to his lungs. "Please, believe me, I don't want to hurt any of you."

He looked around to see if anyone would suddenly reach for their wands, and wasn't surprised when he saw a trio of girls in the back corner, each with blond, black, and brown hair.

The eldest of the three, a tall girl with curly black hair that went down to her waist, sent a hex his way. Harry blocked it with a shield, and reflected it back at the caster, who dodged. Her sister, who appeared to be a year younger than her, with brown, hair grabbed the youngest girl, the blond, and dived in for cover. The last Potter didn't want to suddenly pick a fight with some girl trying to protect her family from disaster, but he didn't have a choice, since the girl was good, really precise.

He turned back and saw a group of boys, in what looked like Gryffindor robes, jump out from another shelf and fling purple slug hexes his way. Harry blocked those as well and sent Snape's Slashing Hex at their direction, directing the slashing curse at a chandelier that fell on nearby book shelves and causing a domino effect, which left the group of boys scattering.

"Sirius, help!" One of the boys' foot got caught on a plank of wood, and the book shelf was going to crush him to death. Harry sent another slashing hex at the shelf and destroyed it before it could crush the boy, who, Harry now realized, looked exactly like a teenage Remus, from Snape's memory, only this one was much younger.

As Harry saved Remus, the pale black-haired witch had got a hit at Harry's arm. The Potter saw his arm start to gush blood out from his pores. At first it was happening slowly, then the pressure started to build and Harry found streams of coppery red liquid flowing from the gash.

He looked up to see the girl, her eyes speaking volumes about how much she was detesting this. If she originally wanted this to protect her family, now it was turning into something more sinister. Another curse came out of her wand, only this one was one a spiralling blue flame, that Harry had to shield against, but realized he didn't have enough power to really do any blocking.

Running out of the way, he jumped through the window of the shop, letting glass scatter to the four winds. He turned around to see the tall girl following him, her curly black hair bouncing in each step. Harry was glad his robes were still on the redhead, since it gave him the maneuverability he needed to run down Diagon Alley without being impeded.

"Someone stop him! That man is a criminal!" The tall girl screamed. She sent a stunner at Harry, which missed, as usual, but hit a little girl along the road. The black haired witch paused to unparalyze the girl, but continued to follow him, with a sort of feral hunger in her eyes.

Dark Arts has this way of corrupting people. The lure of using powerful spells will eventually warp the minds of the casters. The more one lets it control them, take possession of them, the more it will enter their soul and corrupt both their morals and consciousness.

If with great power, there is great responsibility, then Harry suspected this girl is slowly losing, since the spells she cast were becoming darker and darker each passing moment.

If he thought things couldn't get any worse, then Harry was sadly mistaken. Dolohov, the man who was the real threat here, suddenly stood in the entrance of Knockturn Alley, holding what looked like an item used for tracking. Harry suspected that it was one of Borgin's inventions since he recalled running into it during his 6th year summer, when he followed Malfoy into that shop.

"Stop following me, Miss, there are Death Eaters about!" Harry sent a stunner at the girl, who reflexively dogged it with smooth grace, whirled her wand toward his feet and transfigured the grass into vines.

Harry jumped out from the thorn creations and blasted the vines, then quickly pulled off a freezing charm, and reverse summoned the shards at the girl. The vines came back to life when they hit her and wrapped her in their green wiry embrace.

The bleeding teen was hit by a blue curse, and turned to see the group of boys who tried to apprehend him in the shop. It appeared that they were more than just familiar to the boys in Snape's memory, they were identical!

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and, of course, James Potter. The four of them were behind the black haired girl, though Sirius gave her a vicious glare before running around her to try and wrap Harry in what looked like a length of metallic net.

It was a child's spell, one for grappling harmless animals that were loose in the neighborhood and Harry didn't bother blocking it. Instead he sent it back to the four of them, enlarged it along the way, and then froze the four of them in a stunner.

In the meantime he realized that Dolohov had already rushed through the mob of screaming people, to try and get to him, and was going to turn this place into ashes if Harry didn't do anything quickly.

He turned to see the girl's two sisters, right beside her, and felt the dark powers the girl showed moments ago start to fade. The brown haired girl, who looked suspiciously like Nymphadora, minus the pink hair, looked at the scene puzzled at the sight of a Death Eater running towards the young Potter, with a flame whip.

"Look out!" the smallest of the three, a blond haired girl, with blue eyes pointed to the stream of screaming red flames. Harry ducked and shielded himself with a stronger shield than the Protego. It didn't last very long, but the whip gashed the side of his chest, letting blood fall to the ground.

"We have to do something," the brown haired girl said. "I don't think he is a Death Eater, Bella, what are you doing?"

Bellatrix Black was many things, but conflicted was one thing she was not. Immediately she put her wand back into her black robes and looked at the scene with detachment. "Dromeda, get Cissy out of here. I'll meet the two of you at Grimmauld Place." She looked at the paralyzed boys on the sidewalk. She sighed. "And get Sirius out of here, as well. Uncle would be very displeased if we just left our dear cousin to rot."

"Shouldn't we help him?" Narcissa Black asked, in a soft voice, fitting of a girl just entering puberty. "He's hurt, badly. There is a lot of blood flowing from him. If he isn't a Death Eater, then we should try and help, shouldn't we?" She looked up to her ebony haired sister, who didn't say anything.

"Bella, what are you planning?" Dromeda asked, afraid of what the girl might say.

Andromeda Black had her suspicions about her older sister for the last few years now. She didn't think her older sister was a Death Eater, not to her face at least. Narcissa told her one day that she saw Bellatrix talking to someone named Igor Karkaroff. Normally that wouldn't be that surprising, since she was a social climber, but what got to her was the conversation about "a New World Order."

The Dark Lord was a rising power in England, one that the Ministry was doing very little to prevent. Her uncle once told her in secret that he was afraid that many of the followers had infiltrated the political infrastructure and were slowly taking over.

If the Dark Lord wasn't stopped, he feared that all of magical England would someday go into anarchy, destroying itself from the very core.

"Dromeda," Narcissa said. The small girl tugged at the brunette's robes. "Can't you do something?"

Narcissa Black, a third year Slytherin, and the youngest of Druella's daughters, was afraid. She wasn't afraid of the boy, of course, there were half a dozen psychos such as him running around trying to fight the evil Dark Lord, no, instead she worried about her sister. Who might or might not be a member of his Death Eaters. There are few things more dangerous than an enemy that you cannot see, and she is starting to see her sister change, and not for the better.

She was sure she could at least trust her middle sister, Andromeda, since she was the most levelheaded among the three. She was torn in a world between going with her older sister and caring for her younger. Bellatrix used to be the pillar of the family, but as the years went on, Andromeda was starting to fill that role.

"Cissy, be silent, and let's go." She reached for her little sister, and ran back to where Sirius was. She unfroze him and his friends, then directed them to run. She turned back to see Bella, whose face was cold, and tried not to think what the girl was planning. If she was really Lord Voldemort's, then she could only assume that some accident was about to kill the poor boy.

The world was indeed a cruel place for Harry Potter. His body continued to lose blood, and no one was coming to his aid. He saw the girl from before just standing there, watching, waiting, but for what? Dolohov had battered him through the wall of a shop, and more people were running out from inside

Harry got up and shot another stream of flames at the man, who easily shooed them away.

There was very little he could do to this person, and he knew it. It was then that something happened that might have come into his favor. A team of Aurors finally arrived, and made the monster of a man leave.

Harry had just long enough to look at who had rescued him, the face of the gaunt man Orion Black, before he fell into darkness by some spell an Auror sent.

When Harry wakes up, the first thing he notices is the room. He has been here before, many times in fact. He tries to find any other occupants beside him, but fortunately there isn't anyone in here. His leg feels heavier than usual and he looks down to see a cast attached to it.

Getting up, the boy realizes that it will take a lot more effort to stand upright. As he tries for a second attempt, the door opens, and a girl walks in. In the dark it is hard to tell who it is, but Harry is more than a little grateful. The girl whispers into his ear that he has to walk downstairs and meet her uncle. The boy thanks her and leaves to do just that, limping all the way there.

There are rows of elfheads lining the walls, each more grotesque then the next. Harry wonders why anyone would keep this, but understands that people in the wizarding world have their own tastes. The staircase looks repaired, in fact the damage that was done to the place only hours ago does not seem to be there. At all.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the boy he paralyzed in the street, Sirius, and there is very little doubt in Harry's mind that this boy is his old godfather. There is also little doubt that the time and place is not his own.

Harry knows that he must have traveled back in time. It is the only explanation. How or why is just secondary. The important thing: what is he going to do about it?

Orion Black was not an evil man, not in the sense that is stereotypical of the character trait. But he was a greedy man, one who wanted everything: family, fortune, and prestige. But who doesn't? If one had the power and resources he had, wouldn't they also reach for the top? Even if the world crashed around him, he would fight his way to the top of the hierarchy, taking the title of the minister of magic, and beyond. That was just the type of people the Blacks were.

Or at least were being the key definition.

The once great and terrible house had been reduced to him, his nieces, and his children. His wife was sick and falling more ill by the day. His health was not entirely bad, but neither was it as great as it once was. He knew he didn't have much time left in this world, but he couldn't just settle for retirement, no, not him. Not when a man hellbent on taking everything he had worked for was on the loose.

Orion would never admit it, but the boy who walked in front of him had saved him that day, and by extension, had saved them all.

"Hello," Harry said. The boy sat down and took a cup of tea offered to him by a house elf. The elf belonged to Narcissa, his name was-

He looked up at the man in front of him. "I gather we have much to talk about?"

Harry gave an explanation as to how he found the house, one that was hastily made, and had too many holes. Orion didn't completely buy the story, but was willing to give the boy who saved him the benefit of the doubt. Harry finished his story of how he got to the alley, and promptly stunned by the Aurors.

"I took you out of there, you know, the HQ that is." Orion had to pull some major bribes to do just that, but he had the resources. "I owe you that much." He owed him much more, and Harry knew it.

"So what happens now?" Harry was afraid. He didn't know anyone in this time, his parents were children and the Dark Lord was more powerful than ever. "What do you plan to do with me?" He shifted in his seat, and tried not to stare at the walking figures in the hall.

Orion sighed. "I am not sure, to be honest." He wasn't about to leave this boy out there, for the crows to eat. The boy had gotten into some trouble interfering with the Dark lord and Orion also owed him a life debt. The longer the boy was close to him, the more chances he would have to pay that debt back, and perhaps with interest. "For now, since you have no place to go, you may stay with us."

At night Harry lay in the bed, looking at the ceiling. He heard a knock on his door, and decided to pretend to be asleep. The lights were off so it shouldn't have been hard to fool anyone. Slowly his thoughts were drifting into darkness. That is, until his door creaked open, and quiet footsteps came into his room. "He doesn't look so strong," an arrogant childish voice said. "He couldn't have saved father, I refuse to believe it."

"That is not what Uncle tells us, Regulus," a girl answered him; she sounded sad. "Bella doesn't want to come inside, I'm not sure why."

"Of course not, she is a part of-"

"Shut it!" Another person walked into the room. "Please, don't talk about her, not today. I think we should leave, he doesn't look well. You saw him in the alley, he was covered in so much blood, and he was fighting so very much, perhaps we can ask him some questions tomorrow. Narcissa, Sirius, Regulus, c'mon, let's go."

Harry turned around while they left to see the same girl, with brown hair, who resembled her future daughter. She stared at him for a moment, surprised, then slowly closed the door.

Andromeda Black walked away, thinking about the entire situation. This boy would be treated as a guest in her home until her uncle said otherwise. Up until now only her family had lived here, and visitors were few due to his paranoia, and rightly so considering what happened today.

She walked into her sister's room. Bellatrix did not look happy.

"I have to go." The girl didn't even bother looking at him. Instead she closed the door, and locked it. The teen didn't expect her to do any less, considering who she was. The door then unlocked, and another person looked through the door, almost shy, she was.

"Sorry about that." The girl walked into the room, and looked around for anything to tie up the wounds. "We don't have much, but we'll do what we can. None of us are known for our healing spells, sadly."

The teen didn't mind. He let the blond wrap his arm in a bandage. "Thank you." It was awkward at first, since he was completely shirtless, but the blond eventually got used to it. "You are good at this." His distracted eyes were peering at another person outside of the door, who was scowling at the two. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

The girl nodded. "I have a friend a year ahead of me, Severus, who tells me that, sometimes." Harry looked at her, to see whether she was serious. Harry found it hard to believe that a man as antisocial as Snape could ever have friends. "There you are, we're done here."

"I appreciate this, really, I do." He smiled, shyly. He wasn't very comfortable with the people around him, they were just so familiar, yet so unfamiliar at the same time. A boy walked into the doorstep and watched him. The boy smiled, and walked into the room.

Harry was amazed to see such a small Sirius; he barely reached his shoulder, but considering that he was only 13 or 14 years of age, it shouldn't have surprised him. "Hi, I am-"

"Sirius, I know." The boy was taken a back, but jumped back into the flow of things. "Right, I guess someone told you before. Anyway, what is your name?"

"Harry, just Harry." He was expecting a last name, but he wasn't going to get one. He sat right beside the ebony haired teen.

"No really, what's your last name? I don't recall ever seeing you before, but you sort of look familiar."

Sirius Black, for all his cheerfulness, was utterly confused. The teen in front of him could easily pass for James's older brother. He knew that Mister Potter had a habit of cheating on his wife, but the idea of a bastard was a bit disturbing. It really put things into perspective, but then again, he could just be over thinking things.

"Where are my pants? I need them, now." Andromeda walked into the room, carrying just that. "I have repaired them, be grateful." Harry nodded, and directed everyone to leave while he put them on. After doing this he walked out and met them in the hall. The boy slipped downstairs and the crowd followed him there.

"I have things to take care of, I'll be back tonight." He smiled. "Thank you."

Andromeda nodded, and the other two sisters didn't answer. Bellatrix , however, clutched her wand tightly. Her eyes narrowed and she put her wand into her pocket.

He walked out the door, and Apparated to the Ministry, where he would spend the day doing tests, and filling out forms.

"Thank you for this temporary ID, I couldn't ever pay you back for this." That was a lie, he could always release the man from the life debt. There was a moment of silence between the two, Orion thinking that the boy might release him, but then he knew that there could be another cost associated with that. Something the boy might ask, something that he might not be willing to pay.

Orion Black took a moment to look the boy up and down. He grimaced, almost savagely. Then smiled slightly. "Potter, the resemblance is monstrous." He touched Harry's face, and looked at both angles. "You are no doubt a bastard." Harry scowled. "From who, I have no idea but just by looking at you I can see James, or Charles, written all over you."

Harry didn't respond to this. James Potter was his father, but their resemblance shouldn't be so identical in this point in his life. Ultimately, the two of them would be the same height by the time he became an adult, or at least from what he had seen of ghost James. The two of them did not look as similar as he would like to believe, but there was no doubt that Harry James Potter was James Potter's boy.

Orion walked out of the door, and Harry followed. He looked back to see someone coming down the steps. The eyes of the person were harsh, but at the same time worried. It was a plump woman with long black hair tied to a bun, wearing a black set of robes. She started to scowl when he saw that Harry was staring at her, not knowing that it wasn't because of her beauty. That quality had left her long ago.

Sirius's mother didn't know what to say to the boy who had saved her husband, but had caused such a large scandal when her husband brought him back to their house. The boy was battered beyond repair, on the surface, but looked salvageable when a team of healers came by and got rid of the worst of the damage.

His face was heavily scarred, and the wound on his left cheek was dreadfully deep. She didn't like looking at it, the boy looked absolutely mad, and the chunk of hair that was singed by flames was not making him look any better.

She went into the kitchen, noticing that the teen's gaze was still on her. "Why do you look at me?" She didn't turn around, just stated the fact.

The boy didn't answer, and that unnerved her. Instead, he turned around and left out the door, following her husband.

She sighed when he left. The boy's eyes were unsettling to say the least.

Harry was transported to Gringott's, where he had a bank account set up for him. When the blood test showed that he really was a Potter, Orion looked deeply uncomfortable. They didn't say a word as an account was settled and he left after all of his documents were in order.

Orion let him wander the alley, telling him not to cause a scene. Harry promised that he wouldn't and thanked the man for the money that was lent to him. He bumped into a group of girls, who asked him how he got his scars, but backed away when Harry explained his situation.

Harry picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet and found that there was indeed an article written about him, just as he expected. The article didn't say if he was a hero, or villain, as impassive as the news was supposed to be. He sighed in relief that they had not demonized him, which would make his life at this time much easier.

With the money Orion had given him, he purchased a fair number of Seventh year school supplies. Once he was done he decided to have some ice cream, where he overheard a group of girls gossiping about cute boys in school, mainly Rudy Lestrange and Lucy Malfoy. Apparently both were in Sixth year and very eligible bachelors.

Harry sighed at this news and lost his appetite.

He spent the rest of the day in a Quidditch supply store looking at the latest models. He met a shy, tall boy with red hair, who seemed eager to talk to him about the latest in broom technology, which did not impress Harry in the least. However, when he left the shop, Harry found that he liked the boy, who seemed to be the same age as Harry, a year older than Bellatrix, and in a different grade than Lucius Malfoy.

"Arthur." Harry nodded to the teen and decided to have a meal before getting back to number 12 Grimmauld Place.

"H-hello." A shy voice from behind Harry spooked the teen. He turned around to see the same girl he saved yesterday. The girl's red hair was almost flame red and she had an allure about her that seemed all too familiar. He tried to reel through his mind to see who she could be, since her enormous bosom was something he had definitely seen before.

She thanked him for saving her that day, and asked what his name was. He told him his name was Harry Potter, which got a puzzled look from her, and she told him her name. "I am Molly, Molly Prewitt." Harry made a note to remember that name; the girl was in Gryffindor, and he might be going back there, if Orion could arrange schooling at Hogwarts.

Harry Potter was tired of war, and chaos. If he could live through this time period in peace, without interfering with the past, that would be for the best. Before he left the girl gave him a big hug and ran to meet her friends, making the boy feel embarrassed.

Before he left for home, or the closest thing he had to a home, he made a stop to pick up his robes, where a greasy thirteen-year-old was going through an extraordinary array of filthy robes. Harry took pity on the child and tossed him a bag of money. The big-nosed teen looked at Harry in shock, but quickly took the bag like some weasel, hoarding it for all it was worth.

Harry rolled his eyes and Apparated out of the alley.

"Are you certain you are ready for your interview with Albus?" Orion asked. He had faith in the boy, but he had to admit that Harry Potter was beyond suspicious- his past, his present, and even his future were a mystery. "If you make a mistake, you could be making yourself a very powerful, very dangerous, enemy. I don't like this plan, I don't even understand it to be honest. If you wanted we could have hired a few tutors and you would just need to pass your NEWTS."

Harry explained to Orion that he didn't even attend his final year in school, so it wouldn't be an issue of tutoring, it would be an issue of missing a giant part of his education. "I will be all right, sir, I'll try not to take too long."

He walked into the room, which hadn't changed since the last time he was here. Only this time, there were fewer destroyed artifacts lying around.

There he met the Headmaster and explained that he needed to finish his final year of class, and then he would be off. Dumbledore was more than happy to let Harry in, provided that he answer a few questions. The boy did as instructed. Then he was asked about his past, and where he was living, and questions that he had a large suspicion revolved around Dark Arts.

At the end of the interview, Harry asked the man why he was letting him into Hogwarts, with a war going on. "I read the news, dear boy, if you are indeed a Death Eater, then you have indeed fooled us all, considering what you did to Carrow, whose capture aided us more than you can imagine."

Albus Dumbledore watched the boy leave, with a frown on his face. There was little to nothing known about Harry Potter, other than the fact that he resembled Charles Potter, or James. He remembered his old friend's fascination with the opposite sex, and it wouldn't have surprised Dumbledore to discover that he had a few bastards here and there.

But to see one with the man's last name, this boy was asking for trouble.

He went to the fire place and summoned his second in command, Moody, and asked him to find everything he could on Harry Potter. If this boy really was a Potter, then the Dark lord had surpassed his expectations in bringing him into the scene.

Already his battle with the enemies of the light was bringing him some fame, and positive attention. If the boy was a plant created to ruin the name of the Potters while making himself a hero, then the political implications the boy might wield could be disastrous.

While this was happening in Dumbledore's office, Harry bumped into a group of boys standing in the hall. They were watching the children running around the place like hawks. These little people were their prey and Harry felt a tremble of anger, and a bit of fire, seeing how carefully they were choosing their targets. As Harry walked past them, he met the eyes of a tall blond with long hair. He was dressed in robes of finer quality then even Harry wore, which was rare, considering the fact that he was borrowing Orion's old robes.

"Old Blood?" The blond asked. "I don't recall seeing your face anywhere..?"

Harry didn't have an answer to either of the questions, instead he just shrugged and walked past them. Some of them were looking at the teen as if he was somewhat familiar, and others looked at him with suspicion. He was a much taller version of James, and had many more scars. There was probably little doubt that he resembled a Potter, but the fact that he was wearing Slytherin robes must be throwing them off.

Making a sharp turn in the Hall, he bumped into a small girl with short cropped brown hair. She dropped the things she was carrying: a bunch of quills, ink, and such. Harry helped her collect her things, and was off. She said that her name was Alice, and Harry made a mental note to try and remember it if he ran into her again. Girls had a tendency to become angry if guys did not know who they were.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Molly standing beside two boys who were the same age as Harry. They introduced themselves as her brothers, and thanked him for saving her. The teen accepted their gratitude, and shook their hands. Before leaving one of them made a remark. "Molly sure knows how to pick 'em." Molly screeched something at the two, and chased them out of there. "At least he has more spine than that Arthur Weasel face."

"This is as much I can do for you, Harry." Orion brought him a stack of Dark Arts books. "I have sold the rest, and believe me they are selling fairly high at this point." Harry could understand why. "This house is one of the few places in all of England that the Dark Lord would not be able to penetrate, not without a fight."

"I believe you, sir."

Harry and Orion spent the night going over the securities of the house. Orion told the orphan that he trusted him, only because he was certain the Dark Lord was going to come after him as well. Orion's old associates must be working for the man known as Tom Riddle, the name that Orion had used to refer to when he and the Dark Lord were classmates. "I suspect he wants revenge, we didn't get along. My views of halfbloods were rather extreme at the time."

Another thing Harry discovered is those very views the man had on half bloods. He didn't seem to approve of them. "I don't like this. Diluting our magical bloodline, it just makes it more likely that we would become squibs." Harry wanted to tell the man that inbreeding can result in worse problems, such as autism and Down syndrome, however, he decided against it. The man was helping him, when he didn't have to. He trusted Harry only because both their lives depended on surviving this war, and allowed the orphan to stay in his home.

He turned to face the boy, as they stood outside. "Will you protect them?" The orphan didn't ask who the man was referring to.

"I will. Rest assured I'll try to make sure they don't fall into the hands that might use them."

That night, Harry had a strange dream. His family was made up of the same people he saw today. He saw himself in the picture as well, a bit older, maybe a little wiser, and wearing robes that might have actually fit him. When he woke up, he wondered what his life in the future would be like had he survived. Would it have been better? Or the same?

These questions were not answered, since Narcissa got him downstairs to eat. Harry noticed she stared at him during the whole breakfast, and when he turned to face her, she would turn away. On the other hand Bellatrix would just look at him like he was scum during the whole breakfast, and Andromeda just served the meals.

Later, when they arrived on the Platform, Harry carried all their things, and put them into the train compartments. He said goodbye to Orion, and told him he would keep his promise. Sirius went to join his friends, and Harry was left to sit with the girls, who talked about something in a whisper that Harry could not hear, but every so often they would turn to his direction, and giggle.

The day would have gone by smoothly, had a group of Slytherins not entered the compartment. "Bella, it is so nice to see you." A tall, handsome man, with dark curly hair, said. Rudy Lestrange. The man did not age well in the future Harry concluded, but there was very little about him that would age well after Azkaban was done with him.

He was flanked by a group of people who looked far too familiar at the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry tried not to go mad and strike them down where they stood. Instead, he directed his gaze at the strange child he met in the alley, who seemed to be wearing a decent pair of robes, at least.

Recognition lit Harry's eyes, seeing the boy's enormous nose, and the sneer plastered on his pale, crooked features.

"We meet again, Mr. Snape." Snape backed away as Harry approached, his friends follow. As tall and powerful they believed themselves to be, they are only sixteen. But then, Harry was only eighteen, with two years more experience of what the world had in store, two years of anger, forged from a life of isolation, persecution, and a burning resentment for his very own family.

The tension in the room was so thick; it could only be cut with sword. The other Slytherins do no say a word, they hide their hatred well. The Black sisters looked uncomfortable, as they should, sitting near the boy who is rumored to be Charles Potter's bastard.

Before anyone could get word out to ignite, or diffuse, the situation, the door of the compartment opens, and a small, proud looking, girl with red-hair, walks in. She is startled by the situation in front of her, and backs away when she notices the people in the crowd are her enemies. It takes her but a moment to see the tallest one in the room, a boy who looks much older than the rest, a boy who resembled James Potter, and, by far, the most menacing of the lot.

Yet when the boy's powerful green eyes gaze at her, she can't help but, for a brief moment, not be afraid. Only for that moment to pass the next second as his eyes harden.

"Gentleman, it seems Evans has wandered into the serpent's den," says Lucius Malfoy, in a cool voice. He steps back, away from Harry, turns around, and takes a step towards the redhead, who tries in vain to close the compartment door. He smiles at her, a mixture of evil and mischief in his grin. His friends laugh, except for Snape, who is gripping his wand so hard it almost snapped. "Perhaps a lesson is in order?" Lily pulls out her wand, looking around desperately for help, only for the wand to be wordless summoned out from her hand.

She is about to scream for help, when Harry Potter, a boy she didn't even know, walks past the boys and stands in front of her, his back to her enemies. She feels so small as his kind face, which slowly forms a caring smile, looks at her. "Leave, it's not safe here," he says. He hands her back her wand, which he snatched from Lestrange, and places it on her small hands. "I've opened the door, go."

She ran, but as she did so, she takes one last look back, and sees him there still standing, as the compartment door slowly closes, and a beam of malicious red light heads his way.