Summary: A freak accident sends Harry hurtling through time . . . right into the Marauder's era. But things take a turn for the worst when Harry is sorted into Slytherin. Will James ever accept his son for who he is, or will the age-long prejudice keep them apart?

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I probably do not own.

0-o-0

"Avada kadavra!"

Harry flung himself to the ground, and quickly rolled to his feet. His wand pointed and ready, Harry braced himself for whatever Voldemort had planned for him next. They were alone on the edge of the Forbidden forest, having left the main battle some time ago. So far, no one had gained the upper hand, but Harry wasn't sure how much more he could take. He was already losing steam and Voldemort seemed unaffected.

"Harry Potter." Voldemort sneered, frighteningly emotionless. "The Boy-who-lived. Only known survivor of the killing curse. You must be very proud of yourself."

Harry said nothing, but gripped his wand tighter.

"I've thought long and hard about you, Harry. How to get rid of you. How to destroy you. And after all of that hard work, it seems I have finally found a solution."

Harry eyed Voldemort wearily. "And what would that be?"

Voldemort smiled his maniacal grin. "You shall plague me no more, Harry Potter! Tendes oblivia!"

Harry had no time to react. There was a flash of red light, a brief feeling of dizziness, and then the Boy-who-lived plunged headfirst into nothingness.

0-o-0

"Where's Harry?" Remus Lupin suddenly asked.

Fearful looks were exchanged, as the Order of the Phoenix realized that Harry Potter was, in fact, no longer with them.

The battle with the Death Eaters had just ended, but there was still no sign of either Voldemort or Harry. Remus wasn't sure whether to take this as a good or bad sign.

Remus rushed towards the castle doors (Harry had gone outside), Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger not far behind.

The castle grounds were eerily silent, and every footstep seemed to explode against the ground with a loud thud. Not far away, a dark shadow was standing, alone. It was a man who Remus recognized instantly. Voldemort. But where was Harry?

The Dark Lord turned towards them, wand in hand. His red eyes gleamed maniacally, the closest thing to happiness Voldemort could possibly show.

"Hello, Werewolf." Voldemort said coolly. He seemed to be in a good mood. "Looking for someone?"

"Where's Harry?" Remus demanded, forcing a brave front. But truly, his insides were collapsing. He had already lost James, Sirius, his parents, Dumbledore . . . everything he had ever cared for. He couldn't bear to lose Harry, too.

Voldemort's lips twitched. "Gone," he replied triumphantly, and then with loud crack, Voldemort dissaparated through the already weakened shields of Hogwarts.

Remus stood rooted to the spot as he soaked in the news. Harry Potter, son of his vanquished best friend, gone. Lifeless. Dead. The Werewolf fell onto his knees, and let his grief overtake him.