Author's Note:

Hey guys. So I've been working on this story for about a year and I think I'm finally ready to post it. This isn't your traditional "Harry goes back and re-does everything" type of story, though. There are different villains, new plots, and new characters. I hope you enjoy it. This is my first fanfic, so please bear with me! Hopefully you all like it

Rated T to be on the safe side.

Disclaimer: All rights go to J.K Rowling. All characters, places, etc, belong to J.K Rowling. I do not own anything but the plotline. I am merely writing this for fun.

Prologue:

A high, clear voice screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry couldn't move. His entire body was frozen. He fell to the ground with his arms pinned to his sides, nothing stuck out to break the fall. A darkness washed over him.

Harry opened his eyes. Everything was white. He felt for his glasses, but they were gone. He looked at his hands. They were free from the cuts, dirt, and scars from the battle.

"Where am I?" he said, getting up. Everything was starting to clear up…

King's Cross? It couldn't be… was he dead? Or alive? Or in between? Harry started walking towards the ticket stand. It was empty.

"This is weird…"

"Hello, Harry…" A voice rang out over the white station.

"Dumbledore? Professor Dumbledore? Is that you?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Harry." The voice was getting closer. Harry ran towards it. Dumbledore would know what was happening, would know where he was- Harry's foot slipped and he fell off the platform. He landed on the tracks with a thud.

Before he could get up, a train rushed towards him, coal gas being exhaled like an angry monster. The train honked once, and the headlights blinded Harry. It was only a few feet away He closed his eyes and-

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Harry lay facedown, listening to the silence. It seemed as if he were on a soft, warm bed. He wondered if this was what Death was like. If so, it wasn't half bad. He opened his eyes. Everything was slightly blurred, but not as much as it had been before. Weird...

He found himself in a bedroom wearing pajamas. The walls were painted bright blue. Where was he? Suddenly a voice rang out from below.

"Harry? Honey, come down here! We're going to miss the train!"

Harry was dumbfounded. The voice sounded different from Aunt Petunia's nasally screech. This one was musical and lilting, like a soothing melody. And since when did Aunt Petunia call him honey? And school? He was supposed to be dead! Maybe this was the way things were done in the afterlife. He looked into a mirror above the desk and promptly fell back in shock. His 11 year old face stared back at him.

"Wha- What?" he stammered, looking back at the reflection. He looked at his hands. They were smaller than the ones he had before he died- unless, he hadn't died? Then where was he? He could recall every painful, excruciating memory of the battle, all the way up to when he sacrificed himself to Voldemort.

Harry looked around the room he was in. It was larger than his and Dudley's rooms combined back at Privet Drive. The walls were sky blue with the farthest containing a painting of a Quidditch pitch and players. The players were moving, the Quaffle being tossed between each. The score flashed in the corner.

"Harry, what are you doing up there?" There was a pause, "Have you packed everything? I'm coming in to check." Who was this woman?

The door opened. Harry looked at the figure coming in to his room, and reeled back in shock. It was his mother, Lily Potter! She walked over to his trunk and consulted a piece of parchment while Harry sat unmoving in disbelief.

"OK, all set, Harry. Come on now, you can't miss the train!" she walked back towards the door, looked back, and said in alarm, "Harry, are you feeling alright? You look quite pale."

Harry was sitting absolutely still, gaping open mouthed at her.

"Harry dear, are you sure you're alright?" Her voice was full of worry, which was something Harry had never experienced with Petunia.

"Why don't you go downstairs, I'll be down in a minute. I'll just make sure you've packed everything."

Harry ran down the stairs of the unfamiliar house. He paused and then dove into a closet. It was a linen closet, with dozens of matching sheet sets and towels and bath mats. Seriously, who color-codes their bathroom mats and towels?

Voldemort must have used some magic to put him in a hallucination. How else could his parents be alive? And how could he possibly be 11 again?

Harry knew he had to put up a convincing act to fool Voldemort into thinking that he had no idea what was happening. Which was true. What should he do? Could this be a sort of in-between for life and death? Or was it all a trap? Was there even magic that could keep him stuck in a hallucination like this?

He ventured out of the closet and went down to the kitchen. If he were actually caught in a trap, it would be best if he acted as though he did not suspect anything. There, his dad, or whoever this hallucination person really was, was reading the Daily Prophet. The paper was dated September 1st, 1991. The date of his departure to Hogwarts, all those years ago!

"Good morning, Harry. Excited for your first day at Hogwarts?" James asked, looking up at Harry. Harry was about to respond, but he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. There was no scar on his forehead! The kitchen seemed to sway before his eyes.

"Yeah, really excited, Dad. I just remembered, I've left something upstairs..." With that, Harry ran back to his room and locked the door. Lily, it appeared, had left already. What was going on? Where was his scar? Not that he missed it, of course. But still.

Harry didn't know what was going on, but thought that Voldemort had trapped him in some dream world with his parents alive. Then Voldemort was going to come back and kill him all over again. Or maybe this was some sick torture, allowing Harry to have the joy of his parents before transporting him back to the destruction of the world where he attempted to sacrifice himself. Or maybe his mother's protection worked a little too well. Unless this was Death, and time went slower here... his theories came as if transported by a flood, each more unlikely than the one before it. Just act normally, he thought, Until I can talk to Dumbledore. Dumbledore would most likely know what to do.

He took a deep breath and walked back down to the kitchen, where Lily and James were talking in low, hushed whispers.

"Yes, he's been acting a bit strange-"

"I'm worried, James-"

"Maybe we should take him to-"

"Bad idea-..."

Harry stayed in the shadows behind the doorway, and then stepped into the kitchen and cleared his throat. His parents looked around in alarm.

"Harry! Did you hear-" Lily asked, "Er- do you want some breakfast?" Harry, feeling it would be prudent to act as if he hadn't heard anything, nodded and sat down at table next to his father. James put the newspaper down and looked over at Lily, his face serious. As Harry had no inkling as to what James was doing, he looked over at the Daily Prophet. The front page read:

Death Eaters Strike Again

At 9:30 PM last night, a family of three was found dead in their home. A Ministry Spokesperson, who wished to remain anonymous, has divulged that there is evidence of the Avada Kedavra curse, and the Dark Mark was found over the dwelling. This appears to be the work of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and/or his Death Eaters, who grow stronger and stronger to this day ever since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's well publicized murder of the Longbottom family on that Halloween Night, 10 years ago. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister, will issue a statement later today, and, as always, we advise the Wizarding Community to remain alert and vigilant.

Harry sat completely still, his mouth slightly open with shock. He did not expect Voldemort to be at large in this place, whatever it was. Now that Harry thought about it, the more obvious it was. If Harry's parents were here then that must mean Voldemort's curse on Harry never rebounded due to his mother's protection. So he must have gone after Neville instead, the other boy in the Prophecy! And it looked as if Voldemort had succeeded. And the Ministry didn't seem completely useless like it usually did. Kingsley was Minister, and with a competent Ministry, Harry was confident they could beat Voldemort this time around. Well, then again, if they were really competent, Voldemort wouldn't be at large now.

Why would Harry need to put himself through all that suffering again? He wasn't even the Chosen One anymore, Neville was! Except poor Neville and his family were dead. What was he supposed to do? Where was he, anyway? Could it possibly be some sort of other world where everything was different? Was this even possible? But the more Harry thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Voldemort trapped him here, wherever it was. The one thing that Harry couldn't understand was why Voldemort had put him in a trap with his parents. It didn't make much sense.

He looked back up at his parents, who were both at the stove, discussing something in hushed whispers.

"Dad," Harry said, looking over at him.

"Yeah, Harry?"

"What happened to Cornelius Fudge?"

"He was killed several years ago. Kingsley's his replacement, and a much better Minster. If Fudge was still around we'd all be dead by now. Didn't I tell you this? Like, yesterday, I think?"

"James!" Lily whispered, apparently under the notion that Harry could not hear her."He's only eleven! I hardly think Harry is old enough to know about these things." James gave her a lopsided grin, and Harry, with a jolt, realized that was the way he smiled too.

Once breakfast was over, James helped Harry bring his trunk down from his room. James put it in the trunk of their car and they set off for King's Cross. Only when they drove by a glass building did Harry realize there was no reflection of their car in it.

"Are we invisible or something?" Harry asked, wondering if he was going crazy. With everything that happened in the day, he wouldn't be surprised if he already was.

"We have to take precautions against You-Know-Who. He's getting stronger, you know." She looked over at James with a worried look in her eye. "We just want you to be safe." Harry found this strangely comforting, even though he didn't have a clue as to what was going on, in whatever world he was in.

Once at King's Cross, James put Harry's trunk in a trolley and wheeled it through the barrier of Platform 10⅖.

"What happened to 9 ¾?" Harry asked in confusion.

"We have lots of different platforms now, so we don't stay in the Muggle world, exposed." James replied. "Didn't I already tell you this?"

"You must have forgotten, James. Next come the wrinkles and then you won't be able to hear and I'll stay in a perfect vision of youngness. And you'll get grey hair, although you've already started on that."

Lily took Harry's hand while James wildly ran his hands through his hair, looking at his reflection on the plastic platform number. They strode through the barrier. Harry pushed his trolley, now, and looked for an empty compartment. He found one at the end of the train. Harry looked over to say bye to Lily and James. He had to play his part convincingly.

"Bye Harry!" Lily said, hugging him tightly. Her eyes were a bit watery. "Don't leave the castle after dark, and don't go wandering off."

"Remember, Hagrid invited you for tea on Friday. Don't mess with Peeves, and try not to be as much of a troublemaker as I was. Oh, and," He leaned in and lowered his voice, "Don't ask about the shaving cream. I hear there are a certain pair of redheads who would be willing to do it again." James winked at Harry, tousling his hair.

Harry got onto the train and waved. It felt odd without anybody staring at Harry's scar, but Harry liked it all the same. He sat down in an empty compartment as the train started moving along, slowly, then gaining speed. Harry looked out of the window and waved at James and Lily until the platform vanished, as the the Hogwarts Express turned a corner. The train passed houses and bustling streets before going into a tunnel.

Harry sat back in his seat, wondering what he would have to do. Where was he, anyhow? This still didn't make any sense. Maybe he was just dreaming. Harry pinched his arm, hard. It hurt.

Suddenly, the door to his compartment opened. A dark boy who Harry recognized as Dean Thomas walked in.

"Could I sit here?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

"Sure." Harry replied, nodding. Dean put his trunk in the rack and sat down. "I'm Dean, by the way. What's your name?"

"I'm Harry Potter." Harry said the name and smiled to himself as Dean didn't look amazed and move his eyes up to a scar.

They sat there, awkwardly, until Harry asked, "Do you know what Quidditch is?", knowing what Dean's answer would be. Harry started explaining the game, and Dean looked amazed as Harry described flying on a broomstick.

The lunch trolley arrived soon after, earlier than Harry had remembered. Or maybe he was just distracted. He bought Pumpkin Pasties, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes for them to share. The view from the windows now showed farmland, as they were far away from London at that point.

Later on during the ride, after the lamps had been lit, Dean asked, "Did you hear about the murder in Bodmin? Kind of scary, isn't it. By some guy named Voldemort. I mean, I'm new to this, and all. My mum didn't want me to come after she heard it. My sisters aren't magic either."

Harry replied, "Yeah. A lot of people have non-magical parents. It's fine. But, I wouldn't say his name if I were you. People around here are scared and don't like it when you say it."

"Oh… That's what one of my sisters said. She said the name was scary… but she's only six, so…" He dropped off.

"I heard Hogwarts is really cool, though. The teachers and Dumbledore are all nice, apparently. Except for a few." Dean picked up the conversation again a few minutes later.

"Yeah, Professor McGonagall is pretty strict, but she's a fair teacher."

They continued this small talk, until Seamus Finnigan arrived in the compartment and struck up a conversation with Dean. Harry had once wondered if Dean and Seamus had been friends before Hogwarts, and it seemed he was right.

"Hey, did you hear about the exploding toilet? Gave a lot of Muggles a turn I heard."

Harry quickly dropped out of the conversation. His thoughts moved to what was happening to him. Was he in some dream world, one that Voldemort had trapped him in? If that was true, what would he do? He'd have to speak with Dumbledore. Harry guessed he would just have to go through the year again, like before.

Harry intended to find out where he actually was. If he could keep up his act long enough to do some research, he just might be able to figure out what was happening. And, the Horcruxes were destroyed. Well, at least they were in the place he was before. If he could get back to… well, where he was before, it might mean the end for Voldemort. Harry's thoughts again drifted to Dumbledore. He would most likely know what to do, wouldn't he? Then again, the headmaster hadn't told Harry everything before. What would cause him to do this now?

"Harry? Harry," Seamus appeared to be talking, "I was just asking you if you saw the Chudley Cannons game yesterday. I can't believe they won! I mean, it's their first win of the season. Me mam was going to take me to watch but me dog ate our tickets."

Harry pulled himself out of his stupor and forced himself to continue with the conversation, which went from Quidditch to some gossip about a Prefect in Slytherin named Scarlett Emeralda. She had motion sickness, and apparently threw up accidentally on the witch who pushed the snack trolley. Luckily, the witch had come down to their trolley before she went to Scarlett's compartment.

The windows grew dark and the lamps turned on; The three of them changed into their robes.

"Hey, did you hear about the murder in Bodmin?" Seamus asked. Harry and Dean said they already talked about it.

"I hear You-Know-Who's getting really strong. This is the fifth murder this week. Me mam didn't want me to come to Hogwarts. She was scared of sending me."

Fifth? How strong was Voldemort? Were the Order and Dumbledore trying to stop him? Harry questioned Seamus further, using the excuse that he was on vacation and didn't hear the news recently.

Harry gathered that this week alone the Death Eaters had kidnapped the heads of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the head Auror of the Minister's protection detail. They'd been attacking members of the Wizengamot, all in the past week or so. But the real worrying thing was that Seamus said these things as though they were common occurrence; as though they happened all the time.

Seamus and Dean soon picked up the conversation of how Quidditch was better than soccer, but Dean was adamantly defending his sport.

"Quidditch is soccer on broomsticks! It's so much better," Seamus argued back. "Who wants to watch people running when you could fly instead!"

Harry and Seamus laughed at Dean's expression when Seamus mentioned broomsticks meant flying around. Still chuckling, Harry glanced out the window. The train was slowing down. As Harry watched, something green caught his eye. Was… was that the Dark Mark? He looked outside again, alarmed, but the thing in the sky vanished before he could get a second glance. It had to have been the Dark Mark. What other possibility was there?

Soon enough, the train came to a stop. Harry, Dean, and Seamus were one of the first off of the Hogwarts Express. Harry was still thinking about the Dark Mark he had seen. It wasn't terribly far away from Hogwarts...

"Firs' years, firs' years over here!" Hagrid's voice rang out over the crowd of older students heading towards the carriages. Harry, Dean, and Seamus headed over to Hagrid. He saw Ron a few feet away from them. Harry spoke, "Hi, Hagrid. How're you doing?"

"Well, well, if it isn' James and Lily Potter's son. I know yer parents, Harry. Great people." Seamus and Dean looked astounded, especially Dean, since Harry knew this giant man. Harry felt it would be better to stop acting like such a know it all, even though he now was. People would get suspicious, and attention was the last thing Harry wanted.

Harry thought Hagrid was leading them to the boats, but he lead them on a path through prickly bushes until he got to a small metal object, sitting on the water.

"Okay, ev'ryone get in. It's called a submachine, invented by 'em muggles, 'cept-"

"It won't work here if it's made by Muggles. There's too much magic in the air. Muggle devices will go haywire." Hermione blurted. "I read about it in Hogwarts, a History. And, by the way, its submarine, not submachine. You have to use the proper terms, otherwise you're going to lead us to the wrong conclusion and this could affect our whole future! I read a book about Flidlyn McGoffit, who was going to become a doctor, or as the proper term for all of the non Muggle-Borns, Healer, but didn't because he used a term on his exam that his teacher used offhandedly which was incorrect, and he failed it. I'll have you know-,"

Hagrid looked dumbfounded, but then he interrupted Hermione's ramblings, "Correct, which is why we're usin' magic to power this 'cross the lake. Now, ge' in." The first years squeezed through the door.

Harry asked Hagrid, 'What about the boats? Why are we going in this?"

"Standard safety procedure. 'S been here for a while Harry, before yer parents were here as well. Where'd you learn about 'em boats?" Harry just shrugged, and climbed in last. The inside was bigger than he thought, as large as the Entrance Hall at Hogwarts.

The ride took a surprisingly short time, and it was warm, although it lacked the amazing first view of Hogwarts that Harry would always remember. When they landed at the other side of the lake, Hagrid ushered them up to the magnificent doors that led to Hogwarts. He raised a large fist and knocked.

Author's Note: Hope you liked the first chapter. Chapter 2 has been posted too.

This is my first fanfic, so please review with your opinions, comments, or suggestions! :)