A/N: I took this story down a while ago because it wasn't going the way I had originally intended. When an author questions his own plot, things aren't going right. But i think i figured it out now, so I'm going to try it again. This will take time and a lot of reworking because the overall plot is unchanged, but I'm eliminating a few side plots and reworking it for the outcome I had originally envisioned. I hope you enjoy this, because now I'm enjoying writing it.

1.

Halloween, 1981

"Lily! Take Harry and run! Get out of here now!" James Potter roared as he stood between his wife and child and the foul evil beast that even now stalked towards him menacingly, wand rising up.

"James, come with me!" Lily Potter shrieked, holding her crying child to her chest protectively. "Let's get out of here now!"

"Lily, GO!" James shouted more desperately as he kept his eyes on the stalking predator before him.

The beast began to laugh, a wickedly high cruel laugh that sent chills up Lily's spine as she began to back away, all while her husband stood firmly between the monster and his wife. James Potter had always been a show off, but tonight, he was not trying to impress his wife, but to protect his family. Her heart pounded in her chest as she prayed that someone would come and help them, or give them the chance to get away safely together.

James had told his wife to run, but she couldn't seem to move. All she could seem to do was watch in abject horror as her husband, James Potter, Lily's one true love, was blasted in the face by the most horrendous poisonous green light, and his body fell in a heap like a marionette who'd had its strings cut, his life force extinguished once and for all. Lily turned and ran up the stairs, the heinous laughter of the most vile wizard in history followed her as she turned and sprinted up the stairs, clutching her crying son close to her breast.

Lily slammed the nursery door shut and locked it, knowing full well it was a weak obstacle at best. She tried to apparate twice and failed. It was obvious that the Dark Lord had erected anti-apparition wards around the house to prevent her escape. She grabbed one of her child's baby rattles and tried to make a portkey, but it failed to activate. She was trapped, and she and her son were going to die.

It was in that moment that Lily realized that her family had been betrayed. There was only one way they could have been found. She and James had taken steps to ensure they would be hidden from the Dark Lord and his followers, but now it was clear that Sirius's plan had failed. They had trusted the wrong person with their safety, and Lily cursed the name of Peter Pettigrew and prayed with all her heart that the rat would burn in the deepest and hottest pits in Hell.

Footsteps approached and stopped just on the other side of the nursery door. Instinctively, Lily shielded baby Harry with her body from the wooden shrapnel that was violently flung towards them from the door before she turned to face this monster. She would not die cowering. She would protect her child until her very last breath if that's what it took.

"Hand over the child and step aside, and I may spare your life." Lord Voldemort commanded.

The manifestation of evil held out a long thin, skeletal hand toward Lily who was backed against the wall with no where to run, and no hope of escape.

"No." Lily said firmly, her wand raised at the handsome pale face of Lord Voldemort, who smirked at her attempt to stop her, his eyes blazing red with malice. She was trembling badly, but she refused to cower. Not now, not ever. She sent out half a dozen curses all of which the Dark Lord slapped away with his wand as if they were mildly annoying insects, sneering at her malevolently.

"You are brave though foolish. And you have power; the air around you is simply crackling with energy. Strange, considering you are a Mudblood." Lord Voldemort noted thoughtfully. "I can see now why Severus wishes me to spare your life. Perhaps he was not misguided in his desire for you."

Lily remained standing with her wand held up, aimed at Voldemort's face, Harry clutched to her chest, where he shrieked with fright. Lily's expression had become slightly puzzled now however at the mention of Severus. She hadn't heard that name since she had graduated Hogwarts School four years ago. She thought it must have been some kind of trick, and sent another string of powerful curses towards the beast that intended to hurt her child. Voldemort again slapped away her efforts, smirking at her attempts to stand against him.

Voldemort tried to catch a glimpse of the fabled savior but the mother was doing all she could to keep the child away, for what little good it would do. Voldemort scoffed inwardly, still not truly understanding why he was here. How could this mere child be his downfall? There appeared to be nothing remarkable about the squirming and screaming wretch. Nothing at all.

And yet, the Dark Lord knew it would be unwise not to heed the warning. He had gone too far to secure his immortality to allow anything to chance. Death, the ultimate enemy of true power, was the only thing to fear, and Lord Voldemort had seen to it that he would never succumb to it. This was why this child needed to be culled.

However, the woman was making this more difficult than it should have been. He could just kill her and be done with it, but he had promised his servant to spare her. Severus Snape had proven to be invaluable first with his knowledge and ability with the under appreciated art of potion making, but also a true artist with the darker aspects of magic. Only Bellatrix could rival Snape's love for inflicting pain.

It had Been Severus who had learned of the Prophecy while spying on Albus Dumbledore. Severus had gone further still and worked his way into the ranks of Dumbledore's resistance. He had then learned of Dumbledore's belief that two boys fit the parameters of the Prophecy, and that they had been put into those two families had been placed in hiding. Families who had given birth to male heirs at the end of July. Two potential children who could fulfill the prophecy. One of which had already been dealt with by the Dark lord personally.

Severus had earned this reward, and Lord Voldemort always rewarded his faithful. Severus had never asked for anything except this woman. If that was all Severus desired, than Lord Voldemort would see to it that his most loyal, his most faithful would receive what he desired. For Lord Voldemort was a benevolent lord. However… this woman could not be allowed to potentially birth any other threats to his reign.

The most vile wizard in a thousand years sneered down at the woman, and gave a flick of his wand. Lily managed to cast a shield charm and stop the acid yellow curse which felt like a freight train against her protection. She had never scene a curse like that before. It was acid yellow and it had smelled like sulphur and decay. It had smelled. Spells didn't smell!

Lily lifted questioning eyes to the Dark Lord and he locks his sinister red gaze on her. Their eyes locked and Lily realized immediately what a monumental mistake she had made. At once she felt an invasion in her mind that was like a stampeding dragon. She managed to break the connection after but a single moment, but when she averted her eyes, it gave the Dark Lord the moment he needed to end this farce.

Lily felt herself being tossed into the air before she came crashing down hard against Harry's toy chest. She knew that she had broken ribs, and her wand had snapped. But even more troubling was that she had lost her hold on her son. Voldemort was on her and that strange acidic yellow spell struck her abdomen.

The pain was surprisingly dull, like a swift hard punch in the stomach. But the blood that began pooling between her legs was extremely troubling, as was the fact that she seemed unable to move. Her legs refused to obey her commands and she could only watch in horror as Lord Voldemort turned towards her child and brought his wand to bear as the child began screaming like she had never heard before.

Lily had heard her son cry many times in the year he'd been alive. He'd cried because he was hungry, or needed a changing or was sick. But none of them rivaled the shrieks he uttered now. He was screaming so loud that it hurt her ears. It was almost primal.

As she looked at her child, sitting on the floor just inches away, she was astounded to see him beginning to glow. Harry had shown his affinity to magic almost from the beginning, banishing things he didn't want, or summoning things he did, usually the cat.

But this… this was something more than just calling things from across a room. This was

Raw power being called upon. It was the most frightening thing she had ever seen. It was almost as if her fifteen month old child was about to use his magic intentionally. To protect his mother. Voldemort either didn't seem to think he was in any danger, or just didn't care what was happening. He simply turned and gave a mirthless laugh as he touched the tip of his bone white wand to the child's forehead and pronounced the curse that was intended to end the child's life for good.

There was a resounding crack like that of a thunderclap, and an explosion of blinding green gold light. The wall behind the crib exploded outward and a shrill scream of pain assaulted her ears. In less then a second it was all over. Silence bombarded her ears, and after a moment, her vision returned. She was assaulted by the cool autumn breeze that sent chills up and down her flesh. She began to cough as she breathed in the dust from the shattered wall. In front of her, lying amongst the devastation was the corpse of the most feared wizard in all history. His robes had been shredded and there was blood congealing on a thousand wounds. If she hadn't just witnessed it, she would have said he'd been dead for days.

And just beyond lie the tiny motionless body of her child.

She pulled herself across the floor and reached out hoping against hope that she would touch the tiny little fingers and they would wrap around her fingers, or that she might hear the soft coo that always told her that her child was content. But there was nothing. His fingers were limp and cold. He made no sound at all. He appeared for all the world to be sleeping, but Lily knew in her very core that her child had died.

Lily Potter was found roughly fifteen minutes later by her husband's long time friend, Sirius Black, sobbing hysterically as she clutched her lifeless child to her breast.

15 YEARS LATER

Albus Dumbledore had never in all his one hundred twenty years ever felt so lost and powerless. He had exhausted just about every option he knew of, but now after only two years, the war was practically lost. It was only a matter of time.

The second Wizarding War of Great Britain had erupted with no warning, and the side of the light was losing badly. For fourteen years, the magical world had lived in peace and prosperity until seemingly out of nowhere, Lord Voldemort the most evil and powerful Dark Lord had somehow resurrected himself and gathered his former forces, and more. The Ministry was ill prepared for any kind of conflict especially after fourteen years of mismanagement and political corruption, and though they had fought back, it was clear that it wouldn't be long before the government fell. Dumbledore's own group, The Order of the Phoenix was also being decimated. Even with having a spy within Voldemort's Inner Circle, Lord Voldemort and his forces were too strong.

To make matters worse, there had been a prophecy foretelling of someone who could have vanquished the Dark Lord. However, the final act of the First War had been to kill the prophesized savior. It had been Voldemort's undoing, or so it had appeared for fourteen years.

When it was clear that Voldemort had in fact some how managed to return from the dead, Dumbledore had tried negotiating for help from other countries, he had even begged on hands and knees in front of the International Confederacy of Wizards, but no one wished to become involved with England's internal affairs as they called it. Even with his warnings that once Voldemort took over he would no longer be contained, no one wished to assist England. It was clear to Dumbledore that his country was now reaping what it had sown after years of prejudices and snobbery in regards to their neighbors.

So Dumbledore had turned to the only resource left to him.

For a year and a half he had spent combing every single book and scroll he could find that would offer any kind of solution, or give him the answer of how Lord Voldemort had managed to evade death. Dumbledore knew that the Dark Lord must have some kind of weakness, something that the side of light could exploit in order to turn the tide of the war.

The Hogwarts Headmaster had looked in the darkest of tomes for any kind of answer and found several promising leads that inspired small glimmers of hope but nothing that he felt would end the war and Voldemort's evil once and for all.

Until late one night roughly two months ago. Dumbledore had stumbled on a book that appeared to be hand written and had no title. Some pages had faded beyond any sort of recognition. Most of what the book dealt with was old rituals, many of them long forgotten. Yet one ritual had caught Dumbledore's eye, and held the potential to turn the tide of the war. It was too good to be believed.

First of all, there was the cost of the thing. There didn't seem to be one. Dumbledore really didn't like that. Most Dark rituals came with a cost. Some sort of sacrifice to be made on the part of the caster in order to make the spell work. It was one of the defining qualities of a dark spell. This one didn't seem to have one, which made Dumbledore very cautious, and had led to a month of hard research.

He had studied the ritual until he felt he could recite it. The thing itself looked fairly straight forward. A potion, a few important items, and a certain individual all put together on a particular night, and then… the possibility of hope. The Headmaster had looked for any sort of ritual that was similar so that he might discern what the sacrifice might be. But he had little more to go on than when he'd first found the ritual.

Dumbledore felt his very old heart pound in his chest as he read through the ritual once again. He knew that this might only be the first step in ending the war. But maybe it was the very step they needed. Dumbledore looked around his office and sighed. If what his spy had told him earlier that morning was to be believed, the Ministry would fall soon, and when that happened, Hogwarts would be next. Dumbledore would rather give up his life in this world than let Voldemort take the school and turn it into his own training ground for future Death Eaters.

Dumbledore clenched his fist, and once again, he felt as if he had found the answer, and was ready to begin preparations. And almost as suddenly, the doubt crept up on him. Many questions occurred to him.

Was he moving too fast?

Was this really the answer?

Would this solve problems, or create bigger ones?

How would this change the world at large?

And most importantly, how would this affect the people who needed to be directly involved?

Dumbledore sighed, and removed his half moon spectacles to pinch the bridge of his long crooked nose and let out a deep sigh of exhaustion. He knew he couldn't just blindly push forward. He wasn't all powerful, or even close to omniscient. He had made mistakes in the past, and people had suffered for his foolishness. He had sworn never again to let that happen, and that was why he knew he had to speak to someone about this.

And so, Dumbledore rose to his feet, slid the book into his traveling cloak and left his office. He knew that there was only one person in the entire world who would listen to him, and be completely honest with him. As quickly as he could manage, Dumbledore made his way through the empty castle and out onto the grounds of the school. In moments he'd reached the tall wrought iron gates, and the edge of the wards of the school. With a breath, and a spin, he'd disapparated away to find his old friend, and hopefully the answers to his doubts.

Minerva McGonagall's cottage was very simple in its elegance. Tucked away in the Scottish Highlands, it had a very storybook quality to it. Dumbledore found his deputy headmistress tending to her modest garden. She was quite a bit younger than he was, by forty five years. They had been friends for longer than either of them cared to admit. She was extremely loyal to him, but more importantly, she was always frank with her opinions, and never failed to tell him if she thought he was wrong about something. There was no one Dumbledore trusted more than McGonagall.

"Albus? This is quite a surprise." Minerva said as she caught sight of him. She rose stiffly and brushed her hands on her apron as Albus stopped to admire her chrysanthemums.

"Sometimes I wonder if perhaps I should have hired you as our Herbology teacher." Dumbledore smiled. Minerva shook her head and gave him a rather wry smirk, though she slipped her hand into her apron pocket and gripped her wand.

""I do wish you would attempt growing Black Irises."

Minerva relaxed her stance as Albus gave the code phrase. It had been a private joke between them for nearly fifty years and one they only shared when they were alone.

"Much to depressing a flower for my garden, Albus." She smiled. "And you know I never would have accepted the Herbology post… Gardening is my hobby, and I would never attempt to grow Devil's Snare, or Mandrakes. My word, the screaming…"

Albus chuckled softly.

"You look tired." Minerva remarked. Dumbledore heaved a heavy sigh and nodded.

"I feel tired." He replied.

"Well, I know you didn't come here to admire my green thumb and it isn't like you to show up unannounced. So, out with it. What has happened?" She asked, looking apprehensive as he slipped his hand into his robes and pulled out an ominous looking leather bound book and handed it to her. She gazed at it feeling a bit of dread in her stomach as she stared at the worn ancient looking cover.

"I am afraid to even dare hope, but I think I might have found something to help us. However, history has I think finally made me wiser in my choices. I need your opinion before I move forward." Dumbledore stated.

What is this? Where did you find it?" McGonagall asked, looking more than a bit uncomfortable as she held the book, looking as if it might come to life at any moment to bite her. Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic look. The book did have a sort of ominous feel to it, though it wasn't exactly dark, just... it felt like something you should be careful handling.

None of that is important, Minerva." Dumbledore said reaching out to open the book for her. "What I found in it is. It could be the very answer to our troubles, but... I need you to read it and tell me what you think. I fear I may just be trying to convince myself that this is the solution when in reality..."

"You could be wrong, and you're afraid this could hurt us instead of helping us?" Minerva said, looking a bit heartbroken that her friend was filled with self doubt.

"Perhaps it will become clear when you've looked it over?" Dumbledore sighed. "I shall put the kettle on."

It took nearly three hours for Minerva to read the manual over. When she was finally finished, she set the book down with shaking hands, and quickly grabbed her cup of tea and drank to large swallows before she spoke.

"This…" she said anxiously. "This is… Albus, is this even possible?" She looked aghast.

"These are instructions Minerva. I have to believe that it has worked at least once, as this has been written. Though I am aware that many things have been written down that have no basis in fact." Dumbledore replied.

"But, this is taking a serious risk. What if… what if you get it wrong? It's not as if we can ask for exactly what we need." The Transfiguration teacher pointed out, shutting the book. "And what of the cost to you?"

"I am unclear on that part." Dumbledore admitted. "Normally, the sacrifice would be made quite plain, as it would be part of the ritual, but this… I can only guess that it would be a more or less simple switching spell, so to speak."

"A switching spell? Are you mad?" Minerva asked with horror. "You're talking about ripping a person out of their own world and bringing them here! You're talking about changing not only our world but another one as well. What about their families? Their friends? I know that we're desperate, but… I don't know Albus. This seems very risky, not to mention the morality of it. To rip someone from the world they know and ask them to fight our war…"

"This is why I came to you." Albus gave the weakest of smiles. "I was ready to begin when all these questions occurred to me. And it isn't permanent."

Minerva looked up into the tired blue eyes of her longtime friend. "You were going to attempt to summon the boy."

"Or girl." Albus nodded timidly. "As you said, we have no way of asking for exactly what we need. I think that is why we would need her there. The individual would be tied to her, if the text is to be believed.

"Oh Albus no. Hasn't that poor woman been through enough? Do you really want to do this to her? She's sacrificed more than anyone to that madman, and…" McGonagall began but Dumbledore held up his hands.

"I am more than aware of all Lily Potter has lost. I also know that to ask this of her, after all that she has been through is cruel at best. But look around Minerva. We are losing this war. I have no idea how Lord Voldemort managed to escape death. I have no idea how to beat him. If we don't do something, I fear that he will make his final push, and I, the only one he seems to have any respect, or fear of, will be gone. We are desperate. That is why I wish for you to accompany me this evening

You can't be serious?!" Minerva gasped.

"I just want her to hear me out, and given everything, I feel she would be more willing to listen if you were there as well. If she refuses, then I will respect her wishes. But I believe that this might be our very best hope. I need you there to help her to understand our situation, and exactly what this may entail, and what it would mean if we succeed." Dumbledore explained.

"Albus, I don't know if I can. She… Lily… We have no business asking anything of her. We failed her. We all failed her. She doesn't trust us, not since that night and we've done nothing to try to change that."

"That is not true. There are people she still has faith in, no matter how far apart they have become. Though she's built a wall around her heart, it still is as big as it ever was. And perhaps this may help her to…"

"NO!" Minerva slammed her fist down. "Do not try and justify this to me, and don't you even think of trying to play on her broken heart for your own ends."

Minerva stared her friend down until he nodded and sighed. An uneasy silence fell between the two and Minerva stared at the book between them. The war was becoming more terrible than the first one, and their world needed hope if it had any chance of surviving, much less winning. Perhaps Albus was right, and this could be the answer, but… to affect so many lives… was it morally right? The answer was no. But, on the other hand, what if it actually improved the lives of those involved. It was possible. It was also possible that they could actually bring something far worse than Lord Voldemort into their reality. Were they so desperate to attempt something so risky?

That answer was a resounding yes.

Minerva sighed and again looked at the book that held the potential answer to so many questions.

And this… savior?" Minerva began. "What happens if they want no part in our troubles? What will you do then?"

"The book says that we can reverse the ritual and send anyone back to their world. This won't be permanent, and if our… guest, for lack of a better word, should choose to not help us, I will not keep them here. I will apologize, thank them, and send them home. But we will only have one opportunity to do this Minerva. Everything has to be perfect in order for us to have the best chance at calling upon someone who not only will be willing to help, but capable of it as well." Dumbledore explained.

Minerva sighed and shook her head. "I think this will not end well, but I can't think of any other way." She said heavily.

"Then you'll come with me to speak to her?" Dumbledore asked, unable to contain his gratitude.

"Gods protect us, but yes." Minerva sighed. "But I'm only there to keep you from playing upon her heart break. You will stick to the facts."

"That my dear is why I came to you first." Dumbledore smiled softly.