Summsary: Heartbroken, Harry is sent back to hell after seeing his godfather die right before his eyes. Alone and miserable, Harry turns to the book Luna gave him. He was entitled to a vacation, right? Unfortunately, Harry had forgotten the Harry Potter factor, meaning that if anything could go wrong, it will. Or did it?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money on this.

This is a story I started writing years ago. I dusted it off when I began writing again and managed to finish it. I quite like it and hope that you will too.

Janara

Vacation, Luna Style

Harry couldn't believe that he was actually considering this.

It was utter madness...

...It was so utterly Luna Lovegood.

Harry stared at the circle he had drawn with an old, broken piece of crayon he had found in one of the desk drawers. He hoped that the magic of the spell didn't mind that he hadn't used chalk. Not that the book had specified what material to use when drawing the circle.

Sighing gustily, Harry ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe that he was doing this.

Looking down at the floor, Harry considered the small, slim volume sitting there. Luna had given it to him; well more like slipped it to him, really, when they had exited the carriages at the train station at Hogsmeade, giving him a mysterious smile as if she knew something he didn't.

Then again, this was Luna, who knew what was happening inside her mind? Harry had put the book in his pocket and had proceeded to forget all about it, determined to enjoy his friends while he could since he had a feeling that the summer with the Dursleys would be anything but fun.

Sadly, he had been correct. Harry still seethed when he recalled the way some of the Order had threatened his relatives. Did they honestly think that one threat was enough to cause the Muggles to change their behaviour towards their unwanted nephew?

For that matter, what kind of people sent a child back to a home where they knew he was being mistreated? What really hurt was that it was three of the most important adults in his life who had delivered the threats.

It didn't matter much that both Tonks and Moody had taken his uncle to task, since he didn't know them very well. But both Mr and Mrs Weasley had made it abundantly clear that they knew what was going on behind the doors at #4 Privet Drive, and yet they had willingly sent Harry back to his 'family'.

Harry had come to look upon the Weasleys as his family, even though he knew there was no common blood between them. Still, he had thought that they honestly cared for him. Apparently, he had been very much mistaken.

And Remus! How could the last link Harry had to his parents so blatantly send Harry away to the Muggles to be abused? Didn't he care at all about Harry?

Sneering slightly to himself, Harry ran an agitated hand through his hair. No matter how he twisted and turned the situation around, he always came back to a few, hard truths. They knew Harry was being mistreated by the Muggles. They knew that he was being abused by his relatives. And yet they sent him back.

Harry didn't think he would ever forgive them for that betrayal.

Sighing softly, Harry focused on the circle again, and the runes he had drawn around it. The book Luna had given him had talked about how it was possible to travel to other dimensions for a brief time. Sort of like a vacation.

At first, Harry had scoffed at the idea, but somehow, as the days passed by, and Harry's life turned a bit more hellish for each day, the thought of a vacation began to sound heavenly to the troubled teen.

The Dursleys still hated his guts, demanding that he spend all his time in Dudley's second bedroom. They didn't exactly starve him, but he was not allowed to eat in the kitchen, but forced to take his meagre meals in his room.

A room that soon took on the form of a prison cell. In other words, Harry was going stir-crazy. He had trouble sleeping at night due to reoccurring nightmares. The same thoughts and images haunted him during the day, since there was nothing for him to do but read his school books and stare at four once-white walls. Not even Hedwig was enough to cheer him up these days. It didn't exactly help that his friends were ignoring him again.

No, Harry was not having a good summer, and he had no idea how long he was going to be forced to remain here before Dumbledore would allow him to leave. With nothing to occupy his mind, Harry's thoughts constantly returned to the book Luna had given him, and he began to fantasise about what dimensions he could visit, what they would be like, and what he could do while visiting there.

It didn't take long before the vague 'maybe I should try it' became a more certain 'I think I'm actually going to do this', to the positive, 'I'm going to do this!' And that is why he was kneeling inside a circle drawn with the help of a broken, purple crayon, dressed in his smartest clothes, waiting for the clock to strike midnight.

Taking a deep breath, Harry closed the book and carefully put it inside a pocket. Picking up one of the shards of glass that had once been the mirror Sirius had given him, Harry slashed the palm of his right hand and allowed the blood to drip down onto the first rune.

Counting silently to seven, Harry swiftly moved his hand to the next rune, being careful not to splash any blood on the floor. There were twelve runes all in all, and once Harry had dripped blood on all of them, he sat back on his heels, closed his eyes and whispered the words of the spell.

There was a bright flash, a sensation of falling, and then there was only blackness.

oOo

Groaning softly as he staggered to his feet, Harry could only stare stupidly as he found himself in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Looking around, Harry thought dazedly, Didn't I do that ritual to get away from all this crap? So why am I back at Hogwarts? Still, I suppose it is better than the Dursleys, but why did I end up at Hogwarts? What happened to other dimensions and grand adventures?

Taking a second glance around the Great Hall, Harry felt his eyes narrow as he glanced over the Gryffindor table. Something wasn't right. No, something was most definitely wrong, because, if he wasn't mistaken, and he wasn't, James Potter was sitting there, surrounded by three very familiar figures.

Harry felt as if his blood had turned to ice, and slowly, almost reluctantly, he looked over to the Slytherin table, not sure what to expect, a mixture of hope and dread warring for supremacy through his mind and body.

Draco wasn't sitting in his customary seat, which was expected, but it didn't take Harry long to zoom in on another all-too-familiar blond head.

That has to be Lucius sitting there, Harry thought dazed. And is that...? Yes, that has to be Snape. So that truly means that I have somehow ended up in the past.

Swell.

Well, so much for grand adventures I suppose. Now what am I supposed to do? Should I tell James that I am his son from the future? Or should I just play dumb? But what to tell them when they ask my name? Can I get away with claiming amnesia?

Merlin. What to do, what to do...

Glancing back at the Gryffindor table, Harry's eyes landed on Pettigrew and he felt his heart contract with hatred. Not wanting to look at the little rat, Harry swiftly turned his eyes towards the person sitting next to Wormtail, which happened to be Sirius Black.

Seeing his godfather alive and well looking, Harry expected to feel elated, but instead an intense wave of fury swept through him, taking him completely by surprise.

Through his shock, Harry belatedly realised that he was bloody furious with Sirius for dying the way he had done. Once again abandoning Harry to his fate, forcing him to face a cruel world on his own.

Tearing his eyes away, Harry found himself looking at Remus, and a second, stronger wave of fury swept through him. Sirius had abandoned him by first getting throw into Azkaban and then by dying, but what excuse did Remus have?

Remus had been free to contact Harry, but he hadn't. Remus was able to tell Harry about his parents, but he hadn't. Remus held all the answers Harry needed about his past and his family, but the werewolf had never shared them.

Remus had done nothing. Apart from teaching him the Patronus Charm, and he only did that after Harry pestered him about it, all but forcing him to do it.

In a way, Harry realised with sudden clarity, Remus' betrayal had been bigger than Sirius' because Remus had been there, he had been available, and yet he had done nothing.

Reluctantly, Harry turned his gaze to his father and was a little bit surprised to find that he didn't feel anything when looking at the man.

James might be his dad, yet James was nothing to him.

James Potter was a bully. A prankster. A Marauder. Or, according to Aunt Petunia, a lazy, drunken bum who got himself killed in a car crash. But he wasn't a father, at least not in Harry's mind.

Realising he had made his mind up, Harry turned away from the Gryffindor table and focused on the Slytherin instead. He only really recognised two of the currents snakes, Malfoy and Snape, and of the two of them he only really knew Snape so if he wanted an ally he only had one option really, but how to get Snape on his side?

Well, here goes nothing, Harry thought fatalistically, hoping against hope that Snape wouldn't curse him too badly for what he was about to do.

Crossing the Great Hall swiftly, Harry moved up to Snape, mentally squaring his resolve, knowing full well that there would be no going back after this. Throwing his arms around the startled teen, Harry stage whispered, "Papa? Why are you sitting at the student table? And what is Uncle Lucius doing here?"