YAY! This is my first story, but this is actually the 2nd version of my first story, with the same title and same plot, but TONS better writing cuz that last one really kinda…sucked? Okay…well here is the newly written FOREVER GONE.

Disclaimer: If I really owned Harry Potter, would I be writing Fan Fiction? Think about it.

Chapter 1 The New Harry Potter

Harry James Potter was quietly waiting in the room where students would never want to be in their entire school career, well, except for the few troublemakers, which he was in his days in school. Yes, Harry Potter took after his father quite a lot, actually, but he claimed he never was looking for trouble, trouble always found him; though James was always trying purposely to be a nuisance, they had always ended up in the same boat. He was sitting in the Headmistress' office at the top of the tallest tower in the west wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to be exact, calmly sitting in the chair opposite her desk, snoring loudly with his head lolled back and his eyes closed.

The once troublesome, happy boy had changed much over the years, he was now 19 years old, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at said school for the past year. He was quite the teacher in fact. Almost all students loved him, and he had the past to prove he was up for the job of teaching Defense, for many things had happened since he started school at the tender age of 11.

The Boy-Who-Lived was not so…happy anymore. His shining emerald eyes, once hid behind round framed glasses, had diminished to deep green pools of sorrow that you could lose yourself in, and come out crying. Once short, untidy jet-black hair was slightly streaked with gray from stress, and grown out past his shoulder blades to honor his deceased godfather, who was murdered in front of his eyes when he was only 15 years old. Quidditch had done some good things to his body though, for his frail frame became strong, sturdy, and hard as rock, but spending time in the sun was something he had to do yet, because his white skin gave him a slightly peaky look.

There was a rap on the desk in front of him, and Harry opened his eyes blearily. Headmistress McGonagall was staring intensely at him that gave the obvious sign to sit up, and sit up he did, because this professor was not one to argue with. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and gave an unusually squeaky yawn, which made him end up at the receiving end of a glare.

"Mr. Potter," she started, pacing stiffly and gazing at him fixedly. "I presume you are speculating on why you got this letter"-a piece of parchment was held in her hand-"and why it called you here." She did not apologize for the hour and a half she kept him waiting, but continued while slowly sitting down in the chair that was once occupied by Albus Dumbledore; the former and ever most great headmaster of the school, who was killed in the presence of his most treasured student, Harry Potter, and by the hands of his most trusted ally, Severus Snape.

"Yeah…" Harry yawned back at her.

"Wake up, boy! I will not talk to you while you are asleep!"

Forcing his eyes as open as they could possibly be, Harry sat up even further so his back was ramrod straight and his head looking right at the Headmistress, "Yes Professor."

Minerva McGonagall looked at him almost fondly at first, but corrected herself to her more usual stiff manner and said, "I apologize, Harry, for treating you like a student, and not like the teacher you are, but it's not easy going from teaching you for seven years and then working with you the next." She gave him one of her rare smiles. "Well, to business then. I brought you here to tell you, I guess, a history lesson"-Harry groaned-"and to offer you another job."

"I already have a job." He started to slump in his chair again.

"Sit up Harry, and no, you do not have a job." This sentence caused him to sit up again and ask, "What?" His mouth was open and closing like a fish out of water, asking for a reasonable answer. "If you did, I wouldn't be offering you another one.

"Now, our little history lesson." Harry moaned and sank back into the puffy chair. "Sit up." While rolling his eyes, he sat up once again and rested his head on his hand bracing himself for another one of his old ghost Professor Binn's lectures that made everyone fall asleep in history class. The Headmistress began her story.

"I must have been around thirty years old when a young man that looked remarkably like you walked through the doors of this very school demanding for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. It was very unusual those days. Nobody wanted that job because everybody believed that it was cursed. Each professor vanished after the year that they had taught. This man was your height, age and had your characteristics, was very inexplicable, nonentity knew his past, and nobody got too close to him. The students and faculty had reason to believe that the name he carried wasn't his own, but when Voldemort was at his height, he was bold enough to attack the school when Headmaster Dippet was in control. This young man saved us all by battling him…I can't remember details because everything that happened was erased from my memory, probably from the man's Memory Charm, but the next day, he disappeared and nobody got wind of any word of this man. A little more than 20 years later, little Harry Potter came to the school. I seemed to recognize you from somewhere, but I dismissed it because you looked exactly like your father did. You were obviously familiar, but the year Albus died, I finally realized where I knew you. You were the man that taught the students 20 years ago. You were the man that stopped our lives from being taken by the man that we most feared."

By this moment, Harry's head was off his hand and staring at his former Transfiguration Professor and Headmistress. "How could it be me, I mean, I was born less that 20 years ago. It just—"

"It was you, Mr. Potter." She stood up and went to a bookshelf lining the walls of her room. Stroking the bookcase in a certain pattern, it opened and she walked into a small room that Harry never knew was there, and motioned him to follow. The room was dark with all the shiny instruments that Professor Dumbledore had in his office when he was alive. The sight of his old trinkets brought up old memories along with tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. The Headmistress took small but firm steps toward the far end of the room, where there, on one of the shelves, was placed a tiny phoenix figure that could fit perfectly onto the handle of a wand. McGonagall picked it up and spun around to face Harry.

"This is what you will be using to travel back to 1977. It fits neatly on the hilt of your wand, and back in the 70's it was fairly common to have, so not many people will ask. Most of the teachers had one. I myself did too for a few years, but was blasted off in a duel. Take this"-she handed it to him, which he took carefully, thinking he would break it-"and go pack your possessions. You are leaving tonight."

"What? Tonight?" Harry's shell shocked face followed McGonagall as she walked out the secret door back into her office. "Yes, tonight. Get back in here before I shut that door." Her stern voice filtered through the open doorway from inside the office.

"Yes, Professor."

That night found Harry Potter sitting in his nice, very own flat on his nice, very own bed packing his nice, very own clothes. His old, nasty tempered, 4 foot forest green snake, Salazar, was curled around his torso and neck, asking if he was coming with.

People would assk questionsss. Harry would always respond.

Ssssoo?

Sssoo I would get kicked out of sschool, live on the sstreetss, and never be able to finissh up my auror training at the academy. Harry argued back heatedly while packing his clothes unwillingly.

Sssss….bad auror. No donutsss….

A few hours later, Harry was sitting in the office-again, sleeping-again and waiting for Headmistress McGonagall-again, but this time with Salazar wrapped around his waist complaining that it was too hot in the room. Professor McGonagall came into the room, rapped his head with her wand, told him to sit up, and said come back tomorrow because it turns out your not supposed to be there until the night of September 1st. So Harry walked out of the room again, this time moaning about apparating all the way to Hogsmeade and walking nearly 10 miles just to see her and was told that he wasn't needed, while Salazar was complaining about how nasty-tempered old ladies are. Good thing McGonagall didn't hear that or she'd wring your neck, so watch your mouth.

It'ss not like anybody but you hearssss me. You're the one who sspeaksss English, sssoo you watch your mouth. Ssss….