Harry and The Potter Universe

Rated for all the character deaths and violence that will pop up, especially later on.

Warning: Some small(ish) parts are copied directly from canon. I do NOT own those bits!

Disclaimer: Not Rowling, ergo don't own 'Harry Potter'.

Summary: Hadrian Evans, known as simply Harry, was a perfectly normal bloke. Then he died. And was born again. To a world of MAGIC. (Self-Insert)

BOOK I: THE MISCHIEF MANAGED

Chapter 1. Death and Rebirth

Dying was not fun. No light at the end of the tunnel, or life flashing before your eyes. Nope, just the searing pain of being shocked/burnt alive ON HIS 19TH BIRTHDAY because Harry was moronic enough to mess with an electric socket when he was bored.

It took several minutes before his mind registered that he was no longer in pain. The cringing teen slowly opened his eyes, taking in the sight of blank, pale grey nothingness surrounding him. "Well… if this is the afterlife, it frankly sucks."

A low, icy-cold chuckle that sent shivers down Harry's spine sounded behind him. The ravenette whirled around, light emerald eyes widening at the sight that met him. A hooded figure in a night-sky cloak holding a scythe in one bone-hand was floating in front of him. Only a grin from razor teeth was visible from its face.

Harry gulped. "A-are you… Death?"

The figure nodded. "Correct, though I am only using this form right now because you humans seem to find it fitting. Hadrian Evans, unfortunately, I lost to my annoying twin – Fate – in a game of poker and it decided it wants you. Enjoy."

"Huh?" Everything went dark.

Next thing Harry knew, he was squeezed through a squishy narrow tunnel and came out of the end covered in gloop. So he screamed.

It took three months, but eventually Harry's mind registered that he was a newborn baby. The pretty woman with wavy, dark red hair that curled at the ends, lightly tanned complexion, dimples and an elfish nose was his new mother, and a handsome man with caramel-highlighted, messy mop of raven hair that stuck up at the back of his head on its own accord, square-rimmed black glasses and sunkissed skin was his new father. (Although, both looked a bit on the tired side for some reason…)

Their names were Lily and James.

"Hey there, Prongslet!" James said one morning, carefully lifting Harry out of his wooden crib. He held the infant teen close, one hand supporting the small head.

That… is the stupidest nickname I've ever heard for a kid, Harry thought amusedly, giggling against his will. Damn Death made me a bloody baby! I swear, next time I see 'im I'll give that arse a good kick where it hurts.

"Aw, you like it!" James exclaimed, going carefully downstairs and happily sauntering into the living-room over to his wife. "See, Lils? I knew my son will be a Marauder."

The fuck's a Marauder? Harry wondered, thinking James must be a weird guy.

"My hairy sprog!" a pale but healthy 20-year-old man – who looked vaguely similar to James but had a small, square chin, silky, jet black hair that fell in waves to just above his shoulders and eyes as full of mischief as James' were – called out as he sprung to his feet and walked over from where he had been talking to Lily on the sofa.

The redhead got up. "Sirius Orion Black, for the last time stop calling my son that!" she half-shouted, making the men cringe. Harry laughed, thinking that was hilarious.

Sirius made a whining sound that was disturbingly similar to a dog, the look on his face indignant. "Prongslet, I thought you were supposed to be on my side!"

Heck no! I learned the hard way women are always right, the teen infant thought, still giggling.

Exactly a year passed since the day Harry became fully aware of what was going on.

Harry found that he had next to no control in this body. If he felt any strong emotion – embarrassment (more like mortification), as well as anger and sadness at not getting to see Remus J. Lupin beyond two or three rare visits and Sirius' decreasing visits – he would cry like there was no tomorrow. Any time Harry was amused or happy, he would giggle. Being held by James or Lily always filled him with a sense of being calm, safe and loved. Sirius was the fun uncle who made him laugh – he very hard tried to sound manly, to no avail – and Remus those couple times the uncle that was fun to be with in a calmer way. Then there was Peter Pettigrew, whom Harry couldn't decide the few instances they met whether he disliked or not. Something about his watery, beady eyes unnerved him…

There was also one thing that bothered Harry, making him wonder if all of this was a hallucination. He certainly felt much confusion over the fact that these people were MAGICAL. James and Sirius loved using their wands to do entertaining things with furniture or his clothes, and Lily sometimes made colourful sparks come from hers and once shot water at Sirius' face. Even Remus had Magic, making Harry's baby toys dance in the air around him during his second visit. Heck, a couple times Sirius turned into a huge black dog and gave Harry rides on his back, and there was the one time James transformed into a handsome caramel brown stag with black antlers (earning himself a reprimand from Lily).

When Harry was 6 and a half months old, he had met Remus for the first time (that he could remember). Sirius was off doing something important.

"Harry, this is Remus," Lily introduced, gently bouncing her son as she stood in front of her remaining closest male friend. The guest waved at him, and beamed when Harry grinned a baby smile.

"Hey, Moony!" James greeted one of his best friends, slapping a hand onto Remus' shoulder.

"Hey, Prongs," the scarred young man replied with a mischievous smile.

Lily rolled her eyes – which Harry had inherited – at the strange nicknames. "I still can't believe you lot broke the law like that."

James shrugged. "Friends stick together." His smile, which had seemed the tiniest bit strained to Harry, became much more real. But something – Guilt? – flashed in his hazel eyes. "Speaking of which, how are things?"

Remus shrugged, grimacing. "Getting worse by the day. The McKinnons were ...attacked last week."

"What?!" Lily exclaimed, horrified. Grief hit her like a blow to the stomach. "Marlene…"

Remus looked guilty. "Sorry, I don't show up for months and when I finally do all I give you is bad news. I shouldn't have come…"

Now Harry felt bad. It seemed to him Remus had it really rough, and he could certainly empathize with that. He tried to say the sandy-haired male's name, but all he got out was baby babble. James and Lily instantly said they were glad to see Remus and it was You-Know-Who's and all the Death Eaters' fault entire families were dying every week.

Terrorists? Harry thought, scrunching up his face and crying a little in distress at the thought of these people he had started to care for in a warzone. …Why am I such a baby?

"Oh, sweetie, it's all right. Don't cry," Lily said soothingly, dancing about the living room with the baby in her arms.

Remus smiled softly. "You know, Prongs, seeing Harry reminds me what we all are fighting for." James nodded in agreement, a small, proud smile on his face.

Mother and son came to a stop between the two men. Harry was smiling, leaning his head against Lily's collarbone and upper chest. The sound of her heart was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard…

Wait, what the heck?! Harry turned his head a bit, puzzled at the warm, fuzzy feeling inside himself. He blinked, then looked at Remus. Reaching out a hand, he again tried to say the visitor's name but nothing intelligible came out. Harry pouted – scowled, grown boys did not pout – and said very firmly: "Moo'y."

The adults blinked. James snapped out of it first. "Did he just say what I think he said?"

Lily turned Harry so he was facing her. "Oh, my sweetie said his first word! Mummy's so proud!"

Remus looked like he had been hit over the head. "Did Harry… call me Moony?"

Pleased at the reactions he was receiving for no reason he dared think of, the baby repeated himself: "Moo'y." This is fun! "Moo'y, Moo'y, Moo'y!"

"Unbelievable! He already said his first word!" James exclaimed, puffing his chest with a proud look.

Harry giggled, then patted Lily on their shared elfish nose. "Mum-me."

More happy reactions. James put a hand on his son's side and asked if he could say 'Daddy'.

Harry smirked, though it looked more like a strange baby smile, and answered: "'Ong'."

Remus and Lily burst out laughing. James was a little less amused, though he too chuckled. "No, no, no, Harry. Say 'Daddy'."

"Pa'foo'!" He had heard Sirius be referred to as that by his new father every one of the few times he had been in the homely wooden cottage.

James facepalmed, Remus said something Harry didn't quite catch, and Lily bit her lip to stifle her giggles.

Okay, I've had enough fun at the poor guy's expense. "Dada?" Que much happiness from James that made Harry feel very happy too. The bespectacled man carefully pulled his son into his arms and did a little jig that made Harry feel a bit sick.

"Here, why don't you hold him, Remus?" Lily suggested as they all sat down on the sofa, her husband and son on one side of their friend and herself on the other. She moved Harry from James' lap onto Remus' and guided him on how to support the infant's head.

Harry found the terrified look on the sandy brunette's face hilarious. Starting to feel drowsy after all the excitement, he felt his eyelids beginning to droop. Harry slipped into blissful sleep, murmuring: "Moo'y…"

Two weeks later, the baby boy considered being able to sit without support a victory. But learning to crawl turned out to be far more of a challenge than he had expected.

The teen infant pushed himself up into a sitting position atop the carpet he had been laying on, leaning on his arms for support. Harry was so focused on his new task, he didn't notice James nudge Lily whom then pointed her wand to make a camera come zooming into her hand.

Okay, push yourself up on your hands and knees first, Hal. Hands and knees, Harry thought, slowly doing so. Great. … Now what? … Uhh, right hand, left knee– lift, push forward, and… rest. Yes! He started moving again, smiling. Next, same with the opposite sides; left hand, right knee– lift, push forward, and–

Thump. "Waaah!"

James snorted, at which Lily smacked the back of his head. Harry, having turned his head to give the baby equivalent of a glare to his new father, erupted into a fit of giggles.

He pushed himself up again. I need a target to aim for… Aha! My Leo!

Leo the red stuffed lion had been a present from Sirius the last time he came. Harry had latched onto the thing and ever since wouldn't let go if he could help it.

"Uh! Uh!" Stretching his fingers out to their limits, Harry began kicking his feet and felt a jolt of exhilaration when he felt his body slide forward. "Mmmmipf. Mmmipf." He kicked again, managed to nab a piece of his blanket (which was on top of the carpet), and push forward.

SUCCESS! the 7-months-old teen mentally cheered. Perhaps I could slither over there… I just need to kick… again… Harry kicked his feet once more, wiggled his stomach, and swiped his arms in front of himself like he was performing a breaststroke. He felt his tiny body inch forward and giggled in delight.

"Hey, Prongslet, I thought you were going to crawl!" James said, getting off the sofa and walking over to Leo. He squatted down, picked it up, and waved it a bit. "If you want Leo, you need to crawl, not slither like a snake. C'mon, Pup, you can do it." Pup was Remus' and Sirius' special nickname for Harry, and the baby definitely preferred it to Prongslet or, worse, hairy sprog.

"Mime!" Harry cried out sadly, reaching in vain for his Leo. He forgot all about why he started doing this in the first place, only able to think about how far away the best red lion in the world was. Whines of frustration began to escape the tiny teen as he wiggled forward, but James inched away. "Miiiiimmmmme!" Tears began leaking down the tiny face as Harry sent his dada the most pitiful stare he could.

"Oh, sweetie…" Lily sighed with a fond smile, but made no move to help him. Harry tried to turn his head to look at her, but that hurt. He looked at James and, more importantly, Leo again.

"MIME!"

"Come on, Pup, you can do it!" the bespectacled young man encouraged.

Harry pouted, then pulled himself into the crawling position and slowly moved his right hand forward. "Atta boy! That's it!" Smiling widely at the positive reaction from his dada, the baby slid his left knee forward. It was definitely easier than lifting his knee; he didn't feel like he would tip over! Next, left hand… Moving forward wasn't so bad after all. He managed to keep his balance the entire time. It was wicked!

Right knee slide… right hand forward, left knee slide…

"There we go! You're doing it, Pup, you're doing it!" his mummy called out encouragingly. Harry grinned and tried to turn his head to look at her, but that only made him fall over.

Tears sprang into his eyes, though he hadn't hurt himself. It was just so frustrating!

James made a frustrated noise too, though he was smiling encouragingly the whole time. "Oh, Harry! C'mon, son, we believe in you. Try again."

Harry pulled himself up. They believe in me! … Left hand forward, right knee slide… right hand forward, left knee slide…

"You're moving, Harry!"

…Left hand forward, right knee slide, right hand forward, left knee slide…

"Your Leo is right here, Pup. Just one more set to go!"

…Left hand forward, right knee slide, right hand forward, left knee slide!

When Harry's little fist closed around his stuffed toy's paw, a jolt of exhilaration ran up his arm. He smiled up at James. "There now, you see?" The messy-haired pair beamed at each other, James gathering Harry up into his arms and tucking him into his side. "You can do anything, so long as you put your mind to it, eh?" The tiny teen burrowed closer and his Prongs wrapped an arm protectively around him.

Lily came over and kissed Harry's forehead, the camera in her hand. She then pecked her husband on the lips. "You were great too, Jamie."

I did it, I did it, I did it! … …Wait, since when are these two Mummy and Dada? … Aw, who cares?

One day, Harry was being bathed by Lily when she pointed her wand at her own palm and made a small cut. What are you doing? "Wha' aw oof?" His speaking skills had never gotten beyond 'Ongs, Moo'y, Mummy, Dada, Pa'foo', mime, and a handful of other words. Nothing coming out of his mouth would come out properly no matter how hard he tired, and Harry had long given up on sounding any better than semi-coherent.

Lily dipped a finger in her blood and drew what felt like a tiny lightning bolt onto Harry's forehead. Next she did other small markings all over his body, then waved her wand over the baby's head while chanting something in a language Harry didn't understand in the least but suspected to be Gaelic or something similarly ancient. The bloody markings glowed emerald for half a second before vanishing from sight as if they had never been there to begin with.

Bath-time went on as usual, and Harry soon forgot all about the marks in favour of bubbles.

At just below a year old, Harry decided he was sick of his new parents constantly carrying him or being with him 24/7. Sure, he knew a baby should never be left alone in a room, but he needed his independence! So, Harry made a plan – he was going to figure out how to walk so he can move about faster and explore the house at his own leisure.

It turned out to be a little easier than crawling. He just had to pull himself up to stand beside the sofa, then run to his mummy and cling to her leg. The surprised look on her face was the best!

About a couple weeks later, Harry was zooming all over the place on his toy broomstick (a birthday present his godfather sent him; his visits had come to a near-end) with James following him on foot and Lily taking some photos before sitting down to write a letter. "What was Sirius thinking? Harry could be hurt on that thing!"

"Aw, come now, love. It has Safety Charms on it," James replied, picking up his son when Harry carefully landed on one of the pillows spread around underneath him. The teenage baby giggled, having thoroughfully enjoyed the flight and liking being in his dada's arms.

We're a family. I have a family…

A.N.: Harry knows squat about this universe. I wondered what would have happened if the main character of Rowling's books had been a reborn teenager.

P.S. In canon Book 5, it's mentioned that James' hair is black. I've always pictured him with light brown hair, so in this thing I gave him naturally caramel highlights.

P.P.S. Wikia says the McKinnons were murdered by Death Eaters in mid-1981. I moved it to early 1981 instead.