AN: I'll always apologise in advance for any errors so: sorry. And try and enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All belong to darling J.K Rowling.
Summary: The Mirror of Erised fulfills an eleven-year-old Harry Potter's desire in the strangest of ways. Suddenly thrust into the past, Harry copes with getting to know a newly dating James Potter and Lily Evans while Dumbledore figures out how to send him back to his own time. There's only one problem; time travel has many repercussions and Harry finds himself getting…younger.

A Tumble through Time:

Prelude

Lit by thousands and thousands of levitating candles, the Great Hall of Hogwarts was a welcoming sight. The four House tables were stretched out, looking immaculate as ever with their shiny plates and glimmering goblets. Most staff were already seated upon the dais, their familiar faces as friendly as the Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes.

James Potter felt a pang of sadness; this would be his last year at Hogwarts, an end of a Marauding era.

Hazel eyes darting across Gryffindor table, he glanced at his friends with fondness. They really hadn't changed over the school years, all of them currently reverting to how they once did during their first year. Remus Lupin, nicknamed Moony, was smiling up at the bewitched, starry-night ceiling while Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail, seemed as jittery and nervous as ever. Sirius Black, their good old Padfoot, was even scribbling on a scrap of parchment, undoubtedly plotting a new prank.

Swallowing thickly, James felt a little awkward. This was his last year, he had been awarded Head boy. It was time to knuckle down and avoid any repeats of last year. While saving Snape from Sirius' prank last year had turned the tables between himself the Lily, it wasn't worth a repeat. After all, the young woman had warmed up to him, seen his less immature side and…well, they had been owling each other a lot over the summer just gone.

Even now, listening to McGonagall call forth the first years to the Sorting Hat, he was seated shoulder to shoulder with Lily Evans, fellow Head student. It was a situation James had never thought to come true let alone the fact she had said yes to dating him. They were, officially, going out. It was more nerve-wracking and thrilling than any Quidditch match he had been –

''Stop daydreaming, Potter,'' the soft, feminine tone tickled his ear. It was mildly chiding and somewhat teasing. The mention of his surname spoke in amusement, not anger.

James face his face heat, a grin blooming across his features. He regarded the speaker, Lily, and fought teenage urges in favour of slyly taking a hold of her hand under the table. Heart fluttering, he breathed a sigh of relief at the comforting, if not shy, squeeze against his fingers. Dating wasn't a new experience, but dating a long-term school crush was new. The ground in their relationship was still tentative and unsteady given its early days. The last thing James wanted to do was mess it up over something as trivial not paying attention to new Gryffindor's entering the ranks.

''Sorry,'' he spoke above a new round of applause. ''Guess I really can't keep you out my mind, Lils.''

The cheeky comment earned him a blush and a playful jab in the ribs. James gave a small snort of laughter, astonished that she wasn't reprimanding him. Instead, Lily was shaking her head and smiling, her beautiful green eyes darting between Headmaster Dumbledore's arrival at the podium and James' own eyes. She was still the feisty first year he had once known, but a far cry from the fourteen-year-old who used to shout insults about his 'big, fat arrogant head' and flounce off.

Dear Merlin, James thought as he stared at her. He was falling so fast, so hard, for Lily Evans…

''This year is gonna get real boring, real fast if you two are going to go all gooey eyed whenever together, '' Sirius spoke up, amused.

Remus smiled softly, adding, ''be nice, Padfoot. Be grateful you didn't see them in the prefect's carriage after she said yes…''

''Moony!'' James yelped.

Sirius' grin went practically feral. ''Oh? All alone in the prefect's compartment? Well, you two don't waste any time, do you?''

''Not like that,'' Remus amended. ''James returned with Lily looking fit to burst.''

''No I did not!'' he protested, only to have Lily chime in.

''You did look ready to cry, love.''

James gawked at his friends before swivelling to fully face Lily. ''Wha – Lily,'' he gasped, falsely hurt, ''you're ganging up on me too?''

A round of laughter followed suit, both from his friends and newly appointed girlfriend. It filled James with a sense of rightness and contentment that was somewhat indescribable. He wove his and Lily's fingers together, a mismatch of anxious yet joyful emotions continuing to bubble since she had said yes on the train.

''Hush now, James,'' Lily said, her voice pulling him out of his thoughts.

Peter sniggered, ''do as Lily says James.''

Concealing his amusement, he kicked Wormtail from under the table. The chubby boy jumped in his seat from the action, the clatter of plates and goblets making the surrounding, younger students giggle. Nevertheless, James looked back at Lily who appeared mildly abashed and inclining her head inclining towards the podium where – Ah. Dumbledore had stopped talking, his blue eyes peering over the frames of his half-moon spectacles. Thankfully, the aging wizard didn't keep his silent reprimand for long and, with a growing smile, continued his speech.

''Now, without any further interruptions,'' Albus Dumbledore's genial voice filled the Great Hall. ''I believe I was in the middle of finishing notifications. As I began to mention before, Caretaker Filch has brought it to my attention that – ''

The Great Halls doors swung open, cutting the Headmaster short.

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in the direction of the noise: a boy. James, along with every face in the Hall looked at the unexpected youth before flicking back to face Dumbledore. Only James, and a few others from other tables, glanced back at the stranger. It was only then, during this second glance, did he truly look at the kid.

Looking no older than ten, the stranger reminded James of the many pictures of himself as a child given the black, messy hair and circular, wire-framed glasses. Still, any close link of familial relation was impossible. Besides, after the initial similarities, James found the young stranger scrawnier and shorter than most Potters had been during such an estimated age. Plus, the Potter noted, the lost-looking intruder was obviously Muggle. The child was absent of robes, his attire of overly large, Muggle-style jeans, grimy-looking trainers and a thick, emerald green jumper complete with a large, golden H.

''Uh-oh,'' Sirius sing-songed, breaking the silence.

The Hall broke out in a low rise of whispers from both staff and students. James didn't miss the way McGonagall had stood up, practically hovering by Dumbledore while the Headmaster in question held a blank, unreadable expression. Over the growing noise and shared frowns, Sirius nudged Peter and carried on with a chuckle.

''I think somebody followed their big brother or sister.''

Lily looked aghast at such a theory while Peter let out a titter of amusement. James shot his two friends a glare, a silent warning to not upset Lily's sensitive side with teasing comments. Remus, on the other hand, was oddly silent and less reprimanding, his gold gaze darting between James and the stranger. The Head Boy knew his werewolf friend long enough to recognize such a curious expression and assumed Remus was linking the similarities that James himself had spotted.

Yet, just as was James was going to correct Remus' wrong assumptions, Dumbledore clapped his hands, once. The sharp noise silenced the building noise and James blinked, baffled and more than a little curious as the man bid them all to eat before swiftly leaving the podium. For the first time in his entire Hogwarts education, James didn't dive into the freshly appeared food and, instead, watched Dumbledore head towards the young stranger who was gawking directly at James Potter as if he had seen a ghost.

In the dark gloom of an unused classroom, Harry Potter stared into the mysterious, gold-framed mirror. He couldn't get enough of the reflection; the sight of his parents alive and smiling. His mum's eyes were so much like his own and his dad – he had his dad's hair and nose. Looking at them both and comparing his inherited traits filled him with a joy as well as a powerful ache.

It was a hollow pang of longing that won though. Harry had felt it his whole life, but now it felt intensified when looking at a life he would never have. Swallowing thickly, the eleven-year-old huddled closer to the smooth, cool glass until he was pressed up against it, wishing he could fall right through it and –

The solid surface rippled beneath his hands, the view of his family relatives dissolving almost as instantly as the surface turned fluid. Harry tumbled forward from the lack of support, his body slipping into the mirror. A bitter coldness washed over him, the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh. It was like being dunked into a pool of frigid water; a sharp sting of coldness followed by breathlessness.

However as soon as the sensation came, it left. The young boy found himself falling flat on his hands and knees, his palms scraping painfully against the rough, stone floor. He looked up, glasses askew, and realized he hadn't gone anywhere; he was in the same, musty room.

Except the mirror was gone, Harry immediately noticed.

Getting to his feet, he winced at the state of his scraped up palms and peered around. As startling as it had been to topple through the mirror surface, Harry assumed he had imagined the whole thing. The mirror has probably vanished; something which was a common occurrence with food and various items around Hogwarts. Perhaps, the boy concluded, his recent discovery was one of them.

With that in mind, Harry kept his father's invisibility cloak in hand and exited the room. He kept an eye out for Snape and Filch as he wove his way out the darkened library and into the corridor. The corridor was lighter than usual, the torches unlit yet natural light from the windows offering enough illumination.

Had morning already come and gone?

''How long was I in there?'' Harry uttered to himself.

Scampering forward to the nearest window, the boy slipped onto his tiptoes and looked outside. The sight that greeted him caused a small flutter of panic; while darkened by approaching nightfall, the sky wasn't as dark as before and the snow…the thick snow that blanketed the grounds this Christmas was gone.

The world outside was almost as foreign as the eerily empty corridors he was currently in. How long had he been staring into that mirror for the time of day to change and snow to disappear? Days or weeks?

…Months?

The latter thought made his stomach flip and feet automatically break out into a run. Harry didn't think twice about heading in the nearest place he'd find his friends: the Great Hall. It didn't take long to get there and, upon approach, the familiar, joyous timber of Dumbledore's voice vibrated through the towering, double-doors.

Barrelling forth, Harry pushed open the doors, eager for some familiarity. Immediately his gaze locked onto that of Dumbledore standing behind the podium upon the dais. He didn't take long to focus upon the Headmaster though, not when his eyes drifted to the mixture of Professors seated at their usual location. Whatever relief Harry had felt upon spotting Dumbledore faltered at the mismatch of unfamiliar staff.

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick were the only faces he recognized, and Harry didn't waste time for scanning Gryffindor's table. Even there, amongst the rows of staring faces, Ron and Hermione were absent. It was only then, with clawing panic and visibly gawking, did Harry notice the little changes: Professor McGonagall looked younger, the school uniform included blazers beneath robes and…

And that young man – more an older boy, really – looked the spitting image of his Dad, James Potter.

''Well, hello there,'' Albus Dumbledore greeted his uninvited guest upon approach.

''But…I…that's my – I mean, I think.''

The little stranger was a bundle of nerves, babbling and undoubtedly in shock. Albus reacted with instinct and steered the boy by his thin shoulders into the corridor. Only then, from physically moving the boy from his wide-eyed stare at seventh year, James Potter, did the child look at him. A set of intense, bespectacled green eyes looked up at him with such relieved familiarity that it shocked him into momentarily silence.

''Pro…Professor Dumbledore?''

It was a thin, brittle call; a wail that made Dumbledore's heart twist. The unknown boy, a little James-Potter-with-green-eyes, appeared to know him. How though, Albus would find out. Still, he kindly directed the child further out the corridor and towards his office with silent speculation.

Any worries of the youth's surprise appearance and possible, dark affiliation was practically non-existent. Those eyes held no bad intentions. Even the visible curse scar didn't seem particularly threatening. It was only the unidentifiable, powerful magic was clinging to the boy and over all identity that left Albus at a loss. He had so many questions that he felt practically giddy. But first…

''Jelly tot?'' he offered the child.

''What?''

''I've taken to indulging Muggle sweets,'' Albus cheerily explained. He revealed the small, plastic bag filled with said sweets. ''Care to try…?''

''Uh, no…''

Now that seemed to waken the boy out his mild stupor. Dumbledore offered the lost-looking youth a smile, all the while letting slip a softly spoken, 'ice mice' to the gargoyle concealing his office stairway. The stranger followed him up, a frown creasing his young features when facts seemed to finally click together.

''You know me, right, Sir?''

Lips twitching, Albus replied, ''I'm afraid not, child. But you do seem to know me.''

''I'm Harry,'' the dark-haired youth spoke up, desperation evident. ''Harry Potter.''

Taking a seat behind his desk, Albus silently scrutinized Harry further. He knew for a fact the only Potters alive were James' parents, a couple far too old to reproduce even by Wizarding standards. Still, he tilted his head and let out a sigh.

''And what are you, Harry Potter, doing here?''

''I go to school here,'' Harry sputtered. ''I started this September but…but everything is all wrong. It was Christmas and snowy, but the snow is gone and the students…I didn't see Ron or 'Mione at the Gryffindor table. Sir, I didn't even see Professor Snape at the staff table and I swear, I mean, I think I spotted my…''

''Your?'' Albus prodded.

''My…my Dad. ''

Reclining in his seat, the Headmaster twiddled with the end of his beard. He absorbed the information given, his mind churning over possibilities and thought out questions. No way could this boy – supposedly eleven years old, not ten – be partaking in a farce. Harry's open grief and disbelief was real, his expression set in creased turmoil.

''Christmas,'' Albus opted to start for. ''Well, Harry, Christmas is a good three months from now. Today is September the first, a far cry from December…and I have never hired a Snape as my staff, yet.''

Harry opened his mouth, once, twice, but never spoke up. Albus decided to interrupt such floundering, his own curiosity building.

''May I ask who your parents are, young Potter?''

''James and Lily Potter, sir.''

Ah-ha…He had thought as much. Harry was a little carbon copy of his father, but those eyes…only Lily Evans had those eyes. Such a simple answer of the child's parentage aided so much of his own confusion. The peculiar, indecipherable magic clinging to Harry, the described mention of seasonal change, and the sheer fact James Potter and Lily Evans were seventeen; it all added up. Harry Potter had done something astounding and rare. The boy had travelled back in time. It was the only explanation that fit and Dumbledore was eager to hear all about it.

A smile spread across the Headmaster's face, it seemed his Head boy and Head girl were in for an interesting start of their final year.